And in Tomas’s case, it’s friendship. It’s company.
But I know better.
My point is, it was me and Tarq. And I know he’s probably thinking, That fuckface Pell left me here in this tomb to rot. And he’ll have feelings about that if Pie and I can find a way to get him out. But I actually crave that fight. I want that argument. I just want something from my old, real life to come back.
I want him, in his natural satyr chimera form. Because he is like me.
I want to be with my own people.
The rooms upstairs are great. Without them, I’d be insane by now. But it’s fake. It’s all fake and it’s all been fake the entire time I’ve been in this curse.
Just give me something real, ya know? I don’t care if it’s an argument. In fact, an argument would be just fine with me. Arguments are overflowing with feelings. I want those emotions again.
I want to see my friend.
I also want to go down that that tomb and pace in front of it until Pie comes back, but I’m afraid that my presence there will block her exit.
But I do walk down the hill a little, just until I’m at that rise that allows me to see over the wall and the caretaker’s cottage, and find the lake. I sit down on my favorite crumbling tomb base and just breathe. Trying my best not to look over my shoulder in the direction of Tarq’s tomb to see if Pie is on her way back yet.
Time might be different in there, I don’t know anything about Tarq’s tomb.
Time is not different in my tomb, but that’s not saying much.
So I just gaze out at the lake.
When I first got here in the New World, I used to come to this spot and sit on this tomb every single morning and every single night. I wanted to go out to that lake so bad, but my caretaker at the time was a dick of a man called Ignacious. He never let me leave the sanctuary. If I tried to follow him out the gate, he’d just refuse to leave. So there were no lake trips and by the time he left and Michael took his place, I had forgotten that I even wanted to go out to the lake.
Tomas joined me once in this lake trip planning though. His imagination came up with a whole day out there. We were gonna go swimming, and have a picnic, which was a big deal back in those days. And we were gonna make a canoe and paddle around. Then just lie on the shore and soak up the sun. Tomas always did like the sun.
This makes me chuckle.
And this chuckle makes me realize that I’m… happy.
How did that happen?
Pie, I think. And that trip upstairs. Seeing her as a wood nymph chimera. God, she was pretty. And even though I was convinced up there that she was some kind of goddess, I realize now that I was just drunk on hallway doors.
Something moves out by the lake. A deer, maybe? It’s skulking through the woods on the north side of the water. But it’s too far away for me to really get a good look at it.
That would be nice though. To see a deer today.
A deer. Like Pie was.
I get up off the tomb, take one look over my shoulder just to make sure Pie didn’t come out of the tomb—she didn’t—and then start walking down the hill. I’m going to go up to Pie’s second-story window and look out at the lake until she comes back.
When I enter her cottage, the scent almost overwhelms me in the best way.
I like her. I like her a lot.
I’m glad she’s stuck here with me. I could live in this curse forever if she had to be stuck here with me.
I take the stairs two at a time and then cross the room, throw the curtains aside, lift the sash, and breathe in the lake air.
It’s got to be the same air as I breathe inside the sanctuary, but it feels fresher. Crisper. The November day is both cool and warm. The sun is out and it hits the lake at such an angle that it shimmers gold.
I am caught up in this shimmer when the figure steps out of the woods to the left of the lake.
I just… stare at him for a moment. Unable to speak. And then he’s walking towards the sanctuary.
Then he’s there. Just below me in the parking lot.
“Hello, Pell.”
Grant is young again, just like Pie described. So fucking mid-century perfect. Slicked-back hair. Khaki pants, a style from decades ago. Plain, white t-shirt with a button-down, not buttoned down, over it. Plaid, of course. In light blue and gray. His shoes are loafers, his face clean-shaven.