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Chapter Four

Roth’kar

A fascinating creature, this human. Kindness radiates off her, and I enjoy watching the curve of her hip as she works over the counter making dinner. A sliver of guilt wedges itself in my chest at how earnestly she wants a partner.

“I have work tomorrow, but it’s Friday, and then we’ll be home free,” she says.

“And Friday is…?”

“Oh! Right. I forget you don’t know Earth things.” Her laughter is lively. “Friday is the end of the work week here. So I’ll be at my day job tomorrow until five, but then I’m off that night and the next two days. And we can do all kinds of stuff!”

Coming into this, I expected she would have work of some sort to pay for our living expenses. I had thought perhaps she’d be a farmer and I could help out in that way, but I’m not sure what her job entails.

“What do you do? For your work?”

She seems instantly repelled by my question, wrinkling up her nose. “I’m a paper pusher.”

“Paper pusher?” I repeat. “What benefit do you get from pushing paper around?”

“Just means that my job feels pointless.” She sighs in a way that’s distinctly bored. “It’s fine. I like the hours and the benefits, and I don’t work too hard. But it gets old.”

Perhaps I understand even better now. She is seeking satisfaction in her life and isn’t receiving it in her place of work.

“Drudgery,” I say. My own work, when I could get it, was often drudgery. Sometimes I cleaned out old pipes, or hauled scrap from one place to another, or got paid to pick through said scrap. I always walked away from those jobs with shredded hands.

She nods. “Yes, drudgery. It’s the same thing every day. I wouldn’t mind it if, you know, it felt worthwhile. Paying for this apartment.” She gestures around us. “Making dinner, stuff like that. I thought it would be better if there was someone waiting for me at home.”

She bashfully turns her head at this, taking a nervous sip of her water. I realize she means me, and so I sit up and extend one of my upper hands to her.

Curious, Amara extends her own hand, and I clasp it in mine, twining our fingers together. Her tan complexion darkens.

“I would be happy to be here when you arrive home tomorrow,” I say. “What should I do while you’re gone? I can cook, as well.”

“You should get settled! Explore, maybe. Get to know the neighborhood a little.” She taps her chin. “Shoot, I forgot to get an extra key made. I’ll leave it with you tomorrow, and you’ll just have to promise not to lock us out.”

My translator hurriedly provides an image of a “key” turning in a lock, and I understand. Far more basic than a scan card. Very rustic.

We talk some more about what activities her neighborhood offers—there’s a convenience store, which I understand sells small necessities and snacks, a restaurant, and another place that I still don’t quite grasp what it does.

“Paycheck advances,” she says. “Predatory. They give you a loan on your future paycheck. A scam, if you ask me, that takes advantage of poor people.”

Her righteous fury surprises me. She seems quite well-off, if the large accommodations are any indication, so what interest does she have in the plight of the poor? She is an interesting woman.

Not long after, the food is ready. She serves a cooked grain that comes out yellow, which she explains is saffron rice, then meat and vegetables from the “tagine” dish.

The food is a revelation. I’ve never tasted anything with so much character , so much spice and intensity.

Each bite is an explosion of flavor, and I find myself absolutely, deliriously ravenous for it.

I spoon every last bit from my plate into my mouth, and then look up to find Amara staring at me.

“Do you like it?” she asks, a smile teasing at her lips. “There’s more.”

I give her a hasty nod before helping myself to another portion, which I consume just as quickly, using another one of the utensils—the fork —so that I can eat with three hands at the same time while I hold the plate in my fourth.

Finally, I’m finished, and I can’t eat another bite. But oh, how badly I want to. It was the most delicious meal I’ve ever had in my life.

“Wow, you can really pack it away,” Amara says playfully as she gathers up my plate. I want to assist her in cleaning up, but I can barely move. “Stay there. I’ll take care of it. Then we should get settled.”

Ah, I know what she refers to: my inopportune suggestion about sleeping in the same bed, which clearly took her aback. But I don’t want to make her sleep on that rather small cot in the other room and kick her out of her own living quarters.

“I guess sleeping in the same bed is expected of a husband and wife,” she goes on, her back facing me as she washes the dishes, then loads them into a machine. “Do you, um, feel comfortable with that? Really?”

It’s less a matter of comfort and more of doing what I think will please her. I want these thirty days to end with Amara deciding to keep me so I can get my residency on Earth.

“If you are not ready, then I’ll sleep in the adjoining room,” I assure her. “The other bed doesn’t bother me.”

She pauses, back still turned. Then she slides the plate into the rack and closes the machine with a click . When she looks at me, her lips are pursed with uncertainty. It’s fascinating how much humans get across with their facial expressions.

“I just don’t know you that well yet,” she says, wringing her hands. “But I do think you are, erm—” She coughs. “Attractive? I mean, I would like to get to that point. Of sleeping together. In the bed. In the future, when we know each other better?”

This is good. She is clearly not at the point of discussing intercourse yet, but she does have an interest in sharing intimate space.

“Then we will wait until the time is right.” I rise from my chair, finally able to move my body again after how much I ate. “I will sleep in the other room for now.”

“But it’s so small?—”

I put my lower arms on my hips and cross the upper pair across my chest. “I will be fine. You have a lovely home, with every creature comfort.” The waste receptacle seemed outdated at best, but at least it was far cleaner than the one I shared with five other adults in the Hole. “I will not be wanting for anything.”

She considers this, then lets out a resigned sigh.

“All right.” She offers me a smile. “You’re a nice guy, Roth’kar.”

The compliment is so sincere that I’m surprised by it. She takes a step closer to me and holds out her hand.

“I feel like we didn’t really meet properly at the spaceport.” Her ring glints on her second-to-last finger. The symbol of our “marriage.” “But I’m really glad that you decided to do this with me.”

I try to smile my best in return and take her hand in mine. She squeezes it, then withdraws.

“Whenever you’re up for a hug, though, let me know.” A mischievous expression crosses her face. “I like hugging.”

I consider wrapping my four arms around her right then and there to cement the bond between us, but I am getting the sense that Amara needs more courting. It is very different from my past experiences with females. I will have to tread carefully.

“Then we shall hug at an agreed-upon date,” I suggest.

“Oh. Okay.” Amara gives me a shy smile. “Let’s set up a time.”

I press my hands to my chest, then tilt my head up. “Goodnight.”

She waves her hand awkwardly. “Goodnight, then.” As I turn around and head to my room, though, she calls over my shoulder. “Do you need a toothbrush or anything?”

The words make sense taken in parts—a brush for one’s teeth—but it’s a barbaric way to clean the incisors.

I hold up my bag. “I have a cleaning unit.”

“A cleaning… unit?” She cocks her head, so I retrieve it.

The unit is inside a container, which I open and then pull the curved cleaner out.

I place it in my mouth, around my teeth, and it vibrates for only a few moments.

Then I switch it to the lower set, press it again, and I’m finished.

I take the unit into her “bathroom” and clean it out in the sink, which she showed me how to operate earlier.

Amara’s mouth is agape when I return. “Wow. Totally jealous.” She straightens. “All right, then. Tomorrow at work, I’ll shop online for some new clothes for you so you’re not always wearing the same thing.”

I give a brief nod of appreciation. I suppose I do need something else to wear on this planet, as unlike Karthinians—who all wear mostly the same clothes—it appears humans all dress differently, in a vast array of colors.

“Thank you,” I finally answer. My antennae quiver with pleasure, because it will be nice to wear something besides the uniform I’ve had for years. Amara’s own clothes are unusual in fashion but clean and new, and I wonder if I might match her.

“No problem. We’ll get you a whole new wardrobe. Maybe people won’t even notice you’re blue!” She snickers. “Though the antennae will probably give you away.”

With that, we each retreat to our respective rooms. The bed Amara called a “futon” is made up prettily, with a soft pillow and many equally soft blankets.

I’ve never had anything but my scratchy sleep bag, and the sensation of the plush fabric on my skin is lovely.

Although my heels hang off the edge, the cushioning under my back is more than sufficient.

I should go to sleep and be prepared for what tomorrow brings, but I stay awake for some time remembering how just two days ago, I was preparing for this journey in my room in the Hole, saying goodbye to Shar’sak and Zono, who slept in the rooms adjoining mine in our cubicle.

Now I am peering through the slatted coverings over the window, where outside I can distinguish the edges of trees, past a bright light over the street.

This is a backward place in many ways, but the future feels open and inviting.

I’ve made it off New Dro’thar II : the place where I was born, where my father died in an engine fire and my mother died of fever, where all the friends I’ve left behind remain.

I wish I could have brought them along, but they encouraged me on this journey, wanting the best for me.

For them, I will make the best life I can here, and Amara will help me achieve that.