Her smile never faltered. She was sure of that; absolutely, sickly certain that everything was trapped where it belonged - inside her, where it might tear her to shreds, but it could not touch anyone else. He watched her anxiously, unable to meet her eyes for more than a moment at a time, but unable to look away completely. She felt frozen, but she managed a smile that was half realistic, and saw with a cynical clarity that he accepted it gratefully, the lines of strain on his face easing a little. And she understood, and was grateful, too, that if she had trouble maintaining that smile, she was proud enough, and he guilty enough, that it would never be mentioned, her apparent composure never challenged.
When the silence became heavier than he could stand, he gestured helplessly. "I wanted to tell you," he said. "I wanted to tell you from the start, I just - " "You just didn't want things to change," she finished for him, and when he nodded, she knew that he hadn't heard the edge of hurt; he would never know, let alone understand, the anger underlying it. Suddenly distant, she considered. She could, of course, make a scene. She could tell him everything she was thinking, everything she felt, just as she always had. She even opened her mouth to do just that. And then she looked at him, waiting, and saw him as if for the first time, saw the happiness under the nervousness, the observation coming as both a slap and a release. She looked away for a moment, then, feeling something inside her slice itself to ribbons with an almost-sweet ache and then simply collapse inward. And then she smiled at him again, protectiveness and tenderness suddenly stronger in her than she had ever thought possible, and for the first time in her life, she lied to him.
"It's all right," she said, knowing absolutely, as the words hung in the air between them, that she would never again be able to give him access to everything in her, but seeing, too, that he wasn't aware that he would never again have all her trust. "I'm upset that you didn't come to me, yes. It hurts that you didn't trust me to be the friend to you that I've always been. But don't you know that you two matter to me?" The walls she was building as fast as she could threatened to crumble right then, as the relief and happiness showed clearly on his face. Silently, she returned his impulsive hug, and then stepped away from him, querying lightly, "so - talk to me."
For the next twenty minutes, he did just that, and she listened and watched, in tight control of herself, as her best friend grew visibly more animated, more ebullient, than she had ever seen him. She waited until his excitement subsided, and then asked, "so, where is she?" He gestured to the house, and she chuckled. "I might have known." Taking his hand and pulling him to his feet, deliberately banishing reluctance or hesitation from her gestures, she led the way up the hill.
They were met at the door, of course, and she stepped back discreetly, enduring another dangerous moment, as she watched Kyle embrace the vivacious girl. No, not a girl any longer, was she? She allowed herself the single bitter thought, noting without reaction that they both seemed much more easy now that she knew. And really, why wouldn't they be? She banished that thought quickly, fully aware of where it would lead. Ellie met her eyes over Kyle's shoulder just then, and there was no more time for her to think, as a moment later she was hugging her sister, drying the younger woman's tears. "Hush, now," she commanded gently. "It's all right, and you're a silly goose if you thought it wouldn't be." Eleri laughed a little, and Lyssa released her, rounding mock-sternly on Kyle, who was hovering nearby. "Both of you," she said pointedly, "ought to have known better." At their abashed nods, she grinned, feeling the tightness around her chest and throat diminish. It was enough to allow her to turn to Ellie again, and put her arm around her naturally. "Come on. You have a lot of talking to do. And that one," with a jerk of her head to Kyle, "can just wait while I monopolise my sister for a girltalk session."
Later, in the safety of her room, she played until her fingers ached with weariness and her resolve and reserve were both entrenched. Dreams, after all, she told herself flatly, were the coin of childhood. Women faced what came, and dealt with it. Slipping away from the house, following a moment's impulse, she made her way to the beach, threw off her clothes, and walked into the waves. The water welcomed her, as it had always done, and when she emerged a few hours later, she was no longer just in control, but calm, and she knew that she would remain that way.
Two months later, she stood impassively and spoke, convincingly and flawlessly, the traditional words of the marriage ceremony, while Kyle and Eleri trembled their way through their respective promises.
When the silence became heavier than he could stand, he gestured helplessly. "I wanted to tell you," he said. "I wanted to tell you from the start, I just - " "You just didn't want things to change," she finished for him, and when he nodded, she knew that he hadn't heard the edge of hurt; he would never know, let alone understand, the anger underlying it. Suddenly distant, she considered. She could, of course, make a scene. She could tell him everything she was thinking, everything she felt, just as she always had. She even opened her mouth to do just that. And then she looked at him, waiting, and saw him as if for the first time, saw the happiness under the nervousness, the observation coming as both a slap and a release. She looked away for a moment, then, feeling something inside her slice itself to ribbons with an almost-sweet ache and then simply collapse inward. And then she smiled at him again, protectiveness and tenderness suddenly stronger in her than she had ever thought possible, and for the first time in her life, she lied to him.
"It's all right," she said, knowing absolutely, as the words hung in the air between them, that she would never again be able to give him access to everything in her, but seeing, too, that he wasn't aware that he would never again have all her trust. "I'm upset that you didn't come to me, yes. It hurts that you didn't trust me to be the friend to you that I've always been. But don't you know that you two matter to me?" The walls she was building as fast as she could threatened to crumble right then, as the relief and happiness showed clearly on his face. Silently, she returned his impulsive hug, and then stepped away from him, querying lightly, "so - talk to me."
For the next twenty minutes, he did just that, and she listened and watched, in tight control of herself, as her best friend grew visibly more animated, more ebullient, than she had ever seen him. She waited until his excitement subsided, and then asked, "so, where is she?" He gestured to the house, and she chuckled. "I might have known." Taking his hand and pulling him to his feet, deliberately banishing reluctance or hesitation from her gestures, she led the way up the hill.
They were met at the door, of course, and she stepped back discreetly, enduring another dangerous moment, as she watched Kyle embrace the vivacious girl. No, not a girl any longer, was she? She allowed herself the single bitter thought, noting without reaction that they both seemed much more easy now that she knew. And really, why wouldn't they be? She banished that thought quickly, fully aware of where it would lead. Ellie met her eyes over Kyle's shoulder just then, and there was no more time for her to think, as a moment later she was hugging her sister, drying the younger woman's tears. "Hush, now," she commanded gently. "It's all right, and you're a silly goose if you thought it wouldn't be." Eleri laughed a little, and Lyssa released her, rounding mock-sternly on Kyle, who was hovering nearby. "Both of you," she said pointedly, "ought to have known better." At their abashed nods, she grinned, feeling the tightness around her chest and throat diminish. It was enough to allow her to turn to Ellie again, and put her arm around her naturally. "Come on. You have a lot of talking to do. And that one," with a jerk of her head to Kyle, "can just wait while I monopolise my sister for a girltalk session."
Later, in the safety of her room, she played until her fingers ached with weariness and her resolve and reserve were both entrenched. Dreams, after all, she told herself flatly, were the coin of childhood. Women faced what came, and dealt with it. Slipping away from the house, following a moment's impulse, she made her way to the beach, threw off her clothes, and walked into the waves. The water welcomed her, as it had always done, and when she emerged a few hours later, she was no longer just in control, but calm, and she knew that she would remain that way.
Two months later, she stood impassively and spoke, convincingly and flawlessly, the traditional words of the marriage ceremony, while Kyle and Eleri trembled their way through their respective promises.
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