The Moonshaped Sorrow (Open Novella Contest 2020)

Chapter Two: Untouched by Blessings

 "We have to sell the house." The words left his mother's mouth after a long month of her sorrow cloud growing steadily larger, as they tried time and again to sell enough bits and pieces of their own to keep the rest. It was not enough. The clocks Mollie had crafted with the aid of her Blessing had been all that supported them. With that gone and debts looming, he'd known for days if not weeks now that it was only a matter of time until she made this pronouncement.

He kept his gaze centered on the tomato he was chopping. He had a few tomato plants grow ripened produce this season, but no one would buy. Not when there was a seller down on Feyrifi with a Blessing for doubling produce in size, and a gardener in Granfi whose Blessing let her ripen fruit instantly and perfectly. He'd heard too of one Blessing that prevented crops from withering, and another that sped up plant growth. With so many Blessings to perfect your produce, no one would buy a measly few tomatoes untouched by Blessings.

"I know." That was all there was to say. If he had said any more, his voice might slip and reveal some of the churning emotions he was fighting to keep buried.

But his mother frowned at his short response, and added, as if concerned he wasn't grasping it, "I'm afraid we won't be able to pack any part of your garden with us."

He smiled. He couldn't help it. To think for a moment that this very scenario hadn't occurred to him before, that he hadn't spent hours laying sleepless in bed first stressing its possibility then mourning its certainty, was nearly laughable.

"I know."

"Cori..."

Cori met his mother's gaze. There were too many lines carved through her face from the weeks of stress. Her big blue eyes glimmered with the reflection of her anxiety. She would not be able to bear Cori's unhappiness in addition to her own.

"It's all right, Ma." He lied easily. So easily he thought no one would ever guess it was perhaps the first time he'd ever lied to her so blatantly. "They're just plants. Come next spring, I can plant more."

They were not just plants. Each one was a unique living creation that Cori had spent hours laboring over to ensure it thrived in the exact right conditions. He'd put a little bit of his soul into everyone. They could only be more individual to him if they had nicknames.

"Oh Cori."

He finished chopping the tomato and let the knife rest against the cutting board. He placed one palm on his mother's shoulder. "Like you said, I need to spend more time out of the garden anyway."

Despite his words, his mother's sorrow cloud did not shrink or lighten. If anything, it darkened.

He forced out another smile. "I mean it, Ma. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

Without the garden to occupy his mind or his time, Cori's focus had to turn to ways to help his family get through the money crunch. He tried to view this as a positive.

The only odd job he could find around town that wasn't already taken by someone with a Blessing for it was local laundry. While his mother fretted over bills at home, Cori went from house to house collecting clothes to wash. It didn't pay well-in fact, it barely paid at all- but it was something to do with his hands now that he didn't have his garden.

One day after he finished collecting the latest loads of wash to be done at his new house, Guin crossed Cori's path again. This time, he spotted her before she saw him. For an instant he contemplated taking a different way to his destination, but before he could decide, Guin's gold gaze alighted on his.

Her dark lips parted into a smile, but something about the emotion didn't reach her eyes. She lifted one hand in greeting. He just nodded in her direction. The load in his arms preventing him from returning the gesture.