To Light and Guard

Chapter Thirty-Five

The sharp clearing of a throat stirred Lana from her peaceful sleep. "Hm?" Bleariness smeared her vision. The sunlight through the window created a yellow mural, bright and happy, the most joy she had seen in a single image in days. Her arm, strewn loosely around Mary Eunice's waist, curled upward, and she stretched, long and languid. Beside her, her girlfriend didn't stir from the movement on the mattress. Her pink lips formed an O with drool dribbling out of the corner. In the morning light, all of her scratches from the night before glowed with beads of dried blood. Red lines covered her exposed arms and hands. Her cheeks had cuts and marks where the thorns had pierced her skin. This place hasn't been kind to either of us.

Lana's hand lingered mid-air, above Mary Eunice's golden hair, where she intended to tuck a lock behind her ear, but then she remembered the clearing throat which had woken her. Oh, shit. Her hand froze. Both hands planted on the mattress, Lana pushed herself up and turned to the door, which now stood wide open with her mother in the frame, both hands planted on her hips. Hard narrow eyes fixed upon Lana, who crossed her arms in front of her chest. In the bed, Mary Eunice didn't stir. Good. She shouldn't see this. "Do you want us to leave?" Lana asked, voice carefully calm, neutral. I won't apologize. Not again.

Backing out of the door frame, Helen beckoned her with a single index finger. Like a naughty child, Lana curled her toes into the carpet, following her mother out of the room. The door clicked shut behind her. "I don't want to wake her." Lana blinked. Thank you. She didn't dare interrupt to offer her gratitude for letting Mary Eunice get a few more minutes of sleep. "Does she know?" Know what? Know I like her? Lana gaped until her mother pressed, "Does she know you got in bed with her?"

Oh. She snapped her mouth shut and swallowed the piss-flavored morning breath in her mouth. "Yes, of course." The critical eyes didn't leave her. "We live in a one bedroom house. We both have nightmares. We always sleep together." Setting her jaw, she held fast to her resolve. Her tangled bedhead and pajama-clad body would not ruin this for her. "Frankly, I'm insulted that you think I'd take advantage of her."

"I didn't say that." Biting the tip of her tongue, Lana fought to keep from retorting. She wasn't being kicked out yet. "Is that all you did?"

No, I stripped my nun out of her habit the day of my father's funeral and fucked her in his house. I'm trying to piss God off in as many ways as possible. Her sarcasm had never won her any favors with her mother, who, unlike her father, did not find it clever or entertaining. "Yes. I would never do anything to disrespect or harm her. It's easier to sleep in a strange place with a familiar face. And it's easier to cry with someone who gives a damn, without everyone watching and judging—don't say you don't judge, Mama, I know you do. I can see it on your face."

She averted her eyes. "You're right. It is easier. I've no right to deprive you just because I'm alone now."

The hardness inside of Lana, furious at her mother's intrusion, softened a little. Perhaps the words were manipulative, but sympathy rose from inside of her, nonetheless. "You're welcome to join us, if that's what all this is about."

Helen snorted and rolled her eyes. "Get dressed and help me with breakfast. Tim and Roger are going to be here soon." She patted Lana on the shoulder. Her bony, wrinkled hand had callouses on the knuckles like Mary Eunice's. "I know you can't cook for shit, but you can set the table. Maybe I'll be generous and throw your dog a bit of old bacon."

When Lana returned to the room to dress herself, Mary Eunice also rose, and they exchanged a quick peck on the lips before they headed into the kitchen. Mary Eunice's hair was drawn back in a tight French braid, while Lana's was down and framing her face. Helen had spread out ingredients all over the countertop in anticipation of the breakfast. "Come here, Sister. You've got breadmaking hands." Breadmaking hands? Is that a compliment? Lana wondered as she got the plates and mugs out of the cabinet. "Do you know how to make biscuits from scratch?"