Once again, there’s silence.
“Margot?” I call, this time a little louder. I don’t think she’s messing with me, but maybe I took our drunk bonding dance party more to heart than she did.
“Margot, this better not have been a sick joke. Margot, this is scary now.”
The parlor-trick moment is gone for me. I want out and I don’t care who helps me.
“Margot!” I shout.
I hear a click echo in the shaft. A glimpse of movement catches my eye from above. There’s another rectangular door space above me. It must go to an attic where they keep supplies.
“Hello?” I call. I keep my eyes peeled in every direction but I see no one. I hear nothing. Was that Rini, or a ghost? The magic I felt in the pantry is gone and the haunting feeling is back.
I begin to pound on the door and shout at the top of my lungs. A moment later the door to Margot’s room pops open. I push it wide as a woman with dark hair slips out into the hallway. Rini?
“Wait,” I call. I unfurl my legs to chase after her, but I collapse to the ground next to Margot’s bed. My right thigh has fallen dead asleep. The pins and needles burn. I hobble to stand, using the desk chair as a crutch, but before I can chase after the woman, I spot the note. It’s handwritten in hasty chicken scratch.
You shouldn’t be here.
“Aimee?” Margot opens the door to her bedroom as I massage my leg.
“What took you so long?” I ask.
“Ted caught me downstairs. He wanted to dance to the end of ‘Watermelon Sugar’ before he’d let me go. Are you okay?”
“Look.” I show Margot the note.
“Is it a warning to stay out of the dumbwaiters?” she asks.
I’d love to believe that, but even I’m not that delusional. Although it was on the desk in Margot and Ted’s room, something tells me this note was written for me. It’s the same message I’ve been getting from my intuition all weekend. Unfortunately, there’s nothing that can be done now that the storm has locked us inside. I’m stuck in this house with something or someone who doesn’t want me here. And she’s getting bolder.
RINI
I didn’t get what I needed out of the Moon Men event last night, but I have a new plan. This time I’m not going to hint at the subject, and I’m not going to convince myself there’s always tomorrow. I’m going to get what I brought him here for, and I won’t stop until I do.
As I turn the corner from my private office hidden upstairs in the second wing, I slam into Rick and Eden. They’re standing very close to each other, face-to-face and holding hands. The vibe is intimate but intense.
“Just the woman I didn’t realize I needed,” Rick says.
“I’m gathering everyone downstairs for a game,” I say.
“A game?” Eden asks.
“This is a game I play with the guests who elect to do the group readings since we have more unstructured time.”
“Can I ask you something first?” Rick asks.
“We don’t need to drag her into this. This is between us,” Eden says.
“I was describing the revelation that came over me at the Moon Men event last night. It explains why I personally am attracted to a nontraditional relationship.”
“She knows about our situation,” Eden says sheepishly. She looks down at her feet, knowing how much more information I have from our reading. That Eden is having a secret affair, that she is craving monogamy with this new man. She doesn’t know I saw her and Adam on the lawn later that night. Either way, I would never betray her confidence. That’s her fate, not mine.
“She also knows why I’m about to ask you to change it,” Rick says to Eden. We both look at him, but I’m not connecting the dots.
“What’s the number-one tenet of polyamory?” Rick asks.
“Communication,” Eden says.
“And specifically, consent,” Rick says.
The dots are merging for me now.
“I once had an experience where the woman suggested I didn’t have consent. In the arrangement you and I have, there’s nothing unsaid. We are up-front and honest with each other, and with any potential third partner. There’s nothing implied. It’s all express.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with the past and this woman,” Eden says.
“I was horrified when I’d learned what she thought of our encounter. Horrified. I am not that guy, Eden.”
“I know. Of course, I know that.”
“I have spent my whole adult life leaning into express consent as if the quantity of encounters where I received it could erase that one terrible interaction where I didn’t have it.”
“That actually makes sense, from a psychological perspective,” I add, reminding them that I’m witnessing this very tender and private moment.
“What if we try monogamy?” Rick asks.
Eden’s face lights up. “Are you sure?”
