My Funny Valyntine: Book One - The Pull

Chapter Twenty-Three - Now It Can Be Told

i.

Valyntine doesn't linger in the bath as she had during her first visit to this washroom. She spends less than five minutes in the warm water scrubbing the blood and scrapple from her hands and face. She towels off quickly, changing the bandage at the back of her head in such haste she thinks she might have popped one of her zippers. No blood. No need to worry.

Once again, boxes of clothes cover the ottoman. With the cold coming fast this season, she dresses in layers to be ready for whatever the day might bring – dark pants, thick, warm socks, t-shirt, a midnight-blue long-sleeve thermal, and a black-and-red plaid flannel.

After dressing, it occurs to her she has worn more articles of clothing in the past week than in the past two years. Lacing up a new pair of black boots – quite similar to those she gave up the first night she came here – Valyntine jerks and tightens the laces hard, taking her exhaustion and irritation out on her own feet. She hates not knowing what lies beyond this room once she is dressed and ready. Mrs. Jones and Latin have likely made plans in her absence.

Wonder what part of the city he'll take me to today? And what life-threatening circumstance will befall us tonight?

Valyntine gives herself a glance in the mirror to make sure she won't stand out in a crowd. An impossible question to answer as she has no idea where she might end up today. The constant state of not-knowing is starting to wear on her.

The life she had before was one of monotonous, blissful routine. Work at the Soul Sauce a few shifts every week, smoke gaspers and drink coffee in her apartment in the meantime. Repeat. Even the past seven months had a level of predictability. The days of the week the Pull took her deviated from month to month, but she adapted. It all changed the day Tunisia ran into her. Ever since then, she's had no idea what the next hour will bring, let alone the next day.

Valyntine jerks open the door of the washroom. Tired, hungry, irritable, her mind overcrowded with information and conspiracy, she expects to see Mrs. Jones or Latin waiting for her on the other side. The part of her wanting to fight with someone harbors a secret hope to find Lady Byrd as the unfortunate person sent to collect her.

The weight of the last few days eases at the sight of silken-white, tousled hair. He has his back to her, leaning on the railing to look out over the vast, open floor of The Robin's Nest.

"Moses?" the name sounds like impromptu music as it echoes through the vast, empty lobby.

"Hello, young Valyntine," Softly Moses says, turning to greet her properly, holding out both of his hands.

"I didn't expect to see you!" She takes a great stride forward, grasping his hands with hers, feeling a surge of emotion so intense she almost embraces him. The touch of his hands fills her with an instant calm; her mind and heart settling. Her aversion to being touched is erased when it comes to him.

"Mrs. Jones holds a full staff meeting at this time every day," he explains, giving her hands gentle squeezes.

"And Latin?" she asks, scanning the room.

"He's part of the staff."

"Aren't you staff?"

"Yes, I suppose I am. But my role never changes. And, besides, I wanted to see you."


Valyntine blushes. So does Softly Moses.

The old man and the young woman walk down the hallway that doubles as a balcony. They descend the spiral staircase at the far end and shuffle across the lobby to a table laid out with a modest selection of food. Moses pulls her chair out for her, then joins her on the other side. She eats a few pieces of fruit and drinks a cup of coffee while he tells her of the past few days from his point of view.