Chapter Eleven

Chorizo is waiting at the door for us when we enter Araceli's home. He grunts excitedly at my feet, circling around me until I give in to his demands, sit next to him on the floor, and scratch behind his ears.

Araceli looks at us sitting on the floor and shakes her head. "How easy we forget the one who has fed us since we were no bigger than a football," she mutters. She leans over and kisses her dad on the cheek, before flopping in the chair next to his. "How was your day, Dad?"

"There was a grocery delivery today."

"Oh, shoot. Sorry, Dad, I thought I set it for pickup. Were they willing to help you with the refrigerated stuff?"

"Nah. Anya saw them drop off the food and came to help me put everything up."

Araceli smiles. "Anya, huh?"

"Yep. She even stayed after and made me coffee to go with some cake she brought."

Araceli's smile widens. "You guys get to have a good chat?"

Abel sits up straighter in his chair. "Stop smiling. Anya and I are just good friends."

Araceli laughs. "How do you know I'm smiling?"

Abel scoffs, "I've known you your whole life. I've learned a thing or two about you in that time. Enough about me. How was work?"

"It was fine. Nothing too exciting. Mariana brought the baby to see Juan. She is getting big. She's got these adorable chunky cheeks and legs."

Abel smiles and pats her hand. "Your time will come soon. I know it."

Araceli's face falls. She stands up quickly. "I've got to get dinner on the table."

I give Chorizo one last scratch and hurry to follow her. She's already in the refrigerator, opening and closing drawers, the noise far louder than necessary.

"Araceli, are you okay?"

She turns to look at me. "Yeah, fine."

She is definitely not fine, but I doubt probing is going to help the situation. "What can I do to help you with dinner?"

She stops what she is doing and stares at me for a moment. "Your speech is different."

"Different?"

"You just used ‘okay' and ‘dinner' instead of, I don't know…evening meal."

"Is that bad?"

She shakes her head. "Just unexpected."

I'm not sure if I should believe her. "The AI that controls my translator learns quickly. Do I sound more human?"

She smiles, "You sound less nerdy, for sure."

"Thanks," I mutter.

"See!" she practically yells. "You did it again. Yesterday it was like talking to a second grader. Everything I said you took literally."

"Ah. Yes. Language nuances are hard. I've definitely fought wars that were probably started over them."

Her face changes, and she looks concerned.

I shake my head. "I apologize. I'm not…that was a bad joke. When you're surrounded so often by destruction, your humor tends to get dark."

She looks at me for a long moment, then lets out a long breath. "I could use some help chopping vegetables for the salad. I know you said military life was spartan, but before that, did you ever help…"

"I helped my mother often. Even in space, we have to chop and cook vegetables if we eat them fresh."

She hands me a knife and a board and pulls out a head of a leafy green vegetable along with a few other more solid vegetables. I begin chopping things up in small pieces, getting lost in the repetition of the work, as Chorizo has his dinner.

The pig inhales his food, then comes to rest at my feet as I finish up my task.

Araceli glances down at the animal. He's chosen to lie in the middle of the floor, posing a hazard to her as Araceli has to step over him continuously to get to various parts of the kitchen. "Chorizo has really taken to you."

I meet her eyes. "He is truly one of the most unique animals I've ever come across."

"It has to be exciting, getting to see so much of the universe," she says, looking away quickly.

I shrug. "It can be. There are some beautiful places out there. Maybe we'll get to see them."

Her eyes drop to Chorizo. "Maybe."

Dinner is much the same as it was the night before. Abel and Araceli talk while I work my way through the salad. Just as he did the night before, Abel stands after clearing his plate, announces he's going to bed, and calls Chorizo to his side.

"Is it the same every night?" I ask Araceli as I help her clean up.

"It is. I used to hate it when I was younger. But when everything fell apart, it was kind of nice to come back to the routine."

She has mentioned it several times. The baby she lost, the ex-husband she wishes would go away. I'm tempted to press. But these things come out or don't in their own time. I'm not a mate yet to her, even if she is to me. I must wait until she's ready to tell me her truth.

Araceli is much like her father. She, too, has a routine. Just like the night before, she prepares her nest, washes up, changes, and then surprises me by getting in on her side of the bed. We both lay in the dark for a long time, neither of us sleeping until at last, she says softly from her side of the pillows.

"Kai?"

"Yes?"

She pauses. "What's it like?"

"I'm sorry. I'm not following. What are you referring to?"

"Space. What's it like?"

"Boring."

She reaches across the pillow barrier and smacks my arm, something that seems to be common here among people who are friendly with each other, so I take no offense. "Kai! Seriously? What will it be like? What did you do all this time you were in the pod?"

"Studied humans."

She sits up and looks over at me. "Seriously? How did you study us if your people haven't been here yet?"

"They pay the drones–the ones your people call the Grays–for information. Their people are collectors. They have a lot of information on humans."

Even in the dark, I can see the face she makes. "That's…comforting. How come you haven't been here sooner?"

"I'm not sure. The Grays can't always be trusted. The way they process and think isn't always linear. Plus, there are many worlds closer to us that are hospitable. They've sent others out in search of your planet before. Each mission has failed, so they must not have gotten solid coordinates from the Grays."

"Or maybe the Grays want to keep their find to themselves?" she says, laying back down.

"Also a likely possibility."

She falls silent again, but her breathing doesn't change. I wait, knowing more questions are coming. "Kai?"

"Yes?"

"How'd you end up at the tire shop?"

"It smells like home."

She chuckles. "Your home smells like stinky guys and grease?"

"Rubber."

"Rubber?" she says aloud and then sucks in a breath. "The first day when you helped me sit. Is that how you…"

I find myself shaking my head even though she can't see me. "Our skin shares many properties on a cellular level with what you call rubber. In some ways, it acts like it too. Give me your hand. I'll show you."

Slowly, her hand appears over the pillow barrier. I reach out and grasp it in my own, threading my fingers through hers. "Will you be okay if I demonstrate?"

"Uh, sure." There's a hitch in her voice I can't interpret and her heart rate picks up, but she seems stable enough. Slowly, I reach out past our entwined fingers.

Moving like this, expanding, always feels amazing–like an extended stretch after too long in the same position. I allow my arm to slowly encase hers. Inch by inch my extension covers her. First her wrist, slowly up her forearm, around her elbow, then upward until I'm at her shoulder.

She lays remarkably still as her arm slowly becomes enveloped by mine. I let my body stretch even more, my flesh covering every inch of her arm until I press carefully under the sleeve of her shirt and allow myself to caress her shoulder. She shivers as I brush against the soft curve of her neck–a small intake of breath, the only sign that my touch affects her at all.

"Can I touch your arm?" she asks.

I chuckle. She's touching my arm in a million different places, but I know what she means. She places her soft, warm hand tentatively on our joined arm and runs a slow hand over it.

"You have goosebumps," she says, amusement in her voice.

"I'm sorry, I'm not used to touch. I was in the pod, alone, for a very long time."

"How long?"

I have to think about it for a moment. Mental math has never been my thing. "About two of your years."