Folding the Sky

-53-

    Zuri exhaled, glancing out at the street around them, the juxtaposition between the hubbub out there and the quiet beneath the awning so polarized, as if they had their own little word, all to themselves. "About Vernon," she said, and watched Sorin's expression fall, the exact reason she hadn't wanted to say it. "I just...I just know how much you wanted your vengeance against him. How much you wanted to avenge Liesel, and I took that from you. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since it happened, and I'm just so sorry—"   

    Sorin flicked her in the forehead, and Zuri sputtered in surprise.

    "Vengeance simply isn't worth the cost of your life, mindreader," Sorin said, raising his head. Though his voice was decisive as he spoke his next words, his eyes were faraway, as if he weren't looking exactly at Zuri, but through her. "Vernon Schmitt is dead now. That's all that matters."

    "Sorin..."

    He took her hand, flashing her a lopsided smile as he left a warm kiss on each of her knuckles. "We should go. Your father's waited long enough."

When they reached her house, the fuzzy evening light softening its peeling yellow paint into a sweet butterscotch hue, Zuri paused in front of the door.

    It wasn't fear that stopped her, she didn't think, but regardless something like it: expectation. For years, Zuri had coveted this moment. The moment she could press an envelope into her father's hands and at once end all his worries, relieve the weight on his shoulders. And now it was here.

    Sorin brushed her shoulder. He nodded her forward as if to say, And I'm also here.

    Zuri opened the door.

    The kitchen was filthy, but that much Zuri would've expected. A teetering tower of dishes climbed out of the sink, the coffee pot left sitting on the stove, the pantry door half-open. Oil-stained rags peeked over the rim of the trash bin in the corner, and a faint mildewy scent tickled Zuri's nostrils.

    She scoffed, shaking her head. Such was her father's curse. He worked far too hard and far too much to pay all that much attention to his living space.

    Zuri patted the envelope in her pocket. But not anymore.

    "Baba?" she called as Sorin nudged the door shut behind him, lingering awkwardly on its threshold. "Baba, it's me."

    "Zuri?" came a voice from upstairs, and then there were footsteps, thundering first above their heads and down the steps, and there was her father: tired, half slumped over, but smiling and giddy and laughing.

    He rushed at her, throwing his arms around her, pulling her in tight. Zuri laughed, letting her eyes fall shut as she returned the embrace. "Baba," she said, resting her cheek on his shoulder, breathing in the familiar, homely scent of him. "I'm home. I'm home at last."

    "Oh, my love," he said, kissing her cheek, releasing her and smiling more. "I never doubted. I never doubted for a second you would come back to me."

    "I couldn't have on my own," she said, and stepped aside, gesturing at their guest, who remained by the door, his hands clasped behind him. "Baba, this is Sorin. A...very, very close companion of mine."

    Sorin rose an eyebrow. Zuri smirked.

    Asante's eyes lit up with curiosity, and though his mouth opened as if to speak, all that came out was a sneeze. His face wrinkled, and he sneezed again, then once more.

    He sighed, blinking tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry about that; I'm not sure what came over me. I'm Asante," he said, and leaned forward, taking Sorin's hand in both of his own. Sorin tensed, but let him. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Sorin. Thank you. Thank you for taking care of my daughter."