Chapter 11: Catharsis

Something felt trapped in my chest as I stood there in hesitation. What should I say? What did I even want to say? Those questions burned through my mind. Each moment that I remained quiet was another moment I left Zophie desperately waiting for my answer. She stared into me with a small, hopeful smile, tear streaks still remaining on her cheeks.

I knew what she wanted me to say, but the words wouldn’t come. An attachment to what was held me back. Mortals had never been a part of my life, and I had been unchanged for centuries. This girl had just come along, and in only a few days, I already felt more emotions running through me than I had the entire rest of my time on earth combined. Even just watching Zophie had made me feel more than I’d ever expected to feel. She wanted a friend; it seemed so simple in principle. And yet, the words stuck in my throat.

Her smile slowly transformed from a hopeful one to a sad one. She looked at me the way I looked at lost humans, drowning in sin.

“Maybe…” she began, and in that moment, I knew that if I didn’t say anything, I’d lose something precious— something I’d come to… appreciate.

“Fine,” I said, the single word forced out of me. The word had rested at the top of a cliff, ready to fall either way. But, it all came down to me realizing one simple fact: I didn’t want to stop seeing her.

It didn’t sound like much, hell, I practically grumbled it out. But, despite my tone and my scowling features, Zophie lit up with uncontainable joy. The emotion poured out of her as a physical force to my metaphysical senses, hitting me so hard I nearly staggered. My shadows quivered at the edges of my vision, as if unsure whether to retreat or embrace her light—a sensation I hadn’t felt since my fall. I didn’t know a single person could contain such an explosive amount of joy.

“Oh!” she cried, wrapping her arms around me and pushing her face into my chest.

I stiffened, the touch not necessarily unwelcome but certainly awkward. I didn’t know what to do with myself as she pushed up against me. She felt warm and soft; her hair, right below my chin, smelled like vanilla. Her arms wrapped just above my waist, tight enough that her strength surprised me.

“Wrap your arms around me, too, silly,” she chastised lightly, her voice slightly muffled by my shirt.

As instructed, I put my arms around her back, slightly unsure what to do with my hands, but ultimately deciding to just lay them flat behind her shoulders.

She let out a long, satisfied breath. “See, Asmo? Things can be happy, you know?” She managed to make it sound pleasant, rather than patronizing.

Yet, this was going to be quite the difficult situation. Now I needed to protect her from Michael, while also maintaining my current supernatural position on Earth. Annoying weaklings would likely start to encroach on my territory, emboldened if they believed me to be going soft. I’d have to make a show of force, get ahead of anything like that happening.

“Now, how about I make breakfast again!”

After breakfast. I’d start planning that after breakfast.

***

Zophie hummed away in the kitchen, a chiming, almost hymn-like tune that I vaguely recognized. Maybe some mortal had been blasting it in one of their stores recently, but the oddness of the tune still stuck out.

“Do you attend church?” I asked, dreading the answer. If she tried to drag me to a church…

“Hmm?” Zophie turned her head around from the pan, looking at me with an innocent ignorance. “No?” she questioned more than answered.

“Really? What song is that?” Normally, I wouldn’t care, but the way I could almost predict the next note was bugging me in some way.

“What song?” She focused back on the ‘pancakes’ as she’d called them. I had no idea what they tasted like, but she certainly seemed excited about it.

“The one you were just humming,” I deadpanned. I knew she wasn’t actually that clueless, so why the feigned ignorance?

“Oh,” she played it off with a small laugh, “I’m not sure where it’s from, actually— just something I remembered I guess.”

Taking that in, I realized my curiosity would forever remain unsatisfied. Well, not that it mattered much anyway. With one hand, she tucked her strawberry blonde hair behind an ear, the glow of her hair grabbing my attention for a moment.

“What about you, Asmo? Are you interested in music?”

“No.”

When I didn’t elaborate further, Zophie took on the task of continuing the conversation. “That’s okay, I have tons of songs that I love! I’ll share it with you next time.”

I almost rejected her outright, the denial on the tip of my tongue. Against my instincts, I swallowed my aversion, deciding that it’d be worth it if she enjoyed it. “Sure.”

She flipped another pancake off onto a plate before putting a lid over the entire thing. With a snap of the turning mechanism, she turned the stove off. “Okie dokie, breakfast is served!” Grabbing the saucepan she’d left on the stove, she brought that over with the plate of pancakes.

With a grunt, I got up to grab some plates and forks. When I sat back down with them, I handed one of the plate-fork pairs over to Zophie, who beamed at me with a thankful smile.

“When I was little,” Zophie began unprompted, already serving some pancakes to both of us, “my dad used to make pancakes every Saturday. I still continue the tradition.” Moving over to the saucepan, she scooped out some homemade blueberry sauce and put it on our pancakes. “He loved raspberries, but for me, they’re too sour.” She paused for a small giggle. “If he knew I was making his homemade pancake fruit syrup with blueberries, he’d throw a fit!”

That was the second time she’d mentioned her dad, I noted. She didn’t seem at all unwilling to share her past with me, trusting and open as she was. She really wasn’t like other mortals, I thought.

“I think your dad would just be happy you’re enjoying yourself,” I said, surprising her.

She looked at me with wide eyes for a moment before that bright smile graced her again. Looking down at her plate, unconsciously reverential, she said, “I think you’re right.”

“Now!” She turned her face up to me abruptly. “This time you have to actually eat the food I make, okay? Last time, you just gave your portion to me…” She glared at me like a particularly miffed hamster— completely soft, fluffy, and harmless.

“Yeah, yeah,” I waved her chastisement off. “Sure, I’ll try this food of yours.”

“Not just food, breakfast,” she stressed. “B-er-eck-faas-t,” she enunciated, sounding out the ‘t’ harshly.

“Yeah, sure.” Grabbing my fork, I brought it down to the plate in front of me. While I had all the necessary parts for eating mortal food, I didn’t exactly consider it to be a pleasant experience. I cut into the fluffy morsel, spearing it and using it to mop up some of the sauce. When I brought it up to my mouth, I braced for it to be unpleasant. Instead, when it hit my tongue a light sweetness danced across my tastebuds. The flavor was so very Zophie in a way that made the experience altogether not unpleasant.

“You’re smiling,” Zophie stated teasingly, a grin upon her lips.

“Am not.”

“You are! I see it! See, just like that!” She pointed at me with her fork. “You’re smiling.”

“I never smile,” I said back, more to tease her than anything else.

“Hmm-hm. Whateeever you say.” She kept grinning at me.

“Eat your mortal food,” I huffed out.

She let out one last snort before digging back into her own plate. We ate in silence for a little while. I limited myself to small bites, not too much to overwhelm me. The flavor was a lot for someone who normally wouldn’t ever eat food. I didn’t hate it, but I probably wouldn’t do it too often— only if Zophie insisted.

“Asmo?” Zophie’s voice caught my attention, pulling me away from my last pancake.

“Yeah?”

“What you said about Michael earlier— why would he care who you’re friends with? It shouldn’t matter, right? Isn’t he your friend, too? True friends aren’t supposed to try and control who else you can be friends with, you know.”

“Michael and I are not friends. More like…” How could I put this in a way she’d understand? “I guess you could call him more of my mentor, helping me at work and such.”

“Oh.” She paused again, but then continued her earlier question. “You really aren’t in a gang, right?” She looked at me skeptically.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not.”

“Then why does he care?”

Letting out a sigh, I fully put my fork down and turned to focus on Zophie. “He hates people. It’s that simple.”