I get in a cab with Arrow, happy that he offered to come with me. He always seems to be watching out for me, and maybe he could sense I’ve been having a hard time at home.

“I’m going to apologize ahead of time for anything that my mom might say.”

Arrow reaches for my hand. “Don’t apologize for your family,” he says. “At least you have a mom.”

“You don’t have any family?” I ask.

“When Gaia found us we had been abandoned after a terrible fire killed our families. We were so young, so alone in the world, but she looked out for us.”

I swallow. “It’s still strange to think about you as shifters.” I want to see them shift, watch as their bodies change form, but it feels intrusive to ask.

“I know, it’s weird for me too. It’s like, I’m part of the human world, but not entirely. Always set apart.”

“That’s how I’ve felt too,” I admit. “Mom always made sure I kept my distance. It made for a lonely childhood.”

“Maybe it’s not all bad though, Lark, that she was so protective of you. I mean, it’s the same thing as what Gaia wanted us to do. Maybe your mom isn’t just superstitious–maybe she has a reason to be so paranoid about you.”

Arrow comes across as so intelligent and wise, not spouting off about emotions or letting any rivals get in the way of his words, and I want his opinion “Do you think I’m being a brat, refusing to talk to my mom?”

Arrow laces our fingers together. “You want my approval?”

I shrug. “Maybe?”

“But it’s your life, Lark.”

“So, what? You’re at my service, or whatever. Sent here to watch over me and I get to call all the shots?”

“Do you want to?”

“No.” I pull back. “I mean, I don’t need to.”

“But would it be nice for a change?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, your mom seems to have made a lot of choices for you. Maybe now you can make choices for yourself. Do you want to keep fighting? Or do you want something else?”

“I don’t want to make a decision that hurts anyone.”

Arrow’s face softens and for the first time, his dark eyes seem a comfort instead of a threat. “That’s what I love about you, Lark... You care about people–you care about your mom. That’s how I know it’s all going to be okay. Maybe not how we planned, but you’re going to be okay, Lark. Maybe just, you know, start with forgiveness?”

“Forgiveness, huh?” I look at him with a smile, the idea of making amends with my mom feels overwhelming. But also important. “You seem to have it all figured out and under control. Cool, calm, collected.”

He shakes his head, his eyebrows raised. “No, I’m just as nervous as you. I’m not experienced, either.”

“Oh?”

The cab pulls up to my house, but I don’t move. Neither does he.

“No. That’s why I wanted to ride over with you. I wasn’t sure how tonight might go, but I want you to know, I’m a virgin. The other guys aren’t, and I don’t want to ruin this night for you.”

“You won’t ruin anything, Arrow. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

I lean over and kiss his lips, softly, and then tug on his hand, leading him to my house. Neither of us knows where this night might go.

At the front door, I look up and see four hawks perched on the lamppost. I give them a small wave but don’t invite them in. Right now, I feel more comfortable being alone with Arrow.

“My mom will have questions. Just warning you.”

He nods, and I unlock the door. Mom is waiting in the kitchen. Always waiting for me.

It breaks my heart now that I understand why. She’s so scared of losing me. She thinks she already has.

“Lark,” she says with relief. “I was getting so worried.”

“I told you not to worry about me anymore.” I pull Arrow closer. “This is Arrow, a cast mate.”

Mom cocks her head to the side. “What an interesting name.”

“He’s a straight shooter, just like the name suggests,” I tell her.

“Interesting.” She purses her lips and doesn’t say more.

“Mom, don’t be weird.”

“I’m not weird.” She swats the air with her hand. “I’m surprised you’re here, honestly. You’ve been so …”

“I know. I’m trying to sort things out. And I have the show. And … I just stopped by to get a change of clothes.”

“You’ll be gone all night then?” she asks, tears springing to her eyes.

“Yes, Mom, I will.”

“Right, well, then.” She wipes her eyes and takes a long, deep breath. “Before you go, do you want a reading, Arrow?”

He looks at me and I shrug, knowing this is her signature move. “Just one card though, Mom.”

The fact Arrow agrees to the reading makes Mom happy, and she reaches into a cabinet for her favorite deck. I put on the teakettle and pull down three mugs as Mom begins shuffling her cards, telling Arrow to sit across from her.

“Have you just flown into town, then?” she asks.

I turn to her and flash her a look of warning.

“What?” Mom smiles. “It’s not a secret. And I can tell you’ve talked things out with him. I’m glad. You need to have people who understand you.”

“I’m not a bird, though, am I?” I ask.

Mom though, just shrugs. “I don’t actually think I have any idea what you are, Lark.”

My fingers tense as I grab tea bags. “Neither do I.”

Mom closes her eyes and begins to breathe deeply, hovering her hands over the deck and whispering an incantation I haven’t a clue about.

The kettle whistles and I pour the water and then deliver the mugs to the table. I sit next to Arrow and squeeze his knee. As if he needs assurance, which I highly doubt.

He may say he is inexperienced, but there is something about him that screams absolute control.

“Cut the deck, please,” she instructs him. And he does, straight down the middle.

“Alright, love,” she says, smiling. Her silver hair is piled up high on her head and her cheekbones are pronounced. Sitting here, I can’t help but feel a surge of love toward her.

She nods as if knowing what she’d pull. She sets it on the table, the Ace of Arrows.

“What does it mean?” he asks.

Mom explains: “This suit represents the rational mind and its ability to discriminate. Swords cut through things in order to pierce illusion, to differentiate between fantasy and reality.”

“Which means?” he asks.

“It means my daughter would be wise to listen to you. You know what you’re here for, and you’ll accomplish what you’ve set out to do.”

Arrow smirks. “I don’t think this card is for me.”

Mom cocks her head to the side, considering. Then blinks, the tears springing back to life. Then she nods, twisting the card and turning it to face me.

“You’re right, Arrow,” she says with conviction. “It’s Lark who can differentiate between fantasy and reality. Lark will discover what she is and who she is, when the time is right. She would be wise to listen to her own heart.”

I pull her into my arms. I don’t understand her in so many ways, but I know, deep down, that she’s always had the best intentions.

I’ve watched her my entire life, pulling up her bootstraps and making our lives whole and beautiful. She made a business out of her own two hands. She also made every effort to help me learn how to move my body, across the stage or around a room.

Any elegance or grace I possess it is because I had her as my guide. Arrow and the other men may have had Mother Earth, but I had her.

I am proud to be hers. Even if she infuriates me. Even if she has lied to me.

She’s not a goddess from some mythological realm. She is here, present, and real. She is my mother even if my bones are not her bones, even if my blood is not her blood.