Page 20 of Ryld's Shadows
I guess he’ll need me eventually, but what am I supposed to do until then?
Pacing was out of the question, too. Ryld had said something about work, and Hank didn’t want to disturb him. Though Hank couldn’t help being desperately curious about what kind of work it could be.
He wandered into the hallway to hang his jacket in the closet and as he turned to close the door, red lettering caught his eye on the hall table.Don’t pry. No, you’re here to help. That’s not prying.
With a sinking feeling, Hank picked up the stack of mail and began sorting through it.Overdue. Second Notice. Past Due. “Well, crud.”
Here was another thing he could be mad at that Cress guy for. Just letting things get worse and worse under his nose. Hank took the pile of bills with him and knocked on Ryld’s open bedroom door.
“Hi. Um…” He stopped, mouth hanging open. A corner of Ryld’s larger bedroom housed a drafting table where Ryld sat drawing a beautiful scene of leaves and colorful birds. No, not a scene, a repeated pattern in lovely greens and yellows.
Ryld swiveled around on the stool, his eyes were wide, and his shoulders had lifted about half an inch. Hank was about to apologize for startling him when Ryld smiled.
“Hank.” He looked down again at the drawing then back up. “The leaves remind me of Lysander.” His gaze dropped to the envelopes in Hank’s hand and his smile disappeared. One sharp-pointed canine tooth snagged on his lower lip and worried at it for a moment before he went still.
“I don’t want to upset you,” Hank said as gently as he could. “But these things are easy to let get away from you. Ryld…this is what I do. What I did before I lost my job. Do you want help? Getting this all sorted out and taken care of?”
The tension in Ryld’s body came down a notch or two to be replaced by confusion. No, wait. Not confusion. Curiosity. Ryld’s expressions were subtle, they took some time to read, but Hank was already getting used to the nuances.
“Your job was to pay bills?”
Hank nodded. “Part of it, yes. I was an accountant and worked for a firm that had a lot of clients. Some of those clients needed us just to keep track of things.” He wasn’t going to get into cash flow management and zero balance accounts. “And some of them needed us to pay the bills so they would have time to do other things.”
Ryld took a single breath then stood up quickly. “I would like to hire you to pay my bills.” Before Hank has a chance to say anything, Ryld opened the drawer on the bedside table and extracted a wad of cash rolled into a ball. “Is this enough?”
“Oh, um…” So many things were wrong with this scenario. Hank took a deep breath and decided to start with what he hoped was the easiest part. “I’m already being paid to help you. It would be really unethical for me to take more money for doing what I’m supposed to do.”
“Ethics are…very arbitrary.” Ryld paused. “But some seem universal. Kindness. Fairness. Those two are basic. You are being kind, but I want to be fair.”
“And I appreciate that. But it would be unfair of me to take more than what I should.” Hank’s brain itched to move on to the issue of that large roll of cash, but he wasn’t going to rush Ryld.
Ryld nodded and dropped the money back into the drawer. “It would be easier if a bill only needed to be paid once, but they are never once, and the amounts change.” He lifted his hand and his fingers fluttered for a moment. “Money has so many forms. Some is kept here. Other money is kept in accounts. It’s hard to remember them all. I very much would like to not have to pay bills.”
“I’m afraid as long as you live with humans, bills happen. Well, in a nice place with humans, anyway. But I can help make things easier to keep track of. And make sure that all the bills are up to date.” Hank nodded toward the drawer. “Do you usually have lots of cash in your apartment?”
Ryld looked at the still open drawer and shrugged. “I—the money in the accounts… I can’t remember how much, and where it’s kept. The amount never stays the same. If I can’t remember, I spend too much and then have to spend more because I spent too much.” He pointed to the roll of notes. “If this is here, I can spend as much of it as I want. If it’s gone, I have no more to spend. It’s easier.”
Hank took a seat in a nearby chair, so he wasn’t looming. “You’d be surprised at how many people have these same problems. And you’ve hit on the idea of budgeting funds on your own, a little unconventionally, but that’s okay. I can help you with all of this.” He lifted his chin to point at Ryld’s drafting table. “What kind of work do you do? It’s very beautiful.”
Instead of returning to the table, Ryld moved to the closet and opened the door to reveal a stuffed to overflowing interior. He stood for a moment before selecting a shirt and bringing it to Hank and laying it in his hands.
“Look,” he said. He traced one finger over the subtle curve of texture. “The wind blows across sand and makes ripples like these. I draw the ripples in the sand because I find them beautiful. Someone takes my drawings and puts the ripples of sand in cloth, and someone else makes the cloth into something to wear.”
“Wow.” Hank held the shirt up to see the design better and, yes, ripples in sand. He could almost feel the wind blow through his hair. This explained the nice apartment. Somewhere in the back of his head, he’d thought it was AURA-subsidized and now he felt ashamed. Ryld had earned this place by making gorgeous things human designers coveted. “This is amazing. You’re very talented.”
Ryld shrugged, then stopped mid-motion. “Thank you.”
Hank wasn’t only learning his expressions, he was also learning to pick up on speech cues. When Ryld was curious, he was animated, excited, almost childlike in a way. When he was trying to understand, or make someone else understand, his tone was flatter, but still held a certain amount of emotion. Some things, though, sounded very flat, and Hank guessed he was saying them by rote.
“Would you like to keep the shirt? I have a lot of shirts,” Ryld said, gesturing vaguely toward the closet.
Hank gave him a wry smile. “I appreciate the offer. Don’t think it would fit me, though.”
Ryld nodded. “Yes. You are big. Is that why you’re not afraid to stay with me?”
“I…” Hank smoothed the shirt on his lap just to give himself a moment. “No, I don’t think that’s it. Cress was big. And I’m pretty sure he was afraid even if he acted all bossy and intimidating. I’m not a warrior, Ryld. My mom was. Taught me a few things, but I’m not naturally a fighter. And they told me about your shadows, just so you don’t think it’s because I don’t know.”
He took a breath and looked up into blue-on-blue eyes. “I like talking to you, Ryld. I’m, well, I’m comfortable with you. So I’m not afraid.”
