by Robin Banks
I thought we were going to have dinner at Kolya’s. I could have handled that fine. There’s not enough room there for Asher’s lot, though, and they’ve been invited, so we’ve got to go over to their house instead. I’d rather stick nails in my eyeballs. On top of my usual shit, I’m seriously fucking tired and really peopled out, but there’s fuck-all I can do about it.
I know I’m being a less-than-gracious guest. I’m trying, but even at my best I suck at parties. I listen to what people say and I try to show the right reaction at the right time, but that’s about all I can do. Alya is busy with Asher, Raj is busy with Kolya, Gwen is busy with the kids, and the only other person I know is Quinn, who looks damn uncomfortable around me. I wish I could walk backwards into a wall and disappear.
I’ve also got to eat without choking. The food is good, but that doesn’t make it go down any easier. Every time I turn something down Alya glares at me, so I can’t do that, but the stuff on my plate is building up and I can’t fucking eat it.
The only thing that keeps me going is counting time backwards. They’ll probably kick us out by X time. We’re at X-minus-Y. Only Y minutes to go. Tick fucking tock.
The kids wander off about halfway through the meal and the grown-ups start drinking. At least I know how to deal with that: I let someone fill my glass and don’t drink from it, just touch my lips to it sometimes so it looks like I’m drinking. People have this instinct to fill up empty glasses, but nobody much checks how fast you’re drinking, or if you’re drinking at all. It’s not easy, but it’s not that hard. It’s easier than stopping if I start, anyway.
We’ve got to what must be the last fucking course when Quinn shoots up in a panic.
“Jojo. He’s hurt.”
Gwen looks up at him. “What? Where?”
“Don’t worry. Nothing serious. I’ll get him.”
She dashes out like her ass is on fire.
Raj turns over to Gwen. “Is everything ok?”
“I think so. Jojo is a bit accident-prone at the moment, but Osh and Mattie take good care of him. He probably just fell down and got upset.”
“Quinn must have good hearing.”
“Oh, no, it’s not that. She’s an empath. It doesn’t normally work very well over long distances unless it’s in her line of sight, but she’s tuned into the kids. It’s really useful. We know on the spot if anything is up with them. It’s great for pre-verbal kids, too: it’s easier for her to work out why they’re crying. We’ve started a bit of a crèche at the house. A lot of parents have to work away, and they don’t all have families who can look after the kids. It helps us do our bit and keeps us at home. I like it, but Quinn is the one doing the bulk of the work.”
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
No wonder the guy looks uncomfortable around me. If she can pick up half my shit… Fuck.
I have got to get out of here. I’ve got to get as far away from here as I can. I’ve got to start moving and not stop until my legs give up, but I can’t. I have to stay here and pretend that everything is perfectly normal. I have to sit here next to a guy who could already know everything that I’m keeping from everyone else and make polite conversation.
My chest starts to tighten up and there’s no way in hell I can eat anymore. Alya keeps throwing ominous looks at me but that’s not helping any. When Quinn comes back, it’s all I can do not to bolt. And then they start talking about us staying here for the night.
“It’s no trouble, really,” smiles Gwen. “We can scrunch the kids up. Anyway, I’m not sure Kolya and Raj would manage to get back to their beds. It’s a straight line from here to the spaceport. I think that’s beyond them at present.”
The two of them giggle in response and Alya rolls her eyes.
“If you’ve got a shed for them to collapse into, that’ll do.”
“I think we can do better than that. Just. Someone is going to have to take the sofa, though. Luke, would that be ok? It should be long enough.”
“I’d rather go back to the ship.” I blurt it out before I know it. Gwen and Alya and Kolya and Raj and the gods know who else all look at me.
“It’s no trouble to have you here.” Gwen says it so kindly, but that doesn’t help.
“Yeah, it’s just I… I’d rather go back.”
Quinn smirks at me. “Is our house not good enough for you?” She says it like she’s joking, but I can tell she’s not. She’s pissed off and everyone is looking at me and I don’t know what the fuck I can do to fix this.
Alya gets off her chair. “Luke, if you’d be so kind, I’d like to have a word with you outside.” She’s smiling at me – or rather she’s showing teeth. I know that look: I’m in the shit. I follow her outside anyway. It gets me further away from Quinn, and I’d rather get my whipping in private.
As soon as we’re on the porch, out of earshot, she starts on me.
“When I met you, you were as grown-up as any sixteen-year-old could be. Way more grown-up, in some ways, and that was a pity. You should have had more of a childhood. At any rate, the result was that there were a lot of talks I’ve never had to have with you. It’s just as well, because I’m hardly a paragon of socialization, but I would have tried if I saw the need. You seemed to have your shit together, though, so I left you to it. Maybe it was a mistake, because here we are, and I don’t even know where to start. This isn’t the kind of talk one has with a man of nearly twenty.
“Luke, we are guests here. Those people are strangers to us and they’re showing us nothing but kindness. They don’t owe us anything, they have next to nothing, and they’re trying to give us something. What you do under these circumstances is smile and say thank you. It doesn’t matter if they’re trying to give you something not to your taste, because this is not about you. It’s about respecting them as hosts. It’s about your obligations as a guest. And that’s for random strangers. These are Kolya’s friends. You’re not just insulting them: you’re also shaming Kolya, on whom your behavior will reflect. You’re shaming me. This is the first time I’ve ever felt the urge to justify your presence in my life.”
I don’t know at which point in her rant everything inside me breaks. I just know that it was fucked up but whole before she started, and broken afterwards. The shards go everywhere.
I want to tell her that I’m sorry, but I can’t. If I start speaking I will cry, so I think it as hard as I can. Alya, I’m sorry. Alya, I’m trying. I’m trying so fucking hard. Alya, I shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to be here. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.
It doesn’t work. Tears explode from my eyes anyway. Next thing I know, she’s stretching up to wipe my face. She can’t reach, but she keeps trying. I’m trying to stop her because I don’t want her to see me like this, but I can’t. I can’t stop crying and I can’t get her off me.
“Kid, come on. You’re alright. I’m sorry. Come down here.”
She keeps repeating that until I sit next to her on the porch steps. She puts her arm around me and keeps telling me that it’s all ok, that I’m ok, but it isn’t and I’m not. She’s just trying to make me feel better because she loves me, even though I’m such a fuck-up that I just made her tell me what she did. Her words tumble around my chest, cutting as they go, and I can’t stop them because they’re right, and nothing she can say now can stop them either.
I don’t know how long it takes me to stop crying. I just run out of tears. I don’t feel any better. My eyes just give up on me. Her eyes look weird, too, like she’s also been crying. Fuck. I’ve got to get it together.
“Luke, come on. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
“No. You should have. You were right.”
“It’s not a big deal. I just… Are you going to tell me what’s up? You’ve not been yourself. I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“I can’t be around Quinn. I just can’t.” That comes out as a wail. I can’t get a grip.
“Why? Because he’s a she, or whatever?”
>
“No!”
“Because she’s with Asher?”
“Why the fuck would I care about that?”
“I don’t know! What is it?”
“She’s an empath, Alya. I can’t be around an empath. I can’t have her in my head.”
“Oh. Ah.” Her face runs through a whole bunch of emotions before settling on confusion. “But you don’t have any problems around Dee.”
“I’ve never been around Dee, only spoke to her over the com. Maybe I’d have a problem with her, too. I don’t know.”
“Kid, I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re here and we’ve got to stay here and Asher wants her to come with us, too. I’ve got to be on a ship with her. And I can’t, Alya. I just can’t.”
“Do you object to what Quinn is, or to what she does?”
“What?”
“Would you still have a problem if she promised not to read you?”
“No. Of course not.”
“You’d trust her to keep her word?”
“If we’re going on this fucking mission and we can’t trust each other, we’re fucked. And if she wanted to trick us she would have had them keep it quiet. Maybe she could have just made us feel good about her.”
Alya gives me a squeeze. “She definitely didn’t do that, did she?”
“Nah.” I try to smile for her, but I feel too fucking sore.
“Kid, you have to tell her that you don’t want her to read you.”
“I can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
“It’s insulting.”
“Nowhere near as much as playing up because you’ve got a problem that you’ve not even tried to deal with. It’ll be ok, I promise.”
“Why are you so sure?”
“Because if she says no then she’s in the wrong and you’re in the right. I’ll just not have her on my ship, and that’s that.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Of course I can. I’m under no obligation to let my standards slip in order to accommodate Asher. I don’t know why you feel so strongly about empaths and I don’t think either of us is in a state right now to have that conversation, but I think it’s perfectly reasonable for you to ask Quinn to stay out of your brain. For now, at least. You may feel different when you know her better.”
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s ok too. Kid, you have to give it a shot. You can’t carry on like this, can you? And don’t try and tell me that you can.”
I take a couple of breaths. “Ok. So what do I do? Do I tell her now?”
“Maybe not right now. Your eyes look awful. I’ll go and tell Raj and everyone else that we’re going to the ship to get our gear. Raj can stay here and have a drink. He doesn’t need to know about this, ok? And when we get back here and we’re all a bit calmer, I can ask Quinn to come out here and talk to you, so you can deal with it in private. I’m sure Asher and Gwen will hear about it, but we can worry about that later. Ok?”
“I guess.”
The conversation with Quinn goes about as well as could be expected. I’m trying to say what I’m trying to say without actually saying it, which is stretching my communication skills. I’m also trying not to freak out and to keep my feelings buried as deep as they can be, just in case that stops her reading them. I don’t have to be an empath to work out that she’s offended.
“I can shield. Sure. But I can’t just shield from you. If I put shields up, I block out everybody. Apart from my guys and the kids. If they are near me, I couldn’t block them if I wanted to. Not that I want to.”
“Oh.”
“I can shield around you. I will shield around you: I don’t go where I’m not wanted. I’m shielding now. But from an operational point of view, if I do come along on this mission, it will reduce my usefulness.”
“Oh. Ok. Don’t do that.”
“How do you propose that I acquiesce to your request, then?”
“Dunno. I hadn’t thought about it. I’ll stay out of your way, I guess.”
“Fine.”
“I’m sorry. This isn’t… It’s not about you.”
“Sure. Don’t worry about it. Incidentally, it makes no difference.”
“Oh?”
“I couldn’t read you anyway. You’re shielding, or something like it. Not that it matters: I can read your face plainly enough.” And she walks out.
4. Quinn
When I walk back into the house I’m seething. If we didn’t have a houseful of guests I’d probably scream the roof down. It’s very rarely that I get angry enough to worry about my ability to control myself, and when that happens it always frightens me a little. Maybe I’d be better at managing this level of fury if I had more practice, but thankfully my life isn’t plagued by giant, flaming assholes like the one who just walked into my house cool as anything, as if he hasn’t just said what he said.
Asher and Gwen spot that something is definitely not right with me, but we can’t talk about it right now without making a public scene. I manage to find ways to keep busy until I’ve collected myself again, by which time everyone has had enough to eat and drink and is ready to turn in.
Asher volunteers to deal with the kids. If anyone else did that I’d wonder whether they are trying to help me out or to avoid me, but Asher is not the kind who’d do the latter. He just knows how Gwen and I operate under certain types of stress. She is my wife and my best girlfriend; whenever something happens that upsets me, she takes my side instinctively and blatantly. I can vent at her until I’m all out of air and hurt, and she’ll back me all the way.
I start my rant with “That guy. That fucking guy.” It goes downhill from there. By the time Asher joins us in our room I’m in full swing and unstoppable. Gwen is performing her usual role of Greek chorus – assuming that a Greek chorus would have used swearwords strong enough to make a Patrolman blush. After I get it all off my chest, we take turns dissecting every single little wrong thing the asshole has said and done since the unhappy moment we clapped eyes on him. Every now and then one of us comes up with something that the other one missed, our “I know, right?” turns to “he did what?”, and we ramp up a notch.
Gwen and I don’t indulge in this kind of behavior unnecessarily. We save it for special occasions and particularly gigantic assholes. The asshole in question is so colossal that I fear that we’ll run out of steam before we run out of criticisms. Then I see Asher’s face and it stops me dead.
I’ve seen him go through a lot in the years we’ve had together, but I’ve never seen him so dejected. For a moment I wonder if something dreadful has happened to the kids, then I remember that I’m still linked to them and I can feel that they’re fine. Asher isn’t, though. I’d been so wrapped up in my own emotional outburst that I had not noticed his distress.
Gwen sees me looking, turns around to see, and blanches.
“My love, what is it? What happened?”
His mouth twitches. When he starts to speak, he does so unusually slowly, as if he was making a particular effort to pick his words with care.
“I have always known that I was lucky. I just never realized how dependent on my luck my happiness was, how little it had to do with me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What you and Quinn were saying… Every single thing you’ve said could have been said about me not so long ago. I guess I’m luckier than I thought. You caught me already on the way up. A rather miserable excuse for a way up it was, but it was exponentially better than my lowest point. And Quinn met me when I already had you and could ask for nothing more. Had you met me earlier, I would have been as deserving of your scorn as you believe Luke to be. More, perhaps: I wasn’t handling things half as determinedly as he is.”
“Asher, if you’re talking about the time after your crash, I don’t think you can compare your experiences with those of a snot-nosed kid. You were struggling when I first met you, but you had just cause for tha
t.”
“War is not the only way to wreck a life. I wouldn’t attempt to gauge the validity of a man’s suffering, particularly when I know nothing of his past. I’m not that good a judge of character, having none of my own.”
“This is absurd. You’re the best person I’ve ever known!”
“Yet, when I was hurting, I did not carry myself any better than Luke is now. You two look at him and all you see is a list of failings. My view is different. Maybe it’s because I am not as clever as you are, so I spend more time looking and less thinking, or I don’t think so deeply that it stops me seeing. What I see is a man who is hurting more than he can bear, yet tries to do right by those around him. When he fails, which he inevitably does, he feels it keenly. He set himself an impossible task and he’s crumbling under the weight of it, but he does not give up.”
I’ve had enough of him going on about the guy. “Asher, you don’t get it. I can’t read him, but I can sense him. And he feels so… Ugly.”
“You don’t know how ugly he feels.”
“Yes, I do!”
“No, you don’t. You know how ugly you feel him to be. That’s an entirely different story.” He’s looking at the scars on his hands as he says that, and that shuts me up.
Gwen hasn’t finished, though.
“I’m not sure where you derived this notion of Luke as a tragic figure…”
Asher cuts her off. He never cuts anyone off. “I looked. And what I saw was a man who hardly eats, doesn’t drink, and cannot speak three words in a row without tying himself up in knots. A man who cannot enjoy the company of his loved ones, though he clearly loves them dearly. I see fear and pain, and I know them too well to give myself the right to judge him for what shortcomings they might bring him to. But that isn’t why your words cut me. Gwen, where do you think I’d be without you? Had I never met you, what do you think my life would be?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“I don’t know either, but I can picture what would become of me were I to lose the two of you. And I tell you, that picture is not pretty. I’m not sure the kids would be enough to hold me together. I know precisely how low I can fall because I already have, and I can promise you that I’d be looking up at Luke as an inspiration. You condemn him so harshly, yet you profess to love me. All I can conclude is that your love for me made you blind, or your selective blindness made you love me. Now I will have to live with the knowledge that, were I to slip again, you would despise me. That’s a bitter pill to swallow, I’ll not deny it, and it does take a measure of comfort away from your love for me.”
