Page 25 of Born for Lace

A sneer curls his lips. “Why?”

I shrug, the word lonely bouncing in my mind, but he doesn’t need to hear it. Maybe I’ll be helpful, somaybeone day, when another girl asks him for something, he won’t turn her away. He’ll see them as a real person who needs something that he does not.

“I can’t exchange! I got no trade for you. Go away.” He tries to tug the net from my hands. Even though I’m small, my dexterity is fine, so I keep the rope between my fingers.

I don’t look at him as I fuss with the salt-locked webs. “I won’t ask for anything.” Ignoring him and his dubious gaze, I hum to Spero as I work.

Quietly, I sing.

“Good first-light, to you, my Collective and friend. We head to the ocean, it's days there we spend. Though the Redwind is howlin' with a fist full of sand. We prefer it's hard slapin' to The Trade Master's hand.”

I smile at Spero’s gurgling, then turn my chin and look around the curtain of my red hair to the old man. He is watching us, frozen in thought. A blank expression has softened his sneer.

“You’re from the Half-tower?”

I nod stiffly.

“And the infant?”

Not willing to answer, I return my attention to the net and continue weaving with my fingers around the knots.

“You Trade Fisher?”

“No.” I throw a piece of net to the side, needing to untangle a section further down the line to loop it back. “I accompanied one.”

“Accompanied? You’re not…” I hear him lean back, the boat creaking, as if realisation shoved him to his spine. “You’re a Lace Girl. Damn. My sense of smell is rot, or I would have smelt that La Mu shit.”

“Shit?”

“No.” His voice has softened. Hostility dwindling. “Nice smell,” he offers. “Wish I could smell it. Salt burnt my nostrils. There ain’t nothing left in there.”

“Can you still taste?” I ask.

“Not much,” he grunts.

“That’s a shame. Food is one of life’s great experiences. At least, that is what my friend used to say.” What Maple used to say.

“Yep. It’s a shame,” he says, turning back to his side of the net.

A little smile touches my lips.

While we work like this for many minutes, my mind rolls, entertaining me with ideas and memories. I remember Maple talking about great experiences. Food. Soap. Friendship. And, apparently, sex, but she was never meant to discover that.

It's not for Lace Girls.

It is for Trade men.

She wasn’t meant to change her tea, so the Deep Sleep didn’t come, and feel what it was like to relieve a man. ‘Like exploding while peeing,’ she said. Which sounds awful, not lovely, and that is why we Sleep. The man can be himself throughout, enjoy us without fear of judgment, and we exist without impure or uncomfortable memories.

Or worse—egos.

Like the House Girls have.

But… But what if the Lace Girl enjoys it? Like Maple does—did.

Why can’t she lie with him while awake, show him her desire? Is that not healing and soothing?

Does this break boundaries? I wish I had someone to ask, but the House Girls have no interest in getting to know me.

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