“For the rest of your life?”
Mmh. He had a point there. “I guess not. Maybe for a few years. Then…”
“Then?” Dylan prompted after Rebecca stopped.
“I guess I would become something else. Like an instructor or a choreographer or something like that.” In other words: a dance teacher.
“And that would be what you want? For the rest of your life?”
Part of her wanted to ask where these questions were coming from.
“As a job?” Dylan nodded as he waited for her answer. “I guess… well, I guess it wouldn’t be exactly what I wanted, but we can’t ever have what we want, can we? It’s not like I’m equipped to do anything else.” Turning her head to one side, she frowned, “Why are you asking me this? Do you like your job?”
“I do,” he answered.
“And you could do it for the rest of your life?”
“I have been doing it longer than you think. And yes, I could.” Looking away, Rebecca got the feeling this was one thing Dylan was hiding, but she decided to let it go.
After a long silence, she leaned over the table to get closer to him. “How old are you, anyway?”
At first, Dylan gave no indication of wanting to give an answer. Rebecca waited for him to say something; she could have sworn he was trying to decide if he would tell her or not.
Then, instead of telling her, he turned to look at his untouched dinner in front of him. “Looks good,” he said after he’d decided to avoid the question.
“Dylan,” Rebecca insisted; she wanted her answers.
When Dylan turned to look at her, he had something else on his mind. “What if I told you there was a way for you to come with me? A way for you to do what I do?”
That was the most absurd question she had ever heard. “I don’t even know what you do at your job, Dylan.”
“I do something few people can do.”
“If that’s true, then I doubt an injured ballerina can do it.”
“What if you could?”
Sighing again, Rebecca played with her fork. It was bad enough he wouldn’t answer her questions, now he also wanted her to play games with him. He was starting to get on her nerves. Rolling her eyes, she said, “Sure, why not? It would certainly be better than what I have now.”
His smile was cryptic which only annoyed her. It meant more secrets.
And what had been the point of the question, anyway? After all, she was lacking all the training and schooling an FBI agent needed. It would take a lifetime to get hired anywhere near the FBI office.
He must’ve known she wasn’t satisfied with what she heard, maybe that’s why he changed the subject again. “Well, I’m hungry. I say we eat before our food gets colder than it already is.”
“Right,” Rebecca agreed dryly.
As she took her silverware in her hands, she couldn’t help but think about the impossible possibility. What if there was really a chance she could become an FBI agent? That would be wonderful, wouldn’t it? The people she would meet, the places she would see. A way out of her monotony. An adventure.
The pepper was in her hand before she even realized she had it. She had seen Dylan reaching for it from the corner of her eye and then it had tumbled off the table before she’d caught it.
It was almost as if her hand had moved by itself. She hadn’t even noticed.
“Good catch. That was impressive,” Dylan commented with a strange smile.
Rebecca could feel herself blush; it wasn’t the first time she had done something like that, she knew she had good reflexes. It had been one reason she had become such a great dancer.
“You should be more careful,” she warned as she returned the pepper to its rightful place on the table.
“Oh, I will be.”
The number two on the door looked like it belonged to a room in a spaceship from a cheap sci-fi movie. The font they had used looked outdated in a futuristic kind of way. Rebecca wasn't surprised when Dylan, who carried her bags on one shoulder, stopped to let her know this was the apartment assigned to her. The inside turned out to be just as interesting as the way to open the door had been - Dylan had taken out his cellphone device which he had scanned on a small red eye next to the wall, making the door unlock. The apartment was much bigger than she had predicted. At first, she had pictured a small motel room with outdated orange and brown furniture or something related to that image. On the contrary, the apartment had a wide open space with a comfortable and modern living room set; in the back, a small garden with what appeared to be real plants behind a glass wall. To her right, the small kitchen had white countertops and cabinets. It was more like looking into a catalog than a physical living space.
The kitchen also had a breakfast bar with two chairs and, on top, a vase with what looked like fresh flowers. Real flowers.
If Dylan had put them there, he didn’t give the impression he cared.
“If I’d known this place was so fancy, I wouldn’t have needed a lot of convincing,” she teased. At that, Dylan’s eyebrows joined as he turned to stare at her in confusion. “I’m just joking,” she put him at ease.
Stepping into the living room, he said, “Thank Alyssa.” The name was alien to her, and she decided to ask him about her later. “She’s one of your neighbors. Interior design is one of her many talents. She was the first to volunteer in getting the place ready for you.”
“It's a wonderful apartment,” she observed.
Dylan shrugged, “She thought you would like it, but if you wish, you can later choose your own furniture and decorate the place however you want.”
“No. I love it,” marveled Rebecca at what lay before her. She had made a lot of different memories in the house her grandmother had left her, but none of them was particularly special. This place, on the other hand, looked fancy and homey.
She still tried to picture where everything she was bringing from her house would fit, looking with excitement at the possibilities of her new space. Living underground would take some getting used to; at least everyone there was aiming to make her transition easy and friendly.
“Is this my bedroom?” She pointed to the second door to her right. Behind the half-open door, she could see a large suitable bed for two.
Dylan, hands in pockets, simply nodded. “The first room is your study, and that one is your bedroom,” he pointed at the same door she’d been snooping in. “Which reminds me: Alan, our computer guy, will be here in a few days to set up your system. He will also train you on how to use it. Don’t worry about any of this now, you’ll have plenty of time to get familiar with it all. I can also take you to meet Alan soon. You'll like him.”
Alan. Alyssa. Both names of people like Dylan, people like her. Special. Different - and not quite human.
If there had ever been any doubt about her decision, it was vanishing. Everything felt right, perfect. Dylan’s world wasn’t as different as the real world; at least not like she had first thought it would be. Apart from the fact she was in a secret underground facility, it was as if she was being shown an apartment in New York City.
If only she had known all of this when she was getting to know Dylan, maybe she would have come sooner.
Clues about Dylan’s secret showed up mostly every day they saw each other, yet none was more important than the one Rebecca noticed during their fifth date. They would still go on dating for a few more months before Dylan confessed the truth, but two months after meeting him, on a day when he had shown up earlier than usual, they went out for a walk around the block before going out to dinner.
The month of October brought Fall, and with it cool winds, falling leaves, and colorful landscapes. When Rebecca saw Dylan that day, there was nothing that distracted her more than his face. It was something she had never seen before and it made him look so different.
“You haven’t shaved,” she mentioned once they had been walking in silence for a few minutes.
Dylan’s hand went to his chin automatically, s
cratching at the hair that had begun to grow there. Rebecca could have sworn he hadn't expected to find anything there at all – it was almost as if he’d been surprised by what he found and yet she was sure this was something he couldn't have missed. “Right. Uhm,” he looked so uncomfortable she felt sorry for him. “I guess I should go buy a razor.”
“I guess.” She couldn’t help but smile at his confession. “You make it sound like you hadn’t noticed.”
“I, uhm, have been busy,” he added. “I’ll be more careful.”
“It’s all right. You look cute.” Dylan couldn’t care less about the compliment. Rebecca decided to change the subject before things got awkward between them. Clearing her throat, she said: “There’s a convenience store two blocks away, if you don’t mind walking some more, we could go buy you a razor.”
“Sure,” he said. “I don’t mind walking.”
There was something else that was bothering her: “I notice you aren’t wearing your suit today, either. That makes you look different, too.”
"Yes, I thought this was more appropriate." Rebecca always wore carefree clothes, even as the weather was starting to turn colder. That evening she wore a pair of green Capri pants and a flowered white blouse. Over it she wore the same brown sweater she always wore when they went out. She did her best to always look different for him, even if she didn't own many clothes. Dylan usually wore similar suits, which only differed in the shade of gray or blue.
“Yeah, you know, you’re always so well dressed, very business-like, and today you are wearing jeans and a polo shirt. You look different.”
“You don’t like it?” he asked. “I thought you said-“
“No, no. It’s fine, I love it!” Rebecca interrupted him before he kept drawing the wrong conclusions, “It’s just that, uhm, well, you know?”
Dylan stopped, “No, I don’t.” A worried expression on his face. “Am I doing something wrong?”
Just having to ask that sounded strange. “No, it’s not that, it’s just that-” Stopping mid-sentence she reached for his neck to grab the price tag sticking out of the collar. The least she had expected was his hand tight on her arm so suddenly he was hurting her. “Ouch!”
Dylan turned to look at what he had done almost as if his hand had reacted on its own, releasing her, and giving a step back before he started to apologize. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t expect that would happen, I didn’t mean-”
Rubbing her wrist with her other hand, Rebecca said, “I just wanted to take the tag of your shirt, silly. It was sticking out. It’s not like I was trying to hurt you or anything.”
Watching as Dylan ripped the tag off, she could only conclude his reflexes were a side effect of his training at Quantico or something. He was, for better or worse, a certified Federal agent.
“Please understand I didn't mean to hurt you. I know there’s no excuse,” he continued. “I really do apologize.”
“It’s fine,” Rebecca nodded. The way he had worried for her well-being had been worth it. “Just be careful, ok?”
Closing his eyes, he looked angry with himself. “Forgive me,” he repeated.
“It’s fine. Really, ” she reassured him. It felt good to have someone worry about her. Sometimes all people did was judge other people. Dylan didn't seem to waste his time in other people's flaws. It was refreshing.
They resumed walking in silence; Rebecca noticing how Dylan now kept his distance. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was a delicate flower, so she reached over to him and took his arm without asking.
“Maybe we should go eat something,” she suggested in her attempt to go back to the way they were.
The distraction worked for Dylan. “Are you hungry?”
“Maybe.” It was still early. The wind blew, and the leaves rustled; Rebecca got closer to Dylan as she began feeling more of the season’s cool winds. Behind them, the sun was setting on the horizon and the temperature would keep dropping.
“Is there a good place to eat near the store?” he asked. “We could eat there.”
"There is," she told him. "Millie's diner is a block from there. Remember? Our first date?"
"I remember," he replied fondly.
"Although, it will be in the fifties tonight. I should go back for another jacket before going to the convenience store to get your razor.”
“If we go back, we could take my car from your house,” he suggested.
“Good idea,” she agreed. They started their way back. “You’re not cold, are you?”
“No.”
Without warning – and at the risk of being hurt again – Rebecca slid her hands from his arm until she reached his hand. Dylan did not object to the proximity, he seemed to welcome it. Touching his skin made her think he must be freezing and just putting up a brave face.
“You feel just as cold as I am,” she ventured.
“I’m not cold,” Dylan told her.
"Oh," she said. "You feel cold."
“I’m not cold,” he repeated. “I’m just not.”
“All right.” With that, they walked back to her house together in silence.
Rebecca stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. As she looked at herself after the change, she had to remember that everything she knew from books and movies wasn’t true. At least, not all. She was not dead, for one. And she certainly wasn’t undead, Dylan had made that clear enough. It had been part of the reason she had agreed to go through with the transformation in the first place.
There were still changes to come, of that she was certain, Dylan had told her how the body would take a while to adjust. When she had decided to come, she had considered everything Dylan had told her; she had also known his experience was not comparable to hers. They were different people with different personalities and each saw the world in their own unique way.
Rebecca started the shower, undressing slowly, savoring every second of her movements, feeling how every muscle had been changed by the mutation in her DNA. It was hard to believe a little change in her genetic make-up could turn her into something so different while keeping the backbone of what made her human intact.
Dylan had told her she could still live a full human life if she ever decided she wanted to go back to who she had been. She would be different, but could still get used to a human existence if she went that route. No one needed to know she had ceased to be human.
She wished the shower lasted forever. If only she didn't feel so tired. She had felt lighter and filled with energy a few minutes ago, but now her body was asking her to take it slow. Perhaps because it had gone through a traumatic experience minutes before. Besides, Dylan had told her how important rest was. There had been several rules they had studied together in the past six months and each of them was important to follow. To rest and to eat with frequency were two of the most important ones.
Shutting the water off, she took one of the brand new beige towels Alyssa had placed in the bathroom. She felt the brand new fabric on her skin as she dried herself with it. New towels always had a pleasant feeling, but this one was specially soft and smooth. She took in the scent of freshness and was glad she was there. She had the feeling everyone would do their best to make her feel at home.
“It’s been over five months, Rebecca,” Coleen said one day in January while visiting her at the dance school. “It’s bad enough you two still haven’t even kissed, now you’re telling me he can’t find room in his schedule to meet your best friend and her husband?”
Rebecca was trying to review her lesson plans for the last class of the day as she listened to her friend criticize her boyfriend.
“I’ve tried, Coleen, I really have,” she said in her defense. “Please understand I get to see him once or twice a month as it is. He’s busy. You should know, your dad’s a cop; you should know how that is.”
Coleen shrugged and looked exasperated about not getting her way. Months before, she had tried asking her father about the infamous Dylan Torrence, but he
r dad had told her not to ask about something he wasn't supposed to talk about. That had not been the reply she had been looking for. After that, she had insisted to meet the secretive F.B.I. agent at all costs.
“Well, why don’t we get together the next time you see him? Better yet, just tell me where you’ll go and we’ll mysteriously coincide with your date. How does that sound?”
Rebecca was shaking her head, bitting her lower lip at Coleen’s suggestion. There was no way Dylan would appreciate this deceiving plot. “I don’t know,” she groaned. “He’s a very private man. He’s… I don’t think he’ll enjoy being with people he doesn’t know. Especially if he realizes someone has set him up.”
Watching as Coleen exhaled in frustration, Rebecca looked the other way. There was no way to keep everybody happy. Not a way Rebecca could think of.
“Becca, it doesn’t make any sense, all right?” her friend started once again. “The whole town thinks your relationship with him makes little sense. They see him, they see you… The two of you together just don’t add up. And what kind of man dates a woman without taking it to the next level after five months? All he wants to do is talk and then he doesn’t want to meet your friends? Do you even get why people think you’re different?”
“I don’t care what the town thinks,” Rebecca said a little offended, even though she did care.
“Well, you should.” Now it was Coleen who wasn’t making any sense, she thought. “Bob says he’s probably some psycho and you’re being abused, and-”
“Coleen, your dad knows him!” she pointed out. “So he isn’t a complete stranger, is he?”
“My dad refuses to talk about him. I told you,” her friend reminded her. “Which doesn’t make any sense, either! There is something fishy about this guy, Becca. Maybe if Bob and I met him, then we could see if-”
“I think you want to tell me he’s not right for me, is that it?” The girls waiting for her class in the reception area quickly turned their interest in their direction. Blushing, Rebecca walked Coleen inside the empty classroom to find more privacy.
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