Chapter 10 Destiny #2
Now that I have let my wild train of thought completely off the rails, I find myself in front of their apartment door. I raise my hand to knock but before I make contact, the door slides open, revealing just the guy I’ve been thinking about.
“Destiny, I’m glad you are here.” Khur says, stepping into the hallway with me.
I take an awkward step back, expecting to walk forward into the apartment, not backwards.
The door snicks closed behind him and all the sudden it is the two of us alone in the hallway.
The space is cavernous, but somehow it feels incredibly small as Khur steps forward again, crowding me.
Words escape my quickly melting brain as he reaches up ever so gently and plucks the crescent charm from between my breasts with a delicate claw.
“The crescent moon. A symbol of attraction and desire in my culture.”
He lets the charm fall back onto my breast and it feels warm against my skin.
For the first time I notice his fingers are not covered in white hair, or his palms. His skin is smooth and pitch black, his knuckles streaked with a few stray white hairs.
Long, dangerous looking claws tip each finger.
Should I be scared? Probably, but am I? Well, let's just say I don’t think my heart is pounding out of fear, and words still somehow escape me.
“Should I–I mean, I don’t want to…” I reach up to remove the necklace, not wanting to give the wrong impression, but his hands – warm and rough with calluses – still my wrists.
“Leave it. It suits you.”
Then he turns and lets himself back into the apartment with the wave of his wrist, and I have no choice but to follow.
Urzu and Furga are already inside, along with the kids and, to my surprise, Gunnvall.
The low table in the middle of the couches has been raised and the couches somehow converted into hard-backed benches.
The table is set with black and white patterned pottery bowls that look homemade, nothing like the square utilitarian ones that came with our apartment.
It all looks very suburban dinner party in a way that has me smiling wide.
Who else can say they have attended an alien dinner party?
“Destiny! I’m so glad you made it.” Urzu approaches me with her hands in the air and I meet them with mine, so that briefly we look like two bros celebrating a touchdown or something.
I’m glad I remembered to ask Furga about the Dhugaren version of a handshake before I left the supply station today.
Gunnvall, then the kids, all insist on greeting me as such, tickled that I learned this little thing, and then Furga insists on shaking my hand again, with a little less force than the first time.
Khur watches us from his position against the wall, quiet and stoic.
Finally, Urzu ushers us all into the pit in the middle.
She walks into the kitchen and returns shortly with a much larger bowl that matches the ones around the table, steaming and bringing the smell of something savory and delicious into the room.
She passes the bowl to Khur, who's on my left. He sets it in the middle of the table, then turns back around to offer her a hand in climbing over the couch. Gunnvall doesn’t seem to have an issue getting into the sunken area of the living room, but I wonder about other elderly or disabled people.
Are all the apartments like this? And how did Urzu get different seating in here since this morning?
I have a billion questions, but all of them disappear as Khur serves me a huge helping with a large, flat spoon made from the same material as the pottery.
He slides it in front of me and pulls one of the flat fork things out of the dish, poking it into my bowl. I lean over it and sniff hungrily. The smells alone are to die for, truly. I don’t know the proper protocol, though, for eating a Dhugaren meal. Do they pray before dinner?
I look around for some context clues, but once everyone got a full plate, no one makes a move to eat and I am confused.
“Destiny, I see your father is not here. Did Khur not tell you he was also invited?” Urzu looks at me expectantly.
I seize up at this. Maybe I am still bitter towards him for not putting a bit of effort forth for me today, or maybe I am feeling comfortable with these people and desperate to offload the heavy burden this has become. Either way, the truth comes pouring out of me before I can stop it.
“My father…is sick. He’s been struggling with depression since before we left Earth. I think he has PTSD, too, but he isn’t ready to go see a doctor,” I say haltingly. It is scary to share something so vulnerable to this group of relative strangers. Will they judge my dad? Will they judge me?
Shockingly, I look around and see sympathetic faces.
For some reason, it feels even worse than judgement.
My eyes flit to each person at the table, even the little ones seem to look at me with pity.
I glance at the back of the couch, considering if I can vault it and flee from all the looks.
Before I can move, though, Khur is leaning down, so close I can feel his warm breath on my neck.
“In Dhugaren culture the guest of honor always takes the first bite of food.”
I swear his voice is so deep I can feel the vibrations between my legs.
It melts my brain so much I momentarily forget what we are even talking about.
I tilt my head towards him, like a heat seeking missile, and his dark chocolate eyes snare me even further.
Then he glances at my plate and back at me, looking a bit confused, and my brain jumps back online in time to point out that I am staring at him like a lunatic when he clearly is waiting on me to eat.
Wasting no more time, I take a dainty forkful of the casserole in front of me and bring it to my lips.
“Oh my gawwwd.” I moan around the ecstasy currently happening in my mouth.
It’s like a lasagna, layers of sauce and some kind of veggie and paper-thin pasta, but the taste, strong and spicy and smoky, reminds me of Indian food.
Back on Earth, I could really harm a Tikka Masala from the Indian restaurant in town.
I honestly forgot how good it was, how warm and filling and comforting. This dish reminds me of that.
“Urzu, this is incredible. What’s it called again? I’m going to need to program this into my machine immediately.”
Urzu curls her lip in disgust and I realize I’ve made yet another faux pas.
“Absolutely not. Those cooking machines have no adequate substitution for the love and labor that goes into making furkurra. I will make it for you whenever you like.” She nods decisively and I can’t tell if she’s upset with me or the machines, but then she smiles and glances at the big guy on my left.
“It is Khur’s favorite, too, so I make it often. ”
Who knows why, but that just makes the butterflies in my stomach so happy and I can’t stop the grin from creeping in as I shovel another bite of furkurra in my mouth, manners forgotten. While I’m defenseless with a mouthful of food, Gunnvall takes his moment to strike.
“Your father, you mentioned he hasn’t been doing well?” His gaze is soft as he focuses on me. “I only ask because I may be able to help. I was not in a great way myself, when we first arrived.”
I cannot imagine this tall, proud male, with his jagged broken horn and his jovial attitude, being in a state like my father is.
I can’t decide how that makes me feel, either.
Relieved, that they don’t see him as weak, or angry, that this male can right himself and move on with life when my dad clearly can’t.
I am not sure I want to process these emotions right now, so instead I swallow my mouthful of food and reply nonchalantly.
“I’m not sure what you can do, Gunnvall. I have tried everything I can think of. He doesn’t want to get help, and I can’t make him.”
“Sometimes we can be, perhaps, too close to a situation to see it clearly. Why don’t I go by your apartment tomorrow and talk to him?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I can only imagine what he might say to Gunnvall, after his outburst this evening. My heart hurts thinking that my dad could be capable of saying something hateful to my new friend, but I wouldn’t put it past him at this point.
“You don’t have to do it alone now. You’re a part of a community, Destiny,” Furga speaks quieter than I’ve ever heard her, her eyes sadder than I’d ever seen.
“You don’t even know him. Why would you want to help?”
I place my utensil down on my half-empty bowl to disguise my shaking hands.
No one has ever offered to help me like this, on a personal level.
Sure, the Originem have helped humankind, saving our lives, and I will be forever grateful.
No one has ever taken the time to ask about my dad, though.
Even back on Earth, when mom finally left us, no one ever asked to help.
I was drowning, trying to keep the house up, the bills paid, while my dad drowned in his own sorrows.
I guess since he still went to work and came home every day, no one thought anything was wrong, but I have been carrying this burden alone for a long, long time.
A warm, claw-tipped hand covers my own shaking one between our plates. Khur leans over again, like he has to get closer to speak to me, and I feel myself leaning into him, until our arms are pressed together, lending me heat through my sweater.
“That’s what friends do, Destiny. And I think I can speak for everyone here when I say I’d like to be your friend.”
“Khur is right. We’d all like to be your friends.
Let me go talk to your father. I’ll just welcome him to the neighborhood and see if he needs anything.
A new face can do wonders, you know.” Gunnvall nods sagely.
“Tell me your apartment number and I’ll go by tomorrow while you’re at the supply station. ”