The Irreversible Reckoning

  ***

  I fell asleep on the couch in the living room and was awakened by the sound of glass breaking. My eyes opened, already white, with my pupils elongated so I could see. My nose picked up the smell of other humans, and my head jerked in the direction of the window out of reflex, searching for the one that had been broken or for faces pressed to the other side of the glass.

  “Idem Slits!” A voice yelled, and several others roared the same in assent. I went running out of the house, hearing a chorus of “Idem slits” and “dykes” all the way down the hill. Earthean Old Spirits and the original Old Spirits, sharing a moment of cruel-hearted mischief at our expense.

  Our house was situated at the top of a hill, like we were a cluster of witches in some cautionary tale for children. To them, we were worse than witches; Macie and Lucy were infected with the disease of “sameness,” and the only reason why Paul allowed them to remain together was because of the abuse they suffered for their “choice.” I was treated in a similarly abusive manner because I lived with them.

  I sprinted out onto the hill, ready to break into a full-out charge, though I had not used my enhanced running abilities in many years, because I was forbidden to use any of my enhanced abilities. Before I could run after them, though, Macie had run out of the house, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me back gently.

  There were two large windows on either side of our door. They had already destroyed the awning over our porch, and now, one of the windows was shattered, and there was red paint written across our door reading “Idem,” which just means “same” but is used derogatorily in the Pangaean form for women and men in same-sex couplings. It is a sick, vile word, holding more violent power than any word should have been able to, and to add “slits” on the end (which means “cunt” in Pangaean; why they did not just say “cunt,” I didn’t know, but just like idem, slits sounded worse than its Earthean-English counterpart) is particularly heinous.

  We would fix the broken glass; it was only a window, they could have hurt one of us instead, or they could have burned our house to the ground (which they had tried to do before). Despite the fact that it was only a rock through a window this time and some really offensive graffiti on our door, I could not shake my anger that was perhaps irrational. I hadn’t changed much from when I was actually seventeen, and not just physically seventeen, as I was then and still am, so when I got angry, I still cried. Hot, angry tears poured from my eyes, so Macie took my hand and led me back into the house.

  Lucy was in the living room, sweeping the glass into a dustpan, and when Macie saw her already trying to fix the problem, she kissed my forehead and went into the kitchen to get a bucket of soapy water for the outside.

  “We might have to paint again. Any more scrubbing, and we won’t have any more paint.” Macie said absent-mindedly as she walked outside.

  “Akio will do it.”

  “Akio cannot come here anymore.” Lucy told me somewhat harshly, “You know that. Caspar is already suspicious, and if he takes his suspicions to Paul…”

  “I’m surprised he won’t just deal with me himself.”

  “Well, he won’t.”

  I didn’t ask why he wouldn’t. I had learned not to ask her that. She dumped the broken glass into the trash bin and started to carry it towards the door.

  “What are we going to do about the window?”

  “I will stop by and ask the Guild to send someone over to fix it.”

  “You know that they’re going to harass you. They always do.”

  “Yes.”

  “They are the ones who did it, more than likely. Fucking rednecks.”

  “You and that word ‘redneck.’ Are you sure that there are any here on Purissimus? Or are they called something new here?”

  “No, they’re the same ignorant hicks that they always were.”

  “But were hicks not Southern?”

  “They were, but…”

  “We are in the North.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Lucy.” I snapped at her irritably, because I knew that though she was not smiling, she was messing with me.

  “Alright.”

  “God, you’re annoying.” I told her, and after I had left the room, I heard her chuckling softly. “I heard that.”

  “You heard nothing.”