Page 6

Chapter Six

Roth’kar

I should likely not talk too much about the Hole, about life on New Dro’thar II . I do not want or need Amara pitying me, and I also fear it might become too obvious why I came to Earth. I don’t think my plan would be received well.

Instead, I divert Amara’s attention to showing me how to cook in her home, using the “stove,” the “oven”—both of which appear to be the same device—and the toaster—which is yet another “oven” but smaller—for quickly melting cheese.

The cheese is, I must admit, my favorite part. It’s gooey and salty and absolutely perfect. I think, after our meal, that I could eat much more cheese.

“Earth has such a wide variety of flavors,” I say thoughtfully as I pack away my second portion. Amara is smiling the whole time, like my ravenous hunger for the food she made has pleased her.

“Oh, this is only a fraction of it,” she says, clapping her hands. “There’s so much more to show you. Indian food, Japanese food, Mexican food…” Her eyes fall closed, like she’s dreaming of this cuisine. “Food from all over the world tastes different.”

“And you can get all that here?” I ask. “You don’t have to go to another place to eat their food?”

Amara laughs. “Yes, we can get it here. It might not be authentic, but it’s good enough.” She taps her chin. “I wonder if you’d like sushi.”

“Soo-shi?”

“Raw fish with rice and seaweed. And other stuff, too.”

My translator supplies an image for a sea-faring animal, and I wrinkle my nose at the idea of eating it raw. Everything you eat in the Hole is cooked to eliminate disease.

“It’s good, I promise,” Amara says, registering my expression with amusement. “I’ll only take you to eat yummy food.”

After the two meals she’s made for me, I believe this is true.

That night, I wonder if Amara will invite me into her bed. It is my duty, after all, to make sure she is content in all ways. And I wouldn’t terribly mind it, either—she is appealing and attractive with her wide hips and long-lashed eyes.

But after dinner, when we’ve sat and talked for some time about different regions of Earth and the kinds of foods they have there, Amara bids me goodnight and goes to her bedroom, leaving me in the hallway alone.

I furrow my brow. I spent much of today looking up with the communicator what information I could about human anatomy, and I believe I’ve memorized all her potential erogenous zones. But she doesn’t seem interested, which worries me.

What if she sends me back because she doesn’t find me attractive? What if, by the end of the trial, she doesn’t want to complete the ritual, and I don’t get my citizenship?

I slink back to the futon and make myself comfortable, trying not to dread what may or may not happen in the future. This was only our first day. I still have time to prove to her I can be a good husband.

I’ll be the best husband. I’ll learn the oven and the stove, and make everything with cheese on it, and Amara will keep me until the deal is done. Then I can decide what’s next.

I awaken to sun coming in my window, and I blink hard at the brightness of it.

The sun isn’t like other kinds of light—it’s brighter than any kind of artificial light we had on New Dro’thar II , but in a gentle way.

There’s a different quality to it that’s…

magical. Life-giving. I rise out of bed and lift my head to the window, resting my cheek against it to savor the warmth.

That’s why I attempted to go outside yesterday. I wanted simply to stand in the fresh air and breathe it in. I hope I’ll get a chance today when we go to this tailor . I want to feel the sun directly on my skin, to soak it up and revel in it.

After putting on my shabby clothes and cinching my belt, I find Amara waiting by the door with a big smile on her face. I am beginning to appreciate her smiles, how they warm up her whole face. It is welcoming and genuine.

She offers me her arm, and I’m not sure what she wants me to do with it. With a giggle, she loops her hand around my elbow. The touch is so intimate, so companionable, that I stiffen.

“Are you worried about falling?” I ask her, holding her tighter just in case.

“No, no, not at all.” Amara gently squeezes. “I just thought it might be… nice.”

I try to relax. I am her husband, after all, and this must be a common behavior between husbands and wives on Earth.

After showing me the correct way to leave the building— not the same direction as the exit sign, which makes no sense to me—we’re out on the street. Other humans pass by, many of them staring as they go. I pause there and close my eyes, lifting my head to feel the warm sun on my face.

“Do you like it?” Amara asks, and I open my eyes again. “You said you grew up on a spaceship. Was there a sun close by?”

I shake my head. “I’ve always lived with artificial light. We have ultraviolet, of course, in order to survive. But never real sunshine.”

“We should go for a walk in the park!” She leads me by the arm down the paved pathway that runs alongside the asphalt street. “If you’ve never seen trees up close before, I bet you would like it.”

This is an exciting idea. I could get close to the trees, perhaps even touch them. I want to know more about these big, leafy plants.

“Oh, yes. I would enjoy this.”

Amara comes to an abrupt stop at the edge of the sidewalk, but I try to continue.

“We have to wait,” she says, keeping me from going any farther. “See that light?” She raises her hand and points at a lit symbol across the street. “That means stop. After a while, it changes into a little green man, and then you can go.”

“Green man?”

Cars pass by quickly, and I think how silly it is they still have ground vehicles when they can prove so hazardous to pedestrians. On New Dro’thar II, all vehicles travel on a separate raised level, while pedestrians remain on the floor so there is never any risk of being hit.

I have learned yet another rule of this world. Don’t get hit by a car. Wait for the green man.

“The traffic lights are the same way,” Amara says as we wait. “Red means stop, green means it’s safe to go.”

“And yellow?” I ask, pointing at one of the lights as it changes.

“Um… it’s like, stop if you can, but don’t slam on your brakes. Unless someone’s right behind you, then I usually go through it. But you have to kiss your hand and slap the roof so the cops don’t pull you over.”

Driving sounds complicated. Her world is dangerous.

Then the red hand vanishes, replaced by a green walking figure.

“So we can walk now?” I ask, and Amara beams.

“You’ve got it.”

As we go, Amara and I cover many more essential subjects, such as walking on the right side of the sidewalk, when a small, four-legged creature steps out in front of me.

I’ve never seen anything like it, and I nearly jump out of my skin.

“What is that?” I ask Amara in a hoarse voice. The furry animal is, thank goodness, held back by a restraint, but the moment it sees me it lets out a terrible, sharp sound that blasts my eardrums.

I leap back, startled, right into a bush.

“Sorry,” says the woman trying to keep a hold on the animal. “He’s never seen an alien before.”

I find I’m holding onto Amara’s arm rather tightly as we leave it behind, me leading us at a quick clip down the street.

“It’s okay,” Amara says, patting me. “That was just a dog. Have you never seen a pet before?”

“Never.”

Most of our food is arthropod protein, from insects raised in containers on higher levels of the ship. We certainly do not have animals as pets . You could keep a cricket in a box, I suppose, but one of your friends would probably sneak it as a snack.

“Well, dogs are mostly harmless. You shouldn’t pet one without asking first, though. I never pet dogs I see on the street just to be safe.”

“Just to be safe?” I glance back at the animal warily. It raises one leg and urinates on a tree. “Safe from what?”

“Dogs can bite. I mean, most animals do, but they usually won’t bother you unless you bother them.”

“Earth animals… bite?” This is a disturbing thought. Especially when one is simply out and about on a leash.

“Not all of them. A bird could peck you. Which probably hurts, but not that bad?” Amara contemplates this. “I think it would hurt if they pecked you in the eye, like in that one movie.”

“Pecked you in the eye ?” I don’t know what this bird is, but I don’t like it already. “How would it accomplish that?”

“Birds fly!” Amara points up at the sky. “They’re winged animals. Like planes.”

I stare at her. “Birds are like…” My translator supplies me with a massive flying vehicle, large enough to swallow ten humans. “Planes?”

Horrifying. And they’re just flying around?

Amara waves her hands wildly. “No, no, I just meant that birds fly the same way planes do. Birds are small.” She pauses thoughtfully. “Usually. Though I do hear condors are big.”

I’m frozen, imagining the plane-sized bird pecking my eyes out. Maybe I made a mistake by coming to Earth. How has such a soft woman survived here for so long? I’m aghast the rest of the way to the tailor’s, second-guessing our decision to visit the park later.

Inside the building it’s rather dark, with moody lighting above racks of clothes. A woman with deep wrinkles and gray hair slides out from behind a counter to greet us.

“Ah, the alien,” she says, taking in the sight of me.

She strums her chin. “Four arms. How interesting.” She beckons us to follow and heads into the back of the store.

Amara takes my hand and leads me after her.

There are two partitions with curtains, and the woman whips out a long string and sits on a stool uncomfortably close to me.

She inspects my arms closely, and I shoot Amara a confused look.

“She’s measuring you. For your new clothes.”

I stand still as the tailor holds up her tape and measures the space between my upper armpit and my lower shoulder before making some notes. Then she measures around my chest, my neck, and waist, noting all of it.

“The bad news,” the woman says, rising, “is that I’ll have to make all his shirts by hand. I thought I could simply add additional sleeves, but given his anatomy, he’ll need new garments made to fit him.”

I can tell this is not what Amara wanted to hear. Her face visibly wilts, and I curse that I couldn’t have at least come with some Earth-appropriate clothing. She probably didn’t expect she’d have to pay such a high bill to have me around.

“All right,” she finally says. “You said you could give me a bulk discount?”

“How many garments do you need?”

She glances at me. “I can do the laundry every week, so… what about seven shirts? And a jacket for the cold weather.”

The tailor whips a little pad of paper out of her pocket, scribbles something on it, rips it off and hands it to Amara. Her dark complexion pales.

“Really?” She grinds her teeth together. “All right.”

Whatever number is written on that paper must be upsetting. I want to argue that I would be fine with far fewer items of clothing, but before I can even open my mouth, Amara gives me a stern look.

“You need clothes. Don’t even start, antennae boy.”

I press my lips together to keep the words from coming out, because I don’t want to upset her even further.

Amara squints as she runs a rectangular card through a machine at the front counter, and I believe it is some sort of credit system.

Credit is given to Karthinians higher up the food chain, those who live above the Hole and can be trusted to pay back the money they spend.

Amara must be well-off in Earth society to have access to credit.

“Thank you,” Amara says to the tailor, her expression pinched.

“No problem. I’ll have the clothes ready for you next week.” The old woman stops me before we can depart. “I forgot to ask. Do you have color preferences?”

I stare blankly. Colors? My uniform has always been this same off-white, and I’ve never worn anything else.

“I think a dark blue would look good,” the tailor says thoughtfully. “Maybe some grays.”

“I…” I glance at Amara, who is wearing a purple shirt with blue jeans. I like how it looks on her, setting off her brown skin and dark hair. “I like purple,” I announce after a moment.

The tailor cocks her head, then, after some contemplation, takes more notes before waving us off. Amara takes my arm in her hand, and we depart the shop together.

She has already done so much for me. I need to learn how to cook Earth meals properly to pay her back.

As we head home, we pass the dog and its owner coming down the street, and I move between it and Amara in case it decides to bite.

Perhaps there is something I can do for her—keep her safe in this strange and dangerous world.