Page 90 of The Shadows Beyond
Julien laughed. “Fine.Whywere you freaking out?”
“I have a very reasonable fear of drowning.”
“Yes, I inferred that part. I was just wondering why.”
Because I can’t fucking swim.
Cinn sighed and twisted around on his side to face Julien. “This is weird, because Noir tried to make me retell this exact story earlier today.”
“I didn’t realise the two of you were close enough to make swimming plans together.”
An involuntary smile tugged at the corner of Cinn’s lips. “Noir and I have the best time together. It mostly involves braiding each other’s hair.”
“Sounds like I’m missing out. So you didn’t tell Noir the story because…?”
Because I can’t stand people’s reactions to it, when I tell it truthfully, the way it actually happened.
“It’s not a very nice experience to relive.”
“Fair enough. Don’t worry then,” said Julien. He’d also rolled over, and now the two of them were doing the exact thing Cinn had wanted to avoid: staring into each other’s eyes.
Well, at least telling the story would keep Julien’s eyes from undressing him. Potentially.
Cinn sighed. “It was about two weeks before my thirteenth birthday—you know, that day I had my first slip. In fact, Noir told me today that this near death experience actually triggered my shadowslippingability in the first place.” That was a wholeotherthing he hadn’t had time to process. “It was February, and freezing cold, but we’d been stuck inside all weekend and I really wanted my mum to take me to the park.”
This is where he had the choice of how much to sugarcoat, how much to change. He’d told a dozen different versions of this tale, each much more palatable than the truth.
However, something about Julien’s enraptured focus on him made him fight the impulse to lie.
“If I tell you the exactly accurate version of events, I don’t want any over the top reactions, okay?”
Julien frowned slightly. “Okay.”
Cinn exhaled. “So, it was Sunday afternoon, and I wanted to go to the park. Yes, I know I was twelve, but I still really loved feeding the ducks that lived on the river.”
“Adults can enjoy feeding ducks, too, you know,” Julien interjected, smirking.
“Well, on this occasion, my mum was not at all on board. She’d already made plans with the TV and the bottle of wine she’d drunk half of already that day. Though eventually, she agreed.” Cinn studied Julien’s face for a reaction, but none came. “I guess I shouldn’t have pressed so hard,” he said, almost to himself.
“You were her child. It was her job to take you!” Julien burst out, and Cinn gave him a warning look. “Sorry.”
“Well, we went to the park. But the wine came with us. My mum sat on the bench at the top of the riverbank, and I took down our dried up bread to feed them.”
His usual lies danced on the tip of his tongue.
Then, an old man had a heart attack, and my mum had to run over and give him CPR.
Then, a lost dog darted past her, and she had to chase it down to make sure it was okay.
Then,she turned around to sketch a picture of this really beautiful tree behind us.
“Then, she drank the rest of the wine, and fell asleep.”
“Cinn…” Julien started, but Cinn ignored him and pushed on.
“I looked back and saw her eyes were shut, and she was slumped across the bench. I should have woken her up.” Julien made a noise of protest. “But I was so angry at her for making me feed the ducks by myself, I just let her sleep. It was often best like that. I finished throwing all the bread to the ducks, then I sat down by the river to watch them. The ground was so damp. I remember thinking my mum was going to be angry about the mud on my trousers. So I thought I’d quickly splash some water on them, to get the worst off, at least.”
“Sounds very sensible,” said Julien, and he didn’t even sound sarcastic.
