“I’ve seen them learn, show reason, integrity, wisdom, even. But I don’t like the idea of giving them the option of suicide.”
“ Freedom, you mean.” He turned away and threw the ball toward the hoop.
“ Huh?”
“ Freedom. It’s not the option of suicide, Ara. It’s the freedom to choose an immortal life or a peaceful death.”
I studied him carefully for a second before he broke the stare and wandered over to grab the ball from across the court. He was serious about this stuff. I’d never seen him get so . . . red in the face, over any topic. “Why does it matter to you so much, Mike—whether they live or die?”
“ It’s not that.” He tossed the ball to me; I caught it. “It’s . . . I don’t know.”
I hid my smile with the turn of my back, and aimed the orange ball to the sky, throwing it but missing my target. “You come here every day, don't you?”
“ Yeah. Why?”
“ Oh, no reason.” I folded my arms, squinting up at him. “One might just think you were starting to like those kids.”
He smiled bashfully, jamming his hands in his pockets, but it slipped away as he looked at his feet. “So what was the deal with you lot last night?”
“ What do you mean?”
“ I had coffee with Morg this morning. She told me you all fell asleep on David.”
I took a step away and grabbed the ball off the ground. “Yeah. And?”
“ Where was Emily?”
I passed him the ball. “What’d you mean?”
He sighed, hinting the obvious. “Where, Ara?”
“ Oh, um, she had her head in his lap.”
“ Exactly.” He spun the ball around a few times between his palms, studying it. “You all looked at me last night like I was coming to Morg’s room for sex or something, yet Em falls asleep with her head in your husband’s crotch, and no one bats an eyelid?”
“ Someone did.”
“ Who?” He glanced sideways at me, the ball rolling off his fingertips toward the hoop again. “You?”
I nodded.
He sighed. “Things aren’t great between her and I, Ar, but . . . I love her.”
“ Do you? Really?” I asked in a flat but curious tone.
“ Of course.” He bent down to grab the ball. “She just expects too much of me. I can't be with her twenty-four-seven.”
“ Or you don't want to.”
He made a basket, his hands staying in the air a few seconds longer than needed. “I . . . I don't know.”
I grinned, trapping the ball under my toe as it rolled toward me. “Trouble in paradise.”
“ Shut up.” He copied my grin, elbowing me in the ribs after.
“ Just tell me one thing,” I said.
“ Sure.”
“ Do you actually want to be with her, Mike, or are you holding on to her like some trophy?”
“ Nice shot.” He laughed, watching my ball go through the hoop without hitting the rims. “And . . . yes. I do want to be with her, Ara. But—” His gaze went distant.
“ But?”
“ There are . . . things. I dunno.” He shook his head. “I just . . . it’s not all black and white.”
“ So talk,” I said, and Mike walked away, taking a seat on the courtside bench, with his head in his hands.
I sat beside him, leaving the ball to roll off, coming to rest on the foot of the hill.
“ When I spend time with her, she’s not even there. You know, I told her something really personal the other day, and she. . .” He leaned back, looking up at the sky. “She laughed. Yet, when I told Morg the same thing, she. . .”
“ She?”
“ Well, she supported me. It’s like, I know you think there’s something with Morg and me, but there’s not. She just . . . listens.”
“ She gets you,” I said with a smile.
“ Yeah. But it’s not just her special talent, Ar. She’s a good person.”
I nodded and looked up at the same place Mike was staring. “So, are you saying you want Emily to be more like Morgaine?”
He laughed, catching the humour in my voice. “I just want her to want me for more than the idea she has of me, if that makes any sense.”
I ran the words
“ Freedom, you mean.” He turned away and threw the ball toward the hoop.
“ Huh?”
“ Freedom. It’s not the option of suicide, Ara. It’s the freedom to choose an immortal life or a peaceful death.”
I studied him carefully for a second before he broke the stare and wandered over to grab the ball from across the court. He was serious about this stuff. I’d never seen him get so . . . red in the face, over any topic. “Why does it matter to you so much, Mike—whether they live or die?”
“ It’s not that.” He tossed the ball to me; I caught it. “It’s . . . I don’t know.”
I hid my smile with the turn of my back, and aimed the orange ball to the sky, throwing it but missing my target. “You come here every day, don't you?”
“ Yeah. Why?”
“ Oh, no reason.” I folded my arms, squinting up at him. “One might just think you were starting to like those kids.”
He smiled bashfully, jamming his hands in his pockets, but it slipped away as he looked at his feet. “So what was the deal with you lot last night?”
“ What do you mean?”
“ I had coffee with Morg this morning. She told me you all fell asleep on David.”
I took a step away and grabbed the ball off the ground. “Yeah. And?”
“ Where was Emily?”
I passed him the ball. “What’d you mean?”
He sighed, hinting the obvious. “Where, Ara?”
“ Oh, um, she had her head in his lap.”
“ Exactly.” He spun the ball around a few times between his palms, studying it. “You all looked at me last night like I was coming to Morg’s room for sex or something, yet Em falls asleep with her head in your husband’s crotch, and no one bats an eyelid?”
“ Someone did.”
“ Who?” He glanced sideways at me, the ball rolling off his fingertips toward the hoop again. “You?”
I nodded.
He sighed. “Things aren’t great between her and I, Ar, but . . . I love her.”
“ Do you? Really?” I asked in a flat but curious tone.
“ Of course.” He bent down to grab the ball. “She just expects too much of me. I can't be with her twenty-four-seven.”
“ Or you don't want to.”
He made a basket, his hands staying in the air a few seconds longer than needed. “I . . . I don't know.”
I grinned, trapping the ball under my toe as it rolled toward me. “Trouble in paradise.”
“ Shut up.” He copied my grin, elbowing me in the ribs after.
“ Just tell me one thing,” I said.
“ Sure.”
“ Do you actually want to be with her, Mike, or are you holding on to her like some trophy?”
“ Nice shot.” He laughed, watching my ball go through the hoop without hitting the rims. “And . . . yes. I do want to be with her, Ara. But—” His gaze went distant.
“ But?”
“ There are . . . things. I dunno.” He shook his head. “I just . . . it’s not all black and white.”
“ So talk,” I said, and Mike walked away, taking a seat on the courtside bench, with his head in his hands.
I sat beside him, leaving the ball to roll off, coming to rest on the foot of the hill.
“ When I spend time with her, she’s not even there. You know, I told her something really personal the other day, and she. . .” He leaned back, looking up at the sky. “She laughed. Yet, when I told Morg the same thing, she. . .”
“ She?”
“ Well, she supported me. It’s like, I know you think there’s something with Morg and me, but there’s not. She just . . . listens.”
“ She gets you,” I said with a smile.
“ Yeah. But it’s not just her special talent, Ar. She’s a good person.”
I nodded and looked up at the same place Mike was staring. “So, are you saying you want Emily to be more like Morgaine?”
He laughed, catching the humour in my voice. “I just want her to want me for more than the idea she has of me, if that makes any sense.”
I ran the words
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