Failing Upward

Chapter 14 (part 4): Self Preservation

I woke from one of those dreams where you have to piss, but can't— instead you're tormented by swimming down mountain streams or raging rapids and wake up too lazy to get up. So you try to fall back to sleep, but you're in the same dream again until finally you wake up and can't postpone it any longer. What was it with me and my bladder recently?

I gently moved the sheets aside and glanced over at Sherlock. Moonlight bathed the room, softly framing Sherlock's face. His eyelids danced and lashes fluttered. My finger brushed a curl near the corner of his eye. Leaning over, I kissed his forehead.

"Love you," I whispered. The corner of his mouth turned up. I slipped my feet to the floor. So hard to leave the warm bed and Sherlock. I slipped on Sherlock's red bathrobe and started down the stairs.

Toby followed, probably hoping for a midnight romp or maybe a doggy snack.

The Moon illuminated the staircase. We descended the surreal space. I held the railing to keep from stumbling as Toby clipped my heels. As I came to the last step, almost toppling over, I heard raised voices and stopped, trying to make out who was arguing. I quietly made my way toward the noise, padding through the hallway behind the stairs, following the voices towards the door to the old smoking room.

Toby barked. I hushed him as I heard Sean say distinctly: "This is none of your business."

Then I heard Glenda: "We told you years ago that this came with a price."

I stepped closer to the closed door and pressed my ear to it. I'd been around Sherlock for too long not to take advantage of a situation when it arises. Toby made himself at home and went to search out his bowl toward the kitchen.

"I never knew I had a choice," Sean hissed back. "If I'd known, I never would have done it."

"You don't mean that," said Glenda.

"Like Hell, I don't."

"You can't be with him, or any other mortal," I heard Uncle Gregory say. "It's not fair to them. You will remain the same. They change. This never works. Your Aunt Glenda told you; she married one of them once. Mortals will never understand us."

"This is shit. Like I can pick who I fall in love with."

"You can pick who you spend time with," Glenda said, "and who you are intimate with. And it can't be with Smith or any other mortal. That is the rule."

"Whose rules? Your rules? And what happens if I break them?"

"Nothing will happen— to you ," she answered.

"Is that a threat? So I'm supposed to pretend I don't care or else Smith gets hurt? What about John and Sherlock? When are you going to explain these rules to them?" Sean asked.

My heart stopped. Toby brushed against the door. No one spoke in the other room. I wondered if they knew I was listening, then my uncle continued. "He was already involved with Sherlock. We couldn't stop it. There is more going on than you understand."

"I understand a lot more than you both think. You didn't want to stop it. We tricked John to get him here. We tricked him to stay. Sherlock is the only reason John is here in this house. None of us have ever had a choice. What's the reason you had to have John and I go into the garden? I'd love for you to explain that one. And Sherlock. You've used him. You wanted John to be involved with him because it serves your purpose. I read my Mom's letters to you, Aunt Glenda...I know all these wheels within wheels at work."

"Her letters? You've been sneaking around in my room?"

"I don't believe you! You and Greg are always looking through my stuff. Yeah, I read it all. You won't tell me. Besides, they're letters from my mother. They're MY letters, not yours . I know Mom and Dad never wanted John or I to become what we are. They kept us away from here for a reason. They wanted both of us to have a normal life."

"They had no right to make that choice," Glenda snapped.

"Choice?" Sean choked. I heard him laughing. Then silence. Finally he spoke up again, voice quivering. "God, I believed all these years that you cared about me. Instead it's some fucking grand design that you give a shit about. Not me. Not John and not Mom and Dad. Now I know just how dearly my parents paid for keeping us from you ."

I heard a sharp slap.

"I loved your parents," she said, sobbing. "We had nothing to do with their deaths. I love you and your brother. Making you one of us was done to protect you. We made that choice. I'm not sorry."

"You make this sound like some grand sacrifice on your part. If this choice was so fucking righteous, tell me, explain why dragging us down to the roses was necessary. I need to know. John needs to know. You had no right to make choices for us," he replied. "Never ask me to take John out to that garden again. I won't do it."

I heard someone walking toward me. I jumped back. Nowhere to hide. The door opened, and Sean saw me standing there. His eyes met mine in silent understanding as he brushed past me. He'd known I was listening the whole while. I looked past him to Aunt Glenda and Uncle Greg.

"I'm not talking to either of you," I said. Toby ran between them. I turned, walked to the bathroom and slammed the door. Something like that could take the piss out of anybody.

I didn't turn on the light.

I wanted to protect Sherlock and love him. I never dreamed those two desires might diverge.