Chapter 137
“Iris! Iris, wait!”
I don’t respond. I don’t look back. I don’t even look at his fading form in the rearview mirror.
+20 Bonus
The drive to our new apartment later that afternoon is silent. Miles sits in the backseat, his face pressed against the window. He
hasn’t spoken to me in days–not since I told him we were moving. Even with Brian here now to help me move–again–he
hasn’t spoken.
The silence is like a knife, twisting slowly in a gaping wound in my chest. Each breath feels like agony.
Brian glances at me as he drives. “Don’t blame yourself, darling,” he says gently, reaching over to pat my leg. “It was an
Impossible decision with no ideal outcome. It’s not your fault.”
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Lopen my mouth to respond, but no words will come. Truthfully, I feel like the worst mother in the world right now. I almost
wish I never even returned to Ordan, not even for the Marsiel exhibit, just so Miles never would have had to go through this.
We were happy, once, in Bo’Arrocan. We didn’t have a lot, but it was something. It was peace. Joy. Not…
I glance in the rearview mirror at Miles, who is still staring out the window.
…Whatever this is.
Our new apartment is smaller than Arthur’s place, but it’s brighter. The windows flood the space with natural light, transforming the compact rooms into something that feels almost hopeful. Almost.
Miles, of course, refuses to unpack. He sits in the corner of his new bedroom, his open suitcase still untouched. Brian has brought
a couple boxes of things for us to help settle in, but it’s not the same. The apartment is furnished, but minimalistic and not at all
like the cluttered, cozy home that Arthur and I once built.
Still, I try to coax Miles into unpacking. Reason with him. I even try to bribe him at one point. Nothing works.
“I miss Daddy,” he says once, the first words he’s spoken in days. The statement feels like ice water being dumped over my head.
“I know, sweetheart,” I whisper. But I don’t take it back. I can’t take it back.
The first week passes in a blur of unpacking, legal preparations, and Miles‘ continued silent treatment. I feel like the worst
mother in the world. Every time I look at him, I see the hurt and the betrayal, and I hate myself and every little decision I’ve made
to get to this point even more.
Somehow, though, as the days go on, I manage to work on my first painting for the residency. I suppose it’s inspired by all of the bad decisions I’ve made to get to this moment in my life; the painting depicts a cloud of dots, some smaller and some larger, hooked together with red lines. Eventually, it converges into a jumble of lines and dots in the center, before they all merge into
one enormous black splotch.
1/2
I don’t know what I’m going to name it. I don’t think it needs a name.
+20 Bonus
Finally, after a week of living in our new place, my first legal meeting arrives. The new babysitter I’ve hired–a kind–faced woman named Rachel–arrives early. Miles barely acknowledges her presence. He’s become a ghost in his own home, drifting between rooms, existing but not truly present.
“He’ll be fine,” Rachel assures me with an award–winning smile. “We’re going to have lots of fun, aren’t we, Miles?”
She holds up a box of boardgames, and Miles just looks away. I’m not convinced they’re going to have much of a time at all, let alone a good one, but at least it will be uneventful. Which is a step up from chaos.
Finally,
, just before the meeting, I call a cab. The morning is crisp, autumn beginning to paint the city in muted golds and browns. My mind is racing–custody agreements, Arthur’s potential counter–moves, Miles‘ emotional state. I barely even acknowledge the driver when I get in and tell him the address.
The cab weaves through morning traffic. I’m watching the city blur past the window, lost in thought. Then, the nearby intersection approaches–a familiar crossroads I’ve passed dozens of times before.
Suddenly, there’s a screech of metal. A violent, crushing sound.
Then darkness.
