Stay and Fight - Madeline ffitch Page 0,23

me like goddamn free labor. But still, there it was, basically livable. Osage orange posts held up the porch roof, which leaked. Three large pieces of sandstone, pulled from the hillside, led down to the front door, which let daylight in above and below. Despite all its flaws, I’ll admit it wasn’t bad to look at.

It was hard to know just who to invite to the housewarming party or how to invite them. We could think of a few people we knew, sure, but we weren’t certain we wanted to see them, or that they wanted to see us, or that they wanted to see one another. We hadn’t seen these people having a good time, and we weren’t sure we wanted to. But Lily insisted that moving a woodstove was the perfect party for people who hated parties, so we temporarily called off Survival Dice, went to the grocery store, bought a case of beer, some packages of hot dogs, and three bags of chips. Lily showed up at the register with a bag of avocados, no matter she was the one always so worried about money. At home, Lily set up a folding table in front of the garden. She put the food on it, but couldn’t wait and ate two avocados right there, ate them as if they were apples, just peeling them and chewing them right through to the pit. The green paste encircled her mouth. I built a fire, even though it was humid as hell. The guests were invited for six o’clock.

I sat near the fire, smoothing Perley’s eyebrow as he kicked on my lap, an issue of ElfQuest open next to me. Helen mashed avocados in a bowl. Lily looked at me like the avocados she’d already eaten might not stay down. She said, “Karen, I think that’s enough smoothing.”

“Everyone’s got a rough eyebrow,” I said. “You’ve got it. I’ve got it. Even the elves have it.” I nodded toward my comic. Leetah, the beautiful elfin healer, stared up at Lily from the glossy page. She had one eyebrow tuft out of place. “But Perley, he’s got a chance,” I said, licking my thumb, smoothing Perley’s brow again and again. “If I smooth his eyebrow every day, he won’t have that fuzz, that sprout. With me and you and Helen, no one cared. No one who loved us got to us in time. But Perley will be perfect.”

“You know those comics are totally problematic, right?” Helen said, mashing.

“Please, enlighten me,” I said. “Just don’t charge me for the college credits.”

“For one thing, the elves are basically meant to be some kind of advanced race who show up to be worshipped by primitive humans as gods. It’s imperialism all over again.”

“You’re way off,” I said. “The elves are outcasts. They’re misunderstood and trying to get by on their own terms.”

“Not to mention the way they draw those female elves, it’s obviously some kind of sex fantasy for men,” she said.

“It’s not for men,” I said.

“I’m just saying,” she said.

“You haven’t even read them,” I said.

“I’ve skimmed them,” Helen said. She watched me lick my thumb, smooth. “And what you’re doing is certifiably obsessive. Might as well get the kid a nose job.”

“Nobody asked you, Helen,” I said, flipping ElfQuest shut, and handing Perley up to Lily. He glared at Helen, his odd eyebrow slick with my saliva. Sometimes I worried he preferred her. He scowled at her with a single-mindedness that could be adoration. All I could do was scowl back at them. At six o’clock, the ducks warned us that our guests had arrived.

Deirdre and Janice from the Women’s Land Trust came. They brought a guitar and sang rounds at the campfire, to stave off any attempts at conversation. The mill operator came, with her handsome young boyfriend. They brought us a sack of flour as a housewarming present, which Lily received with tears in her eyes. Mike from the gas station came, bringing us a quart of maple syrup from his trees. Frank came, with his wife and their six gap-toothed daughters, all of whom, except for Frank, wore lace-trimmed long skirts and checkered flannel shirts. Rudy came, his orange beard dyed a shade brighter by Cheeto dust, wearing several strands of Mardi Gras beads around his neck, which he gamely distributed to Frank’s children. As a rule he hated all socializing, so he’d prepared for the party by waking up early to drink. He stood near the campfire, swaying along to

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