Chuckling, I side-eyed him. “Are demiurgus stomachs in your legs? Is that why you’re so tall, so you can fit all the food in there?”
He shot me a dry look. “That was terrible.”
Laughing, I gave his arm a weak shove and saw the frondy tips of his ears flutter against his hair, which was pulled back into a knot.
“I’ll ignore that sass this time,” I told him with mock sternness. His ears twitched again.
“So, um…” He sounded a little flustered. “Is there anywhere in particular you want to go today?”
I shrugged. “Not really. It’ll just be nice to walk around without being looked at funny because I won’t be with one or two other cult members in their all-beige outfits. Although… I should probably start concentrating on finding a job. Or at least trying to see what kind of place I’d want to work. And be able to work at. With no experience.”
Greid frowned down at me. “Beryl, you’ve been out less than a day.”
“I know, but I want to buy myself stuff. I want to contribute toward the bills and treat us to dinner. It shouldn’t all fall on you.”
“But I don’t mind—”
“I know you don’t.” I smiled up at him. “You’re already being so generous. I’m not going to take advantage of it for an easy ride. Besides”—I exhaled a hard breath—“I want to be independent. I guess I convinced myself that I was saying ‘fuck what’s expected of me, I’ll do it the way I want’ by using the cult for a comfortable life. But now that I’m away from it, it’s easier to see that the negatives hugely outweighed the positives. Sure, I had a big room and all my meals cooked for me and a comfortable place to live. But there were also the enforced bedtimes and strict diet and almost complete isolation from the outside world. I gave up a lot of freedom because I… felt safe there, I guess.”
Cheeks flushing, I glanced up at Greid. “Sorry, didn’t mean to start ranting.”
“No, I understand,” he said quietly. “Life is scary as shit. Expectations—and taxes—suck balls. And if there’s no one around to give you a gentle nudge out of your comfort zone… well, you’re not gonna do it. Most people, anyway. I’ve built a fortified wall around my comfort zone. And a moat. And I dug down deeper when Agma—my ex—tried to force me out of my comfort zone.”
I snorted, already feeling better after the hints of self-loathing that had begun to rise as I spoke. “I like your comfort zone. But if you did want a little push outside of it, maybe I could help you. I’ll build you a little bridge to get over the moat.” I grinned up at him. “We could do new things together. Not that I think you need to just for the sake of it. I think you have an awesome life already.”
Greid huffed. “I’m a recluse who spends his free time getting high and watching shitty TV.”
“So? Those things are fun, and why should you have to do more than that? If that’s what you enjoy doing, why should other people get to decide that you’re not doing enough?”
We’d turned onto the next street, which was busy with people on their way to work. No one paid any attention to us as we walked slowly, except for a few who huffed at our leisurely pace and strode pointedly past us.
After a little while, Greid said, “Agma always used to say that I should get ‘proper’ hobbies. Make myself more worldly like her. She spends her weekends hiking with friends or going to galleries or seeing boring movies that don’t have a single explosion in them.”
I wrinkled my nose, but I didn’t want to make snide comments about his ex, so I said, “And those things are great for her, but that doesn’t mean they’re great for you. Don’t let people make you feel bad for the way you live your life, Greid. If being with the cult taught me anything, it’s that as strange as some people might think your choices in life are, they’re your choices to make. Sure, I think the cult members are a little odd, but I’ve never said it to their faces, and I never would. They’re adults who made their choices. They’re happy. They don’t deserve to be shamed for that when they’re not actually hurting anyone.”
“But you said the cult is super strict. Are they actually happy?”
I shrugged. “They all genuinely seemed it. Some people like following rules and being told what to do. It makes them feel calm and well-adjusted. And some people don’t want to think beyond what that day brings them, and they find comfort when that day is going to be exactly like the one before. And the one before that. All of us were free to leave at any time. They’re not being kept there. Unless the cult starts doing something terrible, like actively trying to recruit new, young members with false promises, then… I guess they’re not harming anyone except possibly themselves.”
“Did anyone ever leave? While you were there?”
“Yeah, a few people who joined then decided it wasn’t for them. No one’s forced to give up their worldly possessions or hand over all their savings or anything when they join, so I’m hoping they were able to just go back to their normal lives.”
Greid stopped, still clutching his parcels. “Do you…” He trailed off as his face spikes twitched. “Sorry, don’t worry.”
I took a step closer so we weren’t blocking the whole path. “No, what were you going to say?”
“It might be a little cruel to ask, but… do you wish you’d left sooner? Now that you have?”
I thought about it for a second, then admitted, “I don’t know. But… I don’t think there’s much point in regretting it. It’s done now. But I am glad that I’ve left.” I smiled up at him, feeling my cheeks grow warm. “I’m… I’m glad I decided to do it with you, Greid.”
He stared down at me, yellow eyes locked with mine, until a harried-looking demiurgus in a business suit bumped into his back as he strode past. Greid glanced around sheepishly, then nodded at the building behind me. “Just going to drop these off before we get coffee.”
I turned and saw that we’d stopped outside a small post office. “Oh, sure.”
Greid held the door open for me, his long arm stretching easily above my head, and I looked around as I entered. It was kind of dull, to be honest. A bland, dim space with a display of office and postage supplies for sale, and a row of counters with bored-looking attendants behind a few of them.
We didn’t really talk as we waited in the short queue, because it was quiet in here. When we finally reached the counter and Greid started talking to the attendant, I noticed that he was a lot more reserved and quietly composed than when he spoke to me. It made my insides warm with pleasure at the thought that he maybe felt comfortable around me, or was starting to, and was his real self when we were alone.
He’d said the suit was like his armour when he went out, which I understood. I doubted there were many people in the world who acted exactly the same in public as they did in the privacy of their own home. I liked seeing both sides of him. It was like he’d let me in on a little secret.
Once he was done and the attendant had carelessly dumped the packages in a big bin behind her—which made Greid wince—we left the post office and walked a little bit further to the coffee place. DEEP BREW was written above the door in big blocky letters, and a little plaque by the window declared, “Proudly demiurgus-owned and operated”.
The line almost reached the door when we stepped inside, but I didn’t mind. It gave me time to examine every inch of the menu mounted on the wall behind the counter, as well as the big glass display case filled with pastries and other breakfast foods.