This time Violet’s sound was certainly a kind of laughter, followed by a shove at his shoulder as she snapped, “Quit that! It doesn’t work if you’re just goofing off.”
Rahil grinned. “You sound like my mother.”
“Someoneneeds to.”
“You’re not wrong there.”
Rahil closed his eyes again, focusing on steady inhales and low exhales, and let the whale song wash over him. It was slow and melancholic, with a yearning that seemed to sink into his bones the longer he listened. He imagined the lonely whale drifting behind his eyes, eternally calling for a partner he would never find; the light rippling off his back and the empty ocean stretching before him.
With the song playing, Rahil felt hazier, his mind drifting as though through the same water. A yawn broke out of him. He found his thoughts sinking. He was pretty sure Violet’s breathing had slowed beside him, and his own fought to stay in time, until he was the whale, and the whale wasn’t quite so alone.
~
Rahil snapped awake to the sound of his morning alarm. He scrambled to grab it, only to realize it wasn’t his at all as he slammed his chin into the top of Violet’s head.
“Fuck-shit.” He jerked back, sliding a few inches down the roof. The stars had faded, the treeline a visible set of peaks behind the house as the sky began to lighten. Goddamn. How many hours had it been—five?
And he’d let a child sleep on his roof. A child whose father was probably going to have an anxiety attack over her whereabouts once they realized she was gone.
Violet rubbed her bleary eyes and grumbled curses under her breath.
Rahil tried not to panic too hard. “You okay, kid?”
“My back feels like shit,” she muttered, but a crook came into her lips. “We’re still on the roof.”
“Luckily. If you’d rolled off, I’d have been forced to bury your body beneath the roses.”
Violet snorted. “You don’t have any roses. Unless you mean your rocks and the weird pit.”
“That pit isforthe roses—or some flowers, anyway. I just have to find a fertilizer first…” Preferably a cheap or free one. Perhaps the house could start composting. He poked Violet in the shoulder. “You should get home.Ishould get you home.”
“You and what car? Sun will be up soon, too.”
Rahil groaned.
Like she was moving on autopilot, Violet pulled a little container out of her pocket and dug two pills from it.
Rahil narrowed his eyes. “Those aren’t drugs, right?”
“Of course they’re drugs.” Violet rattled their case. “Doctor-prescribed.”
They didn’t look illegal, but then Rahil wasn’t actually sure what illegal drugs looked like these days. She was already swallowing them anyway, making a face after.
Rahil stood. He stumbled on the uneven surface of the roof as he collected their pillows and one of the mugs—he didn’t want to know where the other had ended up. If it was the only thing that emerged broken in the yard, he’d be relieved.
Violet immediately tempted that hope by slipping on an ungainly roof tile.
Barely thinking, Rahil secured her by the undersides of her arms with a stabilizing “whoa there, champ,” as he guided her into the windowsill. Not until after she was safe, rolling her eyes and detangling herself from his grip, did it occur to him: Violet was not his kid. She was not his clumsy little Matt, or his over-adventurous Jonah—and thank god, because at least whatever happened to her after she’d forgotten him wouldn’t be his fault. Probably.
Unless he fundamentally screwed her up too.
Rahil’s body reacted so physically to the thought of Violet suffering the way his sons had that he felt himself jerking back from her, hitting the lip of the open window pane and—fuck. But then it was Violet’s fists grabbing onto him—a little more pathetically for her much smaller weight—as she struggled to keep him from falling backwards. They both stumbled forward, knocking side-by-side into the windowsill.
“Ah, fuck,” Rahil slid again, and it took the better part of his vampiric agility to right himself.
Violet groaned. She dropped onto her butt and plopped her pointer finger in her mouth.
Rahil narrowed his eyes. “Let me see.”
