“Thank you…Miss Roussimoff. That will be all.”
With the Grand Elder’s dismissal, Sorova left him, Pyrodox, Saleria, and others to discuss the matter further with presumably grave intent. Wendell was an invaluable accountant for the Church, but such things were too sensitive to discuss with him and an transdim. She immediately knew why he looked so preoccupied.
Of these forbidden subjects the one that naturally inspired the most trepidation was the apparent crux event she had stumbled upon in company the previous day, and Wendell was well aware of the gravity of that.
“Wendy, uh, Wendell…”
Wendell continued to sulk with his drink, glaring at apparently nothing.
“I think we should talk about it. About what happened with…him.”
Wendell took a few deep breath as in preparation for physical exertion. “Things were going along well enough, but…I was getting a little more unstable, our marriage was getting tense. I don’t know if it was really bad, but…I know it would’ve gotten worse, if I hadn’t listened to that Tailor. I don’t know what the difference was, but…something made me take a second look into MANNA. I prayed to God it wasn’t true, but…it was. Worst day of my life when I made myself pick up the phone and tell President Furnier that he had to call a State of Emergency. I couldn’t have done it without you holding my hand.” He smiled her poignantly. “I knew my life was pretty much over. I mean, how could I possibly show my face on Terra after that?”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, my Wendy found a way,” Sorova shrugged.
“He did that to you, didn’t he?”
Sorova felt the scars on her face and nodded.
“And of course, you had to find a way to make it beautiful. Floral patterns. So like her.”
“You like it?” she said hopefully.
He struggled for a second. “I like what you did with it…I-“ He shook his head. “Sorova, none of that shit is right. You shouldn’t even have those scars! Those designs shouldn't even exist, I did this to u-I mean he did this to you-I mean...”
Wendell’s eyes assumed a feral desperate fear when he caught himself, and Sorova understood. Most people will deflect from their own responsibility, blame anyone and anything before they would face their own culpability, a basic flaw in human nature that could not be easily broken or defied. But there was one thing from whom the darkest depths of crippling guilt and self-hatred was an escape. A being who inspired fear so primal that depression felt like hope in comparison.
Her Wendell never escaped being one of Grammick’s toys. All the drugs, all the outbursts, they were flights from acknowledging his familiarity with that creature. The only thing known to get her husband to take something seriously was the suggestion that Grammick was involved. For a split-second Sorova had once considered using that as a pretext for getting him to behave, but she immediately recoiled from the thought, a thought whose brief existence still occasionally haunted her as if it was an intrusion wrought by the demon himself.
Wendell was bent and shivering now. “He…almost…took everything from us.” Sorova held him tight, remembering that there were entire worlds of people who knew his fear.
“Squeeze your diaphragm a bit more, okay?”
Since Monique was said to be a developing singer, Sorova only thought it was fitting to give her some lessons. Wendell decided to go do some bookkeeping for the Church to get his mind off things, and it was her opportunity to spend some time at home with the kids.
Monique tensed her coils and sang again. Noticeably better, but still not perfect. Sorova had forgotten how bad or good such a sound would be for someone her age, and anything less than perfect sounded bad to her, but she was still Sorova Roussimoff.
“That was so beautiful!” she gushed, clapping in a childlike way, completely free of sarcasm. “See how much better that is?”
“Yeah, but it’s not as good as you sound,” Monique pouted.
“Don’t worry, I had to start somewhere, too. You try so hard and you’re clearly getting better. You get better with each rehearsal. I’m so proud of you!”
“You watched my rehearsals?” Monique's face brightened up.
“Of course I did! I wouldn’t miss them for the world?”
“Are-are you ever gonna do one for us?”
Little Wynfrith was staring at the offending math problem whens Sorova slithered into his room. He had no doubt heard her helping Monique with her singing, and she felt a bit guilty for not being an expert at the boy’s focus.
“You stuck?” she ventured.
“Dad usually helps me when I am.”
“Well, math isn’t my thing, but maybe you can talk to me about the problems you do know. I bet you could teach me.” She put picked up up and held her in her arms. He seemed a bit confused at first, but his tension disappeared as she held his book in front of him so he could explain what he had learned.
He smiled when she kissed him good night. She had carefully tucked both children in bed with a story (she was good at telling stories) after a jovial evening with them and their father. As she approached her designated couch, she skulked stealthily underneath the shrine to this world’s Sorova like a thief in the night.
“The Traveler’s ways are indeed misguided,” Saleria agreed.
Sorova nodded. She did not say that, but the Elder’s conclusion was inescapable after her confession that her desire to do the missions she was trained to do conflicted with her fear of a family’s once again losing a mother and a wife.
“It’s not like my life there is better than it is here…but it makes sense. I can do me-things over there and it makes sense. I can’t go out and fight when I have a family like this, and when I’m there at that house, I feel like I should be out doing work.”
“I suppose you understand all the more why transdimensionality is anathema, at least as a therapeutic.”
“I already understood, I think.” Not enough to reist temptation apparently. “I’m sorry.”
“It is forgiven. Have you spoken with Wynfrith, lately?”
“He’s been avoiding me. I can tell.”
“Of course he has. You are his baby sister. He remembers you as a singer and a loving wife, not as a killer…like himself.”
“Guess that makes sense.”
“He must have disapproved when you made the decision to be trained as a minister.”
“Oh gosh, he made such a row about it, you wouldn’t believe. It’s like he thought he was my dad or something.”
“You forget I am his Confessor. He was upset there because he thought he failed to protect you. He thought so when you died here, as well. And he cannot stand the thought that he failed to do so in another world as well.”
“Failure. I get it. You know, he doesn’t talk much about his past, but when he did you’d think he just did nothing but fail. Like he couldn’t succeed in breathing but still couldn’t succeed in dying. Didn’t eat or sleep, just failed. Not even failing at doing things, just somehow just...failing.”
“You should use those famous tracking skills of yours to pin him down and talk to him.”
“Yeah, but-You know, I shouldn’t even be talking to him! He shouldn’t even know me like this at all! It’d be like crossing dimensions all over again! I shouldn’t even be here, after all!”
“That is correct, but you are here, and it is folly to act otherwise. Many things should not have happened, but that does not mean that you should see a person as you are any less than I can see him with the eyes I was hatched with.”
Pyrodox compared the spread of his paper target with that of its neighbor in the adjoining lane.
“You’re good,” he commented matter-of-factly.
“I’m better with knives, actually.”
“I mean with tracking. This is relatively obscure outpost.”
“You bet.”
“And you snuck up on me quite well.”
“Mm-hm. I can also sing and dance.”
“Oh, I believe you,” Pyrodox said bitterly.
“Look, I know this isn’t the me you’re used to, but I’m not just your baby sister. I’m your sister, and you’re. My. Brother.”
“They way I hear it, I’m pretty much the same brother you know, but you’re not the same sister I knew. That does not like an equitable arrangement to me.” He turned his back on her.
“Look, I know what this is about, Wyn. But it wasn’t your fault. What happened happened. I chose Wendell. Wendell chose MANNA. You were just there.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Whatever. You just gotta let that go, not everything is about your flaws. I made my choices, and one of them was to become a minister, and believe me, you got pretty pissy about it at the time, but, you know what? You got over it. And you got used to it, because we fought together. I don’t know what it was like for her here, but that was when I truly felt like we were brother and sister.”
“You think she was less of a sister the way she was?”
“No. But I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
PART 4
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