I didn't ask for two

Episode 3: Emergency Session

Kim

I sat on the bathroom floor.

This was not a choice I'd made consciously. One moment I was standing in front of the mirror looking at the empty nightstand where the envelope used to be. The next moment the bathroom tiles were cold against the backs of my thighs and I was holding a mug of coffee that was getting less warm by the second.

The council convened.

* * *

EMERGENCY SESSION, Panic announced. ALL PARTIES PRESENT. QUORUM ESTABLISHED. I AM CALLING THIS MEETING TO ORDER.

Nobody had elected Panic to chair anything. She did it anyway. She always did.

I MOVE, she continued, THAT WE IMMEDIATELY CONTACT EMERGENCY SERVICES. 911. THE POLICE. A LAWYER. POSSIBLY ALL THREE IN THAT ORDER.

We don't have a phone signal, Voice of Reason said.

I AM AWARE OF THAT. I AM DOCUMENTING IT AS AN ADDITIONAL GRIEVANCE.

What are we calling about? Adventurer asked. She sounded genuinely curious, the way she always did when she thought the situation had potential.

UNLAWFUL DETENTION. HARASSMENT. PSYCHOLOGICAL MANIPULATION VIA PROXIMITY AND— Panic paused. AND WARMTH. WEAPONIZED WARMTH. THERE ARE STATUTES.

I don't think warmth is a tort, Voice of Reason said.

IT SHOULD BE. I'M ADDING IT TO THE DRAFT LEGISLATION.

* * *

The coffee was still warm enough to hold onto. I held onto it.

We should also, Panic said, pivoting with the energy of someone who had a seventeen-point agenda and intended to get through all of it, prepare a civil suit. Harassment. Hostile environment. Intentional infliction of emotional distress.

She paused for effect.

We could be looking at significant damages. We could finally move out of that apartment. We could live somewhere where the pipes don't make that sound.

What sound? Adventurer asked.

THE SOUND. THE SOUND THE PIPES MAKE. Panic's volume climbed. WE COULD LIVE SOMEWHERE QUIET. SOMEWHERE WITH A DOORMAN. SOMEWHERE WHERE PEOPLE DON'T DO— she seemed to search for the word— THAT. TO US. IN FRONT OF WINDOWS.

Voice of Reason opened her mouth.

Don't, I said.

She closed it.

* * *

Meanwhile, Adventurer said, leaning forward with the expression of someone who had already moved three steps ahead of the current conversation and was waiting for everyone else to catch up. I've been thinking.

That's not reassuring, I said.

Hear me out. She spread her hands. He said "next time." He specifically said "next time." Which implies a subsequent time. Which implies continued access. Which implies—

Which implies nothing, I said.

It implies a timeline, Adventurer said. A framework. We could work with a framework. I've been sketching some preliminary—

You've been sketching.

Just rough outlines. Contingencies. Decision trees. She paused. He has very nice hands. I mentioned that yesterday and I want it on the record that I stand by the observation.

It's on the record, Voice of Reason said, in the tone of someone taking minutes at a meeting they hadn't chosen to attend.

STRIKE IT FROM THE RECORD, Panic said. IT IS IRRELEVANT TO THE LAWSUIT.

* * *

Then the Femme Fatale made a sound.

It was small. Just — a sound. The kind of sound that shouldn't carry any weight and somehow carries all of it.

Everyone went quiet.

She didn't speak often in council sessions. She didn't speak often anywhere. She kept herself tucked away behind the others most of the time, only coming forward when she'd decided the moment was worth it. When she spoke, it meant something.

She wasn't speaking now. She was doing something worse.

He won't, she said finally. Very quietly. Want us.

Nobody said anything.

He saw. She wasn't looking at any of us. She was looking at something the rest of us couldn't see. He was right there. He could see everything. He knows what we look like. A pause, smaller than the others. He felt how much space we take up.

He's going to laugh, she said. They always— he's going to show someone, and then he's going to—

She stopped.

The bathroom was very quiet.

I put the mug down on the tiles because my hands needed something to do and there was nothing to do.

I know, I said. I know.

I just thought, she said. For a second. When he was—

I know, I said again.

She went quiet. Not gone — just quiet, folded back into herself, gone to wherever she went when she decided the moment wasn't safe enough after all.

* * *

Panic had gone uncharacteristically silent.

Even Adventurer wasn't saying anything.

Voice of Reason cleared her throat, carefully.

For what it's worth, she said, and stopped.

Nobody told her to continue.

I've been trying, she said, to understand. Physiologically. What happened. When he was — when we were at the window. Because there were several responses that were not — not strictly voluntary. That weren't about choice. And I think—

Shut up, I said.

She stopped.

I'm not— I said. I'm not saying you're wrong. I'm saying I can't do that right now.

Voice of Reason nodded. She folded her notes and put them away.

Fair enough, she said.

* * *

The tiles were cold. I picked the mug back up. The ceramic was warm, but it did nothing to chase away the phantom heat of his chest at my back, or the faint, lingering scent of smoke and leather that seemed to have settled into the bathroom air. My body remembered what my brain was trying to file away.

The envelope was gone.

I was still here.

He'd brought me coffee.

I listed these facts in order of their importance and couldn't decide what order that was.

WHEN WE GET OUT OF HERE, Panic said, very quietly for Panic, we are going to file every document available to us under applicable law.

We're going to do that, I agreed.

AND MOVE SOMEWHERE WITH A DOORMAN.

Definitely, I said.

Adventurer said nothing. She was somewhere else, running her decision trees, sketching her contingencies.

The Femme Fatale said nothing. She was somewhere else too, in the place she went that none of the rest of us could follow.

Voice of Reason said nothing. She was thinking, the careful way she thought when she'd been told to stop thinking and had decided to do it quietly instead.

I sat on the bathroom floor and drank my coffee and did not think about the warmth of his chest at my back or the sound of his voice at my ear.

I did not think about it very intently.

* * *

Eventually I stood up.

The mirror showed me the same thing it always showed me: Kim Parker, twenty-one, courier, current legal status unclear, in possession of one empty mug and four opinions she hadn't asked for.

I looked at myself for a long moment.

He'll laugh, the Femme Fatale had said.

They always—

I set the mug on the sink.

The envelope was gone. I was still here. The door was still locked.

I went back to the bed, sat down, and did the only thing available to me.

I waited.

I was going to be excellent at waiting. I had ranked my options. Waiting was first, second, and third on the list.

Adventurer was already on option four.

Twenty minutes later, someone knocked on the door.