kiri's not oblivious to the stares or the whispers. thirteen years and counting, the people of wrensted have never shied away from sharing their opinion on anyone they deemed lesser, and the lanes have been marked from the moment they rolled in. maia's grungy old van had already been enough to raise eyebrows, but kiri suspects she herself had been the deciding factor. even now she remembers the concern that colored their new neighbors faces as she ducked away from their well-meaning attempts at introduction, barely managing a ❝ 'lo ❞ for all her mother's urges to at least try saying hi. maia didn't have to tell anyone that they'd had a hard life— people filled in the blanks the lanes wouldn't speak themselves with whatever they wanted regardless. kiri's heard it all : rumors from peers at school echoing their parents' table gossip of abuse and cult escapes; the older adults whispering far too loud around the paez-cooper's carne asada table about the bad example maia set for her child, all while continuing to hand an already daydrunk maia glass after glass of mimosa. after all, what was she there for if not to be their personal court jester ?
maia isn't here though, only her child. not that that stops anyone from their usual habits. only a few feet away, mrs. asante has launched into a thrilling retelling of mr. castro's scandalous and immoral behavior over dinner to her husband. of course, it's immediately followed by her dismissing it as an understandable result of the stress he must be under after amelia's disappearance, and a followup from mr. asante on how unfortunate it is that 'she' would take advantage of him in such a state. ah, well can't be too surprised, what with maia being maia and all, mrs. asante responds. it's just a shame how it reflects on poor kiri. hearing this, kiri snorts. instantly coming to mind is amelia's scrawled am i merciful enough to let her separate herself from the sins of her mother ? wherever amelia is now, kiri thinks she'll be happy to know that a pastor and his wife agree with the answer she ultimately came to.
long after the asantes have moved on, kiri still finds herself thinking about it. perhaps that's how benji is able to get so close without her noticing, whole body bristling as his palm finds their back and his breath the shell of their ear. it's some nerve he's got, expecting her to so diligently follow the moment he says to. her already crossed arms fold tighter into themselves, a stubborn wish to deny him what he wants and stay firmly rooted in place trying to take hold. but then he looks over his shoulder at her, dark eyes meeting hers, and suddenly she's back at the dinner table, wide-eyed with disbelief as he says javier's name in front of the very people she knows he's twisted himself into knots to hide it from. a blink and she's further back in time—inside, standing behind angela meyers as she calls benji trouble and all but the youngest asante hums their agreement. another blink and kiri realizes she doesn't know where eliza is, the vacant spot where her mother / friend / companion should be feeling like a gaping hole in her armor. a vulnerability. one she can't help but notice he seems to share. another way they seem to match tonight.
suddenly, safety in numbers doesn't seem like such a bad idea.
slipping into the gap after him, kiri leans their back against the exterior wall of the castro home, the gritty stone cool against their shoulders and the back of their head, which they tilt back to eye him intently. before he can say whatever he's dragged them over to say, they blurt out, ❝ what was that at dinner ? ❞