Broken Wings (13 page)

“I know it’s my fault that we don’t see much of each other. Can you bear with me
for another few weeks? I’m going to quit my sandwich frying job.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Mr. Nuttal pays much better than Pansy, and he’s a nicer bloke to work
for. He’s like I imagine an uncle would be. Or grandfather.”

“You didn’t know your grandfather?”

“I didn’t know my who father was.” Rye kissed Flora’s cheek. “So, I’m going to
have two evenings free. That means more time for us.”

“You want to?”

“Of course.”
I gave up night classes for this.

“I woke up this morning halfway convinced that you were a dream. Like a ghost or
imaginary friend that no one else could see.”

“If I were a dream, surely I wouldn’t make you sad?” Rye stroked Flora’s arm.
“Hey, listen. Thanks to you setting me up with Ms. Elmwood, I’ve nearly got the
money for my broom. That means I’ll soon be able to whiz over here for fast sex
in my lunch breaks.”

Flora smiled, but cocked her head to one side. “I’m not sure I understand.
You’ve been working yourself to death just so that you can buy a broom?”

“Not to death.” Rye kissed Flora’s wet throat. “Hmm. Definitely not dead yet.”

Rye kissed Flora’s shoulders and let her hands explore Flora’s body. Flora put
both hands against Rye’s shoulders to hold her away.

“You’re not going to turn out to be one of those women who thinks sex is the
answer to every problem?” Flora asked.

Rye sagged back against the side of the bath. “I’m sorry.”

Flora shook her head and slid away. “No. I’m sorry. This is not how I wanted to
spend my time with you.”

“You look like you’re going to cry.”

“I am.”

“Hey. Come here.” Rye gathered Flora and held her. “I’m sorry, babe. Does this
have anything to do with that invitation? I couldn’t help seeing it on the
couch. Is this a big deal?”

“That’s the oddest thing. It’s not. It’s a fundraiser for a local charity. Quite
small. It’s on a Third Night. I know you can’t make it.”

Rye gently wiped a tear from Flora’s cheek. “But?”

Flora sighed. “But imagining going without you felt so desolate. I burst into
tears. I know it doesn’t make any sense. I’ve been out since we started seeing
each other. It’s not as though I’ve become a hermit. It hasn’t killed me to go
anywhere alone.”

Flora’s tears were like acid inside Rye. She frowned down at the part of Flora’s
thigh she could see through the floating bubbles. “This is a small party?”

“Why?”

“Well,” Rye said. “If this is important to you, I could go.”

Flora’s expression swiftly passed through surprise and delight to settle into a
soft, teary smile. “Oh, I do love you. Thank you. But I can’t let you do that. I
know you’re not really comfortable with us as a public entity.”

“I’ve said I’ll go, babe. I mean it.”

Flora lightly kissed her. “I know. And now I feel like shit for having
manipulated you into offering.”

“What?”

“I did. I got all weepy on you and you were nice to me. ”

“I want to be nice to you,” Rye said. “I don’t feel manipulated. You were sad.
You told me why. I saw a way to make it better. I know I’m new to relationships,
but isn’t that the way it’s supposed to work?”

Flora gave her a despairing look, covered her face with her hands, and sank
under the water. Rye reached down to lift her back up. With Flora’s hair
sloughing water, Rye saw how prominent her buds looked.

“Oh, Holy Elm.” Flora looped her arms around Rye’s neck. “I think I’m going to
explode with contrary and irrational emotions. Do you think there’s a chance
that sex might help?”

Rye grinned. “No harm trying, is there?”

Flora was sitting on the side of the tub and Rye had lowered her head between
Flora’s legs when she heard a woman’s voice.

“Flora!”

Rye jerked upright.

Flora snapped her head around to stare at the door. “Branch.”

“Flora?” The woman sounded closer. As if she were just next door in the bedroom.
“Where are you?”

Rye bristled. “Who-?”

Flora clamped a hand on Rye’s mouth. “I’m in the bath, Mother! I’ll be right
out.”

Rye’s eyes widened.

Flora slid off the tub and grabbed her robe. She whispered, “I’ll get rid of
her. Wait in here.”

Rye looked for her clothes. Fey. Where had she left them? Not all over the
bedroom floor? No. They were in the dryer. Rye sighed with relief.

Flora slipped out the door and clicked it closed behind her. “Mother. This is a
surprise. I didn’t realise you still had a key.”

Mrs. Withe’s reply was muffled, as if she’d turned away.

Rye wrapped her robe around herself and crept to the door.

“Perhaps I could make you a cup of tea.” Flora sounded like she was standing
with her back to the bathroom door. “In the kitchen. We –”

“Oh! It’s true,” Mrs. Withe said. “My baby girl has buds.”

“Mother, this really isn’t a good time to –”

“Do you have any inkling how devastatingly humiliating it is to learn from a
stranger that one’s own daughter has buds?”

“Hardly,” Flora said, “since I don’t have a daughter, do I?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Mrs. Withe said. “There is so much about your life that
you find necessary to conceal from me and your father.”

Rye heard Flora’s sigh through the door.

“I shall never forget,” Mrs. Withe said, “the indescribable joy I felt at
holding my baby girl for the first time. It even momentarily eclipsed the
unspeakable indignity of the process of giving birth. I don’t believe my
maternal rapture would have been any the less even had I known the heartache to
come.”

“Mother –”

“A stranger, Flora. How could you be so thoughtless as to let me find out
through a stranger?”

“Aunt Ramble is not a stranger.”

“So, you know who told me,” Mrs. Withe said. “Well, you would, wouldn’t you?
Since you confided in her and I don’t know how many others, but not your own
mother. Well, my little girl has a budmate. I won’t say that it’s not a teeny
bit overdue, darling. You’re hardly a spring twig anymore. And the Holy Elm
knows you’ve had enough casual girlfriends to last anyone for a lifetime. Next
Third Day. Will that suit?”

“Third Day?” Flora said. “Suit what?”

“I’ll make sure your father doesn’t have any appointments. He wishes to meet
your budmate as much as I do.”

Rye scowled. Her wet wings folded defensively.

“No,” Flora said. “Third Day is not convenient. I –”

“The Second Day after?” Mrs. Withe said. “It can’t be First Day, because I have
one of my charity meetings.”

“No, Mother, I can’t make it,” Flora said. “We can’t make it. Please don’t
bother looking through your diary. When the day comes that I want to introduce
you all, I’ll give you plenty of warning.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Withe said. “Oh, I see. You don’t want us to meet your budmate. It
can only be because you are ashamed of her.”

“I am
not
ashamed of her!” Flora said.

“She has a name, does she?” Mrs. Withe said. “This very special person in your
life whom your parents will never meet?”

“Her name is Rye.” Flora sounded like she spoke through gritted teeth. “Rye
Woods.”

Rye bit her lip.

“Oh,” Mrs. Withe said. “One of the Rosevale Woods? That’s not nearly as bad as I
feared. One of your father’s cousins married –”

“No,” Flora said. “You don’t know her family. She comes from – from up north.”

“Not Upriver? Though that’s becoming a little more respectable now.”

“Not Upriver,” Flora said. “Farther north. Much farther.”

Rye scowled and rested a hand on the door as if Flora might feel her warning
touch.

“Oh,” Mrs. Withe said. “Then I suppose she’s from one of those big farming
families in the hills?”

“Does it matter who her family is?” Flora asked. “Or where she comes from? Why
don’t you ask me if I’m happy?”

“Don’t be absurd, darling. Have lunch with me tomorrow. We can make the
arrangements for meeting your budmate then.”

“All right. Fine. Tomorrow. We’ll talk.”

Rye didn’t hear them leave the room, but she did hear voices muffled as though
they came from beyond the bedroom. A door slammed.

Rye chewed her lip. She had not given any serious thought to the possibility of
meeting Flora’s parents. Mrs. Withe was not going to be pleased to learn that
her daughter was seeing a poor builder’s labourer. And from what Rye had heard,
Mrs. Withe was not the sort to be tactful about it.

Flora yanked the door open. “I need a drink.”

Rye followed Flora into the lounge. Flora flopped full-length on a couch with
her hands over her face. Rye poured a shot of bark spirits with a dill twist.
Flora gulped down half.

“Steady,” Rye said.

“Well, you’ve just witnessed the perfect portrait of Hazel Withe. Panic not,
lover, I’ll put her off. You won’t have to have dinner with them. The Holy Elm
knows I’d rather stick forks into my eyes than do that to you. To either of us.”

Rye smiled and stroked Flora’s arm. Flora looked fragile and her mood brittle
enough to shatter. “This wasn’t exactly what you needed right now, was it?”

“I suppose you’ll want to flee. You know what they say about daughters turning
into their mothers.”

“I don’t know what your mother looks like. I didn’t see her.”

“She looks exactly as she sounds, only with more hairspray.”

Rye smiled. Flora knocked back the remainder of her drink.

“Branch, Trunk, and Root,” Flora said. “I bet your mother is nothing like that.”

Rye frowned down at her fingers stroking Flora’s hand. “No. No, she was
different. But not in a nice way.”

“I can’t believe that she just walked in. Oh.” Flora pulled a key card from her
robe pocket. “This is for you. I took it off Mother. I’ve been meaning to get
you one made.”

Rye lifted her frown to Flora’s face. “Your house key? Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Flora put the card in Rye’s hand and kissed her. “I’d have keyed
your mobile into the security codes weeks ago if you had one.”

Rye frowned at the key card. She had not expected that.

Flora slipped her arms around Rye and sagged against her. “Oh, Elm. If only I’d
worn a hat.”

Rye held Flora and stroked her back. “This bud thing is pretty important, isn’t
it?”

“This is the first time I’ve had them. I had no idea how bad it was going to
be.”

“But I didn’t think I was your first.”

“You’re not my first girlfriend. But you are my first buds. They’re part of
changes my body is undergoing. Not having had them before, I had a brain blank
on keeping them hidden. Other dryads notice them. Avidly. And they leap to a
whole forest-full of conclusions.”

“Like what?”

“That I’m serious about someone.” Flora sniffed. “Which means you need to cover
them if you want to keep your relationship secret.”

“Oh.” Rye stroked Flora’s back and frowned at Flora’s hair. “But what are they?
What does getting them mean?”

Flora’s fingers gripped the front of Rye’s robe. “I’ve been dreading you asking
that.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to scare you off.”

Rye pulled her arms tight around Flora and kissed the top of her head. “Tell
me.”

“My hormones are running rampant.” Flora’s fingers mangled more of Rye’s robe.
Her shaky voice was tight with tears. “I want to live in the same tree with you.
I want to have your babies. But it will pass. I promise. I went to a doctor
yesterday. She gave me a course of sap. It hasn’t kicked in yet. But me being so
miserable is going to be enough to drive you away and that… that will be an end
to it all.”

Rye felt telltale wetness against her neck. “Not a chance. Oh, babe. I’m sorry.”

Flora sobbed. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Rye said.

Flora’s head snapped up. Her brown eyes, glistening with tears, were wide with
surprise. “You do?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Flora’s tears spilled out and she clung to Rye. She wept, noisily and jerkily,
as if sadness were tearing her body apart. It was like Holly used to cry when
she was a little girl. Rye held Flora, rocked her, and kissed her hair.

I love you, too.
Rye hadn’t consciously formed the thought before. But she did
love Flora. She was more to Rye than just great sex. Rye was rearranging her
life to accommodate her relationship with Flora. She really would have gone to
that charity event with Flora.

When Flora calmed, Rye fetched tissues. She brushed the hair out of Flora’s face
and kissed her temple.

“Look, it’s nearly lunch time,” Rye said. “Why don’t I fix you something to eat?
You’ve probably been living on junk all week, haven’t you?”

While Flora ate, Rye dressed. When she returned to the kitchen, Flora looked
calm but pale and heart-breakingly lost. Flora put on a brave smile.

“Will you call me tonight?” Flora asked.

“I wish I could stay with you. I hate leaving you like this.”

“I’ll be fine. It’ll pass as soon as the sap starts to work. It helps that you
were here. And what you said. Now, go home. Holly will be missing you.”

Rye returned Flora’s kiss and did not want to let go. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come home with me. You can have dinner with us. It won’t be anything fancy.
Just our normal dinner.”

“I’d love to. But what about Holly? Are you ready to tell her about us?”

“Didn’t you say that you’d been talking to people about apprenticeships and
scholarships? You could discuss that with her. That’d be a good reason for you
to come over.”

“I shouldn’t,” Flora said. “I know you’re doing this to be nice to me. But I
shall anyway. Oh, Elm, I don’t want to be without you today.”

You haven’t finished that already?” Mr. Nuttal said. Rye leaned the brush
against the wall and wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of a grimy
hand. “I’m hoping to get away early tonight, if you don’t mind. There’s a
transit carpet I’d like to catch in fifteen minutes.”

“Of course I don’t mind. That looks spanking. You got a date?”

“Um.”

“I always knew when Hop was keen to be off to see his girls,” he said. “The boy
took after me. Quite the ladies’ man in my youth. Before I met Mrs. Nuttal, of
course.”

Rye smiled.

“You can wash up in the bathroom through there, you know. Get yourself a little
more presentable.”

“Um. Thanks.”

Rye went to wash her arms and face. She could always shower at Flora’s, but it
would be nice not to show up looking like something scraped from the bottom of a
rubbish dump.

Mr. Nuttal followed her to the rear door and let her out.

“Good night,” Rye said. “Give my regards to Mrs. Nuttal.”

“I shall. And good luck with your lady friend.”

Rye froze. The door clanged shut, leaving her frowning in the early twilight.
Lady friend? How had he guessed she was gay? She wasn’t that obvious, was she?
If he guessed, would Holly?

At the security gate at the base of Flora’s tree, Rye dug out her key card. Even
though Flora knew she was coming, Rye felt uncomfortable unlocking the gate,
riding the elevating carpet up, and stepping into Flora’s apartment.

“Flora? It’s just me.”

Rye set her bag of groceries on the kitchen table. She saw a couple of packages
wrapped in shiny paper sitting on the table. Flora hadn’t said anything about
going to a party. Flora’s own birthday was a few weeks away.

“Flora? Babe?”

Rye hung her jacket on the back of a chair and kicked off her work boots. She
wanted to experiment with one of the dishes she intended preparing for Ms.
Elmwood’s dinner. Holly going to her friend’s house to do a homework project and
having dinner there was the perfect opportunity for Rye to use Flora’s kitchen.

Rye began scrubbing mint roots.

Flora breezed in, dropped the sheaf of papers she was carrying on the table, and
wrapped her arms around Rye for a kiss. “Hmm. Mint?”

“Mint roots. With a willow bark and fennel sauce.”

“Yummy.” Flora grabbed one of the washed roots before Rye could stop her. She
nibbled. “I could eat these things all day.”

“Not these, you won’t.” Rye picked Flora up and carried her around the counter
to deposit her on a chair at the table. “Be good.”

Flora held Rye to a long, smoochy kiss before releasing her. “Elm, do you know
how wonderful it is just to walk in here and see you cooking? Almost like a
normal couple. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day. I found it impossible
to concentrate, so I dedicated my afternoon to doing things for you. You
wouldn’t believe the bounce I got out of scouring every place I know for these.”

Flora slid the stack of coloured papers closer to Rye. The top sheet looked
official with a fancy design in the top corner.

“They’re information and application forms,” Flora said. “I think they cover
every art scholarship and prize offered at the high school and apprentice level
in the country. I haven’t looked through them all, but I know there are several
that Holly stands a very good chance of getting.”

“Wow. Thanks. She’ll be thrilled to get these.”

Flora beamed. Rye leafed through a couple of the forms, and was more than happy
to sit and supply the kiss of thanks that Flora suggested. Flora trailed her
fingers over Rye’s face as if committing her expression to the memory of touch.

“I’m so pleased with myself for pleasing you,” Flora said.

Rye smiled, kissed her again, and rose to return to her mint roots. Flora
grabbed her sleeve.

“I haven’t finished yet. I told you I’ve been a busy girl.” Flora pushed the two
shiny packages close to Rye. “These are for you.”

Rye frowned. “Me? What are they?”

“The usual method of discovery is to tear the wrapping off.”

Rye’s frown deepened. Flora smiled at her in such a way that, despite deep
misgivings, Rye reached for the flatter package.

“I had to guess the size,” Flora said.

Rye tugged the ribbon loose and peeled the wrapping paper apart. She exposed
pristine white cloth.

“Try it on,” Flora said.

Rye scowled as she lifted the cloth. She held a chef’s kitchen top.

“For you to wear when you go to Letty Elmwood’s,” Flora said. “I’m sure she’ll
find that much more impressive than the dish cloth tucked into your pants. Sexy
though that is. And I did have rather wicked thoughts about you making love to
me while wearing it.”

“Um.” Rye set the jacket back on the table.

“What’s wrong? Too small? I tried to get a big one so that it’s loose across
your back and doesn’t show your wings.”

“I can’t take this.”

“Can’t? Why not? It’s not just the look of the thing, though you shouldn’t
underestimate that where people like Letty are concerned. I’m sure it’s very
practical.”

Rye jammed her fists into her pockets. “Um. Thanks. I appreciate the thought.
But I can’t take it. I… I can’t afford it.”

“What? No. It’s a gift.” Flora rose and put her arms around Rye’s neck. “Because
I’m proud of you. And because I want to see you make a huge success of this
dinner.” Flora pointed to the second present. “Now, this one really is
practical. I know you need these. You’ve said so.”

Rye eyed the package with apprehension rising toward dread.

“Don’t worry,” Flora said, “I didn’t pick them myself. I asked someone who knows
what they’re talking about. If they’re wrong, we can exchange them. Well? Aren’t
you going to look?”

“Um.”

Rye didn’t want to touch it, but Flora’s excitement urged her. She reluctantly
reached for the package and ripped the paper to reveal a set of knives in a
wooden block. The block had a fancy E burned into the wood. Rye sucked in
breath. Her hand moved as if drawn by irresistible magic. Her fingers curved
around a handle. The boning knife felt like it had been made for her hand. The
brand name Eveningmoor was etched along the top of the blade.

“Fey,” Rye whispered. “Almighty King and Queen of the Fey.”

The block held a dozen more knives of different sizes, a pair of poultry shears,
and a sharpening steel. Rye slid the boning knife back and pulled out the others
in turn.

“Carver. Utility. Paring knife. Wow.”

“Are they okay?” Flora said.

“Shit. Eveningmoor. Look at it. Feel it. This is incredible. These will slice
and cut anything. And take an edge sharper than sin.”

“From the look on your face, I think I did okay.”

“These are amazing.” Rye slid the knife she held back into the block. “Not that
the ones you have are bad. But these are Eveningmoor.”

“You wouldn’t expect me to know the difference? They’re all just cutty things to
me. But these aren’t mine. They’re for you, lover. You don’t have any good ones
at home. Well, now you do.”

Rye stared at her. Flora beamed and slid her arms around Rye’s waist to give her
a hug.

“You have no idea how pleased I’m feeling with myself right now,” Flora said.

“Um.” Rye glanced at the knife block. She could not deny an envious pull.
“Look. I really can’t –”

Flora clamped a hand over Rye’s mouth. “Don’t say it. Please. Rye, don’t spoil
it.”

Rye kissed Flora’s fingers and gently but firmly pulled them from her lips. “I
don’t know how much these cost, but I do know that they were extremely
expensive.”

“It’s a gift. The cost is my problem. If I don’t mind, why should you?”

Rye chewed her lip and scowled at the knife set.

“I want to make you happy,” Flora said. “I want to please you. I want to do
things to make your life easier and more fun. Can’t I do that for the woman I
love?”

“You don’t have to buy me things to make me love you.”

Flora spread her hands. “Rye! You can’t really believe that’s what I’m trying to
do?”

Rye shook her head. Flora slipped her arms around her.

“You are the most difficult person I’ve ever given anything to,” Flora said. “I
love you. I was so happy to be able to please you. I’m trying not to feel hurt
that you’ve suggested I’m buying your affections. That doesn’t reflect to either
of our credit, does it?”

Rye sighed and couldn’t look her in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you not want them? Would they not make your life easier? Would they not
please you to have, almost as much as it would please me to give them to you?”

“Um.” Rye lifted her arms around Flora’s waist. “The knives are amazing. As
Holly would say, they melted my mind.”

“Yeah? You’d like to use them? Try them out?”

Rye squirmed. “Yeah.”

Flora smiled. “Why don’t you do it?”

“Look, I always pay my way. If Holly or I want something, I provide it. It’s
always been that way. It’s the way I am.”

Flora laid a hand on Rye’s chest. “Lover, I bought these to please you. As
gifts. It’s another way I’m telling you that I love you. Is that so bad?”

“I don’t get into debt to anyone. I won’t owe anything to anyone. I can’t take
those because I can’t give you things back.”

“But you do. You come here and feed me. You’re doing it this evening.”

“That’s different. It’s not enough.”

Flora shook her head. “Are you in the habit of cooking dinner for random women?
Or do you only do this for me because I’m a little bit special? That you want to
be with me and make me happy?”

“Maybe.”

Flora kissed her. “I love you. Now, make me happy by letting me give you
something that will please you. And make my tongue and tummy happy by giving me
the most delicious mint roots.”

Rye did not want to take the top and knives. Cooking dinner was not even close
to a balanced exchange, no matter what Flora said. But Flora was so happy, and
this was a big deal for her. Rye didn’t want to upset her. Being loved and in
love had some really tough bits in amongst all the great stuff.

Flora settled with her head pillowed more comfortably against Rye’s naked
shoulder. “That dinner was yummy. I’d never thought of food as foreplay before
you. What time do you have to be back?”

“Holly said that her friend’s mum would drop her home at ten-thirty,” Rye said.

Flora smiled and clamped a possessive hand on Rye’s ribs. “Another two whole
hours with you. I could get used to you being here.”

“You seem much better. That course of sap is really working, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes. Hormones dampened to manageable levels. I’ve been able to concentrate
on work again. I’ve almost completed my weaving about us. This is going to sound
immodest, but I’m astonished at the way it’s coming out.”

“Can I see?”

Flora led Rye into her workroom. Rye frowned at the abstract pattern of colours
and shapes.

“You’re going to think this is weird,” Flora said, “but sometimes when I look at
this, I’m surprised that I created it. I think it’s part of that white fire
creativity. It comes out without my conscious input. So, when I take a step back
to look at it, it’s as if I’m seeing it for the first time. What do you think?”

“What’s that green bit?”

Flora looked like she was going to say something pithy but changed her mind. “I
told you that this is about my feelings for you? Well, this is your wing.”

“Oh. Right. And that blobby purple thing?”

“Your bum.”

Rye grinned. “I asked for that, didn’t I?”

“Walked right into it.”

Rye put her arms around Flora. “I like it. Really. I can’t pretend that I
understand it. And I couldn’t tell you why I like it. I just do. I’m only a
builder’s labourer. Not some high-flying arty farty type. But I love you. And
admire what you do.”

“And it’s a good job I love you, or I’d have to jab you with a loom needle every
time you said ‘arty farty’.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes!”

Flora lunged for her loom, but Rye grabbed her before she grasped the wooden
needle. Flora struggled. Rye hoisted her up on her shoulder and carried her to
the lounge. She dropped Flora onto one of the sofas and lay down on top of her.
Flora’s continuing wriggles had nothing to do with trying to free herself.

After sex, Rye fetched wine. She eased herself down beside Flora on the sofa.
They shared a glass. Rye gently stroked Flora’s hair. She wished that Flora had
not bought her those expensive gifts. No matter what Flora said, Rye knew that
she owed her. She had been unable to repay a debt once before, and she wasn’t
going to let herself fall into that position ever again. No one was ever going
to own her. She didn’t earn much and those knives were wickedly expensive, but
one day she would pay Flora back.

“What are you thinking?” Flora asked.

“How beautiful you are.”

Flora smiled and eased around so that she half-lay on Rye’s side. Her fingertips
lazily traced abstract doodles across Rye’s skin. “Who was your first
girlfriend?”

“What do you mean? To have sex with?”

“No. The first girl you fell in love with. You see, I’m feeling secure enough in
our relationship to pry into your past.”

“You’re my first love.”

Flora lifted her head to stare incredulously at Rye. “You’re joking?”

“No. What about you? Your mother said you had lots of girlfriends.”

“My mother has a tendency to exaggerate for dramatic effect. You might have
heard that, too.” Flora kissed between Rye’s breasts. “How about crushes, then?
You must’ve had crushes before me.”

“Um.” Rye stroked Flora’s arm. She felt so comfortable, so safe. “Temperance.
She was how I realised that I liked girls. She was a cousin. We all lived
together, you see. My mother, my aunts, cousins, and their kids. Well, not all
the kids. The boys got sent to the men’s compound when they were seven. But the
girls grew up together with the women. All of us on the commune farm.”