Page 120 of Of Flames and Fallacies

“What’s wrong?” Marge asks, noting the fall of my features as she sits beside me again.

“I just…I thought of my mother. And I miss her.”

Marge gently brushes her hand over mine. “She would be proud of you.”

Guilt swells inside of me as I remember the many years I dreamed of a different life. A life where I didn’t have to fish to provide for my mother and me, where I didn’t have to pick between us going hungry or her getting low on medicine. And now that I’m here, living a different life just like I had begged for,all I can do is miss those times. Looking back, it all seemed so simple.

Here I am today, living a life where all of my decisions are blinded by anger or fear. I almost left without saying goodbye to Marge and Archie. I slept with a man I barely know and can hardly stand, even though my heart belongs entirely to Cole. I should have left long ago with Daeja. But the truth is, I’m a coward.

I laugh, trying to mask the feelings threatening to pull me under. “I don’t know about that.”

“But I know. I’ve seen the way you defend that Archie boy. Heard how you had saved those Blackfell civilians. You saved me from those rebels, despite me giving you no reason to risk your own life. I could have turned you in, and yet you still defended me. You’re patient and kind. Strong willed and ambitious. I’ve seen how furiously you try to learn, whether it be fighting or medicinal.”

I suck my lips in. She doesn’t know the reason I asked to learn about sewing in the first place was to try tofuriouslyavoid Cole. And Celeste.

Maybe Darian, too.

“But I keep making these mistakes...” My vision blurs with tears as I glance down at my hands, attempting to sew again and shoving all the emotions back behind a facade.

Her voice is gentle. “It’s okay. We all make mistakes. Here,” she takes my hand and places whatever she retrieved from the drawer in my palm, “you can have these. It’s my extra pair.”

I unfurl the ball of black to find a pair of gloves.Hergloves.

I shake my head. “I can’t take these.”

“Yes, you can. Besides, I really only wear this pair anyway.” She motions to the ones on her hands.

My thoughts flicker to the last time someone gave me a gift—Cole placing his mother’s ring in my palm and closing my fingers over it.

“Go on,” Marge encourages.

With her insistence, I pull the gloves onto my fingers. Gratitude surges in me at such a generous gift. I flex my hands in the material and smile at her.

She pats my leg, rises, and hobbles toward the door. “Alright, well you can stay here and keep practicing for as long as you want. But I need to go bathe. I’m quite tired from the last few days.”

“Hey, Marge?”

She turns to look at me over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

For the first time since I’ve known her, she actually smiles at me. Really, truly smiles. The gesture lightens her face, the wrinkled lines in the corners of her eyes deepening. She dips her head, then slips out the door.

After a few breaths, I steady my hands and thread the needle again and again, until I feel I’ve mastered the shake in my hands. The material of the gloves keeps my hands from slipping and blocks the needle from piercing my skin. The stitches in the material aren’t nearly as neat as Marge’s, but at least I can say I’ve done it.

At least I can say I’ve tried.

I debate staying in the healer’s quadrant for the rest of the night. I could sleep in one of the beds to avoid the walk to my room. Placing the needle and thread back in the drawer, Igather what courage I can. With a deep breath, I push the door open. The sun has settled behind the horizon, the last of its rays coloring the sky in yellow, oranges, and reds. Chatter and laughter surge from the center of camp, and as I walk toward my room, I run into Archie.

“Hey, Kat! I’ve been looking for you!”

“Ahh, sorry. I’ve been practicing stitching in the healer’s quadrant.” It’s an excuse, but at least it’s true.

“I suppose next time you’ll sew me up?” He winks.

“Probably not yet. Though, hopefully, there isn’t a next time where you need stitches!” I scold.

He loops an arm around my neck and pulls me into a tight side hug. “No promises. You hungry?”

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