Chapter 12: Sid At The Threshold
The curtain no longer hid the opening. I had pulled it aside far enough for the warm room to reach the back area, and the light stopped just short of Sid’s shoes. Dust showed in the beam. So did the narrow strip of floor where the covering had been dragged back and forth.
Sid stayed inside the darker space.
I lowered myself until we were nearly at the same height. I kept my hand on the floor instead of reaching for them again. The boards were cold beneath my palm. Behind me, the room held its ordinary sounds: the faint electrical hum, the tick of something near the wall, the soft movement of air through the fabric. None of it matched the shape of the moment.
I turned my body sideways, leaving the threshold open.
“There,” I said, though the word belonged to the first instant, before I understood how much of the room had been arranged around not seeing. I watched Sid’s face for a response. Nothing came. Their eyes moved from my hand to the open room and back again.
I did not ask them to come out. The question felt like another hand reaching in.
Instead, I moved my knee away from the opening. Then I shifted farther, until Sid could pass without touching me. The space between us was narrow but clear. It was the only offer I could make without pretending to know what they wanted.
The fabric above us gave a small shiver.
I looked toward it, then back at Sid. “Hey, Sid.”
Their head lifted by a fraction. The change was so slight I nearly missed it. One shoulder drew forward. Their fingers pressed against the floor, testing the edge where shadow met light.
I held still.
For a moment, I thought they would move toward me. Then their hand withdrew, and the darkness took it back. That retreat landed harder than any accusation could have. I had been measuring the opening as if its width could prove I was safe. Sid measured it as if it proved the opposite.
A sharp smell reached me from the back area, damp and stale beneath the dust. I leaned just enough to see the lower corner of the hidden space. The trace we had found earlier remained where I had left it, protected under its clear covering. I had wanted to preserve it. Now I understood that preservation also meant leaving the past exactly where it had been found, close enough to trap us.
“Ready doing?” I said.
The words sounded wrong in the quiet, but they were mine to carry because they had already been spoken. I let them fall without explanation. Sid’s gaze shifted past me, toward the main room.
Something clicked there.
Not the small, familiar tick from the wall. A heavier sound. A latch, or a handle turning against resistance.
My breath tightened. The domestic room suddenly seemed too open, the curtain too thin. If someone entered, they would see the exposed threshold, the disturbed floor, and me kneeling beside Sid. There would be no time to put the space back without making the choice for them again.
I glanced at the opening. Sid had moved one hand into the light.
I rose slowly and stepped away from the threshold, keeping my back turned toward the room. “There's something else back there.”
The handle moved again.
Sid’s hand slid forward until their wrist crossed the line of light. They did not come all the way out. They did not retreat.
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“Wait.”
The word was already leaving me when the door began to open.
