28. Morelle

28

MORELLE

" K eep your core engaged," Gertrude instructed as Morelle completed another set of exercises on the Pilates Reformer. "Perfect form. You're getting stronger every day."

Morelle could feel the difference in her muscles already. The machine that had initially seemed like a torture device was proving remarkably effective at rebuilding her strength.

"Good news," Gertrude announced as Morelle finished her final repetition. "We're moving the Reformer to the gym tomorrow. You will continue your rehabilitation there."

"Thank the Mother," Jasmine said from where she waited for her turn. "I'll be very happy not to come here anymore." She smiled apologetically at Gertrude. "I love you, so don't take it personally. I just don't like feeling like a patient. I'd rather feel like a pampered lady who gets private exercise sessions."

Morelle nodded in agreement. "I feel the same."

Gertrude didn't seem to be offended. "You'll be happy to know that I will continue to be your instructor. I will have a dedicated room for the Reformer." Gertrude helped Jasmine get positioned on the machine. "I could even offer private sessions to others now that I'm an expert on this thing. But not right away. I'm too busy enjoying my new boyfriend to take on students."

They didn't need to ask who the guy was.

Like clockwork, Rob arrived every day with lunch for Gertrude, and the way the two looked at each other didn't leave room for misinterpretation.

They were in love.

A dreamy expression crossed Gertrude's face. "Rob is so awesome. I've never enjoyed a male's company as much as I enjoy his. He's smart and funny, and he actually listens to what I have to say."

Jasmine chuckled as she began her exercises. "We noticed. The two of you are like a couple of school kids in love, and I couldn't be happier for you. Rob deserves someone who appreciates him, especially after what happened to him."

"What happened?" Morelle asked.

"Ah, it was just awful," Jasmine said, maintaining her form as she spoke. "Rob was engaged to this woman who was just using him. She had an affair with her former boyfriend right before the wedding, and when he confronted her about it, she spewed hurtful things at him, saying how he was so boring she could barely tolerate him."

Gertrude huffed in indignation. "That's so untrue. Rob is the opposite of boring. We talk nonstop about every subject under the sun."

"It was despicable of his former partner to hurt him like that," Morelle said.

"Are you already planning her annihilation?" Jasmine asked with a knowing smile.

Morelle frowned. "What she did was deceitful and cruel, but it doesn't deserve death. I'm not that bloodthirsty." She paused, studying Jasmine's expression. "Is that what people think of me?"

"I've only been awake for three days." Jasmine completed another repetition. "I don't know what others think of you. It's just my impression that you have no mercy and that you believe in ruthless retribution."

Morelle narrowed her eyes at Jasmine. "Somehow, I don't believe you. Did Ell-rom tell you things about me?"

Her brother claimed not to remember much about his life on their home planet. He didn't really know the old her, and she hoped that wasn't the impression he got from getting to know the new her.

"He spoke of you with love," Jasmine said. "He doesn't remember much from before."

"All done," Gertrude told Jasmine.

"Thank you." Jasmine got off the Reformer. "Let's get out of these clothes."

Since they were heading straight from the clinic to Ella’s house, they had brought a change of clothes, and even though Pilates wasn't a particularly sweat-inducing activity, they were going to shower in their former patient rooms.

The truth was that Morelle wasn't sure why she'd been invited to Jasmine's transition party, but she was glad to join in the celebration. She needed friends, and she also needed some distance from Brandon, especially after last night.

She was still processing it, torn between how wonderful the experience had been and how much better it could have been if Brandon wasn't such a stubborn male.

Ella and Julian's house wasn't far from the clinic, and when Morelle and Jasmine arrived, the others were already there, gathered around a table laden with snacks and a pitcher of something called a margarita.

"Finally!" Margo exclaimed, pulling Morelle into a hug before she could stiffen. She was still getting used to the immortals' casual displays of physical affection. "We were about to start drinking without you."

"Can't start the party without the guest of honor," Frankie said, raising her glass toward Jasmine.

Gabi poured drinks for everyone. "To successful transitions and new beginnings."

The margarita was surprisingly pleasant, tart and sweet at the same time, and after her second glass, Morelle felt warmth spreading through her limbs and loosening her tongue.

"Can I ask you all something?" she said, running her finger along the salted rim of her glass. "It's about males." She licked it off her finger.

"Oh, this should be good." Margo leaned forward. "What do you want to know?"

Morelle took another sip. "Brandon is being difficult."

Ella snorted, nearly splattering her drink over everyone. "Difficult, how?"

"He's too restrained," Morelle admitted. "He thinks that because I'm inexperienced, I'm breakable, and he refuses to give me what I want."

"Ah," Frankie nodded sagely, but Morelle could tell that she was stifling laughter. "The classic 'I'm so noble' type of restraint. It could be worse. Personally, I prefer that to the guys who want in your pants on day one and get angry when you demand to get to know them better first."

Morelle frowned. "Why would they want to wear your pants? Is that an Earth courting ritual?"

Margo laughed so hard that her hand shook, and her drink spilled on the table. "I love these little lost-in-translation miscommunications. When a guy wants in your pants, it means that he wants to take them off and have sex with you."

Morelle frowned. "Don't they wait for an invitation from the female?"

Frankie shook her head. "In that, Earth customs are a little different. It's usually the guy who initiates and invites the woman to his bed. She can accept or refuse, but sometimes men are not as polite as they should be and pressure the woman to say yes. In worst-case scenarios, they force her. In this country, it is considered a severe crime and carries a long jail sentence, but there are countries where women have no rights, and if they are violated, they are the ones punished, often sentenced to death."

Morelle grimaced. "So I've heard. Kurdish women are fighting for their rights."

Her answer seemed to surprise Frankie. "Well, yes, but they are not the only ones."

"Ladies." Jasmine waved a hand. "Depressing subjects are not allowed at my party. Let's get back to Morelle's problem with Brandon and help her overcome his stubbornness."

"He's probably got the whole thing planned out like one of his movie scripts," Ella said. "I've worked with him on a project, and he is a perfectionist."

Morelle nodded. "He said he wants it to be perfect between us. I tried to tell him that striving for perfection is not a good thing, but he only partially listened, and he wasn't willing to budge." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I want to return the pleasure he's given me, and I want the venom bite. Is that too much to ask for?"

"Males love a challenge," Frankie said. "But they also need to feel like they're in control sometimes."

"The trick is to make them think they're in control while actually getting exactly what you want," Margo said with a wink.

Morelle shook her head. "I don't like trickery, and I don't want Brandon to be in control."

"Do you want to be the one in control?" Gabi asked.

She wanted to say yes, that she wanted to be the one who decided, but she then realized that if she insisted on dictating the rules, she would be just as bad as Brandon.

"Can't we both be in control? After all, it's a shared experience."

Margo lifted the pitcher and refilled her glass. "Yes and no. In my experience, it's better to take turns. Otherwise, it's like two people trying to drive a car. They will drive it off the cliff."

Morelle wasn't sure she understood the reference, but taking turns sounded fair. "So how do I do that? I mean, take turns."

The women exchanged knowing looks before launching into various suggestions, each talking over the other in their enthusiasm to help.

"Start slow?—"

"Wear something sexy?—"

"Just jump him?—"

"Stop, stop!" Ella raised her hands, laughing. "You're confusing Morelle."

"The important thing," Gabi said once everyone had settled down, "is to communicate. Tell him what you want, but also listen to his concerns."

"I tried that," Morelle sighed. "He says he won't do anything he thinks isn't good for me."

"That's actually sweet," Jasmine said. "He cares about your comfort and well-being."

"Too much," Morelle grumbled, but there was no real heat in it. The margaritas had mellowed her frustration into something softer. "But you are right. It was kind of sweet of him to say that."

"Give him time," Margo advised. "Brandon is probably just as nervous as you are, even if he doesn't show it."

"Nervous?" Morelle frowned. "Why would he be nervous? He's experienced. I'm not."

"That's why he's nervous," Frankie said. "I bet he's never been with a virgin. Talk about pressure. He wants to make sure that your first time is memorable in a good way and not something to cringe about." She scrunched her nose and took a sip of her margarita. "Take it from someone who would rather forget her first miserable time."

As the others shared their memories of their first times, laughing and commiserating, Morelle felt a warm glow that had nothing to do with the margaritas. These females had accepted her so easily into their circle, and it felt wonderful to have friends.

Suddenly, a new realization dawned on her.

She no longer felt like there was no point to life and that it was all about misery. Meaningful connections with others made life worth living.