Page 51 of These Thin Lines

ONCE UPON A BROKEN FRAME

Genevieve Courtenay was very good at followingevents unfolding in fast motion. She thought quickly on her feet, she reacted in time, and was proactive. She excelled at being ahead.

Being early, being fast, guaranteed her many things. Safety primarily, but also invisibility and space and peace to be herself. She’d finish her chores, she’d deal with whatever needed to be dealt with after her family came and went, and then she could do as she pleased. Mainly though, it meant she could stay out of the fray.

What she wasn’t very good at was slow motion. When time stretched or stopped entirely, and when she was powerlessly watching things happen. One after another after another. As a child, after having been immersed in Greek legends and myths, she always imagined the three Fates and their thread, as it stretched in front of them and as they ruled over it.

Chiara kissed her and Vi felt on top of the world, like she was the one threading time, every single caress of that beautiful mouth making her powerful, giving her strength, breathing light into her. Life bloomed around her, and she was a thief, stealing something that couldn’t belong to her, for Vi Courtenay had been taught that she didn’t deserve any of this.

So when Chiara pulled back and gazed at her, Vi held her breath. Chiara would wake up from whatever had come over her and tell her—

“I’m sorry…”

Vi closed her eyes. The Fates must have cut the thread, because here she was, hitting the wall at full speed. One really could never outrun those divinities and their spindle and shears.

She shook her head, and Chiara’s hands slowly fell away from her cheeks. She made herself card her fingers through Chiara’s soft, silky hair one last time as she lowered her own hand.

“Don’t say anything. I guess this is that midnight moment. And I know exactly how Cinderella felt. After all, you’ve been calling me that all summer.”

Chiara opened her mouth to speak and caught Vi’s arm as she got up, but Vi was having none of it as she shook it off and almost blindly made her way off the roof through the exit towards Zizou’s bistro.

When she found herself on the sidewalk, the wind had changed and the sky was becoming more overcast by the minute. A strong gust blew leaves in her direction, and Vi wanted to laugh.

Yes, universe, she got the hint.

Summer was over. It was time to go home. She covered the camera with her hoodie and walked all the way to her apartment in the chilly rain.

* * *

Vi knewher father was in her apartment before she’d closed the door behind herself. Despite the melancholy of being rejected after the absolute best kiss of her life—a kiss so earth-shattering that she would surely divide her life into ‘before’ and ‘after’ now—her senses alerted her it was time to be watchful. And Vi sensed him before he stood up from the armchair.

“Hello, father.”

She took off her drenched sweatshirt, remarking that, despite its state, the camera was dry as she gently placed it on the kitchen counter next to her open laptop.

Something inside her clicked at seeing it lit, and Zizou’s words came back to her. Her suspicions, her premonitions. They’d not been baseless at all. She could see how certain things could have been accomplished despite her vigilance—the method to this entire madness and a way for her father to…

She was afraid to finish her thought. And at this point, there was nothing on the laptop of any importance. The Lilien Haus’ collection was out there in the world.

The most he’d find were her pictures of Chiara… Her brain screeched to a halt, the desire to scream in frustration rising in her along with bile, leaving a foul taste in her mouth.

Well, this must be why her stepsisters had mocked her about following Chiara around like a love-sick puppy and for being an embarrassing lesbian pining for a married woman.

Vi was so careful with everything pertaining to Lilien Haus and the collection. It seemed she should have been more cautious about her and Chiara’s privacy as well. Her father must have gone through her laptop before and found the numerous pictures she’d taken, and told them. For some reason, it hurt less that he himself had never mentioned it or humiliated her about it in person. Small blessings.

Her shoulders sagged as he finally crossed the room to her. In the dark, that he seemed to prefer when he visited her place unannounced, his face looked strangely animated.

“Genevieve, you’re a mess.”

Well, maybe calling out her disheveled appearance was invigorating him. Because she hadn’t seen him emote in a really long time.

“Yes, father.” The prerequisite words were automatic.

“What happened at Lilien Haus? I heard the police were called?” His voice rose, as if he initially hadn’t intended for it to be a question.

He would know if she attempted to lie or evade, and the truth was easier, anyway. Easier, more expedient, and maybe it would save him. Vi bit her cheek until she tasted blood. It washed away the bitterness, but the copper lingered, so familiar, somehow safe.

Blood of his blood.

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