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13

AMITY

After an endless trainride and a stomach-churning few hours in a shabby little plane, Ren brings me to a friend’s house. Anchorage is a mix of wide gray roads and crowded back streets filled with houses of all shapes and sizes. There are trucks and wood piles squished into alleys beside ramshackle sheds and mud puddles.

The house is low to the ground and almost rubs up against the neighbors. Unlike the buildings in Canada, this house has windows and peeling green paint. One of the windows is boarded over.

Mobile homes and trailers cluster erratically nearby, some with green lawns flanking them, others on their neighbor’s doorstep. There are sheds and cars and bikes and tires everywhere.

Pieces of litter blow along the sidewalk, and graffiti paints the walls. The mountains in the distance are sharp and white-topped against an intensely blue sky.

The early summer air is crisp and bracing. Above usblack birds with red on their wings swirl up into the sky and dive back down, shrieking. The people we see are lean and guarded, mostly men. One guy is walking down the road carrying a baseball bat. He doesn’t look like he’s going to a game.

We step onto the porch. The door is splashed with streaks of color, a shocking design for a front door. Someone has glued tiny pebbles, shells, and colorful sequins to the surface. Ren knocks. Nothing happens.

Ren knocks again, banging this time.

“Hey, Eli! Open up.” We hear steps from inside and the door opens a couple of inches, still locked by a chain.

“Qilan,” Ren squeals. The door slams closed, only to open immediately to reveal a tired-looking young woman in jeans with straight dark hair and searching eyes.

“Ren, you made it,” she says in a low, rich voice. Her eyes slide to me silently.

“Qilan, this is Ami,” Ren introduces me. “She was in the same batch back in the PS.”

Qilan nods. “What about?—?”

Ren shakes their head. “Yeah, no. I couldn’t find him…”

Qilan’s lips press together. “I’m sorry,” she says finally.

“Can Ami stay here for now? She’s looking for a friend and doesn’t have a place. She helped me buy my plane ticket from Vancouver!” Ren puts extra pleading in their voice.

Qilan’s eyes scan me and she shrugs. “It’s okay with me if it’s okay with Eli and Moira.”

“Great! Come on, kiddo,” Ren’s enthusiasm knows no bounds. Qilan steps aside and Ren drags me inside calling, “Moira?”

“She’ll be back soon,” Qilan tells Ren. “She’s out collecting. You guys can take the trailer.” She adds as an afterthought, “It might be dusty.”

“Awesome.” Ren grins and Qilan sighs a little. She seems familiar with Ren’s enthusiasm.

“Moira put some stuff back there for when you came,” Qilan says, offhand, and Ren glances away, blushing. “You should thank her,” Qilan tells Ren and she’s smiling slightly, like she’s teasing Ren.

“Don’t worry about me. Go translate something.” Ren leads me down a hallway past an open area partially taken up by a piano and sagging couches.

Out back there’s an awning and the door to a small, manufactured home. Inside we find a utilitarian kitchen and table and chairs, clean despite Qilan’s warning.

Ren smiles, looking around at a few dishes stacked neatly and a note on the counter they grab and read. “Aw, Moira.”

I don’t know who Moira is but I’d like to find out if there’s a shower I can use. Ren opens one door and behind them I see a wide bed with a small pile of clothes folded on it and a desk tucked up to a window overlooking the alley.

Ren sighs deeply. When they turn back I realize they’re holding back tears.

“You okay?” I ask.

“I’m happy to be back.” Ren sighs. “It’s just hard, leaving him behind.” They’re talking about their brother, I guess. “Next year I’m getting him out no matter what,” they murmur.

Ren turns and crosses to another door on the other side of the common area. It’s an identical room with a narrowbed. There’s a chest of drawers and next to the window is a long, deep table that’s covered with oddly shaped cups and vases, along with unrecognizable pottery pieces glazed in different colors.