Apologies for the tardiness; got sick then came back to discover I wrote the characters wrong and then the chapter got too long so I had to cut parts out so there was existential angst over that. On the bright side, only two more chapters to go. (Edited.)
"Um," Myka begins.
"She's fine, thank you," Helena says at the same time.
"Thas good," the wrestler mumbles, stumbling off.
"Kid, huh?" Myka manages. She licks her lips and sneaks a look at Helena out of the corner of her eye. Helena doesn't reply. "Do – do you maybe want to...to explain that a little?" Myka's voice cracks and squeaks near the end of the sentence. Helena tilts her head back, eyes squeezed shut. and Helena's head lolls back, her eyes drifting shut.
"Let's talk somewhere quieter," she says eventually. Blowing out a long breath, she starts off, weaving through the thinning crowd. She looks back as if checking that Myka is behind her, and the plaintive appeal on her face has Myka starting towards her before she even realizes. Helena smiles a little, a quick quirk of her lips, and turns, heading straight for a back door wedged between a rarely-used storage closet and a stack of floor mats. Myka follows in silence.
Once outside, the night air stings as it travels into her lungs, but Myka doesn't mind too much. The world is peaceful out here, serene. Easy to understand. A fine blanket of snow covers the garbage of the alley and lends an air of mystery to shadows, the whole scene coming across like something out of an era grimier and more macabre than this. Her eyes track the dark indentations of Helena's boots in fine white powder, until Helena comes to a stop against the far wall.
"Your kid," Myka prompts when the silence stretches.
"My daughter," Helena says. She leans against the brick wall. Her voice is quiet but filled with surprising warmth as she continues, "My Christina. I had her when I was eighteen, back home in London." Myka tilts her head up to the clear night sky, wondering absently why HG still considers London to be her home, after nearly three years in the U.S.. It's an absurd thing to focus on, of course when Helena has a daughter, and she blinks hard to get her thoughts back on track.
"You have a baby." Myka licks dry lips. "You – have a kid. A little girl."
"Yes," Helena says, pushing her hair back with both hands.
"Named Christina," Myka says, watching Helena repeat the motion.
"Yes," Helena replies.
"Helena," Myka says. "What – I..." the sentence trails off and Myka shakes her head, laughing though nothing's really funny.
"She was conceived right after my A-levels, in fact," Helena says tentatively. "I was a bit of – an impetuous brat when I was younger," Helena smiles a little, and it kind of sounds like someone remembering actions so long ago that past and present self seemed Myka isn't sure. Myka's having trouble reading her now, trying to superimpose Helena the mother on top of the Helena the charmer, Helena the admirable, Helena the rogue. Helena the one she thought she knew.
"You have a baby," Myka repeats. "How – how old is she?"
"Three, in March."
"Right," Myka says. She does some quick calculations, and figures out that Helena would have been just turning eighteen when she had her. "Okay," Myka exhales, shoving her hands deep in her pockets. She is painfully, acutely aware that she should say something, anything, more than the monosyllabic phrases she's managing, but this new revelation, it's – well, it's –
It's a lot. It's a lot to deal with. And she would wonder at the calm with which she's receiving this information, but Myka is smart and she remembers Helena's weight in her lap, all soft skin and hot eyes. Some subconscious part of her mind, cleverly tucked away, has been piecing clues together, Myka realizes, and the thin spidery lines visible on Helena's stomach were part of a larger puzzle. She's really not sure how to feel about that, either.
"Do tell me if I should keep expla -"
"You kept this from me." Myka watches Helena's hands disappear into her hair again.
"I didn't – it was too early to gauge how serious you and I were going to be. Or, indeed, if you were going to easily accept the existence of my daughter if we were to be in a committed relationship. And if those two conditions were satisfied, would Christina accept the existence of you?" Helena's shoulders rise and fall and Myka feels twinges of sympathy despite herself.
"I get that it must've been hard," Myka says quietly, "But -"
Helena exhales. "Please don't be too upset," she says, voice suddenly brisk despite the beseeching nature of the words. Myka looks up in surprise. Helena's chin is tilted upwards but her eyes are pools of warmth, and Myka feels a tug somewhere inside her at the complicated swirl of emotions churning in their midst – affection and agitation, defiance and desperation.
"I think I have a right to be," Myka says, concentrating on the shape of the words so she doesn't shout.
"You do, and yet I still wish it weren't true." Helena smiles, a tiny little thing that barely turns the corners of her mouth, and Myka sighs.
"I – H.G..., this is a lot," Myka says, gesturing vaguely at the space between them. "To deal with."
"I understand." Helena stares past her, refusing to meet her eyes. Myka watches with exasperated fondness as Helena's shoulders stiffen and her spine straightens.
"That just means I need some time," Myka says gently, feeling something warm and unstoppable swell in her chest as Helena's expression shifts from cool remove to wary hopefulness. "Not – I'm not breaking up with you or anything."
"Not so soon again, surely." Helena almost smiles and Myka grins back.
"We were never technically broken up," Myka corrects. Helena raises an eyebrow but refrains from comment. Myka feels the corner of her lips curl up involuntarily and Helena returns the smile in full. "So." Myka nods, and doesn't know how to continue. "So."
"See you tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow," Myka echoes with a smile Helena returns in full.
Tomorrow actually turns into the day after, then the day after, then the day after that.
After almost a week of being unable of seeing each other for more than ten minutes due to all sorts of reasons (increased fencing practice in Myka's case, upcoming deadlines on articles for the school newspaper in Helena's, and of course more and more coursework for them both) Helena gives up and invites Myka to her house on Sunday.
That's how Myka finds herself on Juniper Drive, early in the afternoon, clutching at a slip of paper with an address scribbled onto it in Helena's sprawling hand, and staring up at the most gorgeous townhouses she's ever seen.
But they aren't really townhouses, they look more like some odd hybrid townhouse/real house mix, taller than they are wide, but with fairly spacious backyards. All the buildings are in muted shades of russet and mahogany, blending to create a beautiful tableau right out of a real estate magazine. A rich people real estate magazine, the kind only A-list celebrities buy because only they can afford to consider the properties on display.
Myka looks down at her scuffed boots, worn jeans, slightly wrinkled yellow t-shirt and the leather jacket Helena loves to steal given the least opportunity, and feels woefully inadequate. She really should have paid more attention when she was dressing this morning, but Deb's dog (and she was never forgiving Deb for taking advantage of her misery over Helena to bring a puppy into their apartment) chewed up her nice pair of boots and – well. Christina is out with Helena's parents, she reminds herself, doing something or other, so it's just Helena. And Helena already likes her so there's no need to max out a credit card at Herve Leger.
Her phone buzzes and she pulls it out to read a text message from Helena, You're certain you're ready to discuss this?
It's the third in a series of texts she's gotten today, all from Helena, all along the same lines. You didn't tell me you live in the East Egg, Myka texts back, though now that she thinks about it, Juniper Drive is smack dab in the middle of the rich neighbourhoods of Sioux Falls, an hour's drive from the university by car and two hours by public bus.
Duly amused by the Gatsby reference, but I'm serious.
So am I, she types and glances once more at the slip of paper Helena gave her at the wrestling match last night, though she's long since memorized the address. 564 Juniper Drive. Somewhere on her left, if Google Maps hasn't lied to her again.
She finds it, despite a wrong turn onto Phoenix Court and a few minutes wandering hopelessly through perfectly silent streets with perfectly tended gardens with perfectly clean cars resting on perfectly grey cement driveways.
When 564 Juniper Drive comes into view, Myka finds herself scouring the house top to bottom, looking for anything that proves a child lives here too. Besides the homemade animal-themed wind chimes hanging on the porch, nothing really pops out. She picks out a doll clad in an equestrian outfit, tucked between the bars of the porch railing, but that's it. Maybe the discretion is out of respect for the sensitive dispositions the wealthy tend to cultivate, but Myka doubts it. Helena isn't one to willingly capitulate to others' expectations.
Myka looks around once more at the wealthy neighbourhood, wondering once again what the hell Helena's doing in such an obviously wealthy neighbourhood. Wouldn't gossip be worse in these areas? Her musings are cut short when the front door swings open to reveal a smiling Leena. It's shallow, but she's relieved to see Leena too is dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt.
"Hi," she says, hands firmly shoved into her pockets.
"Hi!" Leena replies. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you," she adds quietly, holding the door open for her to enter. "She's been insufferable, moping around the house like it's her job."
And just like that, some of the more lingering tension evaporates and Myka laughs along with Leena. "She's inside?"
"Downstairs, tinkering on something. If I didn't know better, I would think she's nervous," Leena says. Myka blushes (which is crazy, there's nothing to blush about) and Leena narrows her eyes. "I'll take you to her," she finishes and Myka smiles, gulping in the sweet sandalwood smell of H.G.'s home.
She half expects her footfalls to echo off the walls when she trails Leena down the hall, the house is so big. The ceiling soars overhead, Myka has to tilt her head almost all the way back to catch sight of the roof. Every inch of this place speaks of wealth in understated but clear tones, from the short but burnished staircase to the polished wood floors and the expertly chosen, tastefully displayed decorations. Myka passes an ornate mirror in a gold frame resting on a small table in the middle of the hall, though closer inspection reveals it to be bolted to the wall so it doesn't fall off. Myka nods her approval. Pretty, but also safe for a wandering two year old.
And Christina – Christina is everywhere without actually being here. Her toys are bright and plastic, vivid against the muted off-whites, yellows, and faded purples of the rest of the house. She catches a glimpse of an upturned walker next to a pile of giant Lego blocks before Leena jerks Myka out of her musings.
"H.G.'s right down there," Leena says softly. She gestures to a staircase leading into the basement (Myka wonders briefly why a townhouse has a basement at all, then shrugs and writes it off as rich people.) and turns away with a final smile. Myka waves and turns, only to find her progress blocked by a white baby gate. Experimentally, she pushes a promising lever on the side, and is wholly unsurprised when the gate doesn't budge. She scowls at the thing, then steps over it.
Cooler air and indistinct humming sounds mark her descent down the staircase. There's an open doorway once Myka reaches the bottom, and the humming gets noticeably louder. Myka crosses into the room and stops dead in her tracks.
Where typical basements would resemble a relaxation area with a TV, or a few posters, this room boasts walls lined with large diagrams – Myka spies blueprints, schematics, and more technical drawings than she can count. Instead of sofas, there are two large desks at the far end of the room, shoved together so that it becomes one long worktable, absolutely covered in bits and pieces of machinery. Wires tangle and twist down around the legs, connected to electrical sockets and wire extensions. As are more than a few pliers, littered on the tables, a plastic container filled with screwdrivers (Myka itches to organize them into appropriately labelled boxes) what is definitely a chainsaw (why, she's really not sure), two visible laptops and a PC (the source of the humming, probably), and Helena's cell phone, but no Helena.
"You're here."
Myka yelps and jumps almost straight into the air. Found her, she thinks, hand pressed over her frantically pounding heart.
"Sorry," Helena chuckles, slipping around Myka. "I was washing up." Helena holds up damp – but clean – hands as proof.
"You could've killed me," Myka complains to Helena's back. "I'm too young to die of cardiac arrest."
"I can't believe I'm considered dramatic." Helena rolls her eyes, somehow finding an unopened water bottle in the mess on one of the tables. "Would you like a seat?"
Myka looks in the direction Helena is nodding, to find two paisley armchairs wedged into the corner, steady and old-fashioned in a way that serves as a perfect counterpoint to the general chaos of the room.
There's a little fridge beside one of the armchairs and after perusing it for a minute, Helena finds what she is looking for. Myka accepts her bottle of tonic water with a surprised smile – she hadn't expected Helena to remember – and sits herself down. "You know," she says, jumping right into it. "My impression of rich parents is more force their daughters into marrying rich men, and less buying them a house with the coolest basement ever." She smiles, takes a breath. "Were they supportive of you? About Christina?"
It's the first of a mental list of questions she'd prepared last night.
"No," Helena says with a tight smile. Myka freezes in the middle of opening the bottle and worries she's said the wrong thing. "My family is quite old fashioned. They already disapproved of the self-indulgent ways of my youth, and when I came home pregnant – well. I explained to them that the father was – he was a decent boy, but a boy. He wasn't fit to be a father, nor," Helena catches Myka's eye. "Did I particularly want him to be in our lives.
"I kept her. Obviously. My parents couldn't abide it, but I was almost eighteen, and besides, Christina – Christina won them over the second she was born," Helena says, and there's no mistaking the pride in her smile. The Wells charm at work, Myka thinks fondly. "I had already been planning on attending an American university, and after Christina was born, they were only too happy to put up the money." Her fingers tighten on the door of the mini fridge before Helena shuts it with a decisive thud. "I was practically shoved out the door, and they bought me this house, and hired me a nanny while I was on the plane to South Dakota. It simply wouldn't do to have all their contacts know of their scandalous daughter, you understand." Helena rolls her eyes, and Myka worries at her bottom lip. She reaches for Helena but Helena straightens abruptly, shoulders tight. Myka recognizes the signs of someone defending themselves and retreats with as soothing a smile as she can manage.
Helena continues. "The nanny – you've met her, Leena, she's become a good friend – takes care of Christina while I'm at class. She does her coursework mostly through the internet, which is convenient for everyone," Helena explains and Myka listens intently, soaking up every word. She hadn't expected Helena to be so forthcoming right away, but she certainly isn't going to complain. "Christina's gone. Half the year, she's gone with my parents in London. It's – it's better for both her and me, and I know that, because I need to do well in school in order to qualify for the jobs that would support us both right off." Helena breathes out a laugh entirely devoid of humour, and Myka remembers the Calculus homework Helena had almost begged for her help in finishing when Myka was a sophomore. Myka had always known Helena knew how to do Calculus, but she realizes now it was probably because she and Leena had been stretched thin taking care of Christina at the same time.
"She's with me from December through to February, then from June to September," Helena continues, shaking Myka back to the present. "Coincides perfectly with holidays and suchlike, you understand." It also explains why she only attends parties for part of the year, Myka thinks. "And I go visit whenever I can during the year. I go visit my own child." Myka watches in dismay as tears gather in Helena's lashes and Helena laughs shakily, taking a few more sips from her own water bottle.
"Well," she says. "Already so in-depth and I've only just offered you a drink."
"Helena," Myka says softly. Helena's eyes dart from the ground to hers and to the ground again. Myka sits on the edge of her seat, leaning forward towards Helena, her own hands wrapped around the neck of her tonic water. Let me help, Myka thinks fiercely. I want to help, I want to give you anything you want. "Helena," she says again, almost pleading.
"Yes?" Helena's voice is remarkably steady, despite the tears that begin to trickle down her cheeks and the ghostly white of her knuckles around the protesting plastic of the water bottle.
"I would fix it if I could," she says, and feels the pounding of her heart reverberate throughout her body.
Helena's stance softens. "I know," she says and it's sad in a way that tears at Myka's heart. She doesn't stop herself now, reaches for Helena. Helena takes her hand and brushes a kiss across the knuckles. She sits, finally, on the armchair across Myka, connected by their outstretched arms.
"So I must admit," H.G. says at length, her emotions once again under perfect control. "I expected you to require quite a lot of time to come to accept the reality of this, and then to come to grips with it, if you did at all."
"I -" Myka pauses. "I saw the stretch marks."
"Oh. You never said anything." Myka shrugs helplessly, because no, she didn't. "And I suppose there are also the constant rumours of my pregnancy and consequent seclusion swirling about." She laughs a little. "Gossip is a bit behind the times."
"Yeah," Myka breathes. "Never really believed it, but I guess I should've."
Helena runs a hand through her hair in a way Myka recognizes as apprehensive and she clutches tighter at Helena's hand.
"Myka," Helena says. "I know that most twenty-two year olds are decidedly not looking for a relationship with someone who already has a baby. Generally that sort of thing is reserved for after marriage. Or graduation." She aims a smile at Myka that is too shaky to be genuine.
"I'm twenty-one," Myka says, because it's true, because the jumble of emotions she's trying to work through are still overwhelming her, and regrets it as soon as Helena winces.
"Right," H.G. says. "Well." Another pause. "I don't mean to be unable to stop talking of her just because the subject out in the open now, but Christina is due home from her excursion any minute now.
"Your parents? Here?" Myka says, trying for an even tone but she's pretty sure her alarm shows. She feels ridiculous immediately, of course, because why should meeting Helena's parents inspire more panic than possibly meeting her daughter?
"Oh, they'll leave as soon as they drop Christina off," Helena says dismissively. "They never stay overnight, to tuck her in or anything."
Myka wonders why, then her brain derails on Helena tucking someone in. She'd probably read a story out loud first, pointing out pictures to an enraptured little girl, the spitting image of Helena. After that there would probably be a small discussion, too sleepy on the child's part to be a true argument, about whether she really does have to go to sleep right now, and Myka is getting breathless just thinking about how soft and protective Helena would be over her child. She wonders if Helena would check the closet for monsters (Do two year olds believe in monsters in their closets? Myka has no idea.) before dropping a kiss on a sleeping child's forehead –
"It's a lot to take in, I know. I understand if you wouldn't want to-" For the first time since Myka met Helena, the senior seems to be at a complete loss.
Myka clears her throat to bring herself out of her daydream. "To?" she asks.
Helena's mouth opens and closes a few times. "Continue, I suppose," and she laughs in a way that falls just short of lighthearted.
It takes Myka a minute to understand. "Continue wha – the relationship?" she asks. "Of course I want to continue! I mean, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't sure sure last week, but I'm sure sure now, and Helena, I – I want this, okay, I made a pros and cons list and everything!"
Helena's shoulders sag visibly and she huffs out a laugh. "You're so –" she breaks off, shaking her head. "Thank you.".
Myka blinks. "What did I do?"
Helena smiles and the warmth in her eyes leads to Myka's breath stumbling in her throat. Helena lifts Myka's hand to her lips again and Myka blushes, feeling utterly ridiculous. "My parents will be here soon," Helena murmurs over her knuckles, never breaking eye contact with Myka.
"Can I meet her?" Myka blurts, before she loses the nerve.
Helena looks from the gentleness of Myka's grip to the warmth in Myka's eyes, and croaks, "I'm not certain I understand."
"Well," Myka says, determinedly ignoring the nervous flutters in her belly. "She's important to you and I – I'm important to you, so logically the thing to do is meet her. If that's okay."
Helena blinks slowly, the faintest suggestion of a smile about her lips. "I...would like nothing better."
"Good," Myka says, nodding decisively. "Good, then that's settled."
"Christina, this is Myka." Helena's voice is sweet and Myka wanders farther into the room, clutching tightly at the tray of food Leena had all but shoved into her hands while Helena gathered Christina from her parents. "Mummy's told you about her, hasn't she?"
Helena sits on the floor, next to a young girl who watches Myka's approach with curiosity. She's dressed in blue jeans, which look absurdly out of place on such a tiny body but Myka surprises herself by finding it adorable. There's what looks like a stitched panda on her shirt, but she can't really make it out because Christina clutches an intricately detailed wood train tight against her chest, right over the design. A few feet away, Myka spies mini railroad tracks. She wonders briefly if Helena made those, because she knows she saw matching schematics downstairs.
Years of babysitting, don't fail me now, Myka thinks resolutely. She smiles and crouches down in front of Christina. "Hi," she says quietly.
Christina looks immediately to her mother, wide-eyed, and Helena offers a reassuring smile.
"Hi," Christina replies softly, meeting Myka's gaze easily and Myka feels her smile become a bit more genuine at the familiar brown eyes that study her.
"Do you want a – " Myka looks at the tray in her hands. "A -" she can't identify what's on the tray – Girl Scout cookies on steroids? – and hopes the child won't laugh at her. "Some? Do you want some?" She offers the tray too quickly, wincing as the large cookies slide partially off their plates.
Helena's hand comes up to steady the tray and Myka mumbles a thank you. Christina selects a cookie with utmost seriousness, perusing the choices carefully.
"Hey, guys!" Myka looks up, grateful for the interruption. Leena walks in, smiling brightly. "Enjoying your cookies, Christina?" Christina nods, crumbs sprinkled over her chin. Myka wonders where the cookie went until she realizes Christina fit the entire thing in her mouth. Helena rolls her eyes and reaches for a napkin but Myka is a little impressed. "H.G., can you come out here for a minute?" Leena says, easy smile shifting into something a little more forced.
H.G. pauses in the middle of wiping Christina's face. "Right now?"
"Yes, please," Leena returns, voice strained.
Helena's gaze flicks from Myka to Christina and back again. She looks searchingly at Myka and Myka tries to say it's okay, go find out what's wrong without actually saying it. Helena pauses for a second more then returns the smile, swiping the last of the crumbs off Christina's face. She disappears into the hallway after Leena, leaving Myka and the child sitting on the floor staring at each other.
Which is, surprisingly, even more awkward than it sounds. Myka shifts uncomfortably on the floor, smiling hesitantly at Christina.
"So, Christina," Myka says. "That's a really nice train."
Christina grins brightly and Myka feels her lips twitch up reflexively. "My train!"
"Definitely," Myka agrees. "Did your mother make those train tracks over there?"
Christina twists to look where Myka's pointing, then turns back around to solemnly say, "Yes."
"That's cool." And that's the extent of my conversational skills, Myka thinks, wishing Helena hadn't left.
Fortunately, Christina has no such constraints. "Mummy says we're going to the park today," she announces, and Myka is almost surprised to hear the faint British inflection in her voice.
Myka looks out the window. Yes, the weather has cleared up nicely, and the sun shines in brightly through the window. "It's a good day for it," she agrees.
"Wanna do swing." Christina pouts a little and Myka has a brief moment of panic. She really, really doesn't want to witness a temper tantrum. "Mummy pushes me."
"Uh, that's nice of her," Myka says, exhaling. No temper tantrums today, it seems.
"Would you push me?" Christina brightens, looking inquisitively at Myka.
"Uh -" Myka says, because why is Christina imagining Myka pushing her on the swings when it's clearly Helena's job, unless – oh, Helena mentioned she'd told Christina about Myka, so does Christina already know Myka and Helena are dating? Does she know what that means?
Christina giggles, presumably at the widened state of Myka's eyes. It's fascinating, Myka thinks, how so young a child can carry off a look of such mischief. Definitely Helena's genes at work.
"Pretty," Christina announces, pushing herself off the floor. Myka cocks her head, watching bemusedly as the child ambles towards her, still uncoordinated, and plops herself down in Myka's lap.
"Oh," Myka says, surprised. Her hands come up to support Christina's back, trying to get used to the solid weight in her lap. She tries to stay still while Christina shifts, trying to find the best place, sometimes standing up on Myka's legs, little hands grabbing on to her shoulders for balance, sometimes stretching out with her legs dangling off Myka's knee, all in all sitting still for a grand total of five seconds. Myka's getting tired just looking at her. "Well, hi."
Christina repeats, "Pretty!"
"What is?" Myka asks, struggling to follow Christina's train of thought. She's getting whiplash, going from speaking to a child who spoke near full sentences to one that just repeats a word. She yelps as Christina points, nearly jabbing her eye out, which only makes the child giggle delightedly, squirming in Myka's lap.
"Eyes!"
"Oh," Myka says. Christina's nose wrinkles and it take Myka a second to realize the child is copying Myka's facial expression. She sticks her tongue out experimentally and laughs when Christina does the same. "Well, I like your eyes better." She dares a tap to Christina's nose and is gratified when Christina bursts into laughter.
"I think it's because she's never seen that shade of green," Helena's voice is smooth and low, and Myka starts, twisting to look back.
Helena stands in the doorway, looking like she wants to smile but can't quite manage it. It's the same expression from that party, Myka realizes, straightening. Angry and intimidated, but Myka still doesn't know why. She opens her mouth to rectify this but Christina beats her to it.
"Mummy, she has good eyes," Christina says, and Helena chuckles.
"I know, darling." Helena's strange expression melts away in the face of her daughter's innocence and Myka's breath catches at the sheer joy in Helena's eyes. She feels monumentally stupid all of a sudden – how could she have missed this? How could she have spent so much time with Helena and not have known Helena wasn't complete? Because when Christina clambers out of Myka's lap, Helena laugh is brighter than Myka's ever heard it. When she runs to Helena in that special uncoordinated way of toddlers, her light-up sneakers flashing with every step, Helena crouches down, eyes bright and arms outstretched to catch her lively daughter. And when Christina trips, the terror in her eyes is fleeting but visceral.
Myka lunges, heart in her throat, but she's too late and Christina falls.
"Christina!" Helena cries at the same time as Myka, equally as panicked. Christina just laughs off the fall, and holds blessedly, patiently still as Myka gently picks her up and pulls her close, doing a thorough check for bumps and bruises. "Be careful," Myka admonishes, trying to breathe normally again. She's never been more thankful for the physiology classes she's taken because they tell her Christina's perfectly fine.
"Okay," Christina says, looking completely unrepentant and so completely like Helena that Myka sets her down on the floor with a laugh.
Helena manages a smile as well, though Myka can't imagine she's breathing any easier. Children fling their bodies about with such disregard for personal safety. Helena holds out her arms and Christina gladly consents to be picked up. "Shall we go get you dressed properly for a park outing?" Helena asks, and Christina cheers. "The park's not too far from here," Helena says to Myka.
"Horseshoe Court, right next to Leena's house," Christina chimes, and it sounds like something she's had to repeat often.
"Very good!" Helena says and Christina glows at the praise. "The park is a three minute walk, and it's about the only place she enjoys going in the winter – would you like to join us?"
"Is that how the wrestler knew about Christina?" Myka asks. "He saw her at the park?"
Helena smiles faintly. "One can only assume. It's entirely possible he was there while Christina and I were playing in the park, but I don't believe I've ever seen him before. Then again, I don't tend to look for people from school. In fact, I prefer to keep Christina far away from them as possible."
"Some of them are kind of -" Myka breaks off, casting a guilty glance at Christina.
"Some of them," Helena agrees. "You'll be all right while I go dress my slovenly daughter?" Helena aims a mock glare at her daughter.
Myka's eyebrows jump to her hairline when she realizes Christina has crumbs all over her shirt. (And it's a lot of crumbs. Could she have eaten another cookie while Myka wasn't looking?) "Slovenly, H.G.?" Myka cries, making a funny face for Christina. "Not slovenly! Anything but slovenly!"
"Not soven!" Christina echoes, and if it's possible for a two year old to grasp the concept of a smirk, Christina is doing it right now.
Helena tilts her head back and laughs, bright and loud. She turns to leave and Christina waves over her shoulder as they go upstairs. Myka waves back, and wonders when she'll get the grin on her face under control.
"I'll keep you company while they get ready," Leena announces, breezing in. Myka turns her attention to her, feeling the smile slip off her face.
"Is everything okay?" Myka asks. She's determined to get to the bottom of this mystery once and for all – no more secrets.
"It's nothing," Leena says, and Myka does not feel reassured. "Just – her parents want her and Christina to go on holiday back to Britain in March."
"Oh," Myka says. Which, okay. She knew that. It's common knowledge, actually. Deb has often mentioned how lucky H.G. is to take off for Europe every break, but now –
It's different now. They're together now.
"Well," she says, trying for cheerful. "Is that what you're so down about? Empty house for a week?"
Leena shakes her head slowly and Myka knows there's more. "Well, no. I have my own house, next to the park." Myka opens her mouth to say she remembers, then realizes that means Helena is alone dealing with Christina for the majority of the time, and falls silent. "Uh, they're going for a week more than usually do. That's what I wanted to talk to H.G. about earlier, her parents came back really of ticked off, I could feel it a block away." Leena shakes her head.
Myka bites her bottom lip. "Oh," she says again. Two weeks isn't such a long time, is it? After all, Helena will be with Christina, and her family. It's a good thing, Myka thinks. It really is.
Myka hears Christina come downstairs before she sees her descend, all in a flurry. "Where's Miss Bunny?" Christina asks worriedly.
"Who now?" Myka asks, reaching to free Christina's shirt from her jeans.
"Her doll," Leena explains quietly. Then, louder, "I don't know where she is, Christina. Did you check your room?"
"She did," Helena says, jogging down the staircase, slightly out of breath from chasing a two year old around the house.
"Um, I don't know if it's Miss Bunny, but there's a doll ready to go horseback riding on the porch," Myka offers. She's faced with three blank stares, then Christina's face splits into a grin and Helena catches her around the waist before she can run out into the cold.
"I'll get her," Leena offers, slipping out the door.
"Miss Bunny, though?" Myka whispers. Helena offers a shrug and goes back to watching Christina tugging on her boots and it's in that moment Myka realizes: "You must miss her so much,"
"Sometimes even when she's here," Helena admits, forcing a smile for Christina when looks up from getting on her first boot. "I can't stop thinking of when she'll have to go back."
Myka squeezes Helena's hand briefly and does her best to put aside the thoughts swirling around in her mind. She doesn't want Helena to leave for England for spring break, she realizes with a guilty start. She wants Helena to say right here.
"Shall we?" Helena looks back over her shoulder. Christina hops off the bench to take Helena's hand firmly in hers.
"Wait," Myka calls. "I forgot something."
"Forgot what?" Helena asks, turning around, one hand already on the doorknob. She watches curiously as Myka walks towards her and is grinning when Myka reaches her and kisses her softly.
"Forgot to say hi." Myka whispers it against Helena's lips, watching in fascination as Helena's eyelids flutter. She presses a final kiss to Helena's cheek and straightens up, and she knows she's grinning like an idiot but she also knows that she doesn't care. There's a tug on her pant leg and Myka looks down to find Christina looking up at them, eyebrow raised skeptically.
"Ew," she declares.