by Mari Mancusi
He reaches up and brushes the back of his hand against my cheek. A shiver flitters through me. "I should kill you," he says. "For what you've done to me. For what you've done to the Dark Siders. And yet, I can't manage to hate you. No matter how hard I try."
His words break my heart. I can't bear it-all this pain, all this hurt. If only there was a way to take it away. To draw it into my body and leave him with nothing but peace. Instead, I stand uselessly. Holding him. Giving him as much comfort as I can.
We stand there for what seems like hours, barely moving, just looking into one another's eyes. The connection between us, the bond, is so strong it makes me want to cry.
"It's late," he says finally. "And you've had a big day, if not a long one. It's best if you get some rest. I'll take the couch."
He breaks away, and emptiness consumes me once again. I want to run across the room and throw myself back into his arms, beg for him to hold me for just five more seconds. Or minutes. Or hours. Or years. Instead, I head reluctantly to the bedroom, not bothering to flip on the light, and collapse on the bed.
I'm so exhausted I assume sleep will take me immediately. But there's too much swirling around in my mind. And it's too hard to hear Dawn breathing in the other room. He's way too far away for my liking. I contemplate my options for a moment, then give in to my desire.
"Dawn?" I call out. My voice sounds plaintive and hesitant.
In half a second, he's in the bedroom. "Do you need something?" he asks, shifting from one foot to the other.
I swallow hard before nodding. "Yes," I say at last. "Would you mind ... I mean, I'm feeling a little uncomfortable and scared in here by myself. So much has happened. This is all so strange and..."
"Anything. Name it."
"Could you come in and sleep next to me?"
I see his silhouette in the doorway; he both enters and retreats at the same time. "I ..." he starts. "I don't know if. .."
"Look," I say. "I don't know about the past or anything, or all the things you think I did. But I do know that whoever I am, I need this. I'm not asking for anything. Just ... I need a friend. I don't want to be alone."
He enters the room, shirtless, dressed only in a pair of flannel pants. His chest is as powerful as I'd imagined, all sharp planes of muscle, taut and toned. A few harsh scars mar the otherwise perfect flesh, but they only serve to make him more fascinating. He crawls into bed behind me, wrapping his arms around my body and spooning me close. He nestles his face in my hair and I can feel his hot breath gently tickling my earlobes. I snuggle closer so that our two bodies touch as much as possible, feeling warm, safe, protected. There's a part of me that wants nothing more than to flip around, kiss him full on the mouth. Find out what it's like to make love to this beautiful man. But I know this is not the time for that.
Right now, this is enough.
11
I wake up, still wrapped in Dawn's arms. For a moment I don't move; I just lie there, enjoying his warm body snuggled against mine. It's so strange. I barely know this man, yet I already have such a deep connection to him. I should be feeling overwhelmingly guilty, lying here in another man's embrace. But right now, my Earth relationship seems so distant. Almost ... unreal. As if it were a dream I once had.
It's going to be hard-torturous-to go back to Earth, I realize. To leave Dawn and all he's beginning to mean to me. But in the long run, what choice do I have? We each have our own separate lives and destinies. For a brief moment the stars aligned and we shared something special, but that's where it has to end. An alternate reality one-night stand, I guess. And now, as morning breaks, it's time to say good-bye.
I shift in his arms, rolling over so we're face-to-face. He opens his eyes, mere inches from mine. A beautiful, sleepy blue, they sparkle like crystal from under his long sooty eyelashes. He smiles a shy smile and reaches up to brush a lock of hair from my face. My heart breaks at the simple gesture. How am I going to say good-bye to him?
"Good morning," he whispers, kissing me lightly on the nose.
"Good morning," I say. I wish I could wake up this way every day for the rest of my life. But that's impossible. I know it. He knows it. And we both need to stop pretending and face it.
After a few more minutes.
We lie there together, legs and arms intertwined, stroking each other softly, neither person very interested in moving away. I can feel his morning arousal through his cotton pants, but he makes no move beyond an innocent caress. Which is probably for the best, no matter what naughty ideas my libido has been whispering. It'll only make things harder in the end.
At last, he grins sheepishly and sits up, running a hand through the long strands of his tousled hair. "Would you like some breakfast?" he asks. "I could go stand in line to see if they're doling out egg-synths this morning. It's a long shot, but you never know."
I shake my head. "No, it's okay. I'm not hungry." I'm actually starving, but I can't bear the thought of making him go wait in line. Or even get out of bed.
"It's probably for the best anyway. That fight last night-when I was bashing those guards' heads together. I'm afraid one of them might have realized what I really am."
My cozy thoughts fade as I remember all that had happened the night before. "What will they do if they figure it out?" I ask.
"Work to kill me, probably," Dawns says with a shrug.
I sit up, horrified, worried. "No! They can't! That's ... that's. .." I trail off, not knowing what to say. How to appropriately express my horror at the idea.
What difference does it make? a voice jeers in my head. Dead or alive, you'll never see the guy again.
I feel a pang in my heart and I want to cry. I need to get back to Earth. I have to. But how can I leave Dawn behind? And I already know he won't come with me. If he wouldn't leave for Mariah, there's no way.
Dawn looks at me, a thoughtful expression on his face, and then he rises from the bed. "Bathroom," he says. "Then we get dressed and head over to HQ to assess the damage."
"But what about. .." Did he forget that I was supposed to go back to Earth this morning? Great. That's going to make this whole thing even tougher.
Dawn stops at the doorway, shoulders slumped, frozen in place, obviously remembering. "You still want to go back," he realizes aloud.
"Well, I mean, um, yeah," I say, stumbling over the words. It's hard to talk when everything inside me is begging that I reconsider. But no, it's impossible. I have a life on Earth and I need to go back. I have responsibilities, commitments, family, friends. I can't just abandon them, can I? Isn't that what Mariah did going the other way? Wasn't that what she once said was so wrong?
Is what you have on Earth really so special? the voice pipes in again. Don't you think you could do a lot more good here?
"Fine," Dawn says, leaning against the door frame. "I'll drive you to Moongazer Station instead. Let you get on with your life. Sorry to have kept you here so long." But he doesn't sound sorry He sounds angry.
"Thanks," I say, trying to shake the ache that's settled into my bones. "I'd ... appreciate that."
Dawn shrugs and stalks out of the room. A moment later, I hear the bathroom door slam shut. I curl into the fetal position on the bed, wracked with guilt. How can I do this? Just leave Dawn? Leave the Dark Siders. Go back to my life and never return. Never even hear how their fight ended, if they eventually won equality or were re-subjected by the government.
I try to remind myself of all that I'll be going back to: my game-my professional pride and joy-finally being released to the public. Craig-poor guy, I've been so vacant of late. And yet, he's stayed by my side through it all. When this is over, we can resume our relationship where we left off. Spend time with one another. Grow closer. Maybe even look into buying that co-op in Brooklyn. Get married. Have children. Buy the Bugaboo stroller and wheel it around the park with the other urban mommies and daddies.
It's what I've wanted and dreamed of all my life. Why does it suddenly seem empty and meaningless?
My troubling thoughts are interrupted as Dawn returns, standing silhouetted in the doorway. "Well?" he asks, his voice cold. "Let's get a move on. I have a lot to do today after I drop you off."
I crawl out of bed, the cold air biting at my bare legs as I abandon the blanket. Dawn steps aside as I walk out of the bedroom, but I can't help catching a glimmer of hurt in his eyes as I pass. It makes me ache inside, to recognize the pain he can't quite completely
mask. Obviously deep inside he's been hoping, praying, that somehow, some way, I'll magically transform into the woman he loves. The woman who is perfectly capable of leading a revolution.
But, I remind myself, even the illustrious Mariah left in the end. She traded all her suffering for a better life on a different world. And now, through me, Dawn has to relive her betrayal, her exodus to Earth, all over again. Not that it's fair, really, to compare the two scenarios. Not totally. She left her world. I want to return to mine. But for some reason, that doesn't make me feel any less guilty.
"Before you go," Dawn says slowly. "May I show you a few things?"
"Of course," I say-probably a bit too quickly, too eagerly, suddenly desperate to spend a few more minutes with him. But life on Earth has waited this long; it can wait a few hours longer.
"Okay. Go shower and get ready." He sounds more cheerful already "We'll go on the way to Moongazer Station."
I shower and change, finding a closet stuffed full of Mariah's various outfits. I choose something simple: a plain pair of black pants, corset top, trench coat. No need for frilly skirts and platform boots today, no matter how cute they are. After all, I doubt I can take them with me back to Earth.
We head out of the apartment, across the water soaked hallway, down the creaky elevator, and through the dismal lobby to where Dawn parked his hover bike. We get on the bike and zoom through the tunnels. I want to ask where we're going, but I don't feel much like shouting over the roar of the bike.
We stop at a small building, its metal facade built into the rock. Once inside, I recognize immediately that it must be some kind of one-room schoolhouse. A couple dozen Terran children of various ages sit cross-legged on the floor in front of a teacher who is reading from a tattered old-looking book. The children are dressed in rags and some of them wear soiled bandages wrapped around their arms or heads. All are terribly mutated. Extra fingers. Third eyes. Humped backs. They're hideous in appearance, yet the light shining on their faces as their teacher reads makes them somehow more beautiful than a playground full of Gap Kids models.
"The government doesn't allow the Dark Siders to go to school," Dawn explains. "They figure a little education can be dangerous, so they banned it. Kids are supposed to go to work in the mines as soon as they're old enough to carry rocks. But Mariah felt everyone should learn to read and write. She said the more knowledge we could acquire, the lass helpless we would be."
"That makes sense," I say, taken aback by the sight of a child with an extra arm trying to write on a clay slate.
"So we rotate them in and out. One week mining, the next learning. That way there always appear to be children in the mines if the government comes down to check up on us," Dawn says. "The problem, of course, is getting teachers. That's one of the reasons Mariah was so desperate to bring more Indys to our side. Sister Anne here is one such instructor. She's retired from her headmistress job in Luna Park and risks her life daily to come down here to teach. If the government knew of her behavior, she'd be punished for sure."
I look at the teacher with newfound respect. "So, some of the Indys do help?"
"A few. Not enough. Not by a long shot. Most Indys are too blinded by whatever the government dangles in front of them. They spend their lives enjoying the restaurants and alcohols and shops. And now there's 'Gazing. Why help the people in your own world when you can hop over to a better one?"
Once again I feel that pang of guilt stab at my gut. Here I am, judging the Indys, when really, aren't I just as bad? Wanting to go back to Earth, refusing to help these poor people, these destitute children whom I could easily teach to read and write if I wanted? When I'm back, will I be able to forget their faces? Or am I in for a lifetime of guilt, knowing I turned my back on them in their moment of need?
Bet you wished you chose the blue pill, Neo.
This wasn't fair. At least Neo was given a choice. He wanted to know. I never asked to be dragged into Terra. To learn the truth of its world. I would have been totally content living out my days in the Matrix, innocent and unaware of it all.
But now that I've seen, what can I do?
The teacher looks up from her book. Her face brightens as she sees us at the back of the room. "Mariah," she cries. "Oh my goodness, children, look here! It's Sister Mariah!"
The kids break into applause and I can feel my face heat at the oh-so-undeserved praise. Here I am, standing, wishing I'd never met them, and they're gazing up at me like I'm their savior.
I give a weak wave. What else can I do? I'm not cruel or selfish enough to disappoint a room full of poverty-stricken, mutant children.
"Mariah used to come here and read," Dawn whispers. "Even with her busy schedule, she always made time to do it, at least once a week. And she brought the best stories with her. Stolen from the Indy libraries above."
I nod, suddenly realizing what I should do. I take a step forward. "Well, guys," I say. "I didn't bring a book today, but if you like, I can tell you a little story."
The kids cheer. Sister Anne smiles gratefully, standing up so that I can take her seat. I walk to the front of the room and sit down, facing the kids, letting their radiating joy beam onto me like sunshine as they wait with bated breath.
I smile back at them. "Once upon a time..."
I tell three stories-each taken from adventures I created for my video game-my rapt audience begging for more each time I finish. Finally Sister Anne laughingly waves them down, saying that obviously Mariah has more important things to do and they need to let me get on with my day. I reluctantly agree; I'd have stayed for another hour or two if she hadn't intervened. I've never had such a captive audience.
I rise from my seat, wave good-bye to the children then head to the back of the room where Dawn stands waiting, a small smile on his face. One of the children, a blond pigtailed pixie, runs over and throws her arms around my legs, squeezing me with a tiny fierceness.
"I knew you'd return, Sister Mariah," she murmurs, refusing to let go. "I just knew it."
Her words are almost too much. I shoot a look at Dawn, feeling the tears well in my eyes. He smiles at me, looking a tiny bit smug. So, this was his plan when he said he had to "show me something"? His clever way to convince me to stay?
He certainly is making it harder.
"What's your name?" I ask the little girl.
"Crystal," she says, then sticks a dirty thumb in her mouth.
"Well, Crystal, you study hard in school and someday you can grow up to be an Eclipser, too," I tell her.
She grins from ear to ear and prances back to her classmates. "I'm gonna be an Eclipser," she brags. "Sister Mariah told me so."
We say our good-byes and exit the schoolhouse. I give one more longing glance as we board the hover bike. Those children, their faces so full of hope. What lives are they destined to lead?
"Can I show you one more thing before we go?" Dawn asks.
"Sure," I say, giving in easily. The last thing I want to do right now is leave.
Our second destination turns out to be a secret underground greenhouse. The workers take the time to show me how they carefully cultivate plants and give them the artificial sunlight they need to survive underground. The greenhouses, like the schoolhouse, are illegal. The government doesn't allow Dark Siders to grow their own food-they're supposed to only eat rations grown on government-sanctioned farms. But rations are always being cut, the gardeners explain, and the old and sick Dark Siders are often cut out completely. The government doesn't seem to have a problem with starving thei
r slave labor force once they've become superfluous.
"So Mariah decided it would be good if we created our own food to supplement rations. We stole the technology from the government-sanctioned places-after all, Dark Siders usually make up most of the labor and started our own," Dawn tells me. "Maybe someday we'll be able to completely feed ourselves and not be dependent on them for food. That'll be a major step toward our independence."
"I'll bet," I say, walking up and down the rows of plants. "I can't believe you can grow all this stuff underground."
"They're specially bred plants that don't need as much light for photosynthesis."
"Next thing you're going to tell me is you have a whole hidden underground farm. With cows and horses."
Dawn beams. "Now that you mention it..." He reaches for my hand. I hesitate a moment, then slide my fingers into his. "Come with me."
We get back on the bike and zoom down another tunnel, this time going deeper underground. Finally, we come to what appears to be a dead end, the passageway blocked by crumbling rubble, as if there was a cave-in long ago. Dawn parks his bike and motions for me to follow as he weaves through the boulder field. I keep up, wondering what on earth-make that Terra-he's going to do when he arrives at the dead end.
"Where are you going?" I ask.
"You'll see."
He stops right in front of the massive wall of rubble. Then he turns around, winks at me, and ... steps right through! The rocks shimmer a moment, and suddenly I'm alone on the wrong side of the wall.
"Another optical illusion?" I ask, wondering if he can hear me on the other side.
He pops his head back through. The effect is more than a bit disconcerting. "Something like that," he says. "Gotta hide our most valuable treasures any way we can."
I take a deep breath, put out my hands, and take a step toward what looks like solid rock. Sure enough, my hand slides through easily and I manage to step to the other side with no effort at all.
"Huh," I say, looking back. On this side, it appears as if there's no barricade whatsoever. I can even see Dawn's bike, parked down the road. "You guys really have thought of everything."
