We Won't Give Up On Love [Romance/ Slice-of-Life]

[February 13, 2043]

"Alright, she's coming," said Bridget, peering out the window. "She's at the gate… she seems to be confused about how to open it. Do you think I should go down and show her that you have to lift the latch and then pull towards yourself?"

"She can figure it out, she's a grown woman, regardless of how helpless she pretends to be," said Cal. "Is it too late to call out sick, or take a brief recess?"

"Don't be childish, Mr. Cal. Your calm temperament is your best quality."

Cal clicked his tongue, dissatisfied. "You only ever seem to remind me of our relative ages when it's convenient, Ms. Bridget."

Bridget laughed softly, not at Cal's words, which were true — she was the oldest in Otter Manor by a few years — but at this new side to Cal that she had never seen before. This morning, when she had recounted her encounter with Delilah to Cal as he made breakfast, he had seemed too stunned to speak, spilling a large quantity of syrup on the table. After apologizing and cleaning up the mess with a damp paper towel, his mood shifted again, becoming frantic and slightly irritable. He had even begun to pout when Bridget had asked him any follow-up questions about Delilah or what she wanted with him, answering vaguely with a distracted tone.

"She's my guardian, kind of," was the only thing he explained, wringing his hands together. "She's…"

By the time Cal had arrived back at Otter Manor from his afternoon classes, this restless mood had sent him into physical action, into a kind of "caretaker mode". He cleaned his room. He cleaned Ram's room, then Ellie's, and was only prevented from entering Aina's and Bridget's shared dwelling in the loft by Aina physically shielding the door — the fourth princess of Luvinia claimed the room was "no place for a peasant.". In reality, Bridget knew that Aina would be mortified if Cal saw how the princess left her dresses and underwear carelessly all over the floor or draped over chairs. Unperturbed, Cal had proceeded to vacuum all the carpets, dust the library, and sweep the stairs and underneath the portico before finally defaulting into the activity that Bridget was watching him do now — pacing back and forth in the mansion's entry hall.

"I still don't get it," interjected Aina, who had been saying the same thing all day.

She was sitting across from Bridget by the window. In front of her was the chess set that she and Cal sometimes sparred with, and in her hand was a paper bag of gummies, which Ellie had given to her to snack on after visiting a confectionery earlier that afternoon. "This woman you two keep talking about… is this your mother, Cal?" She asked this, slightly nervously. "If so, I would have put more effort into my attire this afternoon. This dress hasn't been adjusted recently."

"Aina, I've explained this like five times already," said Cal, running his fingers through his long dark hair. Bridget could tell he was exercising all his patience and willpower in order to not sound annoyed. "Delilah is not my mother. I don't have a mother anymore — or rather, I have an adoptive mother — but this isn't the same woman, and if it were, I would do everything in my power to prevent you from meeting her."

Aina raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

Cal didn't answer. He stopped in the middle of the hall, adjusting his clothes. For the first time that Bridget could remember, he was wearing nice clothes instead of his typical jeans-and-hoodie combo: a pink long-sleeve dress shirt and well-fitting brown slacks. He had also brushed and washed his hair.

"You have quite a convoluted family situation for a commoner," retorted Aina, in a tone that signified she didn't appreciate being ignored. She took out a gummy from the bag (it was in the shape of a cartoon frog) and popped it into her mouth. "These gelatin treats are delightful, Bridget! We ought to contact the castle's gastronomist when we return to see if he can recreate them."

"Yes, my lady, of course," replied Bridget, a little distractedly. She hadn't stopped her eyes from following Cal as he paced: left, right, left right. "Mr. Cal, maybe you would prefer to sit down?"

"No, I'll stand," Cal was now looking at himself with his phone camera, checking himself to make sure nothing was out of place.

Bridget couldn't help herself from smiling. She had never seen Cal so frazzled before. Even when they had fought at the beginning of December, he had maintained his composure despite his emotions overflowing at the time. This time was different. He simply couldn't stay still: he paced, tapped his foot, licked his lips, all movements made unconsciously.

This sort of contrast is quite adorable, Bridget couldn't help but think. She knew that perhaps she ought to be slightly concerned with Cal's sudden change of attitude, but seeing him seemingly so vulnerable and on edge for once brought her a secret pleasure. I know from living with my lady my whole life: that those who try the hardest to seem unbothered by everything are those who secretly internalize every word and gesture.

This last thought put a slight damper on her amusement.

"Mr. Cal," Bridget said uncertainly, "while I think we should hear out what this woman has to say, I'd like to make clear that ultimately the choice is still in your hands. I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to."

Cal turned his dark eyes to Bridget and fixed her with an intense stare, which made her slightly self-conscious and turn her gaze away to concentrate on fixing her hair. He seemed to be really considering her words.

"No," he said, finally. "There's no point. This was going to happen sooner or later. Besides, if she thought I was avoiding her, she would probably just blast the doors off their hinges and enter the mansion anyway."

He said this like he wasn't joking.

Aina nodded. "So your mother is a powerful magic user, is she? I am continually surprised by how much we share in common, Cal. Perhaps introducing you to my family will not be so difficult after all, if we can workshop some commonalities to appease their sense of stature. Just this morning, I received a letter from my brother Henri, pertaining to such details."

"Respectfully, my lady, we have talked many times about your habit of filling every silent moment with dialogue. Occasionally, it is more prudent to follow the natural atmosphere of the conversation-"

There was no more time for discussion because a strong knocking came from the door. Cal gulped, stepped forward, and opened the door. In the frame stood Delilah, dressed in precisely the same clothes as Bridget had seen her wearing yesterday. She was rubbing her hands together to ward off the chilly air and had an expectant look on her face that melted the moment the door opened and she saw Cal. Her expression immediately warped. Her brown eyes widened, and her small mouth twitched, as if she didn't understand what she was looking at.

"Good God," she said, in an airy voice. "Pascal? Is that you?"

"Yeah," There was something strange happening to Cal's voice that Bridget had never heard before. It was as if it were getting quieter and more uncertain, slightly more higher-pitched, like a person a few years younger than Cal was attempting to imitate his voice. "Yeah, it's me, ma'am."

Delilah's eyes widened even more. Then a slight smile began to play on her lips. "You little twerp. Always polite to the point of annoyance. Call me by my damn name already, why don't you?"

Then she launched forward, her dark overcoat fluttering behind her, and clasped him in a big bear hug.

The effect on the watching parties was immediate.

Above everyone's head was a startled squeak and a sound like something hollow was being swung through the air. Aina forgot the paper bag in her hand completely, her jaw literally dropping. She looked like she hadn't even entertained the idea that anybody could actually touch Cal, never mind hug him with warmth and confidence. Bridget was equally startled and began to react in a similar way to Aina, at least, until she saw the expression on Cal's face as Delilah held him.

He looked stricken. His face had paled to an ashy color, and his dark eyes flashed with an imperceptible yet intense emotion. For a moment, Bridget was certain that Cal was going to shove the woman away from him in anger, perhaps even hit her, as inconceivable as that seemed. But instead, just as quickly as the first emotion came, it vanished, and he went limp — letting the hug happen with a dazed acceptance, though he did not wrap his arms around Delilah in turn. Instead, they hung at his sides, moving slightly back and forth, as if not sure what they were meant to be doing in this situation.

"It's over now," Delilah said softly, almost too quiet for Bridget to hear. "It's over, and you're safe. So hug me back, okay?"

Then she slipped sideways through Cal's limp arms and onto the carpeted floor.

"Sorry, everyone," said Delilah sheepishly, as she slurped up some leftover chicken soup that Cal had reheated. "I think I was a wee bit hypoglycemic. This job doesn't pay very much, and the cost of transportation is insane these days. I think I had a bagel yesterday morning, but that's pretty much it."

"You're completely ridiculous," said Cal, shaking his head. All four of them were seated in the kitchen. "You should eat three meals a day and whenever you get hungry."

"I don't want to hear that from you, kid."

"The peasant can be strangely pushy when it comes to others' physical health," commented Aina. "He's always telling me how I need to commit to a routine of exercise — as if that is in the realm of royalty!"

"Oh?" Delilah studied Aina, a piece of egg noodle hanging from the corner of her lip. "I suppose this is somewhat obvious, but you're the princess, correct? Nice to meet you, Your Highness."

Aina immediately perked up, her green eyes flashing in amazed excitement at the prospect of somebody actually acknowledging her status. "Yes! That's right! That's very right! I am Aina ud Cormac, fourth princess of Luvinia. It's very nice to meet you, Madame Delilah!"

Delilah's brown eyes widened, and she made a loud slurping sound. The noodle disappeared into her mouth. "'Madame?' Oh, I like that very much. Call me that from now on, please. I get so little respect the rest of the time, especially from this one."

She punched Cal lightly in the shoulder, and the caretaker of Otter Manor winced in dissatisfaction.

"Um, if I may ask…" Bridget raised a tentative hand. She was seated next to Aina, across from where Cal and Delilah were sitting. "I was trying not to be too pushy last night, Ms. Delilah, but I can't help but be very curious about your precise position. You know Mr. Cal from back in the day, and yet you are also familiar with my lady's predicament. It's a very confusing combination."

"Ah, yes, that is a sticking point." Delilah glanced at Cal as she spoke, as if asking for permission to do something. When he turned his head away, she proceeded with a little hesitation. "I guess you could call me a fixer of sorts. The company I work for is a private enterprise, a consultancy that covers the area of the city and the surrounding counties. Regarding things… um, beyond the ordinary. I'm actually usually further up north, that's sort of my base of operations, but I'm visiting the city for a special occasion. There's a cluster of vampires being reported in this immediate area, so I'm here to see what's what."

Cal and Bridget exchanged a glance, but Aina, ignorant about Roxy, leaned forward over the table in curiosity. "How interesting. So you're equivalent to a traveling wizard of this land, squashing discord and fighting horrible monsters?"

Delilah laughed. "That's far too generous a description. I'm more low-level than that. Usually, the most I do is find people's missing pets and exorcise spirits that are haunting restaurants, that sort of thing. However, I do have tools when I need to tackle something more serious."

Delilah's brown hand subconsciously touched her coat, at the breast, where it would be easiest to conceal something within the inner pocket. "But to answer the second part of your question-"

She turned to Bridget. "As I said already, my company is already familiar with Aina's grandfather through prior experiences. He's a scary guy but somewhat reasonable — that was my impression from our interactions. Usually, a family of royals from a fantasy land using the shared boundaries of worlds would be a big headache, but he's been coming and going for decades now without any issues, so he's got carte blanche in terms of autonomy. His using this house as essentially a "study-abroad" program for this granddaughter, well… nobody really saw any issue with it. Not my company, not others."

"That's right!" Aina piped up. "The Cormac clan has long possessed magic capable of traversing the planes of reality, but Grandfather was one of the first to see it as an opportunity for cultural and economic exchange! Grandfather elected himself as a representative of the clan to broker deals in faraway worlds — whether that be foreign food, rare treasures, or even those who can visit and entertain at court!"

She smirked, her enthusiasm a little diluted by some memory. "I always thought he did so to avoid the castle and all its headaches, in truth. He would often be gone for months at a time when I was growing up, and then return with strange books or a tasty alien fruit, or an academic friend he wanted to show around. It was never anything too elaborate; the Cormac clan never went as far as establishing official trade routes across worlds, or anything like that. That had too much potential to distribute the lazy hegemony that has been the norm in Luvinia for countless centuries. Mostly, the rest of the family treats Grandfather's hobby as just that — a hobby. No different than when a family member returns from some great journey and insists on showing everyone else the trinkets they collected along the way upon their return."

Cal was listening with some interest to this piece of information he hadn't known until now. "Mel's father was one of these 'academic friends?' And that's why you two ended up at Otter Manor?

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Bridget nodded. "From what I know, the late Mr. Frost was a rich socialite and philanthropist, and he and Lord Cormac became acquainted at some point a few decades ago — this was before either myself or my lady were born, so I'm not clear on the details, I'm sorry to say. Neither do I know the exact manner of their friendship, but it was strong enough that Lord Cormac kept ties with Mr. Frost's son, Isaac Frost, long after his old friend died from a heart attack. And when it became necessary for us two to fly from the castle-"

"-Aina's grandfather thought of Otter Manor," finished Cal. He was looking at Aina somewhat intently, and the princess shifted in her seat shyly.

"T-that's right." Aina stammered, trying not to meet Cal's eyes. "Grandfather has set up deep roots in this land, though he never discussed such matters with me, of course. He has social as well as economic comfort. That was how he was able to set up those 'credit cards' with which we can buy many things in this world."

Delilah held up her hands. "I really can't speak to all that stuff you guys are talking about. From my perspective, the story is pretty straightforward. Lord Cormac needed a place to stay for his granddaughter, so he made two calls. First, to the president of my company — as a kind of courtesy heads-up: 'Hey, a foreign magical princess and her attaché are going to be arriving somewhere under your jurisdiction, and she's also my family, so don't freak out!' kinda thing — and a second to Isaac Frost, who owns this place, to set up specific arrangements and payment. That's really all I can say. Stuff like this happens all the time in my job, I didn't think too much of it."

"I remember," said Bridget, almost to herself. Then she glanced at Cal and smiled apologetically. "Do you recall, Mr. Cal? I mentioned this once. This was the night myself and my lady fled the castle and stayed in the inn. Lord Cormac had called Mr. Frost. Mr. Isaac, that is. Then he handed the cellular device over to me. I had to introduce myself. I remember him making a few other calls that night as well. It seems he was even busier than I realized at the time."

Bridget bit her lip, remembering her own conversations with Lord Cormac, and what he had and hadn't told her. Then she looked at Delilah. "You haven't answered the first part of my question, Ms. Kalvakuntla."

Delilah mouthed something in annoyance, looking at Cal again. "Ah, about me and Pascal? Well, we'd been involved already in a previous incident, and Isaac Frost had mentioned hiring a new caretaker when he was discussing accommodations with Lord Cormac. Pascal's name came up, you see. Lord Cormac sure is fastidious, haha." She was sweating a little bit, but perhaps it was from the hot soup she had been guzzling down all this time. "Anyway, that name eventually somehow ended up getting its way to my company's president. And he called me and was like, 'You remember this kid, right? He was one of yours!' Basically, he wanted to push the whole thing onto me, even though I was only tangentially involved by pure coincidence through Pascal."

She clicked her tongue. "So I had to call Lord Cormac and make some more arrangements and get some more paperwork done and it was a big pain in the butt, let me tell you! And that's the whole story!"

"You're being quite vague."

"That's enough," Cal's voice cut through the air. He had a resigned expression on his face, like he knew he couldn't put off some dreaded event any longer, and he was looking directly at Bridget. "Ms. Delilah was my caseworker, way back when."

"I still am, twerp."

"Is that right? My 'parents' are still paying you consultancy fees?"

Delilah winced. "It's an honorary position at this point! God, you're stubborn. This is the short and simple of it." She was now talking to Bridget and Aina directly. "Ten years ago, I received a heads-up from my company for a potential job. This was a classic scenario: the sole survivor of a disastrous event. A kid in our jurisdiction had lived through a car crash."

"A car crash?" echoed Aina. "I see reports about those things on the news, sometimes. Those metal boxes sometimes collide or hit something at great speed. It seems very frightening. I wouldn't want to enter those boxes in comparison to a reliable and safe wagon. But that's not something a wizard would handle, is it?"

Delilah's eyes were somewhat colder than a moment ago. She had pushed the emptied bowl of soup away from her. "It is when the car falls a hundred feet off a sheer cliff and a ten-year-old kid walks away without a scratch. That's the sort of event that rings major alarm bells in my line of work. Something was up, a spell, a fairy, a curse, something. So I called it in and went to investigate. I wasn't trying to do anything dramatic. Sure, sometimes I need to fight an evil ghost or take down a reanimated corpse or two in my line of work, but I need to stress that my occupation primarily covers consultancy. A lot of people don't believe in the supernatural, and when something inexplicable happens to them, they need someone to talk to about it, to give them advice, about what to do, about what not to do. Sometimes just someone to listen. But this kid was just a kid, and if something beyond an act of God was responsible for his survival, I needed to determine what that was, for his own safety. It took a while before I found someone I could talk to about it — I guess overcoming the legal potholes of establishing guardianship was drawn out. That, in this case, was the adopted parents, Mr. and Mrs. Clermont. I didn't do a hard sell; didn't bring out the incense or Ouija board. I just positioned myself as a sort of gonzo psychiatrist for children who had suffered major trauma due to dramatic, unforeseen events. That got my foot in the door to talk to the kid."

"Wait," Aina seemed to be slowly beginning to understand, and a look of sincere distress was beginning to flicker in her eyes. She was tugging anxiously at a handful of her long, red hair. "Cal… that wasn't you, was it?"

Cal met the princess' eyes. He seemed to be expressing no emotion at all in his voice. "It was me."

Delilah held up a hand. She didn't appear to want Cal to speak anymore. "I'm not going to give you the details here, only that I determined a really bad spirit had attached itself to Cal. It had protected him from the crash, but it also wasn't interested in letting him go. I mean something… bad. Not a disgruntled ghost or vengeful dead wife. Nothing like that. Something properly bad." Delilah said these words extremely carefully, simultaneously trying to explain the situation to the best of her ability without revealing any specifics. "And that's something we've had to deal with, together. That's the most I'm going to say. So yeah, me and Pascal go way back. It's been a few years since we've talked in person… someone has been ignoring my calls. Thus, setting up this ambush today when I happened to be in town seemed like a good call."

"You're not being paid for consultancy anymore," Cal repeated. The first time, he had said these words somewhat good-naturedly, this time, they were quite cold and flat. "My parents cut you off years ago. You have no more obligation."

Delilah looked up at him, seemingly hurt by his words. "I have a duty of care, Pascal. I always will."

Ignoring this, Cal picked up the empty bowl of soup and carried it to the sink in silence. Most unusually, he simply dropped it in the sink itself, without taking the time to wash it out with soap and water so it could be placed on the drying rack by the counter. Then he looked at Aina. "Any more questions?"

"What?" Aina said softly, all of her bluster gone, her eyes wide. She seemed still unable to process what she had just heard. "N-no, Cal. I… don't, I guess."

"How about you?" Cal looked at Bridget.

"Don't act like this, kid," said Delilah in a soft but even voice. "They didn't know, that's all."

Cal ignored this, too. He was still looking at Bridget.

"No, Mr. Cal," Bridget replied, sadly. Her chest felt like it was constricting painfully. "I have no more questions."

"Cool," Cal said. He was swaying in place a little, shifting from foot to foot, like he wasn't sure what to do next. "Cool. Very cool. I'm going to use the restroom, alright?"

And he left the room.

After absorbing the long, tense silence left behind from this exchange, Bridget spoke earnestly to Delilah. "I am so sorry. It would have been far better if I hadn't said anything."

"What?" Delilah was still looking down the corridor leading to the entry hall, where Cal had vanished. Bridget's voice broke her from her stupor, and she appeared surprised by the strength of feeling in Bridget's words. "Oh, don't apologize. Honestly, it was irresponsible for Pascal not to give you all at least a little bit of a run-down on the situation. Not that he needed to spill his guts or anything, but to pretend like there was absolutely nothing to tell is equally ridiculous."

"Is he alright?" Aina said in an unsure tone. "I've never seen him like that."

"Really?" said Delilah, addressing the princess with a raised eyebrow. "In the time he has lived here, he's never played the avoidance game?"

Bridget didn't say anything in response to this question, though Aina continued in sincerity.

"No, the peas- I mean, Cal, he has always acted in a reasonable manner." Aina chewed her lip in thought. "I suppose he can be a little blunt at times, but to act so emotionally… I didn't know he had a side like that."

Delilah looked at Aina for a long moment, in an almost pitying way. "Hmm?" she said, the word coming in a deep resonance from the bottom of her throat. "What you saw just now is rather familiar to me. When he was growing up, I tried to do everything to get through to that boy, with always the same result. He would disengage, or pretend that nothing was wrong. I think he trained himself to be that way, like: 'It'll be okay if I close off my emotions.' When I first started my consultancy, I was initially hired by his adoptive parents to check in with him every other month. We'd meet at a burger place. I'd ask him how he was doing, how he was coping, how we could proceed forward in a way that he could live a normal life."

She sighed, running a hand through her curly, dark hair. "But it fell off. He started showing up less and less to our assigned meeting times. I tried to explain to him that the type of spirit I had determined was haunting him was no joke, was something that had to be continually dealt with vigilantly. I tried to teach him mechanisms for dealing with spirits. I tried to organize exorcisms. Nothing worked. Everything fell through — there were delays, scheduling issues, inexplicable forgetfulness. I tried to talk to his parents, but they were completely apathetic. By the time the kid was thirteen, I barely saw him, and then not at all. I called his school, and they told me he had dropped out to switch to online education. I called him at the number he had provided and got ignored. I called his parents and got ignored, though they still paid me my consultancy fee every other month for a long time afterward — it was the most bizarre thing. Eventually, I gave up. The kid didn't want to be found. I had done everything besides kick in the front door to his address… maybe I should have."

"Did Mr. Cal just not want to talk with you? Was it as simple as that?" offered Bridget.

Delilah looked at her calmly, though there was something painful in her eyes. "If only it were that simple. I could take that. It's not like I was ever good with kids. But… I think even back then, I underestimated just how wrong things were going. How much that kid needed my help, how much danger he was in."

Bridget kept her voice deliberately level. "Is he in danger right now?"

Delilah made an expression between a smile and a wince. "I don't know. I don't think so, really. I was hoping perhaps you could give me some light on that situation. I've had conversations over the phone with Cal's sister, Adelaide. She contacted me eighteen months ago — she had been gone for years at culinary school and then went straight into being a sous-chef, so she hadn't been back at the house in some years. When she paid a 'wellness visit', as she called it, she told me she found that her little brother was, in her own words, catatonic."

"What?" Aina said, her eyes wide. She seemed to be having trouble keeping up with the twists the conversation was taking. "Cal was… what?"

"Catatonic," repeated Delilah, "as in, apparently he wasn't responding to much of anything. Something had happened. Well, my impression from there is that Adelaide basically kidnapped Cal from his own house, taking him to her apartment here in the city, getting him back to a degree of normalcy. No idea why the parents didn't intervene, but they never seem to do much of anything. Whatever. The next call I get from Adelaide is her informing me that Cal was insisting on living on his own, on starting college, on getting back to normal life, whatever that meant."

"This all started from an incident eighteen months ago?" Bridget was trying, unsuccessfully, to keep the incredulity out of her voice. "But… Mr. Cal has already been living here at Otter Manor for nearly six months now. This timeline seems unlikely, Ms. Kalvakuntla."

"The kid bounces back quickly, apparently," Delilah said, shrugging. "I mean… this is my first time seeing him in person for a number of years. He looks good, thin, but good. You know, I thought I almost saw him smile when he was joking around with you girls earlier. From my perspective, that was already a miracle in itself."

After that, Delilah's visit to Otter Manor didn't last long. She stayed for a little bit, answering some more questions, and then repeating herself once Ellie and Ram arrived home and demanded explanations about the strange older woman. Delilah answered with patience — though she left her expounding simple the second time around, only stating that she was an adult friend who had known Cal when he was young. Watching in silence, Bridget thought that the woman seemed a little taken about by all these characters who were showing up at the residence. It was like she hadn't been prepared for anyone else but Cal to be living in the manor, and after spilling her story so thoroughly to Bridget and Aina, she no longer had any more strength to explain herself. As the minutes progressed, her manner became more and more distant, before suddenly excusing herself — claiming she had work to do. Even though she seemed tempted by Ellie's suggestion that she stay for dinner, she sadly shook her head and headed out the front door of the manor. Bridget watched as Cal followed Delilah without a word, as if there was an unspoken understanding between them.

Cal and Delilah reached the gate in silence, not having said a word in the handful of minutes it had taken to walk down the hill of grass that Otter Manor was sitting upon. However, when she reached out to open the gate with her hand, Delilah turned and looked at Cal. She seemed to be really studying his face, like she was memorizing every detail so she could picture it later. It wasn't time for the sun to start setting, but an anticipatory purple and orange had begun to paint the air, giving a surreal aspect to how shadows and light touched faces.

Then she swallowed, with an expression like she knew that anything she said at that moment would be wrong. "I would have done anything for you, if you had asked," Delilah said finally, her voice shaking slightly. "I know I'm not a superhero or anything. But I would have tried."

Cal nodded, his dark eyes somewhat strange-looking in the low light. "I know. I'm sorry."

Delilah fought back a gulp that would have thrown off the composure of her voice. "Why? Why not let me help?"

"I was ashamed," Cal said, simply. "I didn't want to face anyone or do anything ever again. I didn't really want to exist anymore, ma'am, but Freya wouldn't let me die. So I just kept on living. It's like…"

He bit his lip, trying to find the words. "It's like an extended epilogue, coming here, to live in this place. I feel as though I'm constantly looking at the back of my own head, watching my body do things I never thought would be possible, like I'm looking on from above, in a fugue state. Did you know I turned twenty years old a few days ago? Twenty. It doesn't feel real. Nothing feels real anymore. Still being alive is so farcical and ridiculous. I wake up every day… expecting not to see anything anymore. For the jig to be up. But nothing happens. I get up. I clean. I make breakfast, then do the laundry. People act like they're glad to see me. The days keep piling up."

Delilah's eyes were getting misty. "I would have done anything," she repeated, wiping her nose. "I want… I want you to be glad you're still here…"

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Are…" Delilah wiped her nose again, her extended arm still resting on the gate of the property. "Are you having fun, at least?"

Cal considered this pointedly, then smiled a little. "Yeah, I think so. The girls who live here are all absolutely insane. It keeps me on my toes."

That made her snort. "Says you. Sorry, that was a silly question. I sound like a mom asking their kid about their time at summer camp."

"Yeah. But that wouldn't be so bad."

Delilah sniffed and shook her head, composing herself. "What? What do you mean?"

"I mean, I would be grateful," said Cal, almost casually. "If someone like you actually were my mother."

There was a long pause without a word said, then Delilah turned her head again, facing away from Cal and towards the gate. Cal seemed almost apologetic as he broke the quiet. "I apologize. Did I say something strange again? I'm still getting used to talking normally without making people uncomfortable."

"No," came Delilah's voice, very quiet. She had now pushed through the gate and was standing on the road. "You said something good there, Pascal. Keep saying things like that."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Can I come visit? Some other time?"

Cal paused. "Yes… it's just… it's hard for me to see anything… or anybody from the past."

"I understand. I'll keep that in mind, kid."

Cal watched her disappear down the road. He didn't feel like moving; rather, he felt content to stand here by the gate, feeling the wind brush through his long, dark hair. He didn't want to go back inside, at least not for a little bit, because questions would be waiting for him. All the tenants of Otter Manor, with curious faces and sincere interest.

He pictures those faces, one by one. Ram, Ellie, Aina, Mel, Bridget.

And a chill ran through his spine. He felt his throat constrict, and it took a minute or two of concentrated breathing for him to alleviate the feeling. When he next spoke, directly to the wind, it came out as a mangled knot of words, only held together by their feelings.

"You once told me you would always be with me, Freya," Cal said softly. "Remember? You put your hand on my chest, and your fingers fell through the skin. So… you can hear this, can't you?"

There was no reply, but the slants of all the shadows of the world seemed to vibrate.

"Okay," responded Cal. "Hear me now. Don't fucking touch them. Any of them. Or I'll make sure my body — your cornerstone — doesn't exist much longer. Got it?"

Then he turned and headed back up the hill.