More from Onyx Sun, a science fiction novel currently in revision hell. Taliya and her father have finished dinner and have moved to the living room to talk.
As she settled onto the sofa Taliya let her gaze travel the room. The walls were blue and the beige furniture was covered with brightly colored throws. Photos hung on the walls in a seemingly random pattern, and open books and half finished cups of coffee littered the end tables. A long low coffee table held parts of what looked like half-completed leather working projects. Shelves along one wall held books, more photos, and a few mementoes of other places. All in all it felt comfortable, like a place to live, not just visit, and Taliya couldn’t help but relax.
“It’s not much,” her father apologized. “Not as fancy as what you’re used to I’m afraid.”
Taliya shook her head. “It… No, it’s not what I’m used to, but I like it better. It feels…”
“It feels like…” She didn’t want to use the word home – this wasn’t her home. “It feels comfortable, like someone lives here. Maureena’s house is more of a museum than a home.” She winced, not at the word home, but at the bitterness in her voice.
He smiled as he sat down across from her. “My door is always open to you, Taliya, and you can stay as long as you like, or as long as you need.”
For a moment she couldn’t speak: his kindness affected her in ways that her mother’s cruelty never could. “Thank you,” she managed. “That…”
“Is non-negotiable. I’ll help you bring your things in later. Now,” he said as he settled back into his chair, “it’s time to tell you things I wanted you to know years ago.”
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