Elaine of Antwerd

Life on a Farm

Elaine, wearing pants and a loose shirt, joined the two for pot roast and stewed vegetables. William and Elaine talked about the people at the market, how the crops were doing, who was expecting. All the gossip exchanged in a twice-weekly trip to town for farmers. Near the end of the meal, Elaine said to Sterling, "William said you lived alone for a while."

William froze, but Sterling finished his bite. "Did he, now?" he said, smiling at William.

Elaine nodded, realizing she wasn't supposed to mention it. Too late now, she decided, and pressed on. "Why? Like, why were you alone?"

Sterling rested his elbows on the table and pinched his lips together, squinting at the opposite wall. He really didn't want to spill the entire story. Not yet.

Sensing his hesitation, Elaine said, "You don't have to say. But... are they dead? Your family?"

William looked at Sterling, unsure how much his husband was willing to tell. One of Sterling's long fingers tapped on the table. Then Sterling shrugged. "No, they're still alive. As far as I know." He smiled and took another spoonful, but didn't look at Elaine.

"Oh." Elaine blinked. "But then..."

"They don't talk to me." Sterling sounded dismissive, like he was trying not to think about it. "They decided they didn't want me around, so I left." He lifted his spoon, studying it. "Y'know, a lot of people say family is more important than anything. And I'd agree. But sometimes, your family isn't the people who raised you. The people who are related to me decided I wasn't their family, so I found a new one." He looked Elaine in the eye and smiled, and William put a hand on his arm.

The three had to finish eating in the dark as the sun went down. When they went to bed, William whispered to Sterling, "Whatever you tell Elaine, I know it still hurts."

"Yeah," Sterling murmured. "It's two different kinds of grief, I guess. I mean, we both lost the people we grew up with, but... theoretically, I could see mine again. If I tried. And I feel like that makes it harder to move on. And for you... You still have those memories of her. They're more bittersweet now, but you have them. My memories with my dad aren't just bittersweet. They hurt. Because I also have the memory of him telling me..." He trailed off, then gave a sobbing inhale. "I guess it's just a weirder kind of grief," he said, much more choked up than he had been a second ago.

William pulled him in close. He knew exactly which memory Sterling meant. It had been a decade and a half, and something told him that wasn't nearly enough time.

A couple days later, after milking the goats and checking in on the chickens, William sat Sterling and Elaine down to talk.

"Yesterday, Elaine said she wanted to learn magic. She obviously can't learn here, she'd have to go to Antwerd, and it's too far to walk every day. She'd have to live in town."

"Alone?" Sterling asked.

"Preferably not, but maybe." William rubbed his neck. "The school probably has dorms for the kids, but even that would be a big change. If it were possible, I'd have us move with her, but I don't want to abandon the farm."

"We don't both have to go. One of us could stay here."

"Yeah, but that'd probably be me, since the goats hate you. And I know how you feel about living in Antwerd."

Sterling sat back, gently tapping the table. Elaine jumped in. "I can handle being on my own in the dorms."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, kid," Sterling responded.

"I mean, you lived alone for a while. What was it like?" Elaine leaned toward him. She was excited at the thought of leaving the house and doing things herself.