Rings
Rings
by Hannah Blume (as Alicorn)
This story has a sequel, Planets.
* * *
“Mom,” said Celia. “I’m gay.”
Maureen blinked at her daughter. It was a very classic picture: mother sat on the sofa. Daughter stood across the coffee table from her looking nervous and determined. “I’m - I will always love you,” Maureen said, “and, and I accept this as part of who you - I don’t really know what to say here, but I’m fine with it, Celia.”
“I wasn’t finished,” Celia said. “I’m gay and I have a girlfriend and I love her and you can’t move me to Montana, I won’t leave her, you can’t -”
“Celia,” Maureen interrupted. “I didn’t know that when I took the job, and even if I had, it wouldn’t get me my old one back. I didn’t know when I closed the deal on the house -”
“I won’t leave her! I’ll move in with Dad!”
“Your father can barely take care of himself, let alone you.”
“He has an apartment. I’ll help uncle Joe check up on him and sleep on the couch. I’m seventeen, Mom, I can feed myself and make sure Dad doesn’t skip his meds -”
“Celia,” sighed Maureen again. “You and - I’m guessing it’s Shula, is it Shula?”
Celia nodded, jaw tight. “I love her.”
“You’ll be able to talk on the phone and -”
“That’s not enough!”
“- and then you’ll go off to college and I’m not going to object if it’s the same one -”
“She isn’t going to go to college right away, she’s going to take a year off and travel, you’re not even paying attention -”
“- but we are moving to Montana, I have sole custody for a very good reason, and while I am sorry to be taking you away from your girlfriend, I already knew you and Shula were close and it doesn’t outweigh -”
Celia drowned her out with a shriek. “You’re impossible! What am I, furniture? It’s easier to unbolt me from the wall than even consider my feelings? I’m going out with Shula, don’t wait up.” She stormed out; Maureen didn’t try to prevent her.
Shula was waiting in her car at the curb. “Did it work?” she asked through the open window.
Celia got into the passenger seat, slumping aggressively. “No. I really thought it would. She’s fine about the lesbian thing, but it didn’t help and - I thought it would help.”
Shula put a hand on her shoulder. “I thought so too. You don’t think that with a little more time she’d come around…?”
“No.” Celia shook her head. “Maybe if I’d told her months ago before she told me we were moving. Like that’s reasonable.” She hugged Shula’s arm. “Where are we going?”
“Dinner. You’ll see,” said Shula. “Put your seatbelt on.”
Celia did. “You’re not going to dump me over the long dista-”
“Oh no sweetie of course not,” exclaimed Shula, pulling into the street. “I was never going to dump you. Did it sound like that?”
“It sounded pretty dire when you were telling me I’d better come out in case that helped.”
“I’d come out if it would help get us moved to Montana with you, but my parents would be harder nuts to crack than yours.”
“And you’ve got a sister, she has a fiancé, it’d be just the same for her -”
“Amrika could move out if she had to, she could get a different job if Dad moved the company, she’s nineteen. It’s not like you where you can’t stay behind. She wouldn’t let you move in with your dad?”
“She has full custody for a very good reason,” said Celia in mocking imitation. “Honestly, he’s never hurt anybody.”
“I would be worried, a little,” Shula admitted, “but you could just sleep over at my place whenever you wanted if it got dicey, as long as my parents didn’t know what was going on, and they’re good at not knowing what’s going on.”
“Well, she’s not going to let me. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. What’s for dinner?”
“You’ll see,” said Shula.
Dinner was Italian. Fancy Italian. Celia wasn’t sure how Shula got the money to take her to such nice places when her parents thought they were just friends - sure, the Alis were rich, but didn’t Shula have to account for her allowance’s disappearance? - but the food was delicious and the waiters were too well-trained to remark on their holding hands across the table. Candlelight flickered in the little rubies set in the stacks of yellow-gold rings Shula always had around her middle fingers, and in her dark, dark eyes.
They didn’t drive anywhere right away after they’d finished their tiramisu, just sat in the back of Shula’s car, cuddled together like they might fall asleep, Celia breathing the hot ginger smell of Shula’s shoulder and Shula with her fingers tangled in dishwater-blonde waves of Celia’s hair.
“I guess we could probably do this at my house, now,” Celia mumbled.
“But only for as long as your mother wanted to let us,” Shula said. “I don’t believe it’s any of her business how long I want to hold you.”
Celia giggled. “You’re so warm. I could doze off.”
“So doze off,” Shula purred.
And Celia closed her eyes and nuzzled her girlfriend and did exactly that.
* * *
Carefully, without disturbing Celia’s position, Shula lifted one hand to her mouth and twisted the ring close to her knuckle around until the ruby was palm-side.
Abandoning her faintly accented English in favor of, not her parents’ Arabic, but another language entirely, she murmured into the ring.
“Lyne.”
“Princess?”
“I need you to come down. In the next twenty minutes if you can, in the next two days if you can’t.”
“Yes Princess. I’ll be down in ten. Alone?”
“Alone. Have someone trustworthy standing by at your station, you’ll be here for a while.”
“Yes Princess.”
“Report in when you arrive. Buzz first, don’t talk, in case I’m accompanied.”
“Yes Princess.”
“And bring a sleeper. …Two. And an English ring, American standard, the best one you can get, delay arrival if you have to for that.”
“Yes Princess,” Lyne said again, and the conversation was over. Carefully, gently, Shula turned the ring back around, and stroked Celia’s hair, and breathed slow, deep breaths to calm herself.
“It’ll be okay, sweetie,” she murmured.
* * *
When Celia woke, she was in the passenger seat, wearing her seatbelt, in her driveway.
Shula was standing on the doorstep, talking to Maureen. Celia rubbed her eyes and let herself out of the car.
“Hi sweetie,” Shula said. “I hope you don’t mind that I thought I’d give talking to your mom a try.”
“Um, that’s fine,” Celia blinked. “Hi Mom.”
“Hello, Celia,” Maureen said. “I’m sorry about earlier. Look, I’ll investigate some alternative arrangements, all right? And keep you up to date on what I find. There might be a way for me to work remotely for the first few months, sublet the house, something like that. If it can’t last until you’ve finished high school or at least turned eighteen, then I’ll reconsider letting you live with your father, as long as your uncle Joe thinks it would be all right.”
Celia stared. “Uh. Okay. Um, that would be great.” She looked wide-eyed at Shula - what could Shula have possibly said? She was persuasive, but convincing someone else’s mom to reverse apparently firm plans was a bit beyond winning in debate club. “Really great. Thanks Mom.” She found Shula’s hand with hers and squeezed. “Thanks, Shula.”
“Hey, I’m not letting you disappear without a fight,” Shula said, kissing Celia’s temple.
 
; Celia giggled and hugged her. And then Shula kissed her goodnight while Maureen slipped into the house. Shula left. Celia, in a burst of filial gratitude, did math homework she’d postponed all weekend, and went to bed.
* * *
Maureen woke up in the dark.
The air smelled faintly sulfurous, she was on some kind of cross between a down comforter and a beanbag, she couldn’t remember anything after Celia had gone to dinner with Shula, and there was no light at all.
She squinted, she squinted harder, and finally she gave up on her eyes and started feeling around on the beanbag-thing. It was comfortable enough, but she didn’t have one of these at home. Where was she? In all places within immediate reach there was only more beanbag-thing, more darkness. She crawled in a random direction: beanbag, beanbag, beanbag - wall. Stone, flat but not polished? That roughened kind of glass? She wasn’t sure. She patted herself down for the lighter she sometimes had in her pocket, but on inspection these weren’t her clothes. They didn’t quite fit. T-shirt, jeans, socks, no shoes. The underwear might have been hers, she couldn’t be sure without looking.
She coughed into her hand. This wasn’t getting her anywhere - what, was she expecting a lightswitch, when she’d obviously been drugged or something - “H-hello?”
“Hello, Ms. Lister,” said a voice from somewhere to Maureen’s left. It sounded British. “Do you need something?”
What a bizarre question. Did she need something. “I - light? And -”
Before she could name another thing she needed, lights came up - sconce flames, blindingly orange, in slanting rows on each wall. She flung her hands over her eyes and tried to peek in little increments. “And - and where am I, what’s going on?”
“You are the guest of the First Princess ya Fahai,” said the voice. Maureen squinted between her fingers. There was a dark shape; she couldn’t focus well enough in the firelight to make out whether she was dealing with a CIA agent or a little green man.
“…Why?”
“The Princess’s reasons have not been disclosed to me,” said the figure.
“What does the - the princess - even have to do with me?” wondered Maureen, bewildered. She could open her eyes most of the way, now. The shape was definitely humanoid, probably male, wearing black floaty robes that were only slightly darker than his skin and close-cropped hair. “I’ve never heard of any princess.”
“The Princess is courting your daughter.”
“…Shula kidnapped me?”
“The Princess did not personally lay a hand on you,” said the persony-sort-of-thing. There were some people who naturally produced that much melanin, but they still tended to have whites in their eyes: he did not.
“Had me kidnapped. Shula? Where am I?”
“In her private estate.”
“Well, I - don’t want to be in her private estate. Who are you, why did she kidnap me -”
“The Princess did not personally -”
“- why did she have me kidnapped, and since when is Shula a princess?”
“The Princess was born a princess,” said the black-eyed… person. “Naturally. And I am Cait.”
Which was apparently a boy’s name for black-eyed persons. If this was a boy. “And why. Why did she have me kidnapped.” It would make perfect sense for the answer to be because I’m dreaming but it didn’t feel like a dream.
“The Princess’s reasons have not been disclosed to me.”
“Is this about the move to Montana? Why does a - a princess care if I move to - Oh my God is Celia all right -”
“Your daughter’s safety is absolutely guaranteed, Ms. Lister.”
“Right now that’s not very reassuring!”
The black-eyed thing - Cait - was impassive.
“I want to go home.”
No reaction.
“I need to go home, take me home.”
“You are the guest of the Princess.”
“This is not how you treat a guest!”
“If you require something that I can provide, of course I will bring it to you,” said Cait the black-eyed thing.
“Who’s watching my daughter? Shula can’t watch my daughter, Shula’s barely older than she is -”
“You have been replaced for what is likely a temporary period,” Cait said.
“Replaced. Replaced?”
“Replaced,” agreed Cait serenely.
“With what?”
“Another of the Princess’s servants has assumed your shape. You may communicate with her if you wish to make it easier for her to avoid alarming your daughter. The Princess has suggested that her ability to coach your replacement may be incomplete.”
“If I wish to - excuse me?”
“It is possible that your daughter will notice any failure of your replacement to mimic you,” explained Cait. “You may speak to your replacement while your daughter is not present in order to prevent her from being dismayed.”
“I will do no such thing!”
The lights went out.
Maureen woke up in the dark. The air smelled faintly sulfurous, she was on some kind of cross between a down comforter and a beanbag, she couldn’t remember anything after Celia had gone to dinner with Shula, and there was no light at all.
* * *
“It’s weird, though,” Celia told Shula at lunch on Monday, picking at her baked beans. “What did you even say to her?”
“I don’t remember. I’m sure it was very sappy but I can’t recite it,” laughed Shula.
“It must have really been something.”
“I was really motivated!” Shula giggled.
“Maybe I should have tried talking to her longer last night instead of stomping out of the house?” Celia mused. “…You didn’t offer her money, did you, please say you -”
Shula shook her head. “Not a penny. Besides, I didn’t have a chance to ask my parents about it. They don’t give me enough spending money to justify that. I think she just really had a change of heart.”
“It’s pretty amazing. You’re pretty amazing.” By longstanding agreement they didn’t kiss at school, just knocked their shoes together when it was on their minds. Celia bumped her sneaker into Shula’s boot and Shula smiled at her.
“Come over after school today,” Shula suggested.
“Today? Right after Mom’s big three-sixty?”
“One-eighty.”
“One-eighty? It’d seem like I was ditching her.”
“Really? I mean, she approves of, you know, us,” said Shula. “I don’t think she’d mind. Call her and ask if you want.” A little kick to the side of Celia’s shoe.
Celia blushed. “Okay, I’ll call her. Your folks won’t mind?”
“Nah.”
“Okay,” Celia repeated.
When European history let out at the end of the day Celia dialed home and asked, and Maureen said that of course she could see Shula whenever she liked, and by the way, uncle Joe said this would be a fine day to visit her dad if she wanted to get dinner with him and she wasn’t expected home until bedtime.
Okay. That was nice.
Maybe she’s just overcompensating for not knowing what to do with a gay kid?
Celia called her uncle Joe, who suggested that they could get Chinese food, and since the day was already going so well Celia threw in, “Can I bring my girlfriend?”
“You want to bring a friend?” asked Uncle Joe.
Ugh. “My giiiiirlfriend.”
“Has your dad met this friend before?”
“A couple of times, yeah,” sighed Celia. If he was going to be willfully obtuse about it then yelling I’M A LESBIAN into her cellphone wouldn’t improve the situation.
“Then sure, bring your friend, if he knows her. Chinese for everybody.”
“Garlic eggplant here I come.” Celia hung up. Probably too much to hope for that everyone would react as well as her mom had. Maybe her dad would do better? Of course, maybe her dad would have another psychotic episode, that was always pos
sible. Yeah, that would be fun. Celia, what happened before your dad started thwacking the couch with the broom? Well, Uncle Joe, I told him I was gay.
Celia found Shula in the art room, where the teacher would often let her stay late to put in extra time on her paintings - the art teacher swooned over Shula’s paintings, all shades of dark and flame, swooping strange architecture against starless night. Celia had a triptych of them in her room - The Estate, The Crown, The Palace. “Shula, my mom said I can go home with you. And Uncle Joe says you can come to dinner with us and my dad.”
“Great!” said Shula, and she put a thin eyelash-shape of yellow on a torch in the foreground of her current canvas, then cleaned her brush. “I can put this down here. We can raid Amrika’s nail polish collection, she got some of the cool magnetic stuff.”
“She won’t mind?”
“Nah.” Shula had her hair tied back to keep it out of her paint; she untied the ponytail and shook out a sheet of midnight. “She’s never gotten on my case about it. Later!” she added to the art teacher, who waved at her as she went with Celia out of the room.
Shula drove them to the Ali household, which was an imposing manor on a lawnmower-gridded tract of green, just far enough into the suburbs to allow that much square footage and a fountain. They didn’t have servants except in the modern sense of employing a gardening service and cleaning ladies, but every time Celia walked in the front door she sort of expected a butler to take her backpack and offer her a glass of water. Mr. Ali was home, in the parlor on his phone, pacing, shouting at an employee in Arabic; Dr. Ali was not in evidence; Amrika’s keys were not on the hook, so presumably she was elsewhere too. Shula didn’t hold Celia’s hand while they walked past her dad, but made up for this lack once they’d gone up the stairs and around the corner to Shula’s room.
They painted their nails with Amrika’s cool magnetic nail polish - Shula in all gold, Celia alternating pink and blue. They locked the door and sat in the window seat and kissed as though Celia really was going to be spirited away any day. They unlocked the door and played chess (Shula won). They did some of their homework, Celia with her head in Shula’s lap (“should we lock the door?” “nah, he won’t think anything of it”). And then they got back in the car and went to Celia’s dad’s apartment.