Chapter 14 - Tomorrow #3
It turns into an hour-long discussion filled with technical jargon, anecdotes, and helpful advice.
Liz knows her ships, and even though she didn’t plan on ever trading in, she knows the market well, too.
As we talk, I become increasingly more hopeful.
Liz started her venture from scratch with no experience and minimal support, just a loan and determination.
I’m already in a much better position than she was.
I just wish I was as confident in myself as she’s always been.
“Why Craven?” I ask when we get onto the topic of names.
She shrugs, and it sends rivulets of water racing across her neck. “People always called me timid. I never have been, mind you, but they saw my features, my stature, my sex; they made assumptions. I don’t fit into their idea of what a little Asian woman looks like, and I like the irony.”
I know all about assumptions. I like that Liz is subverting them in ways I wish I knew how to.
“What will you call your baby?” she asks.
“My baby?” I frown. “You mean my ship?”
Liz snorts and casts an exasperated glance at me. “You go out and get a ship, trust me, that thing becomes your baby.”
Leaning back on my hands, I think about names I’ve liked throughout the years, ones that have come to me in dreams or during moments of solitude.
There are a few I consider thoughtfully, but I always end up circling back to Kyena, which means tomorrow in Suryā-Vānī.
When I was younger, I always just had to get to tomorrow.
Whenever Kiran and I couldn’t have lunch money because our Bava had gambled it on the races, and our Nayya made it seem so grown up to have breakfast food instead—we just had to get to tomorrow.
Whenever Bava stayed out all night without telling Nayya where he was, and she tried to cry without waking us up—we just had to get to tomorrow.
Whenever Bava thought we weren’t showing him enough respect and went on tirades about how suffocated we made him feel—we just had to get to tomorrow.
Then there were the days he’d make me question even tomorrow.
On his most morose days, he’d tell me I was destined to be a failure like him.
But Bava isn’t here, drowning everything around him in impotent rage and inadequacy.
It’s just me, who made it to tomorrow yesterday, and the day before that, all the way back in time to the moment Nayya first whispered it in our ears.
I always circle back to Kyena.
I feel protective of the name. In that moment, I know it’s the one, and I don’t want to share it with Liz. She must see the indecision on my face because she waves a hand dismissively, droplets arcing in the air, and smiles.
“Don’t tell me, I get it. I’m sure it’s even bad luck to discuss it beforehand.”
I’m about to offer an apology, because it feels rude either way, when footsteps round the corner from the changing rooms. I turn my head just in time to catch the stunned expression on Marlowe’s face as she takes in the scene before her.
She’s wearing my bikini, bright against the towel she fumbles and then drops.
She snaps her mouth shut, turns on her heel, and walks away.
“Marlowe?” I call after her, but she doesn’t so much as falter.
“That your girl?”
My head whips around, and I take in Liz’s apologetic grimace. “What?”
“She did not look happy.”
It hits me then, the scene that we must make. I groan and look up at the ceiling. “Chei.” Fuck.
I dress quickly, but with my hair still wet, I leave it down to dry.
As I pace through the hall, it annoys me, swinging into my eyes and sticking to my face, but I grit my teeth and brush it aside.
I find Marlowe in her cabin. Several knocks later, she yanks the door open, eyebrows raised.
If it wasn’t already obvious that she’s annoyed, that would have clued anyone in; the doors are fully automatic and only need to be manually opened if there’s a malfunction.
I refrain from telling her that doing so unnecessarily only damages them.
I’ve come to understand she enjoys a certain amount of flair, and I don’t begrudge her that, but I wish she wouldn’t use it against me.
“Yes?” she asks.
Her expression is carefully schooled, and it’s even somewhat convincing. Her eyes are guarded, her mouth relaxed, her brow inquisitive.
“I know what that looked like—”
Marlowe holds up a hand. “Let me stop you there. You don’t need to explain yourself.”
“I’m explaining the situation because you misread it.”
“I misread it?” She echoes, voice rising. “I misread you in the pool with a naked woman, laughing and joking and posed just so?”
“Yes.”
Marlowe barks in laughter and shakes her head vigorously. “No, I’m not doing this.”
With a firm hand, I manage to stop the door from closing, then step inside after her. She narrows her eyes but moves back to let me in. This close, she smells like the shampoo I gave her because she liked the scent.
Before I can say anything, she continues. “We don’t owe each other anything at all. It doesn’t matter whether I misread the situation or not. Kit told me you were swimming. I thought I’d meet you there, and we could do a few laps together. I should have asked. I’m not even jealous, I just—”
“What do you mean, we don’t owe each other anything at all?”
She jerks like I’ve said something incomprehensible. “We’ve slept together twice; it’s not a big deal.”
Tellurians and their misguided notions of intimacy. I sigh, take her by the hand and pull her towards the sofa. She only sits after I fix her with a deadpan stare, and I take the seat next to her.
“Is this a ‘just sex’ talk?” I ask.
Her glare could level cities. “What?”
I explain. She looks sceptical, but I continue, hoping to convey the differences in our cultures. “I think we owe each other a lot, actually: respect, time, understanding, appreciation.”
“After only two occasions?”
“I’m having a hard time understanding the significance of... the number of times.” I frown.
Only then does something like a smile curl the corner of Marlowe’s mouth. She shakes her head. “Never mind. Must be a Tellurian thing.”
“To never communicate? I agree.”
“Hey!” But Marlowe isn’t angry. She reaches towards me and runs her fingers through my loose waves, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It takes a lot to stop myself from turning my face into the warmth of her palm. I want us to talk about this.
“I like you. I like spending time with you, and I don’t want that to change. Now can I tell you why I was in the pool with a naked woman, laughing and joking and posed just so?”
The hand disappears. A cushion flies towards my head.
Even though she laughs, there’s uncertainty in her gaze.
“I don’t think you should. I know what you said, and I get it, but.
.. I don’t know. It might be that we have sex and enjoy each other’s company, but soon, we’ll part ways.
We’ll probably never see each other again. ”
My stomach clenches. “Is that what you want?”
Marlowe looks away, biting her lip. “Tee, I like you, too, but I’m only on this ship because I’m never going to let Vee’s father use him as a pawn in this game. When we land at Red Horizon, I’ll tell Dominik that and turn right back around. I can’t think much beyond that.”
I try to swallow, but my throat feels like sandpaper. “We’re going to be making a stop before Mars. Would it not be better for us to drop you off at the waystation instead? That way, you can head straight home.”
She pauses to think about it.
“No. I want to face him. I’m going to make him take me seriously. This was the last straw, Tanisira. Besides, I don’t want to get the crew in trouble. If the ship docks and Vee isn’t on it, there’ll be hell to pay.”
“Nothing happened,” I say to her, needing to put it out there. “My people just don’t care about nudity, and apparently neither does Liz.”
Marlowe shakes her head a little. “I know. I just… sometimes I get this intense reaction to anything that seems like rejection. It’s so stupid. It’s so irrational.”
I don’t comment, because I can only imagine—based on snippets of her life—where it came from, and I’m hardly one to talk about healthy coping mechanisms.
“What are you going to say to Gryphon when you see him?” I ask.
For a moment, the rage in her expression banks, and she looks lost. Her mouth opens, closes.
“I don’t know. But I have to say something.
He’s spent the last decade trying to keep me on the back foot, trying to disregard my wishes when it comes to parenting Vee, and I’m sick of it.
Maybe it was a blessing that we had to complete this journey; I don’t know that I would’ve considered finally taking a stand otherwise. ”
She clenches her fists. “I need him to take me seriously.”
“I don’t plan to get in the way of that.”
“Maybe not, but... thinking of this in terms of something that’s drawing to a close can only help. Right?”
A moment passes where we quietly watch each other like animals scoping each other out. I look into her chestnut brown eyes and see only Vee. Straightening my spine, I gather any argument I might have had and tuck them away, I nod instead and make myself reply.
“Right.”