Chapter 14 - Ordinary Light
Six months after the night in the ballroom, Emma stood in the small kitchen of the apartment she still shared with Lily and her father, packing a lunch for the next day’s shift.
Robert sat at the table with a newspaper. Lily was finishing a paper for a class that would soon be behind her. The strawberry magnet still held a few bills on the fridge, but the amounts were smaller and the due dates farther apart.
Emma’s phone buzzed. A message from Vincent.
Mother is asking whether you are free Sunday afternoon. She has a new book she wants to discuss. I will be there as well if that is acceptable.
Emma typed back: Sunday works. Tell her I’m looking forward to it.
She set the phone down and finished packing the lunch. Outside, the late spring light came through the window in a clean, ordinary way. No chandeliers. No diamond bracelets. Just the day ahead and the people she had chosen to keep in it.
She did not know yet how the relationship with Vincent would settle. She only knew that it had not required her to become someone else, and that she had not required him to save her.
Isabella was still in the wheelchair, still sharp, still glad for company that asked nothing of her son’s name. Victoria Langford still moved through the same rooms she always had, but the rooms had become slightly less accommodating.
Emma closed the lunch bag and looked at her father and sister.
“I’m going out for a bit,” she said. “Back before dinner.”
Robert nodded. Lily waved without looking up from her screen.
Emma took the stairs instead of the elevator because the exercise felt good. On the sidewalk she paused and checked the time. She had twenty minutes before the bus that would take her toward the lake.
She walked.
The city moved around her in its usual indifferent way. Somewhere behind her a door closed. Somewhere ahead a light changed. She kept walking, hands in her pockets, the memory of a raised jeweled hand already far enough away that it no longer decided the shape of her days.
When the bus came she boarded it, found a seat near the window, and watched the streets pass.
May you like
She did not know every answer yet. She did not need to.
The next five seconds, and the five after that, belonged to her.
