Page 65 of Gifted & Talented

“I don’t know how to fix you anyway,” I added flippantly, brushing him off like a harmless fly. “I don’t really do that anymore.”

“You work at a Wrenfare store instead?” said Meredith. Her voice was edged with something flimsy, airy. Mockery, Arthur thought.

Then I turned to her in a slow and predatory way.

“I know what you’re doing,” I said to Meredith. “And you know that I know.”

Meredith lifted her chin.

“And you still thought I’d help you?” I prompted.

“What are you doing working at a Wrenfare?” snapped Meredith.

Gillian glanced at Arthur, her polite smile marred slightly by a divot ofconfusion in her brow. It was true that the conversation was escalating, but Arthur wasn’t sure how to reroute the momentum, nor did he really know how to telegraph that in a way Gillian could understand. He made a vague gesture, intending to express the conclusion that they should just keep a careful distance from the friction between Meredith and me. Gillian nodded as if thirteen years of conflict had been effortlessly translated and perfectly understood.

“What else should I be doing, hm?” I asked Meredith, crossing my arms over my chest. “Making weapons? Defrauding investors? Franchising my grandma’s fried chicken?”

“I didn’t do this to you,” Meredith said, unconsciously—or so it seemed to Arthur—leaning away, as if to calm an oncoming tiger. “You went to Berkeley. And you were a star, a fucking prodigy, just like you were at Ainsworth whenyoufucked yourself over. I didn’t ruin your life, okay? You did this to yourself.”

“Excuse me?” I said, dangerously.

There was a bang as my little boy shot an arrow into the house’s front window. Arthur jumped, I blinked, and Meredith stood stonily, still braced for a fight. Arthur already knew that I wouldn’t give her one. The only way to beat Meredith in the ring is to abandon her to it, and regardless of how much time had passed since the two of us had seen each other, that had never stopped being true.

“Okay, so you came for redemption,” I ruled aloud to Meredith before turning to Arthur, “and you came for help. Bummer,” I said in a bored voice. “Looks like you’re both leaving with nothing.”

“Actually,” came a voice behind us. “I have something as well.”

It was Eilidh, obviously. Arthur had forgotten about her in the midst of all the tension, and had already realized—the moment he failed to know me on sight—that I wasn’t going to help him, no matter what he said. The errand was a waste, so now the only thing left to do was see how the rest of the interaction played out.

I regarded Eilidh with a slow sweep of carefully restrained surprise. “I forgot about you.”

“Yeah, that happens a lot,” Eilidh said with a shrug. Arthur recognized that Eilidh was performing, but I wouldn’t have known that. When I had known Eilidh, she was still a tiny blob of nothing in a leotard and a hairline-destroying bun.

“So what’s your problem?” I asked, performatively squaring my shoulders. In reality, it was undermining my obstinacy, Arthur realized, not knowing how to fight back against this particular Wren.

And he was right. I can’t say now whether I regret it, but at the time, Eilidh was the tipping point. I’m like a lot of people, in the end. I respond positively to curiosity. I can’t hear the words “I keep accidentally causing apocalypses” without wanting to ask more questions. Also, I’d realized that Monster had stopped shooting arrows and was watching me at the time.

I don’t really know what I want my son to think I am. I didn’t then, and I still don’t. But it seemed important to me at that particular moment to not be the kind of person who lets one unsavory situation rule the rest of her life.

Raising a boy is really hard, actually. You have to teach him to be a man, the kind of man who doesn’t reject things just because they might be humiliating or painful. Regardless of what kind of human you choose to be, you make choices. You own them.

When the world presents you with an apocalypse, you fix it with the tools that you have.

“Your son is very cute,” Arthur said after I agreed, grudgingly, to see what I could do—toconsiderhelping. Not right then, I added—the following day, when Monster’s daycare was no longer dealing with some flooding issues, and he could get back to his routine.

“What’s his name?” Arthur asked me.

“Archimedes,” I said.

“Is it really?” asked Gillian, incredulous.

“No,” I said. Then I walked away, calling Monster into the house, and it became apparent to the rest of them that they had been dismissed, and would now have to return home to speak to some lawyers.

They all turned to the car, Meredith handing the keys to Arthur without comment. He climbed into the driver’s seat, Meredith into the passenger seat. She looked out the window the entire drive, and didn’t say anything until they reached the Richmond bridge.

30

“You could have been nicer,” said Arthur. “We did need her help.”

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