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Rumi stood on the balcony, watching the city lights and the shimmering honmoon far below. Not the shining golden she'd spent so long trying to bring to life; it was something new, something different, and so beautiful. But her throat felt tight and she flexed her hand, rotating her wrist and staring down at it it as she traced her fingers along the lines of starlight.
It was cold, and even in her jacket she felt the chill.
Inside she had left her girls and Bobby. They'd done a wonderful job for her birthday party. Just them, no one else, which was how Rumi preferred it. Loud or quiet it didn't matter as long as it was small and personal. As an idol, she treasured those moments.
Bobby had even brought a gift from Celine and she wasn't sure if she was sad or happy that Celine hadn't come herself. It might have meant they could talk. If they talked, then Rumi would have to face things she had been trying to avoid facing since the night of the Idol Awards. And all that guilt over ignoring her messages and phone calls. On some level Rumi knew it was unfair to present that request to Celine and ghost her after.
Was that worse than being loved conditionally for most of her life?
Rumi tapped out a short message, a thanks for the gift that she hadn't opened yet, trying to avoid reading anything that Celine had sent her prior if only because she couldn't handle it right now.
Then she tossed her phone onto the cushioned bench and folded her arms. As the party had gone on she'd needed air. Thoughts had closed in around her with a kind of finality she hadn't been prepared for and even reaching out that much to Celine had taken a great deal of effort. Because her mind had been on someone close to them both and she couldn't shake those thoughts any longer.
Her jaw tensed and her shoulders ached. She should talk to Celine. Really talk. Tonight of all nights it was on her mind. A cold wind rustled leaves, something pricking at the edge of her consciousness.
A hand rested against her back, Mira's steady, strong touch. Another on her right side on her shoulder, Zoey's tender energy.
"You all right, birthday girl?" Mira asked, face coming into view on her left.
"Yeah." She said, looking at Mira, "And … no."
"You can talk to us." Zoey looped her arms around Rumi's, "Or not. I'm cool with standing or sitting here in like, zero degrees. I just … don't want you to be alone."
A smile ghosted across Rumi's lips and she kissed Zoey's forehead, "Okay. Lets sit."
Mira moved first, guiding them both to the bench, moving Rumi's phone to a little table then sitting them down with Rumi in the middle. She leaned back, crossing her legs and sliding her arm around Rumi's shoulders. Smooth, elegant motions.
Zoey pulled her legs up and leaned against Rumi's other side, head on her shoulder. So Rumi leaned back against Mira's arm and closed her eyes for a long moment as their presence warmed her physically and spiritually.
She could feel them, patiently waiting. So often when she had trouble sharing something, it was a mixture of old habits and not knowing how to express it. Celine would have to wait for another day, because it was someone else that she wanted to—needed to— talk about.
"I'm one year older," she said, staring straight ahead.
"That's how it usually works," Mira said, hand sliding into hers.
The words were harder than she'd thought and she gasped them out with a shuddery breath, "I'm twenty-five and I'm one year older than she got to be."
"Oh Rumi." Zoey's hand took her other one, Mira's squeezing tight.
She almost hadn't out-lived her. If Celine had loved her a little less, she wouldn't have. Something twisted up inside her at that thought.
"And every day I'm going to get a little farther away from her, every day one day longer than her life." Rumi sniffled, letting her tears fall. "I don't know what her smile for me would have looked like. I can't bring you to her and tell her I'm in love. I don't even know if she'd have made me hide my patterns or not."
Zoey's thumb played with one of Rumi's rings, one that had been meant for Rumi from her mother and had eventually found its way to her. Her girls wore ones that matched, a web pattern of the Honmoon swirling around the simple bands, "She loved a demon, right? I don't think she'd have wanted you to feel ashamed of your father being one."
"That's what Celine told me," Rumi clung to that knowledge. That she'd been born of love.
Mira's chin rested on Rumi's shoulder, "I like that we have something in common with her."
"Yeah." Zoey pressed her cheek against Rumi's, "We're demon-fuckers."
Rumi laughed so hard she snorted, her crying almost immediately stopping, "Oh my god!"
"Seriously, Zoey?" Mira asked. But she was smiling widely, which only made it harder for Rumi to stop laughing.
"Do you dispute it?"
"Not even a little but I was going to go with the whole love angle."
Rumi lifted their hands and pressed her face into both, "I don't need to know."
Zoey giggled, "We're forever grateful your mom got down and dirty—"
"Zoey!" Rumi lowered their hands and glowered at her, though there was no bite to her expression, "No we are not going to talk about my parents doing … that."
"Oh no." Zoey shook her head, "Are you kidding?" She reached over and turned Rumi's face towards her, "Needing brain bleach knowing about your parents banging is something you've never experienced before and I'm more than happy to drag you into the trenches with me. Just be glad you've never had to walk in on them."
"Yeah. It's horrible," Mira drawled.
Tears completely dry now, Rumi huffed, "I hate you both."
"Feel better?" Mira asked.
"…Yeah actually."
Mira's lips pressed into Rumi's cheek, "So you're older than her. That's okay. And listen, the idea of being a mom myself is terrifying for fifty-six reasons but I know our kids getting older than we'd ever see would make me happy. That nothing would make me happier than for them to live and be happy in whatever form that takes."
Rumi stared at her a moment, then let out a breath, "She'd be happy for me?"
"Totally." Zoey kissed Rumi's hand, "I mean look at you. You're loved and you're safe and you're happy. That's all I want for our kids too."
"I get and love the sentiment," Rumi said honestly. "But speaking from experience, I'd rather our kids get to grow up with all of us around."
"That won't be a problem, I've already decided," Zoey replied. "The day I turn ninety we're just all gonna drive a car off a cliff together. Go out at the same time."
"I'm in," Mira said, nodding.
Rumi just laughed, "Sure, why not?"
Mira's arms looped around her waist as Zoey all but climbed into her lap. Rumi was content to be silent with them.
It was Mira who broke the silence, "…did we just collectively agree we want children?"
"I think so," Zoey whispered.
Rumi gripped both of them tightly, "We might have."
Mira's laugh sounded a little strained, "Okay. Just making sure."
To Rumi's surprise, she felt relief. Nervous, a little scared, but relief.
"We should probably talk about that for real," Zoey suggested. "Like for realsy real. On wanting it, the hows and whens. What it would mean for our careers and the Honmoon, all that shit.
"Yes. But can we take a raincheck on that conversation?" Rumi asked, wide eyed.
"Definitely," Zoey agreed.
Mira stood, "It's freezing and I need to get drunk. But we probably should talk about it sooner than later."
"Maybe on my twenty-sixth birthday," Rumi suggested only half-jokingly, getting up once Zoey had hopped off her lap. "Or the next time it coincides with the new year."
Poking Rumi in the cheek, Mira said, "Yeah we're not waiting that many years to talk about it."
Rumi stuck her tongue out as Mira walked away laughing, but then she paused at the door the balcony, peering out into the winter night, feeling like maybe her mother had been watching. Rumi hoped so.
She was older than her mother ever was and she wanted to hope her mother would be happy for her.