The Lamb and the Gray Battle

October 21, 2022

 Dylan complained, "Don't take Evie away today. She promised to read the Legend of the Red Dragon with me."

Brantley said, "You've read the book before, squirt."

"Yeah, but it'll be fun to read it with Evie."

"We'll do it tomorrow," Evie called from the kitchen.

Jo, on the other hand, was trying to get Evie to reconsider her decision to move at the end of the month. She said, "It won't be the same without you," helping Evie with some pastries.

Brantley saw nowhere he could be useful, so he crashed onto the couch next to Dylan, who was playing on his Nintendo Switch.

Jo barked at Brantley, "You better not be skipping classes, young man."

"I told you already," he said. "I get out early for the Banned Music Committee meetings."

"What about that boy who died?"

"Rowan was a 'them', Mom."

Then Jo pointed out that Brantley had dyed his hair black. "What about law school, young man?"

"It's temp dye, Mom. Solidarity for Rowan."

Evie wrapped up the pastries, Danishes, Rowan's favorite. Her blazing red curls peeked out from under her black headscarf. Brantley would never hear the end of it from Otis.

Jo rolled her eyes, didn't say words, but opened her mouth like she would have liked to. She stomped down the hallway, distracted herself with writing "Bathroom" on the box. She scrambled together towels, some air freshener and shampoo.

Brantley barked, "Mom, she's not moving this minute. Don't pack up her toothbrush and stuff."

"Thank you, Brantley. I would have never thought of that."

My mother, the master of sarcasm.

Brantley went to the kitchen, leaned into Evie with her Red Riding Hood basket of treats, and whispered, "I don't want you to go either."

Evie said, "Brantley, the world changes, time moves forward. I don't want you to go away to New York, but that's your best chance for a job at a top firm and safety from this madness. Spring will follow winter, just like it does every year. Then there will be flowers." She muttered, "Daffodils."

"I'm not going to New York."

Evie patted his cheek. "In a few years, you'll have your degree and then you'll be wielding the force of the law to defend the rights of the demon bloods who don't live in PC anymore."

Brantley took Evie's hand, pulled her into the kitchen. "I told you I applied to law school at OSU. It'll be just like it is now. I'll come home on weekends."

Evie's dewy eyes said reams that her lips didn't speak, that a weekend romance wasn't for her, that she didn't want to drive to OSU. She couldn't drive.

Brantley worried his hands. If he shook her, maybe she'd understand. "Evie, I'm serious about getting married."

Evie trotted over to the stove, stepped over Lemon, who lifted her head, was a periscope scanning the room. Cassie leaped over the geriatric pup and loped after Evie.

"I have a trust fund," Brantley said. Evie prepared a cup of tea for him as if she were deaf. He repeated himself, but he couldn't think straight. "I can support us until I get my law degree. Maybe we could live off the school loans."

Evie's laughter was a whistling teakettle blowing off its steam. She covered her mouth, unable to hold back the laughter. "Every time a human proposes to me, I just can't help it. You have no idea how ridiculous you sound." When she could keep the chuckles to little spurts, she came back to him. "I'm too old for you."

"You're not some little old lady." Brantley posed against the counter, laughed it off. "You're twenty-six years old."

Evie twirled and clapped. "You are soooo funny." She rubbed her hands over her tummy. She supposed she did look a little like Winnie the Pooh.

"Come on," Brantley said. "Stop talking like you're some mythical creature of legend."

Jo paused, but not long enough for Evie to notice. She headed to the spare room.

Before Jo could open the door, Evie called, "I'll get that stuff, Jo. Don't worry about it."

Brantley lowered his voice. "I, uh, I'm sorry, but I looked in your purse."

This time, Evie started a pan of cinnamon muffins. Half of the kitchen was in boxes, but Evie kept taking pans out and starting some new confectionery delight.

"At your lineage papers. I saw your age. I'm sorry."

Evie's brow twitched and her lips puckered. Brantley was speaking a foreign language. All this was English, but the words were bizarre to Evie.

"I know you're mad," Brantley said.

"I'm not mad."

Brantley didn't believe her, but besides the perplexed flinch playing on her brow, she showed no signs of fury or tantrum.

He said, "I know Rowan's death was sudden and scary, but don't run away. We have to stand up to the haters, show them we're a unified force. We're not backing down."