Page 16 of Waters that Drown Us

Alice’s reluctant grin flashes in my mind again, and I shake it from my head as my mother clicks her nails on the table beneath her laptop, the sound reverberating unpleasantly.

“That Rariny sharpshooter is single, isn’t she? What’s her name Mauricio?”

“Soa, I think,” he answers, shooting me an apologetic glance through the screen.

“That’s right, Soa. She’s made quite a name for herself lately. You’d be a good match.”

“I’m sorry, are you playing matchmaker now?” I ask, completely bewildered. For all their flaws, all three daughters of The Syndicate—my mother, Lucia, and Gia—agreed to allow their children to find partners of their own, a privilege they were mostly denied. My mother had to fight tooth and nail to marry my father, and it was only really allowed because she was the spare, second in line to the Matriarchy. “Of all people…”

“We’re not playing matchmaker, mi zorrito,” my father placates, even as my mother huffs next to him. “We know your mind has been elsewhere, and thought we could help push you in the right direction.”

My knee-jerk reaction is to ask what therightdirection would be, exactly. But I take a few deep breaths and try to remember that they love me.

“If I promise to think about seriously dating when I finish my dissertation, can we stop talking about this?” I beg, donning my most pleading smile and aiming at my father. He’s always been easier to sway. I love him so much.

“Fine,” my mother relents, her tone dulling as my father rubs small circles on her back. “We only pry because we know how hard this world is on one’s own. Clara and Charlie have found people they can rely on. People they can tell the whole truth to without fear. You deserve that too.”

Once more against my will, freckled cheeks and bright blue eyes flash in my mind, and I hate myself for it. Because Alice is the last person in the world I can be completely truthful with. And that shouldn’t hurt as much as it does

-

“You’re in a weird mood today.”

Alice’s voice snaps me out of the spiral that was distracting me from even the horrors of the deep. We’re bobbing gently on the ocean's surface, endless nothingness reflected on the ROV monitor as it always is. I’ve been staring off into space, trying to imagine myself married to Soa Raokoto. She’s more a colleague than a friend, but we’ve gotten along well enough when we’ve crossed paths, and the Rariny share a similar moral compass to The Syndicate of Fate, if not more localized. My mother wasn’t wrong when she said she’s made a name for herself. No one alive can hit a target at the distances she can. Her kills have been publicly attributed to military drones. She’s also, of course, exceptionally pretty, with bright eyes and a smile like a siren. Of course my parents would think her a good match for me.

By all reasoning, Ishouldconsider her. My mother wasn’t wrong—this life is hard alone. Knowing that everything you hear, and even some things you see with your own eyes, may be a trick, lie, or manipulation really takes a toll on someone. You need a person to confide in, who helps you parse fiction from reality.

The problem is that every time I try to imagine Soa or some other faceless woman sitting next to me, my mind wanders to the woman I’m sharing a boat with.

I thought I was past this. The simple bubble of a childhood crush popped on day one, and I was able to see Alice as nothing more than a tool or pawn.

Thenwhydoes her face keep appearing in my mind when I think of confessions in the dark?

It has to be because of the situation we’re in. Between my need to drag the truth out of her and our mutual lying and manipulation, wires have likely gotten crossed. I need her confession for utility's sake, to unearth something we can use against Konstantin, but with heightened emotions in play, it’snatural that my desire for her to trust me has been mistaken by my heart for something more.

“Emily?”

When I turn to Alice, she actually looks concerned, which shouldn't be surprising. I probably seem halfway to catatonic.

“Sorry, just stressed,” I say, harkening back to our conversation last week. At least that isn’t a lie—Iamstressed. More than I ever have been, if we’re being honest.

“About the jellies?” she asks, reminding me that I should probably be watching the monitor more closely. “What happens if you don’t locate them up here?”

“I probably will relocate a little further south and see if the warmer waters make them easier to find,” I admit, wondering how long my dissertation process will take if that’s the case. Identifying the location on the nettles is only the first step in this process. Then the actual research around the environmental impacts to toxicity begins.

“Oh.” The broken and delusional part of my brain that’s been picturing Alice as my trusted confidant imagines disappointment in that little word. “Well, you should see more while you’re here. Live a little.”

I raise my eyebrow at her, feeling painfully like my mother while I do it.

“See more of Nesika Beach? I think we can see it all standing in front of the discount store.”

She deadpans, and I’m disappointed my joke didn’t crack her exterior. I’ve started thinking about Alice like Crème Brûlée, so convinced that there’s something sweet and delightful under that little shell.

“Well we certainly don’t have all the trappings of a big university town, I’d think you’d be surprised what adventure you can find here.”

IknowI’m imagining the undertone to her words. She didn’t say them so they’d skate along my skin, leaving escalofríos and a buzzing sensation in their wake. Her expression gives away nothing.

“You going to take me on an adventure, Pecas?”