Page 40 of Search for the Lost

He levered himself up just in time to see a bright light wash over him as someone opened a door, and then to hear Leo speak.

“Mom?”

14

Leopold

Leo had forgotten about his mother.

That was pretty awful, but maybe also forgivable under the circumstances. He—along with Crispin and the whole merry crew—had been through enough trauma these past few days to stun even his Chaos-soaked soul. Besides, he’d always been easily distractible, and a lot of things had happened since Crispin had dreamed about Leo’s human mother. So maybe it was understandable that the possibility that she was still alive had slipped Leo’s mind.

But now here he was, sopping wet on a familiar carpet, and now here she was, looking back and forth between him and Crispin with a small smile. “Well, this is a good trick, Roly-Poly! How in heavens did you manage to disguise yourself as a fae? And who are your friends?” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Does everyone want cookies?”

“Mom!” was all Leo could manage to say.

She looked exactly as he remembered when he came home from school. He would always be ravenous and disheveled, and he was usually upset over something unkind his teacher or other students had said to him. But there she would be in her mom jeans and a T-shirt from some seventies band, her reddish hair held back by a colorful bandana, and she always seemed genuinely happy that he was home. She would feed him a snack and listen sympathetically to his tales of woe, and then she would help him with his homework while they waited for his dad to get home from work.

It had occurred to him when he was older that his early childhood was… odd. Not odd like he was, but sort of aggressively, stereotypically normal, which was weird. Not many of his classmates had parents who were still married to each other. Even fewer had stay-at-home moms who acted like casually dressed June Cleavers. At the time, however, he hadn’t questioned it. That was how his mother was. And his dad, who wore a tie to work and would toss a baseball around in the backyard with Leo on weekends—despite the inevitable broken windows.

Leo stood up, made a face at his clammy clothing, and sighed. “You’re not really her. She died a long time ago.”

“That is a very rude thing to say, young man. Now, aren’t you going to introduce me to your little friends?”

She was referring, apparently, to Crispin, Aspin, Aunt Uldreyin, Tad, Mr. Whiskers, and Minkis. Only some of whom were little, and all of whom were dripping onto the carpet and looking decidedly unhappy.

“Who are you? Or what?” Leo demanded. He’d loved his parents and lost them far too soon, and after they’d died, he’d been all alone in the world. But he’d done his best to manage his grief and the messes that always surrounded him, and he’d turned out more or less okay despite being an orphan and Chaos Incarnate. And now here was some sort of creature toying with him—toying with his memories—as if they meant nothing. It wasn’t fair.

He might have stomped away immediately, but Crispin caught his hand and gave a gentle squeeze. That show of support, small yet critical, was enough to help Leo regain some equilibrium. He took a cleansing breath. “Can we talk—you, me, and Leo—without the audience?” he asked.

“Of course, dear,” she replied. “Give me a few minutes.” She rounded up everyone except Leo and Crispin and promised them snacks and entertainment in the rumpus room. Which his childhood house had never had, and which brought some unpleasant associations with Wild Things. Also, Leo fully expected most of the group to resist. But just like his mother, this woman managed to be commanding in a way that didn’t feel commanding, and the crowd meekly followed her through a door.

That left Leo and Crispin alone. “Is this what your home looked like?” Crispin asked. He was probably trying to distract Leo from worrying, which was just fine.

“More or less.” Leo looked around more carefully. “Ours was more cluttered, and everything was shabbier. That wasn’t my parents’ fault. It was pretty much impossible to keep things nice with me around.” Around him, things spilled, things fell off shelves, things cracked or tore or faded. Things banged into walls or scraped floors. And his parents had never yelled at him over it. Home had felt like a refuge.

Leo realized he was sniffling slightly. He reached into a pocket and discovered an honest-to-gods fabric hanky, embroidered with Crispin’s initials in bright red thread. Although he had no idea how it had gotten there, he was thankful as he dabbed at his eyes and blew his nose.

The woman returned, smiling. “They have potato chips and cookies and root beer floats. And the television. That should keep them busy for a bit.”

“What are they watching?” Leo didn’t think the answer really mattered, but he was curious.

“RuPaul’s Drag Race. They took to it right away. When I left, the two fae were shouting advice at the contestants. Now, sit down, both of you. I have snacks for you as well.”

The couch was the same brown-plaid one he remembered from his boyhood, although the chenille fabric was in better shape. He remembered snuggling up on that sofa when he was home sick from school, buried under an acrylic crocheted blanket, Sprite and saltines and Kleenex close at hand. The TV would play talk shows and soap operas, and his mom— Jeez, he was going to start sniffling again. He sat on the couch with Crispin close beside him. The woman took the armchair, which matched the sofa.

“All right,” said Leo, almost calm by now, “who are you?”

“I’m your mom. Truly. Not your biological parent, but the one who potty-trained you and bandaged your scrapes and⁠—”

“My mom is dead. Dad too. Camels.”

She looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap, and sighed. When she lifted her gaze again, her eyes were full of sorrow. “I’m sorry, Roly-Poly. We did our best for as long as we could, but time ran out.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Beside him, Crispin eeped and then slapped a hand over his mouth.

The woman—Leo really, really wanted to call her Mom—nodded. “Go ahead, dear. You can tell him.”