The Triad

by Sarah Ettritch

  Ann eyed her from a nearby bench. “You want to grab lunch?”

  She wasn’t hungry, but not eating wouldn’t help. “I’ll go with you to the canteen, but I’ll eat in my quarters. I need a nap.” After she’d read the dispatches. “I might go down to the planet, nap on the way.”

  “I thought you might.” Ann hadn’t said anything about the previous evening; she made small talk on the way to the canteen. Mo almost wished Ann would be her usual annoying self. Her restraint showed that she knew how serious the situation was with Les—not that Mo needed anyone to confirm that for her.

  Back in her quarters, she set her sandwich on the sofa and anxiously pulled up Les’s dispatch: Please don’t come down. I have to study for my test, and having you here will make that difficult. I need some time alone right now, and I don’t want you running yourself ragged. How about I come up when I’m off? Les wouldn’t be off until Friday! But it was better than nothing. I do appreciate your concern. Ugh. That sounded so stiff and formal, as if she were writing a flaming “thank you” dispatch. I said I’d beep today, but I need some time. I’ll beep you Friday morning, to let you know what shuttle I’ll be on. Mo, somehow we’ll get through this. I don’t know how, but we will. Love, Les.

  Mo’s vision blurred. She brushed away tears and read Les’s dispatch again. Les’s closing words offered the first glimmer of hope that Mo hadn’t destroyed the precious bond between them. No mention of the Way, no trotting out their obligations to one another as Chosens. Les had spoken from the heart; her statement that their love would endure was more powerful than any articles she could have quoted. Unfortunately, it was also an indication of how much she was hurting, and Mo had been the one who’d stripped her defences and struck a critical blow. Without realizing it!

  She unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite, then typed a reply: Les, I’d love it if you’d come up on Friday. I shouldn’t ask this, but would you consider coming up Thursday night? Don’t feel you have to, but it would give us more time. And yes, we’ll get through this, because I will never give up on us. You want honesty, so here it is: I am a little confused about how I feel about Jayne, but not about us and how I feel about you. I love you. You mean everything to me, and I can’t wait to see you. Words wouldn’t be enough this time, but Mo wrote them anyway. I’ll be thinking about you. Love, Mo.

  Not wanting to over-tinker with it, she pressed the send button. Now Jayne’s dispatch beckoned to her; Mo hated how much she wanted to read it. To prove to herself that she could wait, she ate half of her sandwich before opening the message: How are you today, Mo? How is your violin practice going? I was thinking that, since you’re going with me to the Stewart appointments—Argamon, they were supposed to see Nolan tomorrow!—maybe I should go with you to your audition, if you want me to. I don’t know if having me waiting will make it easier or harder for you, so don’t feel you have to take me along. I’ll be cheering you on, no matter where I am.

  Aw, how sweet. Mo wouldn’t mind taking Jayne with her at all, but how would Les feel about it? How could the three of them even be in the same room now? Mo would feel she had to watch everything she said and did, aware that Les might interpret innocent words and gestures as something deeper. Could Mo only be herself with Jayne when Les wasn’t with them? But wouldn’t that be a different type of betrayal? Les had made it clear that she’d rather be hurt than protected.

  And what about Jayne? She could inadvertently upset Les or embarrass Mo by being friendly and supportive—like offering to go to Mo’s audition with her. But the only way to prevent that would be to tell Jayne about Les’s suspicions—no, about Mo’s feelings for her, and that Les knew. Enough with the denial. She did care about Jayne. Her interest went beyond friendship. But how far? Was she in love with her? Maybe Jayne’s history and vulnerability brought out her maternal instincts. Maybe the fact that Jayne was her Chosen naturally heightened her concern for her. Or maybe she was falling in love. Mo wasn’t sure. But to deny that something was there, to herself and to Les, would only make things worse. Les wanted to face it head-on, so Mo would too.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to tell Jayne about her feelings, and wouldn’t without Les’s permission, anyway. In a moment of clarity, she realized that Les would have to be involved in every step she might take concerning Jayne. Les would have to know about it, be ready for it, and agree to it. Not that Mo wanted to take any steps. Right now, her priority was Les.

  She refocused on Jayne’s message: I’ll almost be finished my painting around the time of your audition. I’d like to show it to you and Lesley. I know you’re not art critics, but I guess I just want some reassurance that the applications committee won’t laugh. I was thinking maybe I could make supper for the two of you. Don’t expect much; it won’t be a grand meal. But I’d like to do it. Would you come for supper? If I send a dispatch to Lesley asking her, do you think she’ll mind?

  “No, no, don’t send her a dispatch!” Mo said aloud. While Les wouldn’t lash out at Jayne, she wouldn’t appreciate a chirpy dispatch from her, either. Mo read the last two lines of Jayne’s message, then quickly typed a reply, worried that Jayne might write to Les before she could stop her: Jayne, I’m on 72. I was ordered up here last night—a little fib wouldn’t hurt—and I’ll still be up here for a few days, so you’ll have to reschedule the appointment with Nolan. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’ll let you know how I feel about my audition when it’s closer. Mo wanted to take Jayne with her, but it would be up to Les. As far as supper and your painting go, yes! I’d love to see your painting and to come for supper.

  She was touched that Jayne wanted to share her painting and cook for them, and knew that Les wouldn’t refuse Jayne on either count. Les might hate the idea of seeing Jayne right now—Mo didn’t know—but Les wouldn’t let that get in the way of honouring her Chosen. Just as she hadn’t let her anguish get in the way of reaching out to Mo last night, of agreeing to come up on her day off, and of promising they’d get through it. Mo wanted to hug her. Argamon, she loved her so much. How could she make Les believe her? Les deserved to believe her.

  Mo heaved a sigh. I’d hold off on asking Les, though. She’s really distracted with her course work right now. Why don’t we talk about it next time we’re all together? Mo cringed at the prospect. And... Oh, we’re having a family supper next week, on Thursday. Papa’s upset because we haven’t eaten together for so long. If you can’t make it, let me know. Though she’d be surprised if Jayne was busy. I’ll talk to you soon. Mo.

  At the same time she pressed the send button, her comm unit beeped twice. She read Les’s reply—I’ll come up on Thursday night—and tried not to feel deflated by its terseness. Les had agreed to come up earlier, and they often sent each other one-liners. Plus, if anyone needed reassurance right now, it was Les, not her. She sent a single line back: I can’t wait.

  Then she finished her sandwich, crawled into bed, and stared at the ceiling for the rest of the afternoon.

  *****

  Mo buzzed around Les, taking her cloak and knapsack and asking if she wanted tziva. She felt as if she were entertaining a guest she desperately wanted to impress. At least Les hadn’t shrunk away when Mo had reached for her in the waiting area; Les’s hug had even felt warm. But she hadn’t said much beyond How are you? and Have you been practising for your audition?

  She hung Les’s cloak and optimistically took her knapsack into the bedroom. The sofa would be a little cramped for someone of Les’s height. “I’ll just get the tziva started.”

  “No, let’s talk first. I don’t want to sit around and sip tziva as if I’m visiting an acquaintance.”

  So Les had felt it too.

  Les lifted an eyebrow. “Any doubts I might have had about whether you love me disappeared when you took my cloak and knapsack. I think I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve done that.”

  Mo’s eyes welled up. “Of course I love you.” She bit her lip, then fought the tide when Les’s
arm slipped around her. She had no right to cry.

  “Come on, let’s sit down.” Les steered Mo to the sofa.

  Mo expected Les to sit in the chair. When Les sat next to her, Mo searched her face. Les looked tired, but otherwise okay, though she was practiced at masking her feelings. Her lack of concern about her appearance last time she was here had indicated how devastated Les had been—and probably still was.

  “Les...” Mo tentatively took her hand, then tightened her fingers when Les didn’t pull away. “What we have...I could never have with Jayne what I have with you. We have so much history. We’ve been through so much together. Our lives are entrenched on a level I don’t think can happen with Jayne. And I don’t mean you’re a habit. I mean that...” She struggled to find the right words. “I mean that my love for you runs deeper than it could for anyone else. Nothing else can touch it, including...including anything I might feel for Jayne.”

  “If the situation was reversed and I said that to you, you wouldn’t believe it.”

  No, she wouldn’t. She would have completely lost control of her senses, berated Les, lashed out at Jayne, made everyone around her miserable. Yet Les, on the surface, appeared calm. Sure, she was the more rational one, but that didn’t mean she never hurt. “How are you feeling, Les? Talk to me. What scares me the most right now is how this is affecting you and how you feel about us. Yeah, maybe I’d deserve it if you couldn’t stand to look at me, but—”

  Les vigorously shook her head. “I told you the other night, I’ll always love you, no matter what.” She looked down at her lap. “I don’t have a choice. About that, or about how to deal with you and Jayne.”

  “There is no me and Jayne!”

  “Not yet, but there will be,” Les stated.

  “I’m not so sure. I don’t think there can ever be anything between me and Jayne, not without me feeling as if I’m betraying you.” Les’s awareness of Mo’s feelings for Jayne already made Mo feel as if she’d let Les down, that she was doing something wrong. “It doesn’t matter that we’re all Chosens. I can’t behave as if our relationship, our love for each other, doesn’t exist.”

  “And I hope you won’t, or this triad will be in serious trouble.” Les’s grip on Mo’s hand tightened. “Realistically, you won’t be able to see Jayne and pretend you don’t like her in that way, not for long. And I can’t be resentful. I can’t be angry with either of you. That’s not to say I won’t be, but I’ll have to learn to live with it.”

  “Les—”

  “There’s no other way, Mo. If I can’t accept it, we’ll be at each other’s throats for the rest of our lives. We’ll be like those triads I read about in the CT134 cases. For us to have a chance at a decent life, I have to accept it. Ironically, the only way I can see us getting through this without hating each other is for me to accept your feelings for her.”

  Knowing Les, she’d put on a brave face while internalizing her pain. “If accepting it means bottling it all up, I don’t think that’ll work.”

  “I didn’t say I’ll never get upset about it.” Les snorted softly. “I already am. But I know what I have to do.” She met Mo’s eyes. “It’ll be hard. I can’t guarantee I won’t take it out on you sometimes.”

  “Les...I know this is a double standard, but when it happens for you, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it at all.” If Les had developed feelings for Jayne first, it would have taken them a lot longer to sit down and have a civil conversation about it. Mo would have been too absorbed in her pain to rationally discuss it.

  “It’s not happening for me, Mo. I’m not sure it’ll ever happen.”

  “I thought the same thing. I honestly believed our arrangement would work because I never expected this to happen. Maybe that’s why I didn’t realize I was developing feelings for her. I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t—ugh.” But this Adams woman, she’s not just anybody. She’s Lesley’s Chosen. The Chosen Council says they’re meant for each other. What had Mo said in response? Something like, she’s my Chosen too and I’ll never be interested. But she was! Mary had been right. The Chosen Council didn’t make mistakes. Since Jayne was Les’s Chosen, it was only a matter of time. Mo’s jaw clenched. She had no right, but she couldn’t help it. Was it happening for Jayne yet? Had she developed feelings for either of them?

  “Are you going to tell her?” Les asked.

  “No. Right now, things feel too fragile between us. I meant what I said. I won’t risk our relationship.” And maybe she was afraid of what Jayne would say... Mo had never been in this position. She and Les had fallen into their relationship; she’d never had to tell someone how she felt and asked if they felt the same. She hoped Jayne reciprocated her feelings, but it would be easier if Jayne didn’t. “And Les, even if I was to tell Jayne and she felt the same way, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to...act on my feelings when you’re not there. I can’t see it! I’ll feel like I’m doing things I shouldn’t be doing behind your back, even when you know about it.” She would always think of Les. How could she not?

  “That might change over time.”

  Mo doubted it, but said, “Maybe. But you know what? Right now, I’m concerned about us, and about how we’ll ever be able to sit in the same room with Jayne together. For me, the priority is us. I’m not saying I don’t care about her. I do. But even she said that our relationship is the foundation, and she’s right. So right now, I want to feel like we’re okay again. I don’t know how, because I feel like I’ve hurt you in a way that can’t be healed.” She blinked back tears. She’d hurt Les so severely that Les doubted her love. “I love you, Les. I really do. That will never change. You said you’ll love me no matter what, and I’m saying the same thing to you. Maybe you’re finding that hard to believe right now, but I mean it.”

  “I admit, one of the reasons this is so difficult for me is that it’s made me feel less special to you.” Les’s lips trembled. She cleared her throat and quickly rubbed at one eye.

  Mo wanted to cry out in frustration. If only she could reach into Les’s heart and make her see! Words were so flaming useless at times like this, but they were all Mo had. “You are not less special. You’re everything to me. Maybe that sounds impossible—it would have sounded impossible to me—but it’s true. It’s true, Les.” She pulled Les into a hug, buried her face in Les’s shoulder, and closed her eyes when Les held her close. At least Les hadn’t said I want to believe you as she had the other night. But her silence worried Mo.

  When they finally drew back, they wiped away tears, but the tension between them had lessened. “We should see Jayne soon,” Les said.

  “I know, but it’s going to be awkward.”

  Les nodded. “But we need to do it. I need to do it. We should see her before your papa’s family supper.”

  “Yeah, we should.” A family supper wasn’t the place to find out how they’d react when they next saw Jayne together.

  “I was thinking we should meet her for a late supper the day you’re back.”

  “Okay.” Mo wasn’t surprised that Les had already given the matter some thought, and was willing to go along with whatever she wanted—not that Les was the only one who wanted to see Jayne. Mo did too, though unlike Les, she’d be pleased to see her—and feel guilty about it.

  “Why don’t you ask her? I’m not trying to avoid her,” Les quickly added. “You always arrange things with Jayne.”

  “I’ll send her a dispatch.” And she’d hold off on asking Les about taking Jayne with her to the audition.

  Les slapped her knees. “Enough about this for now. Do you want to play together, take our minds off it for a while?”

  Les’s abrupt desire to end the conversation didn’t alarm Mo. Nothing they’d say would make it better; they’d go around in circles and wallow in it. “Did you bring your flute? I didn’t see it.”

  “No, I didn’t. Why don’t you make the tziva while I go and borrow one from supply?” Les stood and stretched.

  So Les already
wanted some time on her own. Whatever she wanted right now, she could have. “That sounds good.” There would be more heart-wrenching discussion, maybe as soon as tomorrow. But now it was time for action, and Les’s suggestion that they play together was a positive sign. Mo wasn’t fooling herself—playing with Les would feel a bit like going through the motions—but if they were to heal the bond between them, they had to start somewhere.

  *****

  Lesley leaned over the railing on the raised platform that ringed the arboretum and watched the Rymellans below her. They relaxed on the benches, examined the various shrubs, or strode through the area without so much as a glance at the greenery. When Mo’s shift finished in a couple of hours, they’d have a late lunch. Lesley had quietly planned to leave for Rymel in the late afternoon, but now she intended to stay and have a late supper with Mo. She wanted to stretch out their time together, for Mo’s sake, more than hers. Mo had practically burst into tears when Lesley had climbed into bed with her last night, and was treading around her so carefully that Lesley wouldn’t have been surprised to catch her actually tiptoeing. She couldn’t bear Mo’s acquiescence, or the reasons behind it. She wanted the feisty old Mo back, the one who wasn’t so afraid of disagreeing with or irritating her. She wanted the Mo who loved only her, too, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  Their talk last night had helped, but only a little. Lesley couldn’t deny that Mo still cared about her—Mo’s love was evident in her words and actions—but she still felt empty. Would this feeling that nothing mattered eventually lift? She was asking herself the same questions she’d asked during their separation, except this time, she had Mo. Perhaps she should focus on that—what she had, rather than what she’d lost.