Thank you for giving
This bright new morning
So steeped seemed the evening
In darkness and blood
There'll be no sadness
There'll be no sorrow
There'll be no road too narrow
There'll be a new day
And it's today
For us
Nick Cave - New Morning
Will paused for a moment at the threshold of the bedroom door. Lyra was there, asleep in the bed, in his bed.
a quiet place, with a view of the sky, far from the tumult of the world
After reopening the window to the North under Xaphania's gaze, they returned to the Havets Perle. The captain and Morten had been more than relieved to find them, but horrified to see their weary faces. They set off the next day, after a good night's rest. They had agreed to spend two to three days in Will's world, giving him enough time to sort things out and, of course, to go see Mary. However, since they had arrived in this other Bodø, nothing, absolutely nothing that Will had envisioned, had occured. Having meticulously planned his days in his mind, he conceived a perfect agenda, balancing the tedious administrative tasks he had to do, organizing his belongings, and taking Lyra to various places he had spotted. He wanted to be a little romantic, take her out to a restaurant, go to the cinema, walk along the harbor to admire the distant Lofoten Islands. To have a normal date, like a normal couple. But it seemed that normality was not their credo.
First of all, upon their arrival, he had changed his own plans to go directly to a bank. He had several matters to attend to, and it was tiresome. He wanted to get it done as soon as possible. Kirjava had taken Pantalaimon aside, onto the rooftops or to a park. They didn't want to linger too much in the area. In New York, passersby didn't pay much attention to them being in the arms of their humans, as they were accustomed to eccentric behavior, but in Bodø, it was different. Being able to separate like that was certainly a boon, but Lyra didn't like it. She no longer wanted Pantalaimon to be too far from her. She had watched them leave, feeling a slight pang in her heart, and Will had left her in the bank's waiting hall, promising that it would be quick. It hadn't been the case, of course, and he came out almost an hour later, his head heavy from the exhanges he had with the bank advisor. He found Lyra sitting on the building's doorsteps, genuinely looking concerned while observing passersby. When she stood up, she leaned towards him.
"Will," she had whispered anxiously, "Why are people almost naked?"
Will had remained silent for a moment.
"Look," Lyra had insisted, "People are almost naked! Why?"
He had observed the people around before understanding. Indeed, the pedestrians were wearing shorts, short skirts, sandals, tank tops, or light dresses. The air was also warmer than in the Bodø on the other side of the window.
"It's summer," he had explained. "And even though it's not as hot as in New France, people here take advantage of the sun and warmth to wear lighter clothes. People wore this kind of clothing in New York, and you didn't say anything then."
"There were more people; I didn't pay attention. Your world is really strange," she had added. "And on top of that, almost all women wear pants..."
"You wear pants..."
"Absolutely not!" She seemed truly offended by his remark.
"But Lyra," he had retorted, puzzled by her reaction. "You were wearing pants when we found each other in Bodø..."
"It's different. Louise gave them to me, I didn't have a choice, and… wait … you remember what I was wearing when we found each other?!"
He didn't reply, merely blushing slightly, and she snuggled up against his arm, chuckling softly. They had walked at a leisurely pace towards the apartment he shared with two other people. It was located near the city center, on the fourth floor of a modern and comfortable building. On the entrance door, Lyra could see a small lacquered plate with "Azad Manukyan / Josephine Olsen / William Parry" written in golden letters.
The place itself was a reflection of the building: simple, modern, and comfortable. They entered a large living area consisting of an equipped kitchen that opened into a living room. It was furnished with a large dark blue sofa, light wooden furniture, a rug, illustrations hanging here and there on the wall, and the small clutter of everyday life scattered on the table or countertops. Several doors indicated the presence of each tenant's bedrooms and the bathroom. Most importantly, the place was devoid of any human presence, much to Will's relief, as he wasn't eager to face his roommates, answer their questions, and explain his absence and departure. He had been renting the place for a little over a year now, and since he had discovered the window with Mary, his roommates had grown accustomed to his repeated absences. They had gotten into the habit of leaving small notes on the fridge, informing him of their own absences and returns. Therefore, Will hadn't been surprised to find a note specifying that one of them was at a conference in another city and the other probably with yet another conquest.
He hadn't been surprised either to turn around and find that Lyra had opened drawers and cupboards, taken objects, marveled at the freezer's temperature or the use of the microwave, and bombarded him with questions to which he didn't have time to respond as she had already moved on to something else. Pantalaimon had sneaked into the bathroom, and he too was exclaiming and bombarding Kirjava with questions. The cat-dæmon had calmly seated herself in the doorway, responding to him while watching, amused by his curiosity. Lyra had stopped whirling around in all directions when Will had grabbed her by the waist and kissed her fervently. They had made love right there, in this very room. When joy overflowed from their bodies, it needed to be expressed, and seeing Lyra here, in his apartment, in his world, with him, filled him with a elation he had rarely known. And it was beyond their control, as natural as breathing, they had to love each other passionately and feel each other, one against the other, deeply intertwined.
Moreover, the Norwegian coastal weather being the same regardless of the world they were in, rain suddenly made an appearance. Will had given up on the idea of a romantic walk along the coast. He had decided to order pizzas and spend the evening quietly in the apartment, which seemed like a good idea. Lyra had asked, well, more like demanded, to listen to music. She knew it was something important to him and was eager to learn more about it. He had played playlists from his computer – which had generated even more questions from Lyra – and she had listened to each song with great seriousness. She questioned him about the meaning of certain lyrics, the names of certain bands, the rhythm, and gave her opinions… And Will answered, hummed along, while the dæmons found refuge on a chair, snuggled against each other as they usually did.
While Lyra listened and commented, he had started to gather his belongings. It wasn't very complicated; he didn't have much. He had come to terms with his grief through decluttering: sorting, giving away, keeping, or selling his mother's belongings, selling his mother's house. It had been difficult, very difficult, but cathartic. He had kept only a few items that, in his eyes, perfectly reminded him of Elaine: some books, a scarf she had worn so much that it was forever infused with her scent, a golden bangle bracelet, and some photos. It was enough; the most important memories were cherished in his mind. When he left England for Norway, he had sold or given away almost all of his possessions. As a result, when he arrived in Bodø, he only had one large suitcase, Kirjava, and a cardboard box he had left at Mary's.
That night, they had made love again, obviously, but this time in his room. And at some point, Lyra let out a cry of surprise. Not (solely) because of what Will was doing, but because of what was happening outside.
"Will!" she exclaimed, breathless. "Look!"
Will had raised his head and been astonished to see the room bathed in a vivid emerald light: the light of the Aurora. Yet, he knew that the short summer nights in Norway of his world couldn't offer such a spectacle. Bewildered, he had begun to sit up to get a closer look, but Lyra had held him back by his shoulders.
"What are you doing?" she had asked him fervently.
"Well, I... um..."
"Don't you dare leave this bed, Will Parry, not now."
He had redirected his attention to Lyra's face, which the light embraced like a delicate halo. His heart was pounding violently in his throat. He had run his hands along her waist to make her straddle him, had kissed and devoured her chest and neck.
"Will..." Lyra moaned, "I think that..."
He had looked at her again as she clung tightly to him and their bodies continued to move together. The Aurora's light had grown in intensity. It made no sense; the sun would soon rise.
"I think... it's us," she had declared in a sigh. "It's... us who... cause this..."
She had closed her eyes and let out a long moan. At that moment, as Lyra completely surrendered to him, Will had the impression that the light gently intensified, and the Aurora seemed to whisper a sweet melody that only they could hear. He could hardly believe his eyes.
"Setting the skies ablaze..." he added, kissing her passionately. "It's incredible. You're incredible."
And now he watched her sleep, a cup of steaming tea in his hand, enjoying the calmness barely disturbed by the faint murmur of the city, trying to sort out all his feelings. If only order were possible. The past few weeks had been a storm, an explosion, a magnificent whirlwind in which they had completely let themselves be carried away. How long exactly? Weeks? Months? Will didn't really know. It could have been years or seconds; it didn't change much about the intensity of those moments. Stepping back and looking at everything that had happened, he felt dizzy. It was exhilarating. Only the present moment mattered. This one precisely, with Lyra asleep, and the sunbeam transforming dust into golden particles floating silently in the room. Kirjava entered, rubbing against his calves for a long moment.
Sitting on the bed, he placed the cup on the bedside table, and pushed back a few unruly strands that fell in front of Lyra's eyes. He leaned over to kiss her bare shoulder and traced his lips up to her neck. She shivered. He inhaled the scent of her sleeping body with a smile. It was there, it was real, very real. Lyra stretched like a feline before opening her eyes and welcoming the kiss he offered her.
"You smell nice," she mumbled, her voice hoarse from sleep.
"Thank you, I made an effort. I made you a cup of tea."
"Hmm, thanks!"
She hugged the pillow and rolled into the blanket.
"Your mattress is way too comfortable," she sighed. "Can we take it with us?"
"Alas," said Will as he got up, "it's not really mine. Are you hungry?"
"I'm starving!" she replied, rubbing her eyes thoroughly.
Will left the room with a smile. He plugged in his phone and turned it on. As soon as he entered his PIN, the smartphone started vibrating continuously. Dozens and dozens of notifications popped up. Several missed calls and messages awaited his response, the vast majority of them were from one person. Will grimaced. Mary was worried, and she had every right to be. He had never been away for such a long time, and whenever he returned, if he didn't have time to see her at her lab or her place, he always sent her a message. However, the last time, he had only stayed for a very short while and hadn't thought to let her know, too absorbed in the anticipation of seeing Lyra again. The messages from Mary all looked alike:
"Are you back?"
"Where are you?"
"Please, answer me!"
"I don't know if I should panic, cry, or just give up..."
"I'm considering calling the cops, but it won't do any good."
"What do I tell them? That you're in another world?"
"What are you doing?"
"Will?"
"!"
Will shook his head with a smile and typed a reply:
"Hey! Sooooorry, it took longer than expected. I'll tell you everything, promise! But we're here!"
Almost instantly after sending the message, the animated ellipsis indicated that not only had Mary read the message, but she was already responding.
"WE?! I guess you're not talking about yourself and Kirjava?!"
There were way too many question marks and exclamation marks. Will laughed, he could almost hear Mary's exclamation of joy.
";) Can we come over tonight? I've got some stuff to finish."
"O M G ! Yes, yes, yes, come! Whenever you want! I'm here!"
He replied with a thumbs-up emoji. He then opened the refrigerator to find that it was almost empty. Some eggs, an open carton of milk, butter, Brunost, and a half-empty jar of blackberry jam. He opened the milk carton and quickly closed it again, his face twisted in disgust. It seemed to have been open for several days, maybe even weeks. Thankfully, there was some fresh milk left in the cupboard. He grabbed the box of eggs and the butter.
"Lyra," he called out. "Do you like pancakes?"
"It's like pizza," she replied from the bedroom. "I don't know what it is. I trust you!"
His smile remained on his face as he grabbed a large bowl, a bag of flour, and a bottle of milk from a cupboard. In the next room, Lyra had wrapped herself in the duvet and gotten out of bed to approach the window, cup in hand. She watched the constant ballet of traffic while blowing on the hot tea. Pantalaimon had climbed onto the windowsill, basking in the sunlight, warming his fur. Across from the building, in a park, a group of people were moving about on the grass. They wore tight, garish-colored outfits and made wild, nonsensical gestures with their arms and legs.
"What a strange world," Lyra murmured as she took a sip of her tea.
Her attention was drawn to a book resting on the windowsill, right next to Pantalaimon. She turned it around to read the title: "John Keats : The complete Poems." Keats. She had heard that name before. Several pages of the book were dog-eared. She opened the first page to find, to her astonishment, that someone had written on it. Writing in a book and folding the pages felt close to blasphemy, and she would be forever excluded from the world of Oxford Scholars if she did such a thing. Nevertheless, she read the words written in a fine, neat handwriting:
"For Will,
I hope these few verses will bring comfort to your soul after my departure.
I love you beyond the sky and stars,
Mom"
Her throat tightened. She flipped through several pages to read the first poem, but her ears were quickly drawn to a melody coming from the kitchen. She put the book down and left the room. Will was focused on pouring a ladle of batter into a hot pan. He was humming, and the melodic voice of a woman intertwined with his own.
There's a new world comin' and it's just around the bend
There's a new world comin' , this one's comin' to an end
Lyra, still wrapped in the quilt, approached and wrapped her arms around his torso.
"You didn't play this for me yesterday," she said softly. "What is it?"
"Nina Simone," Will replied. "My mom's favorite singer. She used to sing this song to me when I was a child and had nightmares."
He used a spatula to lift the pancake and place it on a plate and poured more batter into the center of the pan.
T here's a brand new morning, rising clear and sweet and free
There's a new day dawnin' that belongs to you and me
Lyra recognized the melody he had hummed on the night she had a panic attack so intense she thought she might die. She pressed her ear against his back and felt his soft, warm voice resonating. She closed her eyes, letting herself be carried away by the melody. At the end of the song, she released her embrace.
"Do I have time to take a shower?" she asked.
"Of course, take as much time as you need."
As Will finished cooking and set everything up on the table, he heard Lyra muttering in the bathroom. He knocked on the door.
"Is everything alright? Can I come in?"
He pushed the door open to find her facing the mirror, trying to remove some tangled strands of hair from her comb with a sigh of frustration.
"It's fine," she replied, annoyed. "I'm fine. But I'm tempted to just shave it all off. It would be easier."
"Wait, let me help," he said.
She looked at him curiously as he opened a cupboard, took out a tube, and inspected it. Then he stood behind her, applied some product to his hands, and ran his fingers through her wet hair. He took the comb from her and began to untangle her unruly mane, completely focused. Lyra observed their reflections in the mirror.
"How do you know how to do this?" she asked.
"My mom, of course," Will replied. "Hair care was very important to her. She could spend hours sorting through my curls, applying balms, treatments, styling them, braiding them. And later, I learned to do the same for her. Where do you think my beautiful hair comes from, huh?"
She laughed softly and closed her eyes. Will's actions were gentle and precise.
"Do you miss her?" she asked. "Your mother?"
"Every day," he replied. "But, to be honest, when she died, I felt kind of relieved. Because I knew that from then on, there would be no more suffering, no more psychosis, and above all, I know what happened to her afterward. I know the Land of the Dead, I know what became of her. It brings a little bit of joy amidst the sorrow. And that's thanks to you. There, it's done."
He kissed the back of her head and put the comb back down. Lyra ran her fingers through her damp hair, amazed. She had never been able to do that before. She returned to the main room, where a steaming plate of pancakes stood in the center of the table, along with a jar of honey and one of blackberry jam, and their two cups of tea. Her stomach rumbled loudly. She took one of the fluffy pancakes with her fork, cutting a piece that she devoured with delight.
"By the way," Will said, taking a sip of tea, "I have an appointment in about an hour, with a notary. I'm sorry, it's the last unpleasant thing to take care of."
"No problem. What's it for?"
"Well, I'm the sole heir of my parents, and there's some money to manage..."
Lyra nodded with a knowing look. Will observed her for a moment, then said:
"I'm going to ask you a personal question, and I know it's a sensitive topic for you, so if you don't want to answer, that's alright, okay?"
Lyra furrowed her brow as she took another pancake. It was the first time he had been so cautious.
"Your father was a Lord, wasn't he ?" he asked.
"Yes."
"He didn't leave you any money?"
"Well, it was more of a honorary title. And because his own father was one. But he didn't have much money. The affair with my mother ruined him, and he struggled to rebuild a decent fortune with his expeditions, I believe. He left me a little money, but right now, there's nothing left. Before I left for the Far East, the Master of Jordan College warned me that I would have to leave the premises. In fact, he probably threw my belongings into a gutter by now... Oh, I'm so glad to have a salary thanks to Mette! It's the first time!"
"Yes," Will agreed, "and the good thing is that we don't have to spend much of it since we live on the boat. It allows us to save for the future."
For the future . How those words sounded so good to Lyra. Will got up, collected the empty plates, cups, and utensils, and started doing the dishes. She took a seat beside him, grabbing a dishcloth to dry what he washed, all the while continuing to chat calmly. He looked down at her and smiled, and she looked up at him, returning the smile, and he felt his neck grow hot. Just her and him, like this. It felt good.
A few minutes later, they left the apartment. On the way, Lyra asked if she could borrow some money from him, assuring him that she would pay him back, of course.
"Yes, of course," Will replied, "but you don't need to repay me."
"Don't be silly," Lyra retorted sternly. "I'm going to buy something for lunch, but I've no idea how much it will cost..."
Will withdrew a few hundred Norwegian Kroner from an ATM and left her with a kiss before heading into the building where the notary's office was located. Lyra had chosen not to accompany him; considering it a personal matter. Even though they were destined to share their lives together, she believed that some things should remain private. She found herself alone in a city she knew without truly knowing. Pantalaimon and Kirjava had gone to a nearby park.
Will found her almost two hours later. He emerged from his appointment feeling annoyed. Firstly, it had taken longer than expected, and secondly, the notary had asked a lot of questions. It was understandable, but Will had crafted the most credible story possible, and lying for such a long time was uncomfortable. But things were settled now, and he felt relieved. Lyra was waiting patiently, sitting on a bench. She had a shopping bag on one side, a bouquet of flowers for Mary on the other, and in her hands, she was reading that day's issue of The Times. Their dæmons had found her and settled down by her sides. The front page of the newspaper featured headlines about the war in Ukraine, climate change, and statements from the British Prime Minister. Will let out a slight sigh. He didn't have any knowledge of Lyra's world's geopolitical situation, but one thing was for sure – he wouldn't miss his own world's issues.
"Your world is really, really strange," she declared seriously, closing her newspaper and standing up. "Did you do everything you wanted?"
Will nodded, taking the shopping bag in one hand and holding Lyra's hand with the other. When they arrived at the apartment, she began unpacking what she had bought and opened cupboards and drawers. As she busied herself, she shared all her questions and astonishments from her visit to the supermarket where she had made her purchases. Why were there so many choices? Why were some vegetables kept in refrigerators? Why were there pumpkins when, in her world, they were only available in winter? Why was the mozzarella wrapped in plastic when, in Oxford, you had to bring your own container for the cheese? Moreover, why weren't there more small shops and merchants like in the other Bodø? Will responded, amused to see that she had also bought a packet of M&M's because the packaging had caught her eye, and she was curious to taste them.
It was hard to believe that just a couple of days ago they were fighting for their lives in Svalbard, and now she was cooking as if nothing had happened, as if everything was normal. The young man felt his heart fill with gratitude, even though seeing her handle a sharp knife was not very reassuring. She caught his gaze.
"You remember that I've been working with Morten for a few weeks?" she said with a stern tone. "And that I've improved since the Ci'gazze omelette?"
"I didn't say anything!" Will defended himself.
"You think too loudly," she replied.
He laughed and watched her every move as she sliced cherry tomatoes, cut bread, added oregano she had found in a cupoboard, and salt, and mixed everything with olive oil. She asked him to turn on the oven and placed her dish inside before cutting more tomatoes and shallots.
"I asked Morten for a quick recipe to impress you," Lyra explained nonchalantly.
"Impress me? You don't need that to impress me," Will retorted, furrowing his brow.
"Maybe not, but you still are," Lyra replied with a mischievous glance.
"I admit it. It smells really good!"
Lyra couldn't help but display a proud smile.
"To be honest, I'm trying to figure out what my love language is," she admitted.
She took the dish out of the oven and poured its contents into the same dish as the cold tomatoes, while Will set the table with plates and cutlery. He looked at her with surprise, "Your love language?"
Lyra nodded with a slight nod. As she broke apart the mozzarella ball with her fingers, she explained what Morten had told her. She mixed her dish together and placed it on the table where Will had seated himself, listening with interest.
"And according to Morten, mine is herbal teas?" he pondered while serving Lyra's plate and then his own. "That's interesting; I had never really paid attention to it."
He took a bite from his plate and brought the fork to his mouth. His eyes widened, and he suppressed a small cry of surprise. Not that he doubted Lyra's abilities, but it was genuinely delicious – warm and cold, crispy and melting, simple, fragrant, and flavorful.
"If your love language is food, I'm all for it," he announced, plunging his fork in for another bite.
Lyra chuckled, flattered, and then added, very seriously: "No, I don't think that's it."
Will pondered for a moment, savoring each bite that danced into his mouth. "I'm not sure it's necessarily through actions," he said. "It can be through words or presence. And if we had to identify your love language, I think listening would be a good one. You know how to listen, I mean, truly listen. Many people pretend to listen and then only talk about themselves, without considering what their interlocutor has said. That's not what you do, you are a good listener. And it's really enjoyable and comforting, believe me."
Lyra smiled at him in silence. Knowing how to tell stories, knowing how to listen—those suited her well. Her gaze locked with Will's, and the latter felt his heart skip a beat. He swallowed, straightened up, leaned across the table, and kissed her. He could have gone on and on, pulling her close, guiding her to the couch for more, if it weren't for the jingling of keys turning in the lock at that very moment. He sat back down, and Lyra and he both fixed their gaze on the opening door. A man entered, grumbling. He was of average height, seemingly around the same age as Will, if not slightly older. He sported a thick, jet-black beard and short hair of the same shade. He was dressed in a white shirt and pleated pants, with earphones playing loud music in his ears, and he dragging a rolling suitcase behind him, a jacket of the same color as his pants placed on top. He closed the door with his foot and looked up at Will, Lyra, and the dæmons, who stared back in silence. Before Will could say anything, the man dropped his suitcase with a sharp thud, removed his earphones, and rushed towards Will, grabbing his face in his hands.
"Blimey!" he exclaimed. "Is it Will Parry? Good God, yes! Or is it a ghost? An apparition?"
He ran his hands over Will's face and hair, but Will pulled away.
"Hi Azad," he replied, straightening his curls.
"'Hi Azad'... Bloody hell!" exclaimed the man named Azad. "It's been three months since we've seen you! Three months! We thought you were dead! When did you come back? I was away for work, have you been here for long? And why didn't you tell us?! We could have tidied up a bit! Oh, hi!"
His gaze settled on Lyra, who was observing the scene. Will cleared his throat.
"Lyra," he said with a somewhat solemn tone, "this is Azad, one of my roommates. Azad, this is Lyra, my... girlfriend."
Girlfriend, the word sounded strange in his mouth. He didn't really have a word to define her in his eyes, and yet, Lyra's cheeks flushed.
"Girlfriend, huh?" Azad repeated with a knowing look. "You sly dog, and for how long now... Oh wow! Holy cow! That's quite a squirrel you've got there!"
Pantalaimon jumped in surprise. He had climbed onto the table to observe the scene, and Azad was staring at him in astonishment.
"It's not a squirrel; it's a pine marten," Lyra retorted, feeling offended.
"And you're allowed to have this kind of pet?" the bearded man asked, dangerously reaching his hand towards the dæmon, who bared his teeth.
Lyra's nostrils flared with annoyance. She took a deep breath.
"It's not…" she began,"Yes, I'm allowed. Please don't touch him; he hates that."
Will glanced apologetically at the dæmon, whose black eyes were shooting sparks. Pantalaimon rushed towards Lyra, and Azad noticed Kirjava, who gave him a disdainful look.
"Oh, you still have your nasty cat, I see," he observed, "And it smells incredibly good in here! Is there any left?"
Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed a fork and plunged it directly into the dish Lyra had prepared. She remained completely taken aback by this curious character, and Will scratched his nose, feeling embarrassed. He had forgotten how talkative and unabashed his roommate could be.
"Sorry," said Azad with his mouth full, "I just got back, and I'm starving. This is so good! Did you make it, Will?"
Before Will could answer, his roommate launched into a new tirade while devouring the rest of the dish.
"I just came back from a conference in Oslo, it was incredible! You would have loved it! There were speakers discussing water sharing, and also protesters who had been to the demonstrations against the coal mine in Germany, know what I mean? Anyway, it would have been right up your alley. By the way, where have you been all this time? We didn't hear a single word from you! I mean, Mr. Parry was just flitting in and out lately, you know. One week here, two hours there. But always making sure to pay three months' rent in advance. Oh, that he did!"
He poured himself a large glass of water and took a long sip. Will sighed at this brief moment of silence and rubbed his forehead.
"We really thought you were dead or something," Azad insisted, putting down his glass. "Did you let Jo know?"
"No, I..."
"By the way, there was a call for you on the apartment landline."
Will was thinking about Mary. She was the only one who had that number but never used it, because she knew he was more likely to respond to messages than answer the phone. But his roommate added:
"Someone named Enola? Does that ring a bell?"
Will froze.
"What? How did she do it? What did she want?
"She wanted to talk to you," Azad replied. "But I don't know much more. I told her you were somewhere, on a top-secret mission. She didn't find it very funny. Then she asked me when you'd be back, but I told her that we never knew for sure. That was about three weeks ago. She has a lovely voice, by the way. You have good taste."
He gave a knowing smile to Lyra, who raised an eyebrow. As if by fate, Will's phone started vibrating. Five pairs of eyes focused on the lit screen displaying an unknown number. Apparently, Will recognized it as he started swearing and cut the call, but his phone vibrated again a few seconds later.
"For fuck's sake," he hissed, "this is harassment at this point!"
"Ooooh, is it her?" exclaimed Azad.
"What do you mean?!" Lyra asked, her eyes wide with surprise.
"Dude, did you really break up with her?" Azad questioned very seriously.
"Of course, I did!" Will retorted. "Long before coming here! People should just leave others alone, dammit!"
"Ok, but what words did you use? Sometimes you need to be very specific and direct," Lyra interjected, and he felt embarrassed by the turn of the conversation. She tilted her head. Azad noticed that Pantalaimon, still curled up in the young woman's arms, had also tilted his head and was watching Will with the same expression.
"Will, come on," she said. "I don't care about your exes, but you need to handle it properly."
"Properly?" Will said, surprised. "But..."
"You know how to handle this, maybe?" Azad cut in, suddenly interested.
Will was suddenly intrigued too.
"That's what I did with Dick Orchard," she said simply, "and it worked."
Dick Orchard? Will had never heard a name so ridiculous.
"And what did you tell him?" Azad inquired, settling at the table and watching her with interest.
"I told him he was nice, that we had a good time, but ultimately, we didn't have much more to say to each other, and it was easier to stop there," she replied, shrugging. "We stayed on good terms, so yes, it worked."
Meanwhile, Will's phone kept vibrating persistently.
"She must have figured out you're back. You should answer," Lyra said gently.
"No way," Will replied, frowning. "At some point, you have to move on!"
But faced with Azad's insistent gaze and, more importantly, Lyra's, he grabbed the phone with a sigh, feeling very annoyed. He got up to head towards his room and answered in an irritated voice: "What do you want?"
Azad turned his attention back to Lyra:
"What's your name again? Lina? Lana? Where are you from?"
"Lyra. I'm from Oxford."
While questioning her, Azad had taken out his phone and was tapping on it frantically, which Lyra found really impolite. She puffed her cheeks and sighed.
"You guys arrived when? What have you been up to?" Azad asked, setting down his phone.
The device rang again, and he picked it up, smiling and tapping on it once more.
"We had pizza and listened to music. I asked Will to introduce me to the things he likes." Lyra answered
"Ah, that's interesting! He has good taste in music. So, what did you enjoy?"
Once more, the phone rang, and Azad glanced at the screen. Lyra recalled the songs Will had played for her.
"Well, there's a singer named Patti Smith, then Nina Simone," she listed carefully, "and The Smiths, The Beatles, and a band with a weird name... Radio-something."
"Radiohead," Azad corrected.
"Yes, that's it."
"Wait... The Beatles? How can you not know about The Beatles? I mean, The Beatles! They're more famous than Jesus! Where did you grow up? With the nuns?"
"Exactly."
"Huh?"
"In a secretive religious cult, to be more precise. The Sisters of Holy Redemption. You've never heard of them? That's normal. It's very secretive. But they have congregations all over Europe."
"And... I mean, how did you meet Will then? He's not really the religious type."
"I used to sneak out a lot. And one night, I met Will, in a park. We were, what, 12 years old? We kept running into each other in the park after that. But escaping the Sisters' control was nearly impossible, you know. After one too many runaways, I spent four years locked up."
Will came back at that moment, he threw his phone on the table and sat down, sighing and rubbing his forehead. Lyra reached out and gently caressed his neck.
"Are you okay?" she asked, concerned.
"I'm fine," he grumbled. "Apparently, not everyone is as easy to handle as Dick Orchard... Anyway, what were you talking about?"
"Lyra – that your name, right?" Azad chimed. "Lyra was explaining to me that she grew up in a secretive cult of nuns and that she met you while running away."
Will looked at Lyra with a puzzled expression, then nodded.
"And how did you manage to escape then?" asked the roommate with gleaming eyes.
"It's quite simple," Lyra said, feeling proud of her ability to lie as easily as she did when she was a child. "With Will, we exchanged letters in a language we had devised. And we planned my escape. It happened right in the middle of the afternoon. Yeah, trust me! The Sisters took us on a cultural visit to a church in Oxford. I managed to slip away from their watchful eyes and found Will, who took me to his place to hide me."
Will, trying to keep a serious demeanor, busied himself with clearing the table, doing the dishes, and serving coffee. Lyra continued to weave her tale, and Azad listened eagerly, hanging on her every word. While snacking on M&M's, the conversation shifted to music – Will was delighted to learn about Lyra's musical preferences – and then onto the political news the young woman had read in the Times.
As the time passed, Will decided it was time to go. Time to leave this place, time to bid farewell to Azad. Mary must be getting impatient. While they continued talking, he packed his bags, reset his computer and phone. He wouldn't need them anymore. He placed them on his room's desk along with other belongings.
"Ok, Azad," said Will, looking at him seriously, "I need you to focus."
"Laser-focused, dude!" Azad affirmed.
"Good. Cause I'm leaving. For good."
He continued before his roommate could respond.
"Lyra and I are going on a journey. A long journey. You see, I've packed my things. I won't be coming back, ever. And there are some things I won't need anymore. I left them all in my room. Do whatever you want with them – keep, sell, or give them away. They're yours now. I left my keys too. And I've paid three months' rent in advance, so you won't be bothered with my departure."
His heart was pounding, but it was easier than he had imagined. He felt supported by the caring look Lyra was gaving him. Azad chuckled, a little skeptical, but stopped when he saw the seriousness in Will's eyes.
"Wait, are you serious, mate? Really serious?"
He sought support in Lyra's gaze, but she shrugged her shoulders with a small smile, as if to approve of Will's words.
"You're not leaving us much choice, right?" sighed the bearded man. "Are you planning to say goodbye to Jo?"
"I'm not sure yet."
"She'll be really mad if you leave without telling her, mate," said Azad, shaking his head. "She's hosting an open mic night at her bar tonight. Come along. You know I'm going to tell her anyway. She already knows you're here. If you don't come yourself, she'll scour the whole city to find you and kick your ass."
Will pursed his lips and shook his head. He looked at Lyra. Jo's bar was a nice and lively place, and she might enjoy it.
"Alright," he finally said, "I guess if we can find the time... we'll drop by."
He stood up and grabbed the two bags he had prepared. Two bags that contained everything he needed to start his new life. Clothes mainly, books, and memories. Two bags, both light and heavy. Two bags. He paused for a moment, then felt Lyra's hand slide down his arm and grab one of the bags, lifting the strap onto her shoulder. She called for the dæmons, who had sought refuge in Will's room. Kirjava came trotting out, her tail straight, but Pantalaimon was dragging behind. He was still upset about Azad's comments.
"Pan!" Lyra exclaimed, growing impatient.
He eventually left the room, and Azad was convinced he heard him sigh. Will shook hands with his roommate, who pulled him into a hug. He wished him a safe journey, good luck, and a good life. Will smiled and walked out of his apartment without looking back.
They walked for a while without speaking. Lyra flashed a small smile and slipped her hand into his, pressing herself close to him.
"Enola, huh?" she teased.
"I don't know what got into me," sighed Will, "Such a pain... Honestly, we dated for maybe three or four months. She was... well... Anyway... But what about that Dick Orchard? Is that a real name?"
"I won't lie about that…" Lyra replied, tilting her chin, "Are you jealous?"
"Not at all."
"He's quite handsome, you know."
"I can imagine. You have good taste."
He gave her a smal smirk and put his arm around her shoulders as she giggled happily. The dæmons merrily walked ahead of them. They reached a bus stop to wait for the one that would take them to Mary Malone's place. The air was gentle, cars and bicycles passed before their absent gazes, and the sun shyly hid behind the clouds.
Will furrowed his brow as he felt his breathing becoming heavy and labored. He closed his eyes to take a deep breath. All his senses were heightened. Everything gained intensity. The warmth of Kirjava's body against his calf, Lyra's hand resting against his hip, her fingers gripping his sweatshirt, her hair tickling his cheek, her floral scent carried by the light breeze, the cool skin of her shoulder beneath his fingertips. Everything became clearer. Everything fell into place.
"Is this the one?" Lyra asked in a soft voice.
He opened his eyes to see the bus approaching.
"Yes, it's this one."
