CHAPTER 6
Hannah’s texts to Julie:
HANNAH:How’s work?
JULIE:Cherise gave me a stack of files to finish and she got to take off. This is what I get for working half the day at home. I was warned that she’s got some weird vendetta. She targets us when we come in. Never. Again.
JULIE:She better be going home to her husband and not to bang her side toy or so help me, I’ll file divorce papers on her husband’s behalf.
JULIE:In short, I’ll be home late.
HANNAH. That sucks. And this was your killer heels day! Hope your feet don’t hurt too bad by the end.
JULIE:They already do.
HANNAH: Sorry =(
JULIE: It’s all right. I knew better than to wear killer heels when I could end up pulling overtime. But hey, the paycheck will be so good I might not have to start hooking. Yet. Although maybe I should. I miss sex.
HANNAH:Same. So there’s this guy who came into the store. A total RHHSS.
JULIE:Ridiculously Hot, Humble, Single, *and*Straight? I don”t believe they exist, ha ha.
HANNAH: Our longtime joke is longtime no more. He’s the real deal, a real live RHHSS! SUPER cute. Super nice too.
JULIE:So bang him.
HANNAH:Seriously, I’m tempted. Really am enjoying the chat I’m having with him, but when I asked for his number, he said he doesn’t have a cell phone.
JULIE:Never mind. A guy who ‘doesn’t have a phone’ has three phones he uses for his three wives, none of whom know he’s keeping dishes on the side. He’s probably got a slew of kids who don’t know they have packs of siblings being raised by other den mothers. RUN.
HANNAH:See, normally I’d think the same thing, but this guy…
JULIE:Han, you’re being blinded by hormones.
HANNAH:This guy seems genuine.
JULIE:That’s how he gets his wives. They fall for his BS. DON’T BE HIS FOURTH WIFE, NUMPTY!
HANNAH:All right, I know what you’re saying, but you just have to trust me. I really don’t think he’s like that. Don’t be mad, but I invited him back to our place. P.S. He has a cat.
JULIE: Is that like a code word?
HANNAH: No. He adopted a cat at the store, and he went all out getting supplies for her, so guess what? Now I have bonus money coming on top of rent money.
JULIE:You’re going to hook up with a cheater? And he has a cat? WTF are you thinking? We aren’t allowed to have pets. What are you doing?
HANNAH:No one will know we snuck a cat in, and stop insinuating he’s got secret multi-families! Believe me, this guy cannot be a cheater. He’s too… pure.
JULIE:OMGooooodness, he’s sexed you stupid already. Prepare to get your ass kicked when I get to the apartment, and if he doesn’t want me to kick HIS ass, him *and* his cat better be gone.
JONOH
I’m having the most incredible adventure exploring Hannah’s dwelling. It’s somewhat rectangular in design, instead of the wide and rounded rookeries I’m most familiar with. Being that humans are flightless, Hannah’s rookery is squat with no loft for flying. Her place of habitation is fitted within a massive sun-dried clay brick-made abode of similarly fashioned miniature rookeries stacked four dwelling levels high, none of them featuring large vertical spaces.
My wings experience a pang, imagining a life without flight. As we walked here, the soaring buildings practically invited flight-capable beings like myself to take to the sky and investigate.
Thanks to Hannah, I was able to easily refrain from giving into such an urge. As much as I’m born to fly, I’ve been searching for my connection all my life—and I finally have her.
I have met my Hannah. Nothing could have made me leave her as she led me to her home.
The door to her dwelling is white, the walls are white, the ceiling is smooth and white, and the floors are a pale, warm brown wood-like surface. Two windows face the door when you enter, and late evening sunshine streams inside, casting the room in a welcoming amber glow. Two exiguous bookshelves frame either side of the windows, brimming with a plethora of books I want to examine, curious as to what my mate’s interests are. A long, narrow rug with a startlingly Rakhii-like tribal motif adds both color—of blue on white—and traction to the floor of the common social activities room, which is only a few steps away from the entry point of her rookery.
It is the smallest rookery I’ve ever been in. If I released my wings and spread them out, I could brush both walls with my wingtips. Affixed to the wall on the right is a slim black device called a plasma screen, which many humans use to watch entertainment. The top half of the left wall is blank, save for a long-necked lamp that arcs over to provide light for a long upholstered tri-seat furniture piece. Behind the long upholstered tri-seat furniture is a fascinating stand of silver pipes.
“It’s a radiator,” Hannah tells me as I crouch behind her tri-seat furniture, squeezed between it and the wall, to peer at it. “Your cat would love it. That is, when the super finally turns the boilers back on again. Usually he waits until we get our first freeze, which will be awhile. Til then, if we get cold nights or mornings, we drag the big duvets out and wear them around the apartment like togas.”
“How very interesting,” I tell her as I back out of the cramped space. Heedfully, I move somewhat near to the center of the room again, being mindful of the fact that square above the rug dangles a large round globe that I have to take care not to walk my head into. It is well above Hannah’s head, but directly in my face. It isn”t a decoration as I first thought—or at least it isn’t merely decoration. It is in fact a lighting option to illuminate the space, when the windows aren’t doing as fabulous a job as they currently are. Hannah told me so when I asked her what it was.
“Here,” Hannah says, and I back myself to the wall to make room for her as she moves forward and begins nudging a low table from its home near an overstuffed chair that sits adjacent to the long upholstered tri-seat furniture until it rests directly under the dangling globe. “Now you can’t walk under it unless you trip over the coffee table first.”
Coffee table?My eyes drop to the low surface, wondering how it is used in conjunction with coffee.
My new feline strolls past me, dragging the side of her body against my leg as she goes, as curious as I am about Hannah’s dwelling, not afraid at all. Hannah told me the breed is like this. Very tame, very bold and adventuresome.
It makes me wish I were a cat.
At first Hannah surreptitiously watched me take in her space, with my feline draped across my hands until my pet deigned to jump down where she occasionally butted her head into my ankles whenever she’d pass me to examine the rest of the rookery. Now Hannah is standing off to the side of me, one arm crossed over her chest to cup her elbow, her other hand cupping her chin, her eyes thoughtfully narrowed, and her gaze—that’s unreservedly on me.
“What is this?” I ask, dropping to my heels to better look at something nestled in a decorative bowl on the coffee table. She’s been wonderfully forthright and unconcerned that I’m asking so many questions. When I was briefed for this excursion to Earth, I was cautioned not to pose too many questions to any one person because it was feared they would begin to suspect my otherness, but Hannah is unruffled answering every one of my queries.
“That would be a block of soap.”
“Soap!” I say in surprise. I peer at the pleasantly scented sculpture, then look to her. “May I hold it for closer examination? I will be very careful.”
Hannah bites her lips. “Sure.”
With utmost care, I raise the item and scrutinize it. “The artistry is phenomenal. What sort of creature does this represent?”
“It’s an otter.”
“Amazing,” I murmur. “How long did this take you to craft?”
“Umm, it was a gift. I didn’t make it. And it was probably made by using a mold. You know, where someone makes a pattern from a sculpture, fills it with a product—in this case, soap—and mass produces a bunch of them.”
“Ah, yes, mold making. An amazing method of production! I have read a text on this subject.” I glance at her, smiling. “It’s a very interesting process.”
“I’m sure,” Hannah says faintly, her eyes dipping down to my mouth, and staying there. She seems to watch my mouth a lot.
“Do you have difficulty hearing?” I ask her before setting the sculpture down cautiously so as not to mar the finely carved details in the soap’s surface. I line it up exactly where I found it.
“What?” Hannah asks.
I straighten and raise my voice. “I’M SORRY. I SHOULD HAVE BEEN FACING YOU WHEN I ASKED—”
“No,” Hannah laughs, looking bewildered. “I meant why would you think that? I’m not hearing impaired.”
“Oh.” I gesture to her. “Mick”s screams seem to register at an ear-damaging level, and you keep watching my mouth—”
Hannah’s facial color darkens. Her face nearly reads embarrassment, if I am able to read her properly.
“—which reminds me of an acquaintance—”
Who wants to render to me great bodily harm.
“—who is hearing impaired, and he reads lips. I wondered if that was what you were doing.”
Hannah brushes her flyaway mane hairs behind her ears and avoids my eyes. “Uh, no. That wasn’t the reason I was staring at your mouth.” She drops her hand and brushes the leg of her pants, attempting to dislodge the wood shaving particles from it.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel shame or awkwardness,” I say, feeling dread. “I am so sorry.”
Her eyes bounce to mine. “You didn’t.” When I continue to watch her, not quite believing what she says, she amends, “I’m flustered, but that’s on me, not you.” She lowers her gaze to check the device strapped to her wrist that is for time keeping, and does not punish her—Hannah was very interested in why I had cause to wonder about this. “Okay, Julie is going to be home any—”
There is a grating sound, metallic in nature—the sound of physical keys being utilized rather than key scanner pads—and then the rookery door bursts open and a female voice stridently shouts, “He’d better be gone, or I’m going to kill you both!”
Directly behind the rookery door is a slender table covered in an assortment of baskets that hold an array of items, and above the slender table’s top is a mirror glass that is both broad and round and reflects the diminutive food preparation area situated across the room. The mirror glass shivers as the woman stomps inside and slams the door closed behind herself, blocking our easiest method of escape.
Alarmed, I hold my hand out for Hannah. “I will protect you from whoever is threatening you. Please step behind me.”
Hannah smiles at me but doesn’t accept my offer of protection. “Something tells me she could take you. But thanks.”
Take me? My fingers itch to reach for my Comm to consult my comprehensive lexicon of terms. It’s part of the guidebook my human friends made for me to better assimilate into their society. The phrase take me, if my memory serves, is sexual in nature.
That Hannah believes this interloper could have designs to barge into Hannah’s home and sexually attack me is cause for concern. One, because I wouldn’t be willing. Two, because watching me have relations with another female—against my will or not—will certainly cause Hannah to reject me.
Dread fills me, but I have no time to prepare to defend myself before the woman storms up to Hannah.
And I know her.
The woman takes one look at me and her eyes go wide. “What the HELL?! Hannah! You brought home my creeper!”
Hannah’s jaw drops. “He’s your creeper? The guy who—”
The riled female gestures at me violently. “Yeah, yeah! He’s the guy who chased me down the street!”
“I am unbelievably sorry I frightened you,” I start.
“Wait,” Hannah says, holding up her hand. She points to the other female. “What happened exactly?”
The other woman’s gaze bounces between us and I am relieved to note that the adversarial stance she stormed in with has melted to more of a stunned-quiet state. My cat strolls up to the newcomer and mews at her in inquiry.
The woman shifts her piercing stare down to my pet for a beat, trying to aim a scowl at her I think. But my pet is impervious and stares calmly back.
The woman seems to shake herself. She refocuses on us. “I saw him following me. I sped up—so did he. Eventually I got so freaked out, I started to run.” She gestures unhappily down at her stylish shoes, then bends tiredly and begins to uncork her feet from them. “But it didn’t do me any good, because then he broke into a run too.” She takes up her shoes by their heel straps and her eyebrows wing up in arches. “When I whipped around to deck him and chew up his ass, he claimed he thought someone was chasing me. I told him, ‘Dude, it was YOU.’ And when he told me he was sorry, that he didn’t know he was scaring me, I…” her brows furrow, a wrinkle nearly bisecting her smooth forehead, she looks so conflicted. “Believed him.”
Hannah slaps the back of her hand against the woman’s upper arm. “I told you he seems pure.”
“Don’t use pure,” the other woman tells her, her eyes ripping off of me to pin Hannah. “It makes him sound like a drug or a unicorn.”
Hannah smiles and widens her eyes. “I think he might be both. Just watch.”
The woman pans her gaze back to me, her eyes slits. “Oh, I will. Who are you?”
I don’t realize I’ve been clasping my hands until her gaze zeroes in on them. I drop my hands immediately and inwardly flinch. Perhaps I flinch outwardly too—my human friends have told me and told me not to wring my hands. Behind me, I realize my wing talons have started wringing themselves as well, and it’s caused my cloak to bulk up behind my neck like I’ve developed kyphosis.
Both Hannah and the other woman are staring at me. I wonder if they’ve noticed.
Surreptitiously, I refold my wings, clamping them tightly to my back. “I am Jonohkada, and I—”
“What the hell ARE you?” the fierce woman asks, her voice strident. Concern, perhaps panic has edged into her tone. And her eyes are glued to my shoulders, where my wings must have made themselves too known.
Drat. She definitely spied their shapes under my clothing.
“I’m…” I start, and have to swallow hard. I lick my lips, and my gaze goes to Hannah. Because admitting this to her this soon, before she develops an attraction strong enough to trust me, could ruin any hope of having a chance to coax a Choosing from her. “I’m sorry for startling you—”
“Don’t apologize! I want to know what’s going on. SPILL IT,” the aggressive woman orders.
Oh no. Forced to acquiesce, I capitulate immediately and out of my mouth spills the truth before I can hope to censor it. “I’m an alien to your planet surface, and Hannah is my mate.”