The Grocery ListThe hall clock chimed the hour yet again. Surely he should have been here by now, Tear thought as she stirred the sauce. Goran was never late on his nights off. He could be unpredictable if he was working, but when he wasn't, he never missed a dinner invitation. She stirred some more, trying to keep dinner warm over a low fire without burning it and substituting ingredients for those she had hoped she would have, but did not. This conspicuous, culinary oversight had been the result of an inescapable time crunch. Overwhelmed by finals, Mandor's and Delluth's extra tutoring, and Vikund running her ragged, the little sorceress had been forced to neglect her pantry. It irked her terribly. So, in a fashion, this invitation had been an attempt to regain her sense of normalcy. And Goran, bless his heart, seemed to understand that. He'd been more than happy to fetch the groceries, dismissing her near tearful embarrassment with a grin. She smiled softly, thinking of him. Her grumble-brother. Around Goran, she could be… natural. Imperfect. And he'd smile all the same. That freedom to just be 'Tear' had become vitally important to her. She found herself thinking of him more often of late. Differently too. Tear shrugged to herself and resumed stirring her tomato sauce. Tanstaafl heard him before Tear did. "It's about time!" growled the fennec as he leaped down from his stool, which was conveniently situated downwind of dinner. Sure enough, heavily-laden footsteps could be heard scuffling on the porch and in a moment, there came a strange pounding at the door, as though the knock was made by a boot rather than a knuckle. Tanstaafl swung the door wide, but before he could begin his typical abuse, Goran beat him to the punch. "Stow it, furball," he grumbled, his lanky frame nearly hidden behind sacks and parcels. He seemed to be juggling them as he tried to maintain the delicate balance. His guitar though, was safely strapped across his back. "Leeks!" he exclaimed as he toted the load toward the kitchen. "What the bloody hell do you use the damn things for anyway? I found everything else, but there's not a stinkin' leek in the whole of Amber!" Tear walked over and began rummaging through the sacks before Goran could even get them on the table. "They were supposed to go on top of the sauce," she explained. "They make a very nice garnish when fried in olive oil. Ah-ha!" She removed the brown package of butcher's paper and skipped back to the stove, victorious. "It's alright, I suppose. Thank you, Goran. You can set the other stuff down on the counter." Goran juggled a bit more as Tear unbalanced him. He looked for a moment like he was about to say something flip as she took charge, but instead shrugged and did as she said. "You're welcome." He started unpacking, putting things away in her cabinets as if he'd lived there for years. "So that's what those things are called. You've used them before," he remembered. "Uh-huh," she replied, pouring some oil olive and balsamic vinegar into her skillet. "I usually put them in that soup you two like. You know. With the potatoes." Tanstaafl, who'd taken the opportunity to sneak onto the counter, got smacked across the nose with a spoon and driven off to sulk. He rubbed the nonexistent bruise with his paw. "Do you need to hit me so hard, wench?" "Language...," Goran warned without breaking his bag-emptying rhythm. Tanstaafl opened his maw to retort, but thought better of it. He curled his tail around him and sighed most miserably. Tear ignored the beast, unwrapping the cut sirloin. She tossed a small piece to the furball and he greedily snapped it out of the air; mollified for the time being. Tear glanced back at Goran and smiled strangely, staring up at him with her deep, violet eyes. This finally did get his attention. He stopped his unpacking and glanced down at her curiously. "What?" She shrugged her shoulders, looking away shyly. "I don't know," she said. "This is just. Nice." Goran grinned at her and started to reach into the sack again. Tanstaafl licked his chops and grinned mischievously. "She's been pining for you all night." Tear blushed brightly and snapped, "I have not been. Pining!" The fennec rolled his eyes, "Oh yes. You just checked the clock a dozen times per minutes because you're chronologically challenged." Tear growled, "I was worried about him." "You were pining." By now Tear's ears had turned the same color as the tomato sauce. She hid her face as best she could, ignoring her furred tormentor long enough to chop some onions. The few faint sniffles she made were obviously caused by all the chopping. Obviously. The accusation caused Goran to pause and watch the conversation with the same interest one might view a championship tennis match. He did, however, return the small éclair-sized parcel wrapped in baker's paper to the bottom of the sack. His own cheeks grew nearly as red as Tear's. "Ah, pining... worry... They're not... that much different. I suppose," Goran fumbled, obviously trying to make her feel better despite his own embarrassment. He moved around the counter to face her, shooting a glare at Tanstaafl as he passed. "You want me to help you wi'zat? I used to do this at the cafe. We didn't have leeks, though," he offered, lapsing into his old accent at the mention of his old life. Tanstaafl sniffed the air and then appeared to frown with confusion. His ears twitched as he studied the bag Goran had been unpacking. He opened his mouth to say something, but relented once more when he caught a glimpse of Goran's eyes. Instead, he hopped off the counter and headed for the door. "I'll be outside," he said. Tear watched him go and then smiled up at Goran. "You can slice some mushrooms, if you like," she said. "They need to be washed first." "All right," Goran said, sounding relieved. He emptied the bundle of fresh mushrooms into a colander and ran them under the pump. She dried her eyes with her sleeve and added the onions to a skillet to sauté them. "So. Umm. I've been thinking," she started, biting her lip. "I need to ask you something. Important." Goran had been reaching for her vacated cutting board. His hand paused in midair as he looked up at her with an expression that was a strange combination of curiosity and dread. "Oh?" he asked, trying to sound casual. Tear's violet eyes sought comfort in his, the soft curve of her lower lip trembling. Her mouth opened for a moment, the question clinging tenaciously to her tongue. And then she whispered in a terrified voice. "Do you think I should grow my hair out?" "Your hair?" Goran asked quickly, his eyes wide with surprise and relief. "Oh. Sure. I mean... if you want. It looks nice now, but it would be pretty long. Too." He dumped the mushrooms out on the cutting board and started slicing them with a paring knife, concentrating perhaps a bit too intensely on not cutting off his fingers. "What did... El'bram... think when you asked her?" Tear had the distinct impression that El'bram was a last-second substitution for another name in his question. Tear reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, pulling the bangs out for inspection. Her pert nose wrinkled up as if she'd just discovered a rat in her sauce pan. "Well," she said hesitantly. "You know Rebman women. They usually keep it short. Or tied up. What with it floating around and all. And fish hiding in it. She thinks I should cut it even shorter." Goran gave an amused snort. The culinary concentration and talk of Tear's godmother seemed to relax him a little. She shrugged and poured some balsamic vinegar and olive oil into the pan, making the onions hiss and snap in fragrant happiness. "Jeh'Run says men like women. With long hair. Gives them something to play with," Tear explained with a shrug. Goran had met the Huldu-maiden once. A rather rambunctiously forward lady. But Tear adored her and during school hours, the pair were usually inseparable. "She's lucky," Tear added. "Long hair and a tail. Men love that." Goran snorted again. "The hair's nice. The tail? Not so much," he said, making a face. "But that's just me. I'm a traditionalist." Tear rolled her eyes with bemused disappointment. "I happen to think bovine tails are very stylish," she said. She added some garlic to the onions and stirred them. "Of course. Not having ever had one. I wouldn't know what to do with it. I barely know where. To put my hands half the time. And my wings. Don't even get me started on those." She shrugged her shoulders and slumped inwardly with a protracted sigh. Goran finished the chopping in contented silence, a comfortable little smile beginning to appear as he settled into the rhythm. When he was finished, he scraped the mushrooms back into the colander and handed them to Tear. "So why the worry about your hair all of a sudden?" he asked. "It looks fine to me." Tear didn't answer immediately. Instead, she dumped the meat into the mixture and added another dash of balsamic vinegar. She chewed her bottom lip as she browned the meat, obviously weighing her response. The mushrooms went next, in order to suck up the juices, but mostly to buy her the added time. "I think. I need a change," she admitted. "I've been playing at something in my head. And I think. I'm stuck. Maybe changing myself a little. Will change other things." Goran listened to her patiently, both to what she was saying and what she wasn't. He leaned his lanky frame across the counter and rested his chin on one elbow-propped palm. "What other things do you want to change?" he asked, his blue eyes kind but unyielding, cutting through to the heart of the matter with his usual big-brotherly directness. Tear brushed her shoulder against him and chuckled. "You know me too well," she said. Her violet eyes found comfort in his gaze; a soft glow coloring her round cheeks. "My finals are coming. And I think. I'm stalling. "And accepting things too easily. Too many things." Her shoulders slumped. "I don't know what I want to do with my life, I guess," she said. "And I think I've been hiding in my studies. And settling for less than. What I might actually have. Does that make sense, Goran? Have you ever felt that?" Goran chuckled knowingly, his eyes lined with a wisdom that made him seem - not for the first time - older than Tear always believed him to be. "More sense than you know, _mali ptica_ (little bird)." He sniffed appreciatively at the aromas wafting from the skillet. "The way I figure it," he continued, his accent creeping in again, "we should take the time to explore. I still don't know what I want to do with my life, but I do what I enjoy." He shrugged. "In other places, people would call me a slacker. Maybe so. But I'm a happy slacker." Tear stuck out her tongue and made a rude noise. "Pfffft. That's not true. Even if my auntie thinks you're a loafer. I know you work hard." Her smile falters slightly. "I'll bet all the ladies on the Queen feel safer with you around." He shrugged, grinning briefly, then looked at her more seriously. "And yes, you hide in the books. You should explore more. Outside of you. Or maybe inside, I don't know. But don't worry about settling on a thing too soon. Enjoy the journey." She shuffled her foot as she stirred the food. "I did go to Saloun, you know. I fought a Dream Snake there. Me. And the Professor. It was. Interesting. And exciting." After a brief pause, she added, "Terrifying." Goran's eyes widened in alarm at that and he seemed about to protest, but then bit back his words, apparently remembering the advice he had just given. With the meat browned, she finally added the sauce and reduced the heat. "I was considering being an ambassador. Or working at the Embassy. Or maybe being a doctor. But I can't really see myself ever leaving Amber. I have too many ties here. And my children. They should know where they come from. Right?" Tear gazed up at him with questioning eyes, seeking honesty. He seemed confused for a moment at her mention of children. His expression darkened, however, as he came to some unspoken conclusion. He shifted his stance, now leaning on his elbows on the counter, a slightly more closed position than a moment before. "Children?" he asked, gazing down at his thumbnails. "So... you're considering that with him then?" Tear held her breath at the question, her eyes drifting back to the slowly bubbling sauce. She stirred once. Twice. A shudder passed through her, spawning a heavy sigh. "I don't think so," she said. A sad smile turned the corners of her mouth. "I had thought about it. Wanted it even. I dreamt that our child could break down the barriers between our two peoples. Them being true royalty and all. But I don't think he wants that. That life, I mean. And if you can't share that dream with someone. What's the point of dreaming it?" Goran's skeptical frown deepened and soured the more she spoke of her current beau, but he held his tongue. It was an effort, but he had promised himself he would not insult Vikund in her presence, despite his own feelings about the man. He had always suspected such a move would be counterproductive. She turned her head, eyes filled with confusion. "He's never said it, Goran," she explained in a hollow voice. "I doubt he ever will. And I'm. I'm growing tired of it. Of pretending. I need someone who… who will say it to me." An air bubble in the sauce popped and splattered Tear's hand. She yelped in pain and shock, nearly dropped the spoon. She brought the burn to her mouth, trying to soothe the burn with her lips. "Come over here," Goran said, holding her from behind and guiding her calmly to the sink. He held her hand gently with one of his own while he worked the pump with the other. The cold running water eased the sting of the burn. Goran continued to pump for several minutes, still holding her hand in his own under the water. "Some men can't say it, Tear. We're not like you," he explained tenderly, his gaze never leaving her fingers. "You need to judge on how he treats you, not just the words. Words will disappoint. Every time." He pulled her hand out of the water and examined it. "There. It seems the food is hot enough to eat now, eh?" he smiled, setting her hand aside somewhat reluctantly and moving to the cupboard to get the plates. Tear hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted her hand to remain in the sanctuary he had provided it. She'd watched how gentle he'd been with her; appreciated it more than words could express. A sharp hiss escaped her lips at one point, but beyond that, Goran had dispelled the pain. Then again, he always did, didn't he? In this world of disappointment and confusion, he remained her safe place to fall. "I guess so," she said after a moment. But as what she had agreed to, she did not expound further. She stared up at him as he fetched the plates, smiling shyly. A heartbeat passed again, the eternity between the seconds stretching out as her violet eyes drifted over this man. A thought struck her. No, not a thought, but a question; one that she could not ask of him. Not now. Perhaps never. And with that realization, Tear cupped her hand protectively and turned away. "I should call fuzz-butt," she said, pausing at the doorway. "Set the table for us?" "All right," he said, already doing what she had asked. Tear soon returned with Fuzz-butt in tow and dinner began. Tonight like most, their time together took on a more familial tone. They exchanged what stories they had of work or school or chasing squirrels. The stories were not epic or world-changing, but they were significant in that they brought the trio closer together. And what, in truth, could be more important than that? Except éclairs. At meal's end, Goran relented and surrendered the éclair he had picked up for Tan. Tanstaafl nearly removed Goran's fingers when the éclair was presented, smacking and licking his chops unrepentantly. After savoring the dessert to its utmost capacity to do so, the fennec stared up at him and smirked broadly; needle teeth flashing. "I like you Groin," he said. "I think we'd better keep you. For all our sakes." "And stomachs," Tear added with snort. Once the glasses and plates had been emptied, Tear shooed the men off to the living room while she cleaned up. She refused any help, just as she refused every night. Washing the dishes had always been her time alone; a solitude she protected stubbornly. Tonight she'd appeared to need it more than most, having been pensive and quieter than usual. She hummed to herself happily, drawn into an Anna Nalick tune she'd recently discovered. Tanstaafl hopped onto the back of the comfy couch and curled his tail up around him. "Thanks for coming tonight," he said in a low voice to Goran. "She needed you around." "Hmm?" Goran grunted, looking up from the couch where he had sprawled with his guitar, idly picking out an accompaniment to the tune Tear was humming. "Why do you say that?" he asked equally quietly, a bit surprised at the fennec's concern. Tanstaafl glanced back toward the kitchen to make sure they were still alone. "She's been sad of late," he explained. "Well. Sadder. You know how she gets. Virginia Woofe would tell the girl to lighten up." His ears flicked slightly and then rotated back to their proper position. "That secret trip to Saloun shook her up, I think. Hell, the Professor is shaking her up in general. She needs a friend these days. A friend like you. Rugged, honest, dependable, and handsome." Goran snorted dismissively, but a tell-tale blush started to color the tips of his ears. Tanstaafl shrugged his radio-dish ears. "Man. That came out a lot gayer than I'd intended." Goran smirked at that, but then grew serious. "That guy makes me nervous," Goran admitted in a low voice. "I see what he's trying to do. I think. And she probably has the ability to do the things he's pushing her into. But I'm not sure she's ready for it mentally. He's... " He shook his head and sighed in frustration. "He's pushing her too fast, in my opinion." "Heh. In comparison to her other mentor?" Tanstaafl said. "Yeah. He's positively moving at the speed of light. It's why she falls under his sway so easily. He doesn't treat her like a mushroom. You know. Keep her in the dark and feed her shit." He flicked his tail, "Not much unlike another fellow we know." "Who?" Tear said softly. She had entered the room, laden down with a tray of tea and biscuits. The fennec began licking his paw nonchalantly. Tear's violet eyes turned on Goran, an innocent smile curling the corners of her mouth. Goran set the guitar aside and rose to help her. "Here, let me get that," he offered, taking the tray and setting it on the coffee table. "Uh, Tear? I think you forgot that we just ate. Unless these are all for the Stomach With Ears?" he said with mock seriousness. Tear smiled softly as he took the tray. "Thank you. And yes. I know. But you two will be hungry again in half an hour. And rather than you whining and looking all pitiful. I made some desserts. Deal with it." She gave him a playful punch in the chest and grabbed a vanilla biscuit. After a nibble, she sat down and held the pastry out. Tanstaafl, like some looming vulture, snapped it from her fingers. "Yuck," he said non-convincingly. "Tear germs." He consumed it with great expedience nonetheless, and began looking for more. Goran snorted with amusement at the creature, but didn't seem as inclined as Tear to share his dessert with the fluffball. The young woman leaned forward to pour their tea, filling the room with a brisk, malty smell. "Are you going to play me some songs from your home?" Tear asked Goran, looking up at him hopefully. "I could do that," he said agreeably with his mouth full. Still chewing, he wiped his hands on his trousers and picked up his guitar. "Anything in particular you want to hear?" Tear shook her head and settled in on the couch with the eagerness of a child waiting for a favorite bedtime story. She held the teacup to her chest and lifted her feet up. As per tradition, Tanstaafl hoped down onto the lower cushion and curled into a ball around Tear's toes. He closed his eyes and soon snored faintly, dreaming of éclairs and round women with large kitchens. Goran chuckled, feeling simultaneously honored and embarrassed at her anticipation. Not that he wasn't used to her reaction. He played for her whenever she made dinner for him. Like singing for his supper. In some ways - all the best ones - it reminded him of home. He started off slow, toying with this song or that one. Tear could hear a variety of musical styles in the mix; an amalgam of pieces he'd picked up in his years of traveling. He finally settled on one - basic pop with a chimey guitar opening. Strumming through the first notes, he said almost as an apology, "This one sounds better on a twelve-string, but anyway..." Once more through the opening bars and he added mournfully, "I miss my twelve-string." Tear smiled empathically, but gave only a nod in reply. Her head rested on the pillow as her violet eyes flickered with innocent fascination. Then he began to sing. The song had a melancholy, yet hopeful feel as his clear tenor comfortably eased out the words "Hello, goodbye ”And I'll rise, I will rise if in my mind ”But I can see you fly away [* "Learn To Fly" by Carbon Leaf] As he continued on into the second verse, he seemed to lose himself in the song, but as he approached the second chorus, he looked up at Tear expectantly, hoping she'd join him now that she had heard it once. Usually, hearing it once was all she needed to remember the words. Tear wrinkled her nose and shook her head worriedly. 'No! Please don't!' she mouthed silently; utterly stricken with fear. But that icy dread melted beneath the sunny glow of Goran's smile. By the time the second chorus began, she added her voice to his. For someone that had difficulty speaking in full sentences or uttering words above a murmur, the young woman possessed an unnatural affinity for song. Heartbreaking in its silken tones, Tear's voice sprang forth like the whispers of autumn wind. If October had a voice, it would sound like Tear singing. She followed Goran's cues, accenting his melody as best she could. And by the end, she couldn't help but smile. He grinned encouragingly as he sang, gently taking the high harmony in a few places to support her efforts. At the song's end, he strummed a final chord and lowered his head, almost like a bow. "Jerk," she muttered, setting her cup down. "Just for that…" Tear slipped her feet out from under the narcoleptic furball and stood up. She took the guitar from Goran and then sat back down at the edge of the couch. She squirreled her mouth up, letting her tongue stick out as she tried to remember how to play the chords. And finally, with a nod, she began to play a haunting song, perfectly matched for her velvet voice. The song was complex and wove and danced, rose and fell, much like the midnight winds of which she sang: "When the angry sky, opens up its mouth, "And when the hungry road, points its finger at your heart, "And one windy night, a flickering light, caught the eye of "Then that angel of the Lord, took the form of a girl, "So if you need help, on a windy night, be sure to leave a "On a windy night... [** “Windy Night” by Chris DeBurgh] Goran gazed at the floor as she sang, the song apparently taking him to places far away in his mind, to touch memories long since packed away. He sang along softly on the choruses, harmonizing expertly with her melodies without overpowering the timid girl. Tear's cheeks were stained with tears by time she finished. But she smiled tenderly, as if welcoming their touch on her skin. She gazed up at Goran with timid eyes, letting the sudden silence hold them close, tying them to that exquisite moment. "Why are you crying, little one?" he asked, reaching out with a forefinger to wipe away one of the tears. Tear's hand moved to his, pressing his palm to her wet cheek. A low laugh escaped her, almost a sigh of relief. She smiled up at him and shrugged embarrassedly. "I don't know," she admitted. "I guess. Sometimes. I feel like that angel. For you. And I want to be. More than anything. But that scares me too. Because it'd mean you were hurt. And I couldn't let you be alone. Not then." Goran cocked his head downward as he listened. There was a softness, a vulnerability in his blue eyes that she hadn't seen before, like an empathy with her feelings that he did not voice. He did not pull his hand away when she pressed it to her cheek. She rolled her eyes and moved to pull away. "I'm just being silly. I'm tired. And lonely." Tear sniffled and gave a half-laugh, "Just your grumble-sister being stupid again. No surprises there, huh?" Goran’s fingers snaked from her cheek into her hair when she tried to pull away. Instead, he gently guided her head to his shoulder, while at the same time easing his guitar's slide to the floor. Tear could feel a slight tremble in his arm as he lightly brushed the top of her head with his lips. The motion was just shy of a kiss. "Shh, my ptica. You're not alone," he whispered into her hair. Tear stiffened at his touch, but only for a second's hesitation. Her violet eyes gazed up at him and with that all resistance left her. She smiled shyly and sniffled once more. Her eyes closed as the warmth of her cheek pressed against his chest. She felt like a tiny bird in his arms; fragility and strength contained within the same tiny body. The racing of her heart quickened at the touch of his lips, the caress of his words. He nestled her in as she settled against him, his long arms like willow branches wrapping around to hide her in her nest. "Neither are you," she said in a whisper. "Good," he murmured, his cheek resting comfortably on top of her head. She snuggled into the crook of his neck, forming perfectly to his side. Her hand fell across his chest as her eyes closed one last time. "You're comfy," she giggled tiredly. His chuckle rumbled in her ear. "You too," he smiled, his own eyes closing as well. The house yawned around them, settling in for the night. Beyond the windows, the darkness was absolute, as if they were the only creatures left in Shadow. Only the wind’s low growl could be heard, but here in this warm sanctuary, the sound was hollow and empty of threats. That thought brought a quiet word to Tear's lips, "Home." So spoken, the last threads of tension snapped within her body, relenting to the soothing rhythm of Goran's heartbeat. "I'm sorry," she muttered in a breath, hardly disturbing the silence. But before Goran could inquire further, the cat's purr rumble of her snore reached his ears. Goran didn't realize he had dozed off until Tear spoke. "Hunh?" he grunted with a start. He looked down at her sleeping face drowsily and smiled. Oh, the temptation. How he would love to nestle down on this couch with Tear in his arms. So comforting, so warm, so... there. He sighed wistfully and closed his eyes, breathing in the smell of her hair and the woodsmoke from the dying fire. Right here was where he wanted to remain. But it would not be proper. Reluctantly, he rose and gently settled Tear onto the couch, plumping the pillows under her head and covering her with a colorful crocheted afghan. He quietly gathered the teacups onto the tray and took the whole lot into the kitchen, then came back and checked the fire, making certain the embers were under control and the grate safely closed. With everything secured, Goran reached down to pick up his guitar. The motion brought him close to Tear once again and he paused. My God, she's beautiful, he caught himself thinking as he reached out to brush a lock of her hair away from her face. He leaned over and planted a gentle kiss, for real this time, on her brow. "Sleep well, my love," he said in Srebijan. When he rose, guitar in hand, he shook his head as if to clear it. Careful... too close... a wary voice inside him warned. For the first time in decades, Goran considered ignoring it. He left Tear's house before he would have to decide. |
