There’s a bit of envy in me, hearing him say that with such conviction.
Throughout the day, I allow myself to contemplate how I’m going to make my way back home. On paper, it seems easy enough: get myself to Juneau and go through the portal back to Annar. And yet, like everything else in my life, my return cannot be this simple, as there are so many factors I need to consider that it makes my head spin. Aside from the truly shitty way I treated my fiancé and friends by abandoning them without a word, I’m also a first tier Council member, and I fled my job and responsibilities. I have no idea what the repercussions are for that. It’s not like there’s another Creator to fall back on, so they’re stuck with me until a new one is born and Ascends. But what if they put me under arrest? Do they even do that? Maybe something like house arrest? For all anyone knows, I could’ve been captured and/or killed by the Elders. Are they out there searching for me, like they did for my team, missing now for over a year? I let myself imagine, for the briefest of moments, that Nividita, Harou, and Earle were found, safe and sound, and all three are in Annar right now, exactly where they should be. It’s a lovely feeling, until the reality of my abandoning of my responsibilities weighs down on me once more. Countless beings on seven different planes count on Creators.
I failed them.
I thought only of myself, and I left.
I glance around the Moose, at all the customers I’ve come to know in these six months, of the people I call friends who I work with, and I think—could I have abandoned my responsibilities to them so easily? Because, even on my darkest, most self-loathing day, I still put on my apron and came to work. And this job—this job I love, this job I made mine—isn’t the one I really ought to be doing. Not because I’m above it, not because it’s not worthy of a Creator, but . . . I’m a Creator. It’s the simple truth. I need to start acting like one.
I have a lot of mea culpas, I think. And a hell of a lot of growing up to do.
“Cut them some slack,” Paul is saying. “I’m sure both Zoe and Will would much prefer going home and relaxing than going to the bowling alley tonight.”
“Losers,” is Frieda’s endearing reply to us. She kisses me quickly on the cheek, slaps Will on his ass, and then saunters out of the diner.
Paul scratches his head. “Ginny’s bringing her new boyfriend around. I think it makes Frieda a bit—”
“Bitchy?” Will offers. He’s grinning, though.
Paul sighs. “I was going to say insecure. You sure you two are up for closing, being banged up the way you are and all?”
We assure him we are, and then he leaves. Will heads back into the kitchen; I trail after him minutes later, a cleaning bottle and a rag in my hands. “Want to talk about it?”
Several pans bang together as he puts them away. “What’s there to talk about?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You finding out who I am? What you are? That your parents have kept secrets from you your whole life? I have some experience with that myself.”
The look he gives me nearly shrinks my spine, but I remind myself, he’s been through a lot over the last forty hours.
The bell over the door chimes, and we both roll our eyes. Paul must’ve forgotten to flip the closed sign on his way out. “We’re closed,” Will yells, and then winces as his lungs press against his ribs.
“Well that sucks, as there are a couple customers waiting out here for some orders,” comes Frieda’s response.
Well, crap. There goes going home early and sleeping. And also, what is she doing back?
Will bends down to put another pot away. “Give us a moment, yeah?”
Her voice drifts closer. “Ooh, is that a grunt I hear, William? Is there some sexual healing going on in the kitchen tonight?”
She just doesn’t give up. I don’t even bother arguing the point. Why should I? It’s likely to go in one ear and out the other. “You know it,” I call out. “We’re attempting to break health codes left and right.”
Will laughs, but puts a hand on his wrapped chest, wincing.
Frieda appears in the doorway. “Well, this is a disappointment. Why are your clothes still on?”
“What are you doing here?” Will leans back against the sink, crossing his arms around his waist, like he’s trying to hold the pain in.
She disappears into Paul’s office and reemerges seconds later, jingling keys in her fingers. “Somebody forgot his house keys. I’m being generous and fetching them.”
“Miracles never cease,” Will mutters. But he’s smiling.
Frieda grimaces. “Honestly, I had to get away from Ginny and her boy toy in the car. Jesus. They’re disgusting. They’re slobbering all over one another. I won’t be surprised if she’s already knocked up.”
This comment cuts a little too close to home for Will, who turns back toward the sink.
Frieda swirls the keys in a circles. “Now, you two . . . mama wouldn’t mind seeing some action there.”