The Genius

by Elin Peer

  As if I were pushing burning lava through my nostrils, I exhaled a little, forcing my cramped lungs to relax. It felt like a desperate need for survival, but one small breath at a time my lungs began to cooperate and breathe again. Scared from my anxiety attack, I curled up in a fetal position and sobbed for hours, reminding myself over and over again that I should be grateful for the time I’d spent with Marco, and that I’d always have the memories.

  By four in the morning, I still hadn’t slept, but I’d come to terms with my decision to sacrifice my own happiness for his. Wasn’t that the true essence of love anyway? I would act as normal as possible and find it in me to be happy for him when he left. In three days it would all be over. That was seventy-two hours of hiding my feelings from the man I loved.

  When Marco called me in the morning, I was confused and sleep-deprived.

  “What time is it?” I asked with a large yawn.

  “Nine. How’s your head feeling? Do you have a hangover?”

  I yawned again and stretched my arms. “I feel like I’ve been doing intense fight training for a week. My body is sore all over.”

  “Everyone has a different reaction to alcohol.”

  I tried to move but moaned from the pain in my stomach muscles. This wasn’t alcohol. This was the result of sobbing for hours. My body was exhausted and I could hardly lift my arms.

  “Can I see you?”

  “You are seeing me.”

  “In person.” He sounded more eager than normal.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No, I just thought we could spend some time together today. I have a training session at twelve, but it should only take about two hours. We could meet up for a late lunch.”

  “You want to take me out for lunch?” My tone was incredulous, since that had never happened.

  Marco hesitated. “If you want… or I could bring some takeout to your office like the other times.”

  “Right.” I rubbed my eyes, remembering his words: that he didn’t want to be seen in public with me. I was his dirty secret who could ruin his chances with Louisa.

  “What do you say, your office around two thirty?”

  I yawned again and rolled on my side. “I need some more sleep.”

  Marco smiled. “Where is the troll machine?”

  “I only use it twice a week now.”

  “More a princess than a troll then, are you?”

  “Neither.” I cleared my throat feeling that familiar pressure in my chest from last night, but I managed a small smile. “Just the same quirky Shelly that I’ve always been.”

  “Talking about that… Did you really ask Hunter and Storm if they wake up with morning wood? Storm told me before we went to bed. You should have seen him –he was laughing so hard about it, saying that he’d never seen Hunter look so awkward in his life.”

  I wrinkled my forehead. “Hunter was the one bringing up aging and future health concerns. I was just pointing out that for men morning wood is one of the indications that they are healthy.”

  “Shelly. You can’t ask a man that sort of thing. That shit is like… personal.”

  “I see.” It was classic Shelly to either share too much information or ask questions that were too personal. “In that case give Storm my apologies, and I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.” I pulled my blanket higher.

  “Storm doesn’t know that anything is going on between us. He just thinks you’re hilarious.”

  “Right.” My tone was flat. It was one more thing I could add to my long list of why Marco was better off without me. My lack of social finesse. More tears were pressing behind my eyes and feeling heavy as a house; it suddenly felt impossible for me to keep up a charade. “Actually, Marco, I can’t do lunch today. I’m kind of busy finishing off my research project.”

  “Oh, okay, can I see you later then?”

  “I’m sorry, but today won’t work.”

  Marco ran his hands through his hair. “Shelly, what’s going on? Did I offend you?”

  I gave a small shake of my head, the tightness in my jaw and throat making it hard to speak. “No. I’m just busy and besides, you have to prepare for the tournament.”

  “Tomorrow then?”

  I had to end the call or he’d see me break down. “Not sure. I’ll get back to you on that.”

  Marco’s voice grew in volume. “Shelly, what’s going on?”

  Tears were pressing, and turning the camera away from my face I spoke fast. “Nothing. I have to pee, so we’ll talk later.” I ended the conversation knowing that Marco had to be sitting back in confusion about what had just happened.

  It had been a month since I pretended to be a sex-bot and since then we’d enjoyed sex together numerous times. There was nothing I’d rather do than be close to him again, but my heart couldn’t take it anymore. Like in a jigsaw puzzle, pieces of what had happened between us at the party yesterday began to fall into place.

  Marco had acted almost jealous and told me not to drink or smoke weed. He’d denied that it was possessiveness, and I had been so disappointed. At least if he was possessive it would have meant that I mattered to him.

  The minutes we shared with deep eye contact had made me feel like a thousand butterflies were playing tag inside my body. I had felt such a deep connection between us, but the mind will show you what you want to see. Marco’s denial that there was a special connection between us, when Willow asked him, suddenly rang truer than it had yesterday when I’d convinced myself that he was lying. Now that Marco had just pointed out to me how awkward I was and how his friends were laughing at me, it all made sense. How could I not have seen that the reason he didn’t want me to get drunk or high yesterday was that he was embarrassed by me? That’s why he wouldn’t take me out to lunch either. Sure, he didn’t want me to mess up his chances with Louisa, but he didn’t want to be embarrassed by me either.

  With an angry movement, I dried away a tear. I might be embarrassing and quirky, but I still had pride.

  Unrequited love is for masochists. I had read it somewhere, and my photographic memory fetched it back like a well-trained dog trying to be helpful.

  I wish I could throw my feelings for Marco away or bury them like a bone, deep enough to forget about. But my brain didn’t work like that. I had clear memories from my early childhood, and I would remember my love for Marco to the day I died.

  Inhaling deeply, I forced air down lungs that felt like an iron band was squeezing them. Never again would I let anyone tell me that I didn’t have emotions. I had too many and they hurt.

  I should have known that a bit of clean skin and bigger breasts didn’t make much difference. I was still Brainy and Marco was still my secret crush.

  A message popped in. “Please can I see you tomorrow?”

  I knew what this was about. Marco wanted to have sex with me as many times as possible before he left to get married. The experiments and dirty talk would stop with me. Louisa was precious and clean. As one in less than a hundred women born in the Northlands, she was what he called the real thing. A rare pearl compared to one of us one point three billion Motlander women on the other side of the border. No wonder Marco would cherish her. She would become the mother of the children he so longed to have.

  I read the message again. “Please can I see you tomorrow?”

  It was so tempting to say yes, and I almost did before I stopped myself. You’re a psychologist. Apply what you’ve learned. There is only one person who can stop your suffering. You’ve been obsessing over Marco and conditioned your brain to think of him all the time. What you need in order to heal is a clean cut.

  My heart was screaming for him, but my brain kept arguing. The pain is real, so distract yourself and don’t think about him. Don’t drag out the suffering and wait for him to leave.

  Before my heart could justify one last day in his arms, I changed my answer and stared at the words that were so opposite to how I felt.

  “Marco, get ready for your tournament. I have
the research I need. Take care and good luck with everything.”

  A new message popped in. “Wow, that’s cold.”

  It was followed by another message. “Just tell me one thing at least. Did you get your period?”

  Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath before I wrote a last big lie in a single small word. “Yes.”

  With my tears falling and my heart breaking, I looked at the picture of Marco from our last chat and whispered a last “Goodbye.”

  CHAPTER 17

  The Tournament

  Marco

  This was madness.

  I was risking my life to marry a woman whom I didn’t love or feel attracted to?

  Not even the million dollars Louisa came with made me truly want to win this fight.

  My opponent shouldn’t have been hard to take. The kid was twenty-two and too pumped and eager in his movements. Yet he’d gotten some good blows in on me and I was annoyed with myself.

  It didn’t help that I’d spotted Lord Khan and Magni among the spectators just a second ago. As a former champion in previous tournaments, I was fighting in the main arena with a large audience that had to be wondering what the hell I was doing prolonging this fight when it should have been a walkover.

  It’s because part of you doesn’t want to win, my subconscious whispered.

  I want to be rich and respected.

  My opponent jumped from foot to foot in front of me, his ebony-colored skin glistening with sweat and his chapped lips pursed in a confident smirk.

  “You tired, old man?” he provoked me.

  I was thirty years old. Strong, virile, and fast. My response to his disrespect was a clean uppercut. That should teach his bloated ego to keep up his arms to block.

  Stumbling back, he narrowed his eyes before attacking me with uncoordinated fury.

  This fight should have been over by now. The guy had such a weak defense and had given me ample opportunities to knock him out.

  So why haven’t I?

  It was almost like my fight was less against him and more against myself.

  If only I knew for sure. There was a gnawing feeling in me that Shelly might have lied to me about her period.

  What if she’s pregnant?

  She’s not. She said she wasn’t.

  But how do I know for sure?

  “That million dollars is my money,” my opponent hissed at me as we danced around each other. “I’ll send you a thought tomorrow night when I pump my seed into my bride.”

  I snorted but didn’t reply.

  With a million dollars I wouldn’t have to work again. I would have the money to write a book. Nice drones, clothes, and other material things would all be within my reach. Men would envy me, and there was a lot of prestige in being a tournament winner.

  So why wasn’t I really fighting for it?

  Because I’d rather be with Shelly.

  The answer increased the pain I’d felt these last three days. After the party, I’d been ready to declare my feelings for Shelly. It was that damn party game of looking into her eyes that had made me dream. The small chance of her loving me back had kept me up all night thinking about all the ways that I would convince her we could be right for each other. But before I got a chance to embarrass myself it was over. Shelly had made it clear we were done. She’d had her fun and I’d been entertaining to her for a while, but that was it. It was almost comical that I’d thought I could make her change her mind and want to marry me when she had already rejected me several times.

  For Shelly, all it had taken was one text to tell me she didn’t have a use for me anymore.

  We might be over in her world, but to me it was a big guessing game as I tried to understand what had made her discard me in such a cold and sudden manner.

  Maybe she was bored with me.

  Maybe it had truly been a matter of research for her.

  Maybe she just never liked me that much.

  My head had been spinning nonstop to think of reasons, but in the end it was a fool’s game. I should have known from the beginning that Shelly Summers wasn’t a woman any man could tie down. She was meant for greater things. It had been my life’s biggest mistake when I pretended to be Storm and went to test out that sex-bot. No matter who I married now, I would be settling for someone less than perfect. Without wanting to, I would compare any woman to Shelly – which was unfair, since no one could compete with someone as extraordinary as her.

  Boom, my opponent’s shin connected with my ribcage. The wind was knocked out of me, and the fucker saw his chance and let hits and kicks rain down on me. It almost felt like a relief when the emotional pain I was in was overshadowed by his physical blows to my body.

  Protecting my face and ribs, I took it, and understood for the first time why some people sought out fights in bars. There was a quiet place in the pain – a bubble of disconnectedness where the boos from the audience, their shouts of profanities, and their cheering for the underdog to beat me registered but didn’t affect me. Not even the rejection from the woman I loved mattered in this vacuum of pain. It was like a few seconds of an insane high that I didn’t want to come out of.

  “Marco…” Magni’s voice broke through to me and as if someone had turned the radio from silent to full volume, the shouting and screaming from the crowd was back with a vengeance.

  “Marco.” From the way Magni’s voice overpowered the others, I knew he had moved down close to the edge of the arena. “Get the fuck up and finish this already.”

  I was mortified that the best warrior in the world was watching me take a beating when I’d always wanted Magni to respect me. The motivation to impress Magni got me up, and I focused all my energy on proving to him what a great fighter I was.

  My inexperienced opponent was so convinced that he had the upper hand that he was grinning to some of his friends. With his attention distracted, I moved in, placing a strong knee in his stomach and pushing him back to create the distance I needed for a roundhouse kick. He wasn’t grinning anymore when he stumbled back, his eyes wide with disbelief.

  “That’s it, Marco, now fucking finish it so we can have some beers,” Magni shouted from the sidelines.

  My opponent, who had been so cocky before, was retreating now, shaken from the roundhouse kick to his chest that made it hard for him to breathe. With my hands up in front of me I moved forward step by insistent step with him backing away, trying to avoid my punches by moving his head.

  “That’s it, Marco,” Magni shouted. “Show him who’s the champion.”

  Empowered by Magni’s words, I used the force of my body to give a high kick. With my opponent turning his head, the impact of my foot was right on his temple.

  Like a robot with a breakdown, all the lights went out in his eyes. Knocked out, he fell forward, landing face first on the ground.

  Still pumped with adrenaline, I kept my eyes on him, waiting to see if he would get up.

  When he didn’t, the announcer finally boomed over the wild cheering from the audience. “And we have a winner.”

  Medics rushed to my opponent on the ground as my right arm was being raised in the air by Magni, who had stepped into the arena, patting my shoulder and grinning at me. “Took you long enough, you lazy bastard.”

  I swiped at my forehead, brushing away sweat.

  “Come on, I’m sure your friends want to congratulate you.” Magni led me out of the arena and I was instantly surrounded by people with smiling faces.

  Hunter, Storm, Nero, and four of my other friends were patting my shoulders, and from all around me comments were hailing down on me, giving me shit about this being my worst fight ever.

  “What the hell happened?

  “Were you too bored to fight, or were you toying with him?”

  “I was close to rooting for the other guy. At least he looked like he wanted to win.”

  Using a towel to dry off sweat, I laughed at my friends’ comments and smiled when I looked up to see Mila, my former student and M
agni’s daughter.

  “I didn’t know you were here.” I stepped away from my friends to the young woman who stood out among all the men. Her adoptive mother, Laura, stood by her side and looked like an older sister to Mila since there were only ten years between them in age.

  “I’m sorry you got hurt, Marco.” Mila reached out both her hands to me. “May peace surround you.”

  It surprised me that she still used that formal Motlander greeting after having lived here in the Northlands for so many years. Mila would be twenty now but she still had those cute dimples that I remembered.

  “May peace surround you too,” I said politely and waited for a nod from Magni before I took her hands.

  “When is your next fight?” she asked with concern. “I’ll come and watch.”

  I smiled. “I thought you hated violence.”

  “I do. My parents say that I’m too sensitive and that it’ll be good for me to toughen up before my own tournament.”

  “So you are having one?”

  She nodded. “Some time next year. I didn’t want to at first, but my dad insisted and then I did something foolish.” She looked back to Magni, who stood behind her. “I told him that if he would wear a bead in his beard for a year, I’d do it.”

  “Huh. That explains the fashion trend.”

  Mila’s large blue eyes looked up at me. “I never thought he’d do it or that it would spread the way it has. Maybe if I’d specified that it had to be more than one bead and in different colors… but I didn’t think that far ahead.”

  The sole blue bead in Magni’s beard looked good on him and he had a smug smile on his face.

  “Listen, Marco.” Mila lowered her voice. “I know you must have been very disappointed when you weren’t picked by the bride the last two times, but I’m certain Louisa will pick you this time. She came to see your fight and I saw her smile when you were announced the winner. Just be sure to smile at her when you stand with the other four champions. You have a warm and beautiful smile. She’ll pick you for sure.”

  My jaws stiffened, the thought making me tense up.