Growing Up and Other Tall Tales

Chapter 71

One morning, I walk into the kitchen still lugging heavy bulk from sleep and I blink confusedly at Lyra who is lifting the kettle with a cloth, the veins in her wrist straining at the weight. It is still so weird to find someone in the house who is living and does not paw at the furniture. Lyra inhales sharply as she settles it down next to two cups. Loki stirs in his sleep so she gently brushes the back of her feet against his fur nudging him back to sleep.

She stiffens when she feels me in the room and looks up, her taut features softening when she registers my face.

"Morni—" she trails off abruptly, her smile slipping out of her face like a slide as she averts her eyes

I frown and follow her gaze. I look down.

Oh.

I had completely forgotten that I had company and I'd wandered into the kitchen like I always do: nearly naked and like I've never heard of any hair etiquettes. A flush marches its way onto Lyra's cheeks as she goes back to aggressively swirling the spoon in her coffee. Her hair conveniently falls out of her bun and cages the side of her face facing me protectively.

Now completely awake, I stagger between rushing back into the bedroom in search of something more civil to wear other than my bare skin and wishing Lyra good morning.

I call out the most apologetic morning making Lyra awkwardly raise her hand in acknowledgement before running back into the room searching for a shirt and sweatpants.

"I get really warm at night," I say in a manner of greeting when I return to the kitchen and Lyra had regained her composure by then. She hands me my mug and I raise the cusp to my nose first before drinking it.

"Can't relate. But summer months..." she shrugs nonchalantly and I gulp down the tea so it could burn any neuron trying to build a picture from that

"Do you want me to drop you off?" I ask loudly and then in a more normal voice add, "It's on my way to work,"

She looks at me over her cup and then shrugs again but this time, with a smile. Even though, she would never admit it, I know that she still is physically recovering from both the incident and being stuck in bed for over four days. Kathy had gently suggested a therapist and Lyra had glared her down into a never-mind, then. The first few days after her release from the hospital were the hardest to bear witness to: she made it her personal objective to actively go out of her way to engage in physical activity. She'd opt for the stairs instead of the elevator, wait in line for the coffee instead of entering the drive thru with me and it took a several weeks, but she wore herself down.

"Last person to get dressed has to wash the cups," she grins at me before swallowing whatever that was left in her cup and sliding it across the counter

"Hey!" I stand up as she skirted by me before wincing as her joints cackled in protest at her movements. Reflexively, I reach out for her but she doesn't turn back for my help and instead gleefully laughs, throws me the finger and slides into the room.