by M A Gelsey
“I don’t,” Stella interrupted.
There was a brief silence in which Javi chewed his bagel, drank his coconut water and wondered why Stella Castell was in his bedroom. After a moment, she spoke again.
“How did Kato seem to you, last night?” she asked.
“Nicer than I expected,” Javi said, surprised by the question. “I guess that was your doing.”
“Nah, he’s a really nice guy.” Stella sounded sad, but Javi couldn’t think why she would be.
“I’m glad you two are happy together.” The words almost stuck in Javi’s throat but he forced them out, trying his hardest not to sound jealous.
Stella’s eyes welled up, but she did not let the tears fall. “We’re not,” she said. “Together. He broke up with me.”
“When?” Javi asked, aware that his heart was suddenly pounding.
“Last night,” Stella said. “After he got back to the party. He only agreed to drive you home because he felt bad. For me, I mean.”
“Shit,” was all Javi could think to say.
Stella got up and began to pace. “This morning Leila texted me to say she saw him holding hands with Zoe over brunch. He couldn’t even wait twenty-four hours before — before —” she stopped, once again holding back her tears. “Goddamn him! And her! She always pretended we were friends.” Stella sounded forlorn as she sat down on the bed next to him, close enough that their knees were touching. Javi felt like an electric current was pumping through his body from the point of contact. Her face was close enough that he could see a few faint freckles he had never noticed before sprinkled across her nose. Her unshed tears glittered as she looked at him, and without meaning to he suddenly felt himself lurch forward and plant his lips on hers even as his hand wound itself through her golden hair.
It was a chaste kiss without tongue, but it seemed to go on for ages. When she pulled away, he knew immediately that she was embarrassed for him.
“Sorry,” Javi mumbled, looking down at his lap. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Stella said. She slid away from him but did not leave. Javi glanced up to see that she was looking down at the floor too. Her cheeks were red and her hands clenched together. “Javi, listen. I really — I care about you a lot. As a friend. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I hope this won’t — make things awkward.”
You might as well hope the sun doesn’t rise, Javi thought bitterly. “It’s not — don’t worry about it.” Javi couldn’t meet her eyes, couldn’t bear to see the pity there.
“It’s not you, it’s me. I’m just not ready to start anything new right now, Kato and I literally just broke up. I just — maybe it would be easier if you and I didn’t see each other for a while. Just until — until things aren’t so confusing. I really do want us to stay friends.”
Fuck friends. “Sure. Whatever you want,” Javi said dully.
Stella stood up, hesitated a moment then leaned down to give him a quick hug. Her hair smelled like lavender. “Feel better,” she said, and once again, he nearly broke into hysterical laughter. Before he could come up with an appropriate response, she was gone.
57: EDGAR PRIME
When Edgar Prime woke up naked in an unfamiliar bed, it took him a moment to remember what had happened. Hardly daring to open his eyes lest it all turn out to be a dream, Edgar Prime rolled onto his back and found a pair of beautiful green eyes watching him.
Hugo leaned over and kissed him, and for the next hour Edgar Prime lost himself in a state of bliss where nothing mattered but the taste of Hugo, the feel of his skin, the sound of his moans, until ecstasy descended on them both. Afterwards, they lay together with their arms and legs intertwined, soaked in sweat. Their foreheads touched, and Edgar Prime thought he could stay like this forever.
Somewhere on the floor, an alarm went off. They both ignored it for a moment, then Hugo groaned and extricated himself from their embrace to silence it. Edgar Prime watched him bend down to pick up the phone, admiring the profile of his lean, hard body, and feeling himself stiffen once more.
“Come back to bed,” Edgar Prime murmured.
The look Hugo gave him was at once amused and alluring; he glanced down at his phone then back at Edgar Prime.
“I’ve got an RA meeting,” he said, and Edgar Prime’s heart sank. “Then again, it won’t be the end of the world if I’m a little late.” They both laughed as Hugo yanked away the covers and dove back into bed.
Forty five minutes later Hugo rushed off for his meeting, promising to catch up with Edgar Prime that afternoon at Luken’s protest downtown. Edgar Prime went back to his room to retrieve his towel and soap, then headed off for a shower. He had always thought those cliches about “walking on air” were ridiculous, but today that was the only way he could describe the floating euphoria he felt, so complete that it was as though he might spontaneously combust with the power of it.
When he returned to his room, freshly showered and feeling that at last, all was right with the world, he received a text from Noela saying that she wasn’t going to make it to the protest, and that he should give Luken her regrets. Like a candle being snuffed out, the joy of the last twelve hours fled, leaving shame in its wake, shame that Edgar Prime could so easily forget Noela’s grief over Omar’s hopeless situation. Now the heady feeling of contentment warred with the more familiar self-loathing, for how could anyone as selfish as he was ever hope to deserve the happiness he’d experienced with Hugo. You don’t deserve it, said a sneering voice in the back of his head that sounded like Dr. Midas, or perhaps even himself. It was difficult to tell the two apart sometimes.
He pulled on jeans and a black t-shirt, and headed out to the subway. On his way, he dialed Harlow’s number, expecting to get his secretary. To his surprise, it was Harlow’s own voice on the other end of the line.
“Hello, Prime,” Harlow said. “I gave orders for all your calls to be put right through to my personal line when I heard about your friend. How is he?”
“No change.” Edgar Prime fought to keep the bitterness from his voice, but was unsuccessful.
“Terrible, terrible. To be the victim of such senseless violence at such a young age. I’d completely understand if you wanted to abandon the plans we discussed, in light of what’s happened.”
“No.” He would not give up on this, especially now. He owed his continued resolve to Omar, for his sacrifice. “I’m not abandoning anything.”
“If you say so,” said Harlow, surprise and skepticism evident in his voice. “We’ll speak again soon, I expect. Enjoy the protest, today.”
“Thanks,” Edgar Prime said, slightly taken aback. He wouldn’t have expected Harlow to be aware of any protest, especially one so modest. They ended the call just as Edgar Prime reached his subway station and began to descend into the earth.
It wasn’t a large protest — no more than a few thousand people milling around Zuccotti Park when Edgar Prime arrived. After greeting Luken, he mostly paced around the periphery of the crowd snapping photos for social media. The crowd had the purposeful, jubilant air of people who believed in something and felt they had the potential to affect positive change.
It began with a rally; a few speakers introduced by Luken but nobody very famous. As always, Edgar Prime was trotted out, standing awkwardly before the gaping crowd as they cheered for the novelty. Then the others came, mostly college professors who spoke about corporate ties to the clone black market, human rights and the injustice of being in a legal gray zone. Edgar Prime found it difficult to concentrate, his mind kept drifting back to Hugo and replaying memories from the previous night and that morning. He mentally chastised himself, and tried to remain focused, but in truth he was eager for the protest to end. There was a while to go however; after the speakers there would be a march, and Edgar Prime had to stick it out for at least another couple of hours.
Finally, the last speaker handed the microphone back to Luken, and they all set off up Broadway. Sullen police officers lined t
he route, and after a while Edgar Prime found himself surrounded by strangers; Luken kept stopping to chat with various others and Edgar Prime was too antsy not to keep going. His mind had just slid once again into a fantasy about what he’d like to do when he saw Hugo again, when a movement on his left side caught his eye.
Edgar Prime turned his head and saw a thin, severe-featured man with mousy brown hair and a sweaty face approaching from a side street ahead. For some reason the man made him uneasy; ridiculous because Edgar Prime was certain he’d never seen the man before, and he was in the midst of a large crowd surrounded by police officers. Even so, Edgar Prime felt a chill run down his spine. The man was getting closer, and they locked eyes just as the man reached inside his jacket.
It’s way too hot for a jacket, Edgar Prime thought ludicrously as the man pulled out his gun. Before Edgar Prime could react, the gun was pointed his way and there was a deafening bang. Edgar Prime felt the impact in his chest, just before he slammed back onto the blood-spattered pavement. The man stood over him now, swimming in and out of his field of vision as he was nearly blinded by the pain ripping through his entire body. There were two more bangs in quick succession, followed by a feeling of falling, falling, falling. His last thought was of Hugo.
58: ANNABEL
The tears had come easily — how were the police to know they were tears of relief not tears of grief? The entire investigation hadn’t taken them more than ten minutes. They had accepted her account of what happened without question, and they conducted only the most cursory interview with Mrs. Lennox. The old woman corroborated Annabel’s story, and when they officially ruled Rex’s death a suicide, Annabel felt waves of gratitude crash over, even though Mrs. Lennox had scarcely said a word to her since.
At the funeral Annabel wore sunglasses to hide the fact that her eyes were dry. It was a small funeral, and tasteful. Ms. Durant cried silently through the whole thing, her shoulders shaking and her face red and splotchy. The casket was closed for obvious reasons, and afterwards Rex would be cremated.
Annabel didn’t hear two words of the ceremony. When it was over, she accepted condolences mechanically. If any of Rex’s mourners found her manner odd, they did not say so. Perhaps they thought it was her way of processing the loss. Ms. Durant stood by her side sniffling and dabbing at her eyes with a white silk handkerchief.
“I just can’t believe he’s gone,” Ms. Durant choked out.
“Me neither,” Annabel replied. She was telling the truth about that; the idea that Rex was truly gone took some getting used to. I’m a widow, she thought, and had to fight back a sudden, irresistible urge to laugh.
“Oh, my dear,” Ms. Durant said, enveloping Annabel in a hug. The older woman had apparently taken her strange expression to be a precursor to sobs.
“I’m all right,” Annabel said. She patted Ms. Durant on the back dutifully, allowing her mind to drift. The air was hot and sticky, and Ms. Durant’s deodorant appeared to have worn off. Oblivious, she kept squeezing Annabel tight to her chest, her tears falling all over Annabel’s shoulder. With a sigh, she pretended Ms. Durant’s embrace wasn’t suffocating her.
Afterwards, Annabel went back to the house alone. As the sky darkened, she stood on the deck and looked out at the waves crashing onto the rocks along the bay. She knew she should feel happy — free — but she didn’t. At night she still dreamed of Rex, and woke sweating with the sheets tangled around her as tightly as his embrace. She wondered if she’d ever truly escape him.
One morning, about a week after the funeral, Annabel felt more listless than usual and decided to walk to the beach. In truth she didn’t know what to do with herself anymore, now that she could do anything she liked. The loneliness pressed in around her in a way it never had before. She found herself thinking of Javi as she kicked off her shoes and strode across the sand to find a solitary spot to lay down her towel.
She couldn’t figure out why her mind kept returning to the boy she’d only met once, the boy who’d never contacted her again. He doesn’t want you, she told herself firmly. There’s no point in wishing it were otherwise.
To distract herself, Annabel pulled out her tablet and started flicking through her email. In addition to several messages reminding her that she had missed multiple assignments for her online coursework, she came across an email from Midas Laboratory with the subject line, “Can You Put A Price On Grief?”. Frowning slightly, Annabel began to read:
Dear Mrs. King,
Deepest condolences for your recent loss. While once there was no solace for those in your position, Midas Laboratories now has the power to offer individuals and families the chance to reconnect with their lost loved ones through the use of our cutting edge cloning technology. Please contact us today for more information.
Most Sincerely,
Patrice Zhao, Ph.D
Annabel reached the end of the email and flung the tablet away in horror, earning her several scandalized glances from the beach’s other occupants. Her heart thudded in her chest and she felt like an invisible hand had just punched her in the gut. When she got over the initial disgust at the gall of Midas Labs to email her like that, she calmed her breathing and tried to slow her heart rate. She forced herself to get up and retrieve the tablet, smiling sheepishly at the nearest couple, both of whom appeared to be well into their seventies.
As she sat down on her lonely towel again, Annabel stared unseeingly at the ocean, the endless ebb and flow, the power and the beauty of it lost on her. She looked back at the older couple to her right. They were smiling and laughing together as he waved his hands around, telling a story that Annabel was not close enough to hear. And as she stuck the Midas Labs email in her spam folder, the tiniest bit of pity for her late husband crept into her heart. Who could say what she’d choose if she ever learned what grief truly felt like.
59: JAVI
D. C. was hot as fuck, and the humidity made Javi feel like he was being continuously molested by a sweaty giant. From the moment he left the airport, the heavy, stagnant air weighed him down. By the time he arrived on campus, lugging his two largest suitcases, he was out of breath and bad-tempered. His brain had melted in the heat, and all he wanted was to throw himself into a bathtub filled with ice.
After a few wrong turns, Javi found his dorm. The seventh floor room was cramped, with barely five feet between his bed and his roommate’s, a tiny closet and two desks shoved into a corner. His roommate hadn’t arrived yet, so Javi threw his stuff onto what he deemed the better bed (though in truth there was little difference between them), and sat down on the plastic mattress. He ran his hands through his hair and heaved a heavy sigh, wishing Herman and Fred were here with him, and feeling a stab of jealousy that the two of them would be rooming together at Berkeley.
Saying goodbye to his parents was harder than he expected. They both went to see him off at the airport, after he’d insisted that they not fly all the way to the east coast just to help him move into his dorm. Now that he had arrived all alone, he wished he’d been less stubborn. When they hugged him goodbye outside the security line, both of them had tears in their eyes.
“I’ll be fine,” Javi insisted, embarrassed they were making such a scene.
“Don’t forget to brush and floss your teeth,” his mother said tremulously. “And be sure to eat some vegetables once in a while. You can’t just live off bagels and coffee. And try to get enough sleep.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” his father said with a guffaw, and Javi smiled in spite of himself.
“Study hard,” his mother continued. “Make sure you don’t miss too many of your classes.”
Javi rolled his eyes at his father, who chuckled again.
“He’ll be all right, Jo,” his father said softly to his mother.
“I know,” his mother said, but from her tone Javi thought she had her doubts. “Be safe, Javi.”
“I will.” He gave them one final hug, then turned away. He didn’t look back until
after he got all the way through security. He wished his heart didn’t sink slightly when he saw that they were already gone.
Through the open door, Javi could hear raucous discussion and laughter coming from the common room diagonally across the hall; it made Javi feel as though everyone else already knew each other. He knew he should go introduce himself, but something held him back. The idea of pretending to be excited seemed like far too much effort after battling the horrible weather. To his frustration, all Javi could think about was Stella, Imogen and even Annabel; all the women who didn’t want him. And why would they? Why would anyone? Javi didn’t have an answer to that.
After a while he managed to psych himself up enough to go to the bookstore, even though it meant leaving the air conditioned dorm and braving the elements outside again. Javi wandered down the hall and took the stairs to the fourth floor where the hillside building exited to a small quad.
Though not large, the campus was full of dead-ends, alcoves, and circular paths making it harder to navigate than Javi anticipated. Just after leaving the dorm he came across a small courtyard with a fountain at its center. A group of students stood near the fountain and one of them — a bold-looking girl — climbed up and waded through the shallow water, imploring her friends to join her. The others looked around as if to check that campus security was nowhere in the vicinity, then clambered in after her with huge grins plastered across their faces.
Soon shouts and laughter split the air while they splashed each other, unconcerned that they were all fully dressed. Javi watched them from a shadowed archway across the courtyard; he had never felt more lonely in his entire life. He couldn’t say how long he stood there, but after a time a girl walked right up to him and interrupted his reverie, making him jump. She had long, dirty-blonde hair and sympathetic brown eyes that regarded him curiously.
