BooksBarbecue
Back The Infinity Courts Save as PDF
Chapters (52)
  1. Dedication
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  52. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Right now I’m too busy feeling like the coward he thinks I am.

16

ANNIKA’S FRONT DOOR IS CARVED into the side of a massive tree on the ground level. I step inside, expecting to find a quaint hut resembling something out of a fairy tale, but I’m greeted instead by color-block curtains and metal furniture. A few stone steps spill out into a larger room, and the back wall is made entirely of glass, with an archway that leads into a makeshift greenhouse. The scent of blossoming jasmine and honeysuckle fills the space, and I’m transfixed by so many shades of emerald and olive.

“Would you like tea?” Annika asks from behind a dark wood counter, two red mugs in her hands.

I nod. Food isn’t necessary in Infinity, but lots of people still find it comforting. Maybe it’s the nostalgia—or maybe the perfect hot beverage just makes things better.

She lifts the matching red teapot and pours steaming liquid into both cups, motioning toward the milk and sugar nearby.

“Milk and two sugars, please,” I say, holding up my fingers.

Annika’s smile is like a burst of light—of hope. “Shura takes her tea the same way. The parent in me wants to say something, but I guess there’s no harm in a bit of extra sugar here. Not like it’s going to kill us.”

I take the mug and smile back. “Thanks.”

She sits down on the metal couch, the seating padded with black cushions. I take a seat on the chair opposite her and blow carefully at the rising steam.

“I’m sorry about the way you died,” she says, full of unquestionable sincerity. “I mean it. No parent should have to lose their babies so young. No parent should have to bury their babies at all—it’s not the way things are supposed to go. You deserved a longer life.” Sadness flickers in her eyes, like she’s recalling a memory from a long time ago.

“Did you have kids?” I ask. “Before Shura, I mean.”

Annika nods carefully. “I did. A little girl.” The faraway sadness remains.

I grip the warmth of the mug. “Is… is she here? In Infinity?”

She shakes her head and sips her tea. “Have you noticed there aren’t any babies here?”

I frown. “I guess I didn’t.”

She runs her thumb against the red ceramic. “I think they go somewhere else. We come here with our bodies and our memories and our baggage from our old lives, but the little ones?” She hums. “When I died, I just knew she wasn’t here. I couldn’t feel her. I guess that’s why I didn’t take the pill. I wasn’t bothered about paradise when my baby wasn’t in it.”

“I’m sorry.” Maybe I shouldn’t have pried.