27 – An Adult Conversation
After another failed Jerme using an organic sample, Lextr suggested running more than one experiment at a time, varying the electrical impulses.
After the trauma of the first failed real Jerme, it took him a few days to work up the nerve to restart the trials.
The problem is they’ve now burned through four of the ten they started with.
It was one thing to synthesize encoded DNA to match Jerme’s unique sequence—they had a limitless supply.
But in light of the failure rate and the fact that Electra’s sample came from real preserved DNA, using Jerme’s actual DNA gives them the best shot.
That means six more tries, two of which are currently growing in the closet.
The scans look good. There’s no point in hovering.
When he steps out of the spare room, Electra is sitting in her computer chair with her arms crossed. She’s staring at him, which really means she was staring at the door he just exited.
Electra clears her throat, letting the silence hang heavy between them. He figured she’d be asleep when he got home with the two damning cases.
“Please, Electra, don’t be upset with me.
” He rubs the bridge of his nose for emphasis.
If she knew what he was dealing with, would she be more empathetic?
No, she would judge him, he’s sure of it.
People who got brought back accidentally, like Electra, have certain rights.
But bringing people back from the past is wrong, apart from Jerme, who deserves a second chance.
He takes a deep breath. Actually, forget trying to justify it. It’s wrong, but he’s doing it anyway.
Electra eyes him as if she knows the contradictory thoughts swirling around his mind.
“We need to have a tough conversation, but I don’t want to fight.
” He nods for her to go on, bracing. “I understand you have a right to your privacy, but I’m having a hard time wanting this relationship to progress when you’re clearly hiding things. ”
Feeling threatened, his instinct is to defend himself, but she’s right. They can have an adult conversation like people in an actual relationship. “If you understand that I’m not obligated to share every personal thing with you, then why are you pushing?”
She’s quiet for a moment. “There is a difference between privacy and secrets. If that’s just something you’re working on for your company, why can’t you tell me about it?
I know I said some awful things about the manupartners at first, but I thought after we went and paid our respects to your brother—after everything you shared with me—that we had moved past that. ”
His focus shifts to the silent particle panes, which he only now notices display the first light of sunrise.
This is the exact complication he’s always tried to avoid.
But she’s worth it, isn’t she? He stares as a tear trickles down her cheek, wrenching his heart.
If he keeps making her cry like this, she won’t hang around for long.
She’s smart. She’ll figure out how to leave, then she will, like 3Zeez left her brother.
That means losing the relationship he never even wanted.
He paws at his chest where the panic is settling in.
Would losing her wreck him like it did his brother?
He’s only known this woman for a short while, which means he’s no better than Jerme for embedding Electra so deeply into his world that the thought of her leaving sets him on edge.
That makes him a hypocrite, but who cares? He can’t lose her.
He takes a deep breath. Is he obligated to share with her that he’s trying to bring Jerme back?
He isn’t sure which category his experiments fall into—privacy or secrets.
Regardless, waiting until Jerme’s return to tell her will maximize his chances of keeping her.
Then he’ll tell her anything she wants to know; that’s the plan.
She’ll deserve to know. After all, Jerme will be their new roommate because he isn’t letting his brother out of his sight until he’s certain Jerme is stable.
Maybe he’ll move back into his room, which he and Electra can share—not her and Jerme like he originally envisioned.
Considering how effectively she’s knocking down his walls, the non-deities clearly meant her for him.
He steps up behind her desk chair and rubs her arms. Now that he’s becoming attached, he hates that she might distance herself over a simple difference of opinion.
Or that he might be the one causing a chasm between them.
“You’re right. We’ve moved past that. I’m not used to sharing things, okay?
What I’m working on is a highly confidential and very difficult project.
There isn’t anything that you can do to help, and I guess I’m still sensitive about what you’ll think about it. ” That was true enough.
Her shoulders deflate, and she must sense the earnestness in his words. “We come from different worlds, and I know that there will be bumps as we figure things out. I just need to be able to trust you. Especially now that things are becoming more delicate between us.”
He spins her chair to face him again and gets down on one knee so they’re at eye level. He doesn’t speak, sensing she has more to say. A single tear crawls down her cheek. She reaches to catch it, but he beats her to it, brushing it away with his thumb. “You know I care about you, right?”
“I care about you too, Res6. I guess I’m always waiting for the next bit of bad news.
I keep getting my hopes up, only to be let down.
” She takes quick sniffs, trying to contain herself.
Still, the tears fall. “I’m not upset with you.
I’m just afraid because what’s between is so new and I feel so vulnerable. ”
Thinking of the sunrise on the particle panes, a symbol of new beginnings, he doesn’t hesitate.
He pulls her out of the chair and into his arms, stands, and carries her to the couch.
He could mirror her words, but instead of him fearing some existential threat taking things from him, he fears being left alone—like Jerme left him.
The realization only makes the pang in his chest that much stronger.
When he has her situated in his lap, he tilts her chin up so he can look at her.
“I feel vulnerable too, and you’ve seen why. ”
“Losing Jerme,” she fills in.
He nods. “What happened that makes you so afraid of what may come?”
He’s never found himself more deeply curious than he is at this moment.
He needs to know why she is so afraid so he can fix it and make sure she never fears the unknown again.
That is the security he can give her. That will make him valuable enough to her that she won’t leave.
Which, in an unfortunate twist, is a good argument for getting her an ID. He internally grumbles.
She shakes her head, focus blurring. He senses she’s reliving a memory.
“I was really poor growing up. Everyone in my community was. We got by, but we were always borrowing the basic necessities like bread and eggs from neighbors. Our car was always broken down, and we didn’t have enough money to fix it.
My dad would have to get rides to work or take the bus when we could afford it, but he usually saved his pocket change for my school lunch money.
I never told him it wasn’t enough. The neighboring town was more affluent, and the kids always gave me their change, but it was humiliating.
The shame of admitting my family was poor and borrowing money was easier to bear than the guilt my dad would have felt if he knew.
“But I never cared. I loved my parents, and we always looked out for each other. But then one day I got home from school, and I could tell something was wrong. My dad was in his normal burgundy paisley recliner, staring at a black television screen. My mom was standing across the room behind the counter, kneading dough that had turned hard as a rock. There’s no telling how long they’d been there like that.
When they noticed me, they sat me down and gave me the news.
My mom had breast cancer. The doctor had given them a treatment plan and said the odds were good that she would survive.
But then as the months passed, I saw papers on the kitchen table that were covered in red numbers.
That’s when I realized that my parents couldn’t afford to pay for her lifesaving treatment. She died three months later.”
Her grief momentarily transports him back to the day he found out about his brother. “I’m so sorry.” He strokes her hair, letting her weep gently into his chest. He knew her mother died of cancer, but she never told him why. His heart quietly breaks for her.
Eventually, she speaks again. “I always think I’ve left it in the past, but something will happen, and it triggers me all over again.
You know, right before I died, I’d found out that my books were getting published.
I thought I’d finally made it, and everything was going to be good.
That was hundreds of years ago, but for me it feels like only months. ”
“I know,” he says, knowing there’s nothing he can say to alleviate her pain.
She shakes her head, sitting up to look at him. Zorg, she’s still so beautiful even with puffy eyes and a tear-stained face. Maybe even more beautiful, more human. The thought twists his insides as he stares at her in awe.
“You know what it’s like to lose someone,” she says. “The other day, I was thinking about all the things we have in common, and I forgot to add that to the list.”
She gives him a soft smile, which he returns. “At least we have that,” he says. “I wish I could help you feel more secure.”