第 89 页

This had better not become my signature.

Her eyes lit up with relief as she saw him, despite the flop of hair in his eyes and the sweat he very quickly wiped from his brow, and then shifted to confusion as her gaze traveled down his body.

Shit, I never changed my clothes, did I?

Turgon looked down at his scrubs hopelessly, then back up at Amarië. “Um, hi.”

“Hi.”

“I’m so sorry I’m late, I was coming from my shift at the clinic, and I lost track of time, and then a friend texted – not Finrod,” he added at once, and then felt quite sure that this disclaimer was far more awkward than if he’d said nothing at all. “Um. Someone else. And I had meant to change before meeting you, but I ran out of time, and…” He trailed off, taking in Amarië’s neat white blouse and well-fitting jeans.

“You look….really nice,” he said feebly. “Really nice.” Should he say something about how shiny her hair was? It was very shiny, and pretty, tied back in a long ponytail with a blue ribbon, but he wasn’t sure if one commented on such things.

Don’t comment on her hair, you’ll sound dumb.

“I like your ribbon.”

Oh, good job. That was even dumber.

“Thanks.” Amarië looked equally at sea. “And don’t worry about being late, or in scrubs, it’s totally okay! Ah. Do you need to change or anything? You’re not, like, covered in…”

“Blood? Nope.” Turgon broke into a smile. “I was just shadowing a doctor today, I didn’t even touch any patients. I swear I’m not covered in anything objectionable. So I guess if you don’t mind being seen in public with me, we can just head out?”

“Of course not! Yes, let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” They had spoken at the same time, and looked at each other in some amusement.

Turgon smacked himself in the head. “We never made a plan, did we?”

“I guess not.” Amarië looked equally sheepish. “Lunch?”

“I already ate.”

“Me too.”

“Coffee?”

“I will run into way too many people I know if we go to Cuiviénen.”

“Same.”

“Um.”

After a long pause, Turgon brightened up and said, “Oh, here’s an idea! My friends and I used to hang out by the fountain downtown. It’s really nice, and there are benches, and shade, and you can feed the pigeons…” He rummaged in his backpack. “I even have half a peanut butter sandwich we can give them.”

“That sounds good,” said Amarië with relief, and they set off.

Walking made the conversation flow more easily, as Amarië asked questions about Turgon’s work at the clinic, and Turgon asked her about dance and the coming school year.

“I think I’m going to have to cut out basketball this year, I’ve just been too injury prone, and given the choice, I’d rather keep going to dance…”

“That makes sense.”

“And this way I can keep doing choreography for the school troupe, though it’ll be sad without Elenwë.” Amarië broke off momentarily, clearly unsure if mentioning Elenwë was off-limits.

But Turgon just said, “I bet. But you’ll still see her for the dance classes you take at the studio, right?”

Once downtown, they made for the great park at the center of which was a huge white fountain, filling the air with burbles and splashes. They headed for Turgon’s favorite bench, but drew up abruptly as they saw they’d been preempted.

Two people were already on the bench, and so closely wrapped around each other it was hard, at first, to tell that it was two people. They were kissing fiercely, apparently completely oblivious to the world around them. As Turgon and Amarië stared, momentarily frozen in surprise, one of the two practically pulled the other into his lap, his hands winding into long blond hair. Amarië clapped a hand to her mouth, and Turgon boggled as the figure with a mop of blond hair slid his hands under the dark-haired figure’s waistband.

“Glorfindel!” he said hoarsely, quite certain that if he didn't say anything, something generally not legal in a public park would happen.

At the sound of his voice, the two figures sprang apart at once, and Glorfindel jerked around as if suddenly remembering his surroundings. “Turgon!” He wiped a hand over his mouth as Ecthelion tugged his shirt straight self-consciously. “Ah. Hello.”

“Hi,” said Turgon, as Amarië stifled a giggle into her sleeve.

“I, uh. Ecthelion texted me right after you did,” said Glorfindel, his voice somewhat husky, and cleared his throat. “Uh. And we came here.” He gestured unnecessarily. Amarië’s shoulders were still shaking with laughter, and she half stepped behind Turgon to attempt to control herself.

“So you did.” Turgon tried to look nonchalant. “Well, we were just going to feed the pigeons. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he added belatedly. “I was just surprised.”

“Quite understandable,” said Ecthelion, speaking for the first time, his voice quite cool and composed despite the fact that his belt was still undone. “I apologize for co-opting your spot.”

“No worries,” said Turgon, as Amarië continued to laugh silently until she had to hide her face in his shoulder. “We’ll just try the other side of the park.”

“No, it’s okay,” said Glorfindel, standing and pulling Ecthelion up with him. Ecthelion finally noticed his belt and hastily refastened it. “We should be going, anyway. Find somewhere else to…” He trailed off.

“To talk,” said Ecthelion, looking at him.

“Right.” Glorfindel stared back at Ecthelion, something so hopeful and apprehensive in his expression that Turgon looked away, more embarrassed than ever.

Glorfindel waved weakly as he and Ecthelion took their leave and Turgon finally turned to Amarië, who was bright red with suppressed laughter.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I’m sorry! I have this problem of laughing when awkward things happen, or when I’m embarrassed and don’t know how to react to something, and that was so - I didn't know what to - I am a child, I’m sorry.” She tried to pull herself together and wiped at her eyes. “Oh my god, are we really going to sit on this bench now? It’s sort of like staying in a bed after another couple who hasn’t changed the sheets yet.”

“Oh, gross,” said Turgon, who’d been about to sit down. “Way to put that image in my head.”

“I’m sorry!” said Amarië again, and started laughing once more.

They finally settled down with their backs to the base of the fountain and their legs stretched out in front of them as they threw torn up bits of Turgon’s sandwich to the fat-bellied pigeons. Every once in a while, Amarië would have another fit of giggles and have to stifle them into Turgon’s shoulder. Finally she left her head there, leaning against him, and he slipped an arm around her shoulders and threw the last crust to the birds.

“My fingers are covered in peanut butter,” Amarië started to say, and Turgon leaned down and kissed her.

The pigeons hopped closer, still hopeful, but Turgon and Amarië ignored them entirely as Amarië lifted her face to Turgon’s and kissed him back.

The fountain burbled, the pigeons hopped, and Turgon forgot about everything else.

* * *

“Move the fuck over.”

Amras hopped off the washing machine where he’d been perched giving running commentary as Caranthir hauled two bags of laundry into the basement. He tried to peer into the hamper. “I didn’t even know you had that many clothes.”

“Well it’s been like a month.” Caranthir poured a generous amount of detergent into the washer and started stuffing clothes into it. “And I’ve got sheets and shit.”

“How long has the washer at your place been broken?”

“A month.”

“How long ‘til you guys get it fixed?”

“I dunno, Káno’s gotta call the repair guy but keeps putting it off.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

“I don’t make phone calls.”

“Why doesn’t Tyelko do it?”

“Cuz he doesn’t give a shit. He just does laundry at Oromë’s, or stops wearing clothes.”

“Irissë?”

“She has more clothes than the rest of us and hasn’t run out yet.”

“How ‘bout Curvo?”

Caranthir didn’t answer, dropping the lid of the washing machine shut and jabbing at the settings.

Amras hummed and leapt up, trying to see if he could touch the basement ceiling. “Ew, cobweb. You could prob’ly get Curvo to fix it himself. A washing machine is kinda like a robot, isn’t it?”

Caranthir grunted, hit ‘start’ and dropped his laundry basket on top of the machine as the water began to fill it.

“But it’s cool to see you here, too. You haven’t been back to Formenos in, like, months.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, Aunt Lals said you were working at some boozery?”

“Brewery and distillery.”

“Same diff.” Amras leaned in as Caranthir dropped down in the ancient couch that had been in the couch for as long as any of them had been alive. “Hey, so,” he said conspiratorially. “Since you’ve got an in, think you could get us some…” He dropped his voice even lower and brought his mouth so close to Caranthir’s ear that Caranthir winced and leaned away as his brother hissed, “…some booze?”

Caranthir pushed Amras’ face away from him with a open palm. Amras sputtered and shook his head, his hair in his eyes. “Christ, kid, liquor stores exist. I don’t need to work at a brewery to get beer.”

Amras’ eyes lit up and he plopped down onto the couch next to Caranthir. “So you’ll get us something?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because mom and dad would fuckin’ eviscerate me.”

“No faaaiiiiirrr.” Amras groaned and slouched against the musty cushions. “Tyelko totally bought you booze when you were underage!”

“Tyelko didn’t care if he got eviscerated. Also you two are the babies.” Caranthir smirked at Amras. “Mom and dad care more about protecting your precious innocence than they did about mine.”

“What innocence?” Amras sat up straight and crossed his arms, trying to make the muscles in his biceps look more impressive. He gave up when Caranthir rolled his eyes at him. “I’m not innocent. I got a handjob in the parking lot just last week.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did!”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, I didn’t.” Amras subsided again. “There was a zipper issue. But it was, like, totally going that direction.”

“Gross.” Caranthir grimaced. “You’re too young.”

“I’m sixteen!”

“You are a tiny goddamn baby.”

“How old were you?”

“How old was I what?”

“When you first…did stuff.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Moryoooooo.”

“Jesus, you are the most annoying little shit.” Caranthir shook his head and pulled out his phone. “Shut up for a while.”

“Who ya texting?”

“Telchar.”

“Ooooh. Who that.”

“My boss.”

“Boring.” Amras slithered to the floor and did a few half-hearted sit-ups while Caranthir typed on his phone. “I wanna get a six-pack before Ambarussa does, but working on it is so lame.”

“I just told you I wasn’t getting you any beer.”

“Not that kind of six-pack, dummy.” Amras poked his stomach. “Muscles.”

“Oh good, are we going to have another meathead in the family? Ask Tyelko for some of his nasty-ass protein shakes.”

“Maybe I will.”

There was a thumping on the stairs and a voice calling, “Where are you two? What are you doing? Dad says stay off the pipes, Ambarussa, he already had to repair them twice after Tyelko’s home gym thing…”

“I’m not on the pipes,” said Amras. “I’m on the floor. Moryo’s being lame.” He dragged himself back onto the couch.

Amrod stuck his head over the stair railing. “What are you guys doing?”

“Laundry.”

“Oh. That’s not interesting.” Amrod wandered over and sat down on Caranthir’s other side.

“Tell me about it. I’m so bored I’ve resorted to feats of physical improvement.” Amras sucked in his stomach and pushed out his chest.

“Better than the other shit you get up to when you’re bored. You know dad said he’d disinherit you if he caught you poking through his machine shop again.”

“Snooping is the only thing to do around here, dude.”

“I prefer spying to snooping, but you have too short an attention span in general, Maitimo always said so. Anyway,” Amrod propped his hand on his chin and gave Caranthir a huge, fake smile. “So Moryo, I hear you’ve been working at this distillery place…”

“Save it,” said Caranthir. “Thing One already tried.”

“Yeah, no dice on that front.” Amras let his stomach pooch out again and curled up against Caranthir’s side.

“If anyone’s Thing One, it’s me,” said Amrod placidly, as Amras tied knots in the string of Caranthir’s hoodie. “I was born first. Ambarussa can be Thing Two.”

“Fuck you, I am so much more mature than you are.” Amras dropped Caranthir’s sweatshirt ties and glowered.

“But which of us has to retake Algebra II? Algebra II, time two, for Thing Two…”

“Shut up, you dick!”

They hit at each other over Caranthir’s lap until he put his knees up to block them and simultaneously drove his elbows into their ribs. “Jesus, I thought it would be more laidback to come home for the weekend. Knock it off.”

“Ouch.”

The twins collapsed onto him, and Caranthir groaned. “I should never come home.”

“Hah.” All three of them jumped and looked up. Nerdanel was standing behind them, hands on hips. She grinned at Caranthir. “I could have told you that. Except that I’m glad you came home because I miss your sweet face, and because when you leave I’m coming with you. I need a break from this crowd.”

“Ouch,” said Amrod. “Just stab us in the heart, mom.”

Nerdanel perched on the back of the couch and patted Caranthir on the head, ignoring Amrod and Amras’ looks of over exaggerated offense. “Prepare your brothers for a new roommate, I’ll take Maitimo’s old room.”

“You can’t,” said Caranthir automatically. “Irissë’s th – ” He broke off, biting his tongue. Aredhel and Celegorm had made the rest of the house agree not to let Fëanor know that an unauthorized housemate had moved in.

Nerdanel looked triumphant. “I knew I could get you to admit it! Too easy.”

“What are you talking about? Admit what?” Caranthir attempted baffled innocence, but Nerdanel just grinned.

“Can’t fool me, sweet potato. Anyway, I already knew, so stop looking so alarmed. I won’t boot Irissë, I’ll just take your room instead, and you can stay here with the three ruffians I live with.”

“Aww, mom, you love us.”

Amrod and Amras abandoned Caranthir to climb on their mother, and she toppled off the couch in a mass of waving arms. “Help! Too many chickens.”

“You’ll get no help from me,” said Caranthir, glancing at his phone again. Telchar had just texted him back, and he couldn’t hold back a half smile. “You just said you were evicting me.”

“Why is the entire household in the basement?” Fëanor came down the stairs. “We have such a nice place, remodeled family room and everything, and you’re all crowded onto a mildewed couch under exposed pipes. It’s enough to make one give up on home improvement. How’s the laundry going, Moryo? Sisyphean?”

“Pretty much.” Caranthir rolled off the couch and ambled over to his father. “I brought you some rum from work, by the way.”