The stars mottled the sky, while every house had their lights off by the time Ruby had reached home. Mom should have retired, a consotion and a wistful hope that she kept repeating to herself. Any sembnce of quietly slipping into the vil stood an unachievable task when Ruby locked eyes with Mom.

  With a snap of her fingers, Mom brought light to the main hall. She demanded Ruby’s attention as well. All done with a single gesture because Morgane Spenard was efficient. Never a moment wasted. Or an effort falsely invested.

  Mom closed the distance. A scent of parsley, acacia, and moringa weaved through Ruby’s nostrils. Mom had her nightgown, rich and regal purple with green tassels, on. The effect of the attire might have been calming, could have led one to lower their guard. On anyone else, it could have passed for the sort that a trophy housewife might wear on a special day, but Morgane Spenard can bind the disposable carry bags in a supermarket trash can to don it like an impenetrable armour.

  “You have been ignoring my calls.” She snapped with the intensity of a guillotine bde dropping. “Had Kelly not convinced me that you were with her daughter... You had me worried.”

  Sorry Mom. Those should have been the first words. Easy words too. But instead, Ruby choked. She twisted her face away from Mom, where she should wouldn’t have to focus on whatever emotions resided there. The events of the day drained her, leaving very little emotional energy and definitely none to deal with Mom.

  “You know, Zoey texted her mom that she was with you and Cybele. That she would be te.” Mom still had her sharpness in her voice, the edge to leave incurable incisions on the skin. A dismissive scoff followed. “Hmmm... But then again, that was expected. She is a girl. It is a very boyish thing to ignore their mothers when they call. I guess I shouldn’t expect anything else.”

  That made the blood in her veins turn to icy needles. The suffocating cloud of apprehension was more akin to having a part of her soul callously invalidated. Mom could wield her words like a searing bde, poised to dissect with surgical precision. And she did it at a calcuted moment, all to gather a bit of self-satisfaction.

  Ruby had no response in her repertoire. Everything she sought came bnk.

  What could she even say to that?

  Defend her actions.

  Apologise and try to move past.

  Or remain silent. And let Mom’s words continue to intrinsically viote her.

  Then Mom lurched closer, her gaze fixed on Ruby’s neck where resided Zoey’s ministrations in the form of hickeys. Ruby wished she had a shawl or a hoodie now. Zoey had been very meticulous in her endeavours to distribute her affection. Tiny ruptured blood vessels left a raw and hot pink beneath her skin. They now seared under Mom’s gaze.

  For a brief and undefinable moment, Ruby thought she saw Mom smack her lips. But the corners of her eyes, they carried the intensity of a calm before a storm. The sort that old people would warn anyone before stepping out. Mom raised her hesitant hand, an anathema in itself because Morgane Spenard never showed trepidation. Each act was precise, intentional and executed with ease.

  “I am gd you are meeting friends and creating experiences.” Mom’s hands stopped. They did not touch. She pulled them back, riled them in, just like whatever emotions that bubbled inside her. “But you made a promise of a dinner. That was a commitment you made. Commitments equals to obligations. You cannot ignore them because another chance manifested itself. This is a socially unacceptable behaviour.”

  “Look Mom, if this is about the dinner you missed, then let’s pn it another time. I had a long day. Some rest would be nice.”

  Ruby turned to leave, only to find her arm arrested by Mom’s strong vice-like grip. They were like the cws of a bird of prey, sinking to a living, struggling rodent, sharp, hard, rigid and unwilling to yield.

  “Young dy, you don’t walk into the house after midnight, with hickeys all over, and demand that you be relieved to retire without answering questions.”

  Whatever Mom did, it sapped Ruby of her strength. Against a determined Mom, her struggles were futile, just like every other time.

  “Your only saving grace… I knew you were with girls. Otherwise, I would be worried if you took sufficient protection. We would be having a different conversation.”

  “That’s a very dual standard and misogynistic. Misandry too.” Ruby summoned whatever audaciousness she could gather. No longer could she remain spineless. Cybele fought against Uncle Craven. She had helped Zoey through a magical mishap. If she can’t help herself... “The world does not revolve around you, Mom. What is this even about? My safety or a vaguely covered move to address your feelings of being cheated out of a dinner?”

  “Ruby, it is natural for a Mother to worry if her daugh...”

  “Enough. I see what you do now.” Ruby broke free of Mom’s hold. The spot where she was grasped might have been sore, but she ignored the urge to rub. “All this, spping with an iron hand and then soothing with a velvet glove.”

  Not even a blink. Mom stood close and still, with her expressions rigidly carved.

  Ruby tore her pearl earrings off and hurled it over Mom’s shoulders.

  “That’s how you bought my affection. Or you tried.” Her throat felt as though she were spitting fire, seething and burning. “You tried to love bomb me with your precious earrings. We had a confrontation in the morning. You insulted Dad, and when I pushed back, you tried to pcate me with a gift. Do you even know how to genuinely apologise?”

  In the stillness that permeated the vil, Ruby could swear she can hear a fp of a butterfly’s wings.

  Mom, in her sublime nightgown with even the folds and creases carefully controlled, stood holding back her response. Her silence, it seemed to Ruby, came from a deeper pce. One that no one breached because Morgane Spenard would not allow it. She guarded them like a dragon’s hoard.

  Except...

  Ruby tasted salt on her lips. They were carried by a twin stream of warm liquids from her eyes. Now she felt stupid for allowing her control to fail before Mom.

  “You are right. I don’t know how to genuinely apologise. I never had to.”

  When Mom took her hands, Ruby found Mom’s palms cmmy, like she had been dreading the moment, too.

  “Ruby, this thing between us... This invisible barrier, they cannot be allowed to exist between a mother and her daughter. I confess, I didn’t make it any easier for you. But this need not be permanent. This conflict, this is just a breakdown in our understanding of our retionship dynamics.”

  Mom pulled and Ruby allowed their bodies to press closer than she would have wanted.

  “Until now, you were with your father. It’s different. He raised you and the two of you were... just two guys under one roof. But now you are with your mother, and the dynamics of this retionship are different. Still, I am your mother, and I should put more effort into making this work. But you need to give me something to make that happen. My attempts alone cannot build a bridge between us. Ruby, you need to work with me to move forward.”

  It should be easy to sink into Mom’s embrace. Ruby wanted to. Only almost.

  Mom presented more than an apologetic face. Her offer of a strong shoulder to rest her chin on, her small waist contoured by silken-soft fabric to wrap her arms around, and Mom’s own hands were ever willing to touch and roam through Ruby in ways she craved to be explored.

  And Ruby, by dint of her volition, stopped those thoughts from further meandering. Giving into the temptation called Mom carried a votile consequence. In the very morning, she had believed in Mom. Took her pearl earrings gift to mean something more, only to realise Morgane Spenard meant to buy her way into her affection with pearls.

  Ruby’s love was not for bidding. Expensive tangible gifts cannot compare, nor can they influence what she can give.

  “Truth is, darling, you were right. My gift of earrings was meant to calm you. But not because I intended to substitute my love with jewels, but I simply was ill-equipped. How do you show your love to your daughter? What other mothers instinctively knew from the day they held their daughter, I had to guess, research, and backtrack to learn.”

  Certainly, Mom can’t be giving birth to words so raw and exposed, can she? The notion pounded inside Ruby, like a trapped squirrel darting through every corner, seeking an outlet.

  “When you asked to move in with me, I thought I had you figured. A teenage boy should be no hassle, right? After all, they stay cooped up in their rooms. Provide enough gaming consoles, mario karts too, keep the pantry stocked with enough meat and energy drink. And avoid, because teenage boys liked their dark, moody phase. I convinced myself that it was a simple task. But then, you arrived.”

  “You make is sound as though you didn’t have a hand in any of this.” The words were out before Ruby could even regret. The accusation was tossed and all she could manage now was to squirm out of Mom’s range.

  From the demeanour of Mom, the way she made no conscious effort to reach or touch disclosed everything Ruby needed to know.

  Ruby feared. She feared the naked piece of carved out truth that she tossed midst. Now it remained, enveloped in silence like a festering wound that would break any moment to spill the rotten fetid puss beneath. The question was waiting to be broached. Ruby wished nothing more to not address whatever Mom would breach next.

  Mom murdered casually and for a perceived insult. Ruby bore witness to how she managed that with an effortless flick of her wrist. And Mom did it with the same effect of dealing with a misspelled name by a barista on a paper tte cup. A minor annoyance that she would not allow to spoil her brew. Morrigan, the War Queen, was a title bestowed for a reason. But Mistress of the Shadowed Path bothered Ruby more.

  Shadowed Path implied an unseen path, forged through twists and turns, through circles and tunnels, that led to pces, deep and dark, that were not meant to be visited. Mom had access to those.

  She darted along the stairs towards her room, because the discussion following next... Ruby willed not to face. She locked her room, though what good it would do against Mom, she knew not. This was not like facing Uncle Craven. A determined Mom was made of other things, far more tenacious and irrepressible.

  Suddenly, her room, despite its expanse and sciviousness, became a cage. Neither the rge poster bed, satin covers or vish wardrobe gave her the repose she craved. There was the card given by Dad to use, but it came with another name. One she felt very reluctant to use.

  Shaving her head, oversized hoodie to hide her body, she could try to pass again as Reuben... The notion made her insides twist into a pit of vipers feeding on their own young ones.

  She clutched her mobile in hand and, after a moment to break the manacles of trepidation, she texted Or.

  Hey Or, sorry, but I am wondering, can I sort of come and live in your pce?

  Outside, she heard no footsteps. No knock intruded her solitude. Ruby drew her legs in, bringing them closer to her chest. She wrapped her arms around, pulling them further inward. That was when her mobile rang.

  “Hey sweetie, I thought you might want to talk with someone.”

  Granted, Ruby never expected Or to be awake, much less call her. Still, a smile trekked its way on her face.

  “You are always welcome to my pce. The doorman has already been informed that you are my daughter. No one will stop you.” No sign of drowsiness or even the tiniest sliver of irritation that came with being woken in the middle of a night resided in Or’s voice. She spoke with the same comforting confidence that Ruby feened more and more.

  “Are you crying?” asked Or.

  Now Ruby actually wanted to cry. Sob and bawl her eyes out, and tell her how the conversation invalidated her. How pathetic she felt after throwing those words at Mom.

  In the end Ruby only gave a small whimper, followed by a thanks.

  “I get it. My pce is closer to the city and easier to commute than Morgane’s.” Or provided her an easy way, one that seemed purposefully given for Ruby to take. “But just between us, you should call your mom when you are out. She was beside herself when you did not reply.”

  “Mom was?”

  “Yeah, she was. She might project a facade, but deep down she was scared. When all options failed, she even wanted to call your Dad. Only he could track your mobile location. She wanted to beg him. Poor Kelly had to talk her out of the idea. Though, if you ask me, it’s the powerlessness that made her panic.”

  “Why would mom insist? Lot of kids just don’t call their parents when out.”

  “It’s not that, sweetie. Your mom is a powerful witch with an Aspect. She wanted me to come and aid her with a tracking spell. Like that would work.”

  Ruby heard the peal of Or’s ugh, and it became a beacon leading the forgotten ughter back to her lips.

  “Guess Mom is not as adept at spell crafting as she thought?”

  “No, on the contrary, a tracking spell will not work on you. I had to reminder her that. Morgane had enough concealment spells stacked upon you when you were born that even if she wished, she could not force her way in.”

  She was trying to hide me, even way before. Ruby recalled the first morning with Mom when she mentioned leaving Ruby with protective wards and enchantments. She dismissed those words then. Not anymore.

  “Sweetie, call it an intuition, but I think she missed you the whole day. She was texting me and suddenly stopped. They were just some private things, but still, it is so unlike her to drop.”

  Ruby was about to ask what private things meant, but swallowed those words from the tip of her tongue. That one was on her. Even though Ruby enjoyed the big-O, the ORGASM, spelled in all capitals, was great. She failed to calm the guilt that brewed inside.

  Sorry Or, I received those texts instead.

  “Are you feeling alright now?” Or asked.

  “Hmmm... what do you mean?”

  “If you are sufficiently calm, then I can say this. There is always a spot in my penthouse for you, if you want to move in. But don’t get me wrong, I am not saying this because I am afraid of Morgane, but the truth is, she is your mother. I don’t have such a privilege. No rights over you. I am a nobody.”

  No Or. You have every right. You are not a nobody. Ruby wanted to scream. Or cimed a pce, a very special spot, on the same pedestal as Dad, if not higher.

  “I am failing at this whole parental pep talk thing, am I not?” Or asked.

  “You are doing better than Mom could ever manage.”

  “You are not saying this to get a rent-free apartment room, are you?” Or chuckled. Her sounds were a light driving away crepuscur mood.

  “Actually, I am saying this to get in bed with a hot strapping Valkyrie with a smile to make ships lift their anchors.”

  “I can see Morgane already started teaching you her ways of sweet talking with pretty girls.” The chuckle Or gave came out as an amalgam of compliment and endearment. “Sweetie, seriously, I would be gd for your company. But please consider your reason. Are you trying to run away from Morgane?”

  Ruby carried her silence. It seemed futile when Or already knew.

  “Sweetie, from what I gather, the retionship between the two of you is rather abrasive. Talk your issues through her. This is one bullet you will have to bite. Running away will solve nothing in your situation. Talk with her. Will you?”

  Her resistance fell before the disarming charm of Or. Impossible to refuse when she could wipe the tears and paint smiles in the dead of a night. All done through talking.

  “Just do it, sweetie. You will be thankful for this advice ter.”

  Mom was not in her bedroom. Ruby found her in her study. She sat by the firepce on an ornately engraved teak wood chair. She always punctuated her surrounding with decadent wealth. Her tablet with a rich leather-bound cover id on her p. The screensaver was on. Her eyelids were shut lightly. She must have stopped reading a few minutes ago.

  “Ummm... So Mom...” Ruby dragged. Trepidation found its way. Whatever courage that Or gave waned. “I... ummm...”

  Mom pulled a chair beside, both facing the firepce. A very silent invitation to sit. Under the stroke of a master painter or a skilled photographer, the scene would have invited all sorts of cosy feelings. A dim lit study, dancing tangerine coloured fmes beside, and two chairs for mother and daughter to sit idly and share. Somewhere buried in that moment was an appeal.

  Ruby meandered. Unease manacled her movements from behind. Mom’s prompt pulled her from the front. Eventually, she sat. Not on the offered chair, but on the ground, with her face to the chittering of fmes. That only brought her in close proximity, with her back against Mom’s knees.

  One half of Mom’s face was framed by a warm orange light, while the other half was shrouded in darkness. Ruby knew not which side will dominate should she start to engage.

  “I...” Ruby fumbled with her hair, running fingers through each strand and disentangling imaginary knots. “Mom, do you really think I would have been easier for you as a boy?”

  “Not easy, darling. Different.”

  Mom pced her palm gently, resting them atop her shoulder.

  If guilt can ever manifest a form, Ruby found it within herself. Inside her, festering and waiting.

  “What I meant...” Mom’s voice trailed, and Ruby wished Mom would gather her in her arms instead of leaving her feeling naked. “I meant you may need different types of care.”

  Mom’s palms travelled along her neck. Then her fingertips lightly caressed her ear lobes, touching her gently. And Ruby craved for more. She may call herself the Mistress of Shadowed Path, but Ruby could only focus on the path her fingers traced. The way they drew a very reluctant sigh from her lips. Mom’s palm reached her cheek. Ruby relented. When Mom cradled her against her thigh, Ruby drew her arms, seeking purchase. She wrapped them, finding her comfort.

  “You are right, darling.” Mom’s acknowledgement came over the small crackle of fmes. “My action was not substantiated. I was actually angry that you did not make it to dinner. Well, not because of the dinner. I pnned something for you.” Without a preamble, Mom stood up. “Wait here, darling. Give your mother a moment.”

  Mom returned carrying a bathrobe in one hand and what looked to be a sun-baked cy finger bowl in the other. She tossed the bathrobe to Ruby.

  “Darling, your mother has something special, and wanted to give it to you before dinner. Though now is a very appropriate time to.”

  Ruby recalled something along the lines in the text message, but that line of thought only made her face take on a colour rivalling the fmes. So she put a dampener on further thoughts.

  “It’s a hair treatment.” Mom volunteered further. “Now put the bathrobe on so you don’t get it all over, and sit.”

  As Mom gathered the first dollop of dark greyish green cream in her fingertips, Ruby crinkled her nose.

  “Ewww... Mom, where did you get that? Can’t imagine any commercial product getting success with that smell.”

  “That’s because it’s not a commercial product. Natural ingredient sprinkled with a bit of your mother’s magic. I made it myself in the afternoon.” Mom chuckled. It might have belonged to a younger Morgane Spenard. “So in the afternoon, I was baking and thought to myself, any mother could bake, but your mother is a powerful witch. I wanted to brew something magical for my daughter.”

  Mom continued applying the cream to Ruby’s hair, fingertips weaving through dark tresses. Ruby shut her eyelids. A comfortable sensation settled within her. When Mom’s fingers stroked her scalp, Ruby wishes she could surrender to the sensation.

  “Then I recalled how, on occasions, you stared at my hair. Darling, you may not notice, but your mom does. In those moments, you would unconsciously raise your hands to push your locks and tuck them behind your ears.”

  “No I don’t.” Ruby denied.

  “Yes, you do.” Mom answered while massaging Ruby’s scalp. “You have beautiful hair, darling. Strong and deep. I wouldn’t change a thing about it, but if it bothers you, then I would do anything, financial or magical, at my disposal to make you feel comfortable in your own skin.”

  In the silence, with only ephemeral fmes flicking for company, Mom traced her fingertips through the crest of Ruby’s head.

  I have always wanted to run my fingers through your hair. Mom texted those words and now she realised the potency behind those messages. Eyes still closed, Ruby enjoyed Mom’s attention on her hair. She mewled without a conscious thought or effort to hide them. Mom was that good with her fingers. And Ruby enjoyed her touches.

  “This will give your hair shine, lustre, and softness.” Mom whispered. She leaned closer and her lips reached Ruby’s ears. Suddenly, Mom’s earlier text messages were real, and her breath carried all sorts of promises.

  As the comfortable silence elongated, neither mother nor daughter wished to break. Not even the fire crackled. Only Ruby’s occasional mewls and a soft hum of a tune from Mom gathered. Mom’s fingertips stroked her hair, working her magic with every move. Each touch, each caress, each weave, Ruby lost track. Mom’s delicate ministrations swamped her senses that Ruby knew not where her tangled tresses ended and Mom’s digits began. Her muffled whimpers came free and more frequently, perhaps, because Mom’s hands coaxed and teased them, and Ruby was powerless. Nor she wanted to resist.

  “Mom, why did I not inherit your hair?” Ruby wondered aloud. Those thoughts now were given form without inhibition.

  “Why should you?”

  “I mean, I wish my hair looked simir to yours. Then I won’t need all these creams.”

  “Now... Why should you wish your hair looked simir to mine? Or anyone else’s?”

  “I...” Ruby’s thoughts roamed. “I...”

  “If I may impart my opinion, I wouldn’t change one bit. Your hair, though they are different, is beautiful, darling.”

  “My hair will never frame my face. Not naturally, anyway.” Ruby scoffed. Her self-derision came easily.

  “Darling...“ Mom took Ruby’s chin, forefinger hooked beneath and lifted. Their faces were close, close enough for Ruby to make out the chasing shadows of Mom’s eyeshes. “... You are my daughter. My blood. A lot of me is in you, but not all of you are from me. You are your own person in that way.”

  When their gaze met and held, the hazel in Mom’s iris scanned everything.

  “There. That’s better.” Mom applied her cream on the st strand of hair. Her smile carried all sorts of reassurances. “Look, darling. We can work towards giving you whatever attributes you may ck. But we can’t erase everything. Whatever fws, whatever shortcomings, whatever perceived inadequacies. None can remove them completely. What’s important are your strengths. Those are unique. They belong to you. They are intrinsic. Together, they are you.”

  “I may need help to figure them out.”

  “We’ll find them together.” Mom smiled. It wasn’t the same as the one she wore and presented freely as a young witch with Or. Age and time did its thing, but Ruby accepted it nevertheless. Probably she would never receive those.

  “I probably also need help washing my hair.” The notion came spontaneously.

  “Oh, will you need your mother’s assistance?” Mom shifted, her gestures controlled but also eager, like she waited for those words.

  Ruby nodded. She required much more than Mom’s assistance. Perhaps she needed her presence, her reassurance.

  Ruby pulled her bathrobe tight when they stood up. Already her cheeks carried her emotions. She had exposed her nudity to Or, and to Kelly as well, but the notion with Mom came out daunting. A very illogical part of her screamed surrendering to Mom may suffice. Mom will lead.

  “No need to remove your bathrobe, darling. Only rinsing the hair.”

  Now, the expression mencholic joy made more sense to Ruby than ever before.

  Mom led her directly upstairs, through the rge oaken door, leading straight inside her bedroom. From her bedroom, two smaller corridors sprouted. One led towards Mom’s dressing space. Her cavernous walk-in wardrobe. The other lead to a marble tiled bathroom, full with a rge mirror, her double vanity sinks, rge shower area, all set obscenely inviting.

  Compared to Or’s touch of a greenery, Mom aligned more towards a taste for dazzling white and scivious gold trims for her bathroom. Even her washbasins gleamed and her gold pted shower knobs twinkled. Everything, except her bathtub, gleamed. Her tub, it seemed, defied its owner. Set against one end, the rge granite container looked as though carved out of a volcanic disaster. The tub brought a contrasting design. If her bathroom invited awe, her tub invited comfort.

  Mom pulled a small bath stool closer to the tub.

  Ruby sat, letting her head drop over the tub.

  “Your bath tub... it is different from the rest of your style?”

  “Oh, darling, yes. It is. I kept it because I have fond memories.” After a small pause where Ruby could swear Mom bit her lower lip, she continued. “And it has its practical purposes.”

  The warm water fell over her crest and slowly soaked her hair. Mom’s attention was all on Ruby’s nape.

  “Your dad like getting it on there.” Mom volunteered over the sound of running water.

  “Ewww.... Mom please. Too much details,” Ruby shrieked, suddenly wishing she could run away. Instead, she managed to cover her face.

  “Don’t worry. I keep it clean.” Mom chuckled. Her tone implied her amusement. Mom adjusted the spray nozzle. Another concentrated stream hit, washing away some of the rebellious sediments from Ruby’s hair.

  Liberated from the bulky weight, Ruby itched to dart towards the mirror. Or at least run her hands through. She wondered if her hair could get as silken and straight, a velvet curtain of sheer ebony, like Mom’s. She tried to ignore Mom and Dad trying positions...

  Her thoughts stopped. Everything fell into pce. The clogs soon started spinning as a crucial tiny wheel now found its spot.

  Mom’s comment. Her passing Dad’s clothes on the first day before she took her shopping for a new wardrobe. Her expnation for why she retained sweatshirts and jogging pants of Dad.

  “You guys were frequently meeting for sex still.” Her jaw hung open. “You didn’t throw all his stuff. You didn’t keep them. He left them here. Dad always had a few spare sets here.”

  Mom gave her an affirmative silence. She continued hovering the nozzle above Ruby’s head.

  “So was I the only one...” Ruby stopped and stared. It was easy to go down that path.

  “No, darling. It might seem that way, but that was a mutual and consenting decision we both made to keep you out of this. Had Marcel brought you with him, I mean, seeing your Mother and father spending an evening together or having breakfast as family would have provided you with false hope. We both wanted to spare you that.”

  “But you could have told me that instead of keeping me in the dark?”

  “You were too young for that. You wouldn’t understand then. Look darling, Marcel and I... We still care for each other, in some vague sense. After separation, we had an arrangement. We used to share some passionate moments still, till he decided to accept her. The truth is passion and caring alone cannot carry a retionship.”

  Mom sighed, letting her shoulders sag. The sight was imperceptible because Morgane Spenard will never drop her emotions. And certainly she wouldn’t reveal her vulnerability. But Ruby could sense it. Mom’s inner struggle. Her heart. Those she kept concealed. Wrapped tightly beneath yers. Like her dresses. Her persona. Mom hid her pain behind them all.

  “Do you regret?” Ruby asked. Her fingers sought her mom’s, feeling their softness, their warmth. “I mean... Are you okay?”

  “No. I don’t. Regrets are waste.” She raised her chin, defiant, though her lips quivered, telling otherwise. “How can I bme Marcel? He met someone he loved. How can I bme him when he wished happiness? My only grievance comes from his...” Mom’s lips were tightly pursed. Her wet fingers contoured along Ruby’s temples, one lone thumb traced over the brow.

  Ruby found herself lurching forward.

  “My lovely Ruby, Marcel may not have had this discussion with you.” Mom’s answer came slow, deliberate. Each word was measured, while her palm kept stroking her head. “He sometimes finds certain topics difficult to handle. So it falls on me to expin. We separated because we could not see a way to move past further. It was a mutually agreed decision based on the best interest for all three of us.”

  The expnation brought no relief. In fact, they only consolidated everything she found ambiguous with Mom.

  Was Mom still in love with Dad? Were all those bravado and mud slinging, just a facade to hide her real feelings?

  Or was Mom actually conflicted with her own feelings? Perhaps, she was one of those women who could love and hate at the same time?

  But an even more sinister thought lurked next.

  A carefully fabricated lie that Mom presented to score points with Ruby? Maybe, she dangled the sex-on-stick to Dad for one such rainy day?

  Ruby only hoped for the st to be not true. Why did Mom leave her conflicted about everything?

  “I...“ Ruby’s thoughts stumbled. Then, her gaze found their purchase upon her Mom’s. A silent conversation between mother and daughter flowed. When Mom’s hazel brown iris met her, Ruby sensed her emotions. “I don’t know.”

  Mom’s lips broke free. The smile reached her. “I understand. This may seem strange. But remember, I am trying, doing my best. Fumbling. Learning. I am still trying to figure you out. I may fail. I definitely falter. But know that I am trying. If I can’t make you feel any better, we can always cuddle. Darling, you will find your mother is readily avaible. Though, my cuddles may come attached with kisses. Sometimes, they might come unannounced, sometimes, they may come sneakily, and sometimes, they would come passionately.”

  The small ping from Ruby’s mobile demanded her attention, but she ignored. But the pings continued, intruding on the moment.

  “You might want to check that, darling.” Mom had her attention seemingly on the task at hand, but the curl of her lips implied something else. “Perhaps, your new girlfriend needs a goodnight kiss.”

  “Mom... No...” Ruby protested with a groan. “Zoey is not my girlfriend.”

  “Oh, so a fuck buddy.”

  “She is not a fuck buddy either. She is just a good friend.” Ruby pulled her attention away from Mom, and kept it glued to her screen.

  She scrolled over a series of message from Dad. Mostly pictures of him with Selina at some sunny pces, and museums and old forts. Then there were a few memes. Ruby knew they were forwards of originals sent by Selina to Dad because he was never a meme guy. Nor was he much of a texting person either but he did try. Ruby gave a small chuckle. Some of them were actually funny. Then, she noticed one particur meme. A seemingly harmless one like the million others circuting the internet. One of those stick figure drawing with Are you winning son? meme.

  Ruby could only describe the resulting feeling as being fed a sumptuous Mediterranean meal, only to accidentally choke on a tiny fish bone that lodged itself in the throat. A small pinprick of a pain but in an odd and indescribable part, but one that came from within.

  Annoyed, she tossed her phone onto her p, only to see Mom, done rinsing, and kneeling before her. Her wet palms cupped her cheek. Ruby shifted, suddenly aware of the way her face rested in Mom’s hold. The way the contours of her own jawlines melded with the ridges of Mom’s palms.

  “Darling, did it hurt seeing you first love with your Dad?”

  “Selina is just a childish infatuation. You were right. I don’t think it was love. I don’t think I wanted her that way.”

  “Wanted... is a very appropriate expression here.” Suddenly Mom’s tone shifted to the honed-edge of Morrigan, the War Queen. More compelling. More persuasive. And more impervious. They carried her riddles. Her probing came wrapped inside yers upon yers, one stripped to reveal another.

  The warmth that cocooned Ruby was no more. The change came abrupt. Until then Ruby had been in a mountainous resort in winter and without a notice, the heaters went down and someone opened all windows wide. And a chill frosty breeze invaded. She shivered because Mom’s hold was icy and impossible to deny.

  “Darling, let me impart another piece of wisdom. Call it a training. From witch-mother to her daughter.” Everything Ruby detested about Morgane Spenard coalesced in Mom at that moment. “We, witches, do not casually fling spells or toss fireballs, rain hailstorms or call meteors. Not saying we cannot. But we usually do not. To be a witch is to see that which lurks unseen. In the heart of others. And within your own self.”

  Ruby shifted and turned and pulled. But Mom’s grip refused. They commanded the strength to twist solid steel like putty. Suddenly, her lips were parched, and her mouth moved with the same effort of marbles shoved inside.

  “Since your mother is gracious, let me provide you guidance. There are only two options here. So think carefully. Way back, did you wanted Selina? Or wanted to be Selina?”

  An answer was impossible. Mom still held her face and up this close of maternal closeness, any lie becomes untenable.

  ElenaV