Page 17

AMITY

After an endless train ride 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 us black 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 narrow bed.

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.

I turn to Ren. “Is this someone’s studio?”

Ren shrugs. “They must have moved on. You can move that stuff back to the main house or take it somewhere, just ask Eli when he gets home.”

“It’s okay,” I respond and check around. The walls are gray and dirty, but the bed is piled with thick blankets.

“This is great, thank you so much, Ren. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, kiddo. I’ll arrange it with Eli, no worries. Look, plug your phone into this to charge it,” and they show me a port by the bed. “We’ll get some clothes that fit you as soon as I catch up with Moira.” Ren blushes again.

I raise my eyebrows. “Moira sounds nice.”

“Yeah,” Ren mumbles. They glance out the window at the bright sunlight. “I have a couple things to do. I’ll see you at dinner, okay?”

Ren ducks out, closing my door. I stare at the room.

My room in Anchorage. I have a place to sleep.

I’ve got money, and a phone, and a friend.

I sit on the edge of the bed and plug my phone in, sending a follow-up message to my mom.

I thought she would respond to the message I sent from Kingston, but there’s no word back from her.

I don’t know what time it is in Baltimore.

I leave my phone and go take a shower, determined to smell better even if I have to put the same clothes back on.

But by the time I’m out of the shower Ren has come and gone and there’s a little pile of pants, shirts, and underwear on my bed.

I pull on jeans and a clean T-shirt with a worn sweater that Ren has dug up, or Moira, whoever.

I gather the rest of the clothes off the bed, dropping them into the empty top drawer of the dresser, and lie down after closing the thick window shade which makes the room surprisingly dark.

I don’t intend to do more than rest a bit, but I fall so deeply asleep that I wake up with a gasp when there’s a sharp knock on the bedroom door and Ren’s voice.

“Come on, kiddo, dinner’s almost ready.”

I take a deep breath. “Okay, I’m coming,” I call. I tie my hair back into the still unfamiliar ponytail, quickly reviewing my cover story in my head.

Ren’s already on their way out the door to cross into the house and I follow them through. There’s a small room in the back of the house with way too many posters, most of them with slogans in red or black ink.

We head into a kitchen with a long table.

Qilan, from earlier, is at the counter, chopping, and next to her is a strikingly pretty girl with red curls and pale skin. She’s scraping something out of a bowl into a pan, and she slides it carefully into the oven. I glance at Ren and Ren is staring, looking nervous.

“Hey.” Ren’s voice croaks and they clear their throat. “How can we help?”

The two at the counter turn.

“Hey, Ren,” comes Qilan’s rich voice and the girl next to her gives us a wide smile.

She comes over to hug Ren. I turn away as Ren’s arms tighten around her and they whisper to each other, the girl’s head tilting back for a brief kiss. Ren pulls the girl in close to their side, a grin overtaking their face.

“Ami, this is Moira. Moira, Ami.” Moira gives me a friendly nod.

“How’d you get mixed up with this one?” she asks, her voice slightly accented and sly, teasing Ren.

“We met up…” I hesitate, not knowing if I should share the details.

“It was a meet-cute in a holding cell,” Ren laughs. “Ami’s first time being deported. So adorable!”

Moira shakes her head. “Welcome to Anchorage,” she says, deadpan.

Qilan gives me a nod and tilts her head toward the fridge. “When you’re done with introductions, could you grate some cheese for us, please?” Qilan drinks from a pretty glass filled with something deep red—maybe wine—and sets the glass down, picking up her knife again.

“Of course,” Ren agrees. “Where’s Eli?”

“Still out,” Moira answers. “Hopefully staying out of trouble this time.”

“Eli is an…anarco-communist?” Ren says to me like it’s a question.

Qilan snorts. “Libertarian socialist, maybe.”

“I believe he’s going by post-Marxist anti-capitalist,” Moira giggles.

“He’ll be back whenever the, um, incident has been resolved,” Qilan says with a sigh. “Come on, let’s get the cheese going. The cornbread won’t take long.”

The smell in the kitchen is making my stomach growl audibly. I grate a pile of cheese while Ren pulls plates and silverware out and puts them around the end of the table. Moira brings the bottle of wine over, then Qilan and Ren dish up chili and cornbread.

Rather than obsess about the details of my backstory, or try to figure out where I can find Zeph tomorrow, I focus on the meal. It’s so spicy it makes my eyes water, but in a good way.