by Clara Ward
“I’ve always suspected I felt touch differently from other people,” Sarah spoke softly, looking away toward the street. “It affects everything I do more than any of the other, well, unusual stuff. But I never talked about it. It didn’t seem right to put it into words. And somehow I’d thought it went with being a teek, but it doesn’t seem to after all.”
Reggie’s skin remembered the touch of Sarah’s hands, and other parts, especially during sex. She was an unusually attentive lover, always seeming to orchestrate her movements with complex care. Sometimes he would be caught up in a moment, and then realize he’d stopped one hand in mid stroke. But Sarah’s movements only increased in diversity and symphony. It wasn’t something he’d thought about in words, although he’d certainly noticed before.
“That’s all?”
She nodded, and he reached a hand to touch her face. She slid her cheek into the motion, completing it.
He said, “Maybe I knew that, at least in bed.”
“Is that why you’re with me?”
“No.” He felt a wave of indignation that cooled his erotic memories. But gazing up at him was Sarah, who in her honesty shivered with doubt. “No, I don’t think any relationship works without good sex, but that’s never been why I was with you.”
“Well, do you still want me, knowing everything?”
His palm tingled from touching her. There was nothing about her he didn’t want, but he couldn’t find the words to say it.
“Yes.”
She reached out to take his hand, the one still tingling from the last touch, and they walked back toward the hotel. Reggie saw tears pool in the corners of her eyes. He resisted the urge to wipe them away or to speak.
Chapter 13
April 19 - 20, 2025 – Bangkok, Thailand
The hot water held Sarah. She felt safe and relaxed. In such warm air, the bath didn’t chill quickly; the air above was just cool enough for contrast. She missed the feel of her long hair drifting around her, but when she slid down and moved her head back and forth, she could feel the little hairs swishing, able to switch back and forth quickly. She moved her arm from side to side, just under the surface of the water. The tiny hairs brushed the current when pushed against their grain, but settled easily when pulled the other way.
Tears slid down her face into the water. She submerged, losing the itchy salt into the mostly fresh water. Tears had been trickling out for days, but it took no energy to shed them. She told herself the tears were taking away the images that hurt her. The rigid terror of the flight attendants on the plane. The uncertainty of hurting people when she burned the CDC. The pain in her childhood self that last time Peter took her to the guestroom. All her life, she had imagined telling someone everything, being completely known and real. She’d even imagined that person being Reggie. But getting it all out hadn’t cured the pain the way she’d hoped. She’d seen how Reggie struggled to accept it all their first day in Bangkok, and on the airplane there had been moments when he looked away, as if she were a monster. He’d given up so much for her without knowing who she really was, but what if despite his best intentions he couldn’t fully accept the truth?
Sarah hid underwater, dissipating the thoughts and the tears. It was probably time to get out of the bath. Reggie would be in the main room, studying the newspaper for places to live or for work they could do. They’d trudged through pouring rain yesterday to pick up their residency papers. They’d stood in line, given their names, been handed work permits. The secretary didn’t even look at them. To her it was just routine.
Five days ago, they’d entered Thailand on what might be considered a hijacked plane. Yesterday, they’d picked up papers as if there were nothing unusual about it. Other than the startling efficiency, it was like any other move.
Sarah climbed out of the tub. She toweled off and drained the water. Wrapped in the wide, shaggy towel, she sauntered out to where Reggie sat, fully dressed, with the Bangkok Post spread across the bed.
“Any luck?”
“Do we need a place with a bathtub?”
Sarah pulled out her only clean clothes. “We should go shopping.”
“I’ve been saying that for days.”
“Yes, but it was raining then.”
“And you were busy sulking.”
“I’m still sulking, but I’m ready to do it outside in the sunlight.”
There was a knock at the door. Sarah finished pulling on her shirt as Reggie went to answer it.
“Package, special delivery, international express. I thought I should bring it up?” The busboy sounded eager to please, or eager for a tip.
Reggie stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him, but Sarah could still hear his conversation.
“Don’t you have someplace you could keep it until tomorrow?”
“It’s refrigerated.”
“Well surely you have – oh, never mind. Thank you. It was good of you to bring it up.”
Reggie came inside and put the box in the mini-fridge under the bar. He went back to his paper as if nothing had happened.
“What’s that?”
“Just pretend it’s not there.”
“You’re up to something. Tell or I’ll shake my wet hair at you.”
“Less dangerous than it used to be.”
“Actually, it works quite well. Shall I demonstrate?”
“It’s a surprise, for tomorrow. You’ll have to wait.” Reggie was pretending to read. He was the image of the nonchalant patriarch with his morning paper. If Sarah dropped it now, what would he do? He’d be disappointed, wouldn’t he? Surely he’d come up with another scheme for tomorrow, but it wouldn’t have the same spontaneity then. Sarah knew her duty. She even felt herself warming to the part.
“Open it now, and I’ll go clothes shopping with you.”
“We were going to do that anyway!”
“This way I’ll be less sulky.”
“I get to buy you an Easter dress.”
“Does it have to be a dress?”
“We’ll see. But I get to buy you something pretty and you can’t complain about me paying for it.”
“I get to help choose?”
“Okay, but you have to try on the stuff I like.”
“Deal.”
Reggie handed her the box. It was stamped “Keep Refrigerated” and felt enticingly cool. Instead of listing a name, it had been sent to Hotel Siam, Room 1411 from See’s Candies in Long Beach, CA, USA. The name made Sarah taste chocolate and smile like a kid.
“You shouldn’t have,” she said as she worked through the packing tape.
“Wrong,” Reggie laughed as he cleared away the newspaper.
Inside the box was an Easter basket complete with chocolate bunny and a couple dozen filled chocolates. There were also four Bordeaux filled Easter eggs.
“How do you remember everything I like? And when did you order it? And four eggs?”
“Hardly worth it for just one.”
“Oh Reggie, you’re crazy. Do you want some?”
By the time they reached the Easter party Sunday, Sarah was out of her funk and swinging toward a more manic frame of mind. This was probably a good thing, since the party turned out to be a bit more than she’d expected.
The ex-pat party Tom had mentioned was at the home of the Johnson family on the outskirts of Bangkok. Sarah and Reggie entered through a traditional Thai archway covered with gold and gems. She was fairly sure they couldn’t be real, could they?
Beyond the gate was a courtyard garden large enough to host an intimate gathering for elephants. Encircling the courtyard was a series of buildings, each representing a different architectural innovation, and some more like sets designed for Star Trek. There were three that Sarah mostly understood. One was a raised wooden platform with a bamboo roof and open sides, which could be covered by rolling down woven mats. Another was made of meter thick sod blocks, clearly cut by a machine and transported from who knows where, but Sarah had read about suc
h houses in California, where they were considered oh-so-environmentally-correct. The final configuration that she had seen before was a cluster of white domes. They looked like bubbles blown in milk, but Sarah knew they were made of foam blown on site and allowed to harden. These domes balanced solar panels on top, like chocolate shavings sprinkled on milk bubbles.
Several other designs around the courtyard also sported solar panels. Some of the buildings were metal or ceramic. One was covered in a mosaic of tiny mirrors, which may or may not have reflected additional sunlight toward the panels on its neighbors. Another looked like it was made of tinker toys. Sarah wondered if the owners were eccentrics or some form of extremists. She also wondered what she was doing at their party.
The enormous courtyard boasted five tables of food with caterers dressed in white standing ready to serve. There were great roasts of lamb and ham and turkey. An enormous bowl held citrus segments, which had been individually peeled, not just to remove the inedible outer skin, but also to remove the film that usually surrounded each section. Sure, mandarin oranges could be bought that way in cans, but Sarah was pretty sure these segments were fresh and freshly skinned. There were dozens of bowls with salads, both Western and Asian. Nuts, dried fruits, fresh tropical fruits, deviled eggs, seafood, and miniature pastries covered artistically arranged trays. Then one whole table held traditional Easter candies from the states. Jelly beans, malted milk eggs, and marshmallow chicks filled bowls around the outside of the table. In the middle was a carved ice vase full of daffodils, daffodils that on closer inspection appeared to be sculpted from something like chocolate. If there had been Easter parties like this in the States, Sarah had never been invited.
Running all around, mostly oblivious to the finery, were a dozen or so children filling Easter baskets with what appeared to be boiled eggs died the traditional way and not too expertly, probably by some subset of the scurrying children.
Sarah tried to guess which child most likely lived here. If she could spot a Johnson, the youngster might lead them to their hosts. Or possibly there would be a strong family resemblance. She began to explain her reasoning to Reggie, hoping that he’d be able to help her identify their hosts and derive the correct etiquette for the situation.
“Actually, I think I already spotted them and they just stepped inside,” he said.
“Oh, how do you know?”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” Reggie glanced around, then continued in a more private tone, “Tom said the hosts were telepaths. I think there are only three telepaths here, an older couple and the fellow sitting alone over there.”
“How can you tell?”
“I started noticing something back at CDC. I realized the people who worked there, your Chen friends, and Tom all had something in common. I think it’s in the way they move or their posture. Funny, but it’s how I always pictured elves. When we left the plane in Bangkok, I knew those two men waiting for us were teeps before anyone signaled. When we walked in here, I spotted three people who seemed likely. Of course, I haven’t tested myself yet, but we can see what we learn today.”
Sarah opened her mouth before she knew what to say. “Is it really that easy? Could I learn it?”
“We should find out if I’m right first.”
They walked over to the man Reggie had noted who was sitting alone. He was pale, as if he didn’t go outside much, and his hair was light brown, cut conservatively, but with a cowlick toward the back. His white polo shirt looked pressed, and was tucked in neatly but not stylishly. He sat with his arms crossed, staring at a flower as if he’d rather read a book. Sarah would never have gone up to talk to him on her own, but Reggie slid in casually, motioning to an empty bench and asking, “May we join you?”
“Of course.”
“My name’s Reggie Malone and this is Sarah Duncan.”
“James Morton. Pleased to meet you.”
There was a pause. Sarah ran her fingertips over the smooth sanded grain of the bench. Her mind insisted she knew that name from somewhere, and the man looked vaguely familiar. But she couldn’t place him.
Reggie asked, “Have you been in Thailand long?”
“Over ten years.”
“Oh, what brought you here?”
“Work.”
It seemed James was not an easy conversationalist. Sarah felt obliged to help Reggie out. And then, she knew.
“Was your dad Chris Morton?”
“Ah, yes.” James curled the fingers of both hands around the arms of his chair and met Sarah’s eyes with sudden interest.
“He ran a—a fertility service?”
“Yes.” James’ voice wavered with discomfort, like he wasn’t sure where she was going with this and didn’t like any of the possibilities. Was it fair to confront him? But what else could she do now?
“My mom went there, under the name Molly Bernard.”
He was still looking at her. His hands still clutched the chair arms, but one finger on his right hand began to tap rapidly, when it stopped, a left finger took up the beat.
Sarah’s fingertips stroked the bench again. “I’ve been told, well, that things weren’t quite what they appeared to be.”
“What exactly are you saying?” James asked.
What could she say? She wasn’t supposed to mention teeps or teeks unless she knew the other person was one. But Reggie thought this guy was, and if he was who he said he was—Oh! He was probably trying to talk to her telepathically, figuring what she must be saying, but he didn’t know why she wasn’t answering. Sarah felt really stupid for a moment, then decided she was sure enough.
“Oh, I should explain better. I’m not a teep, just a teek.”
There was an awkward pause while James appeared to process the information, his whole face motionless for a moment. Reggie raised an eyebrow and glanced at Sarah. Was he saying “I was right” or “You look just like that when you’re thinking”? Either one might be appropriate.
James pulled in his arms, wiped his hands on his pants, looked at Sarah, and leaned forward a bit.
“Where did you hear about me?”
“From someone at the CDC.”
“You’re the teek who fled the U.S. a couple weeks ago? I hadn’t heard you weren’t a teep. But the CDC says you’re related to me? When were you born?”
“October 25th, 1999.”
“Just young enough to be either my half-sister or my daughter. Is your mother a teep or a teek?”
“Not that anyone knows. She’s dead, but her relatives are teeps.”
“Interesting. Would you be willing to let me analyze your DNA? We haven’t figured out teeks yet. I haven’t heard of any others that weren’t teeps, and if you could have teeps on both sides—No teeks that you know of?”
“No, and I’m not sure I want my DNA figured out. Are you saying you know what makes someone a teep? You could test for it?”
“You know, I really shouldn’t be talking to you about any of this. Perhaps you should have asked someone to introduce us. I mean, usually, a teep just by what they are can, but still, before I talk about my research I’m supposed to know you’re cleared. Not that we always bother,” he muttered, turning to Reggie. “I’m sorry, I forgot your name. Are you a teek also?”
Reggie shook his head, looking unusually embarrassed. Sarah put a hand on his knee and said, “He’s my boyfriend, Reggie Malone. He was at the CDC with me and knows everything I do, but he’s not a teep or a teek.”
James’ forehead wrinkled, and his glance looked even less friendly.
Sarah felt she wasn’t handling the conversation well. She felt smaller, childlike. But she took a breath and inflated herself with innocent defiance. “Look, I’m sorry that we’re not teeps and we don’t really fit into this system well. It’s been kind of a problem for us too. We were invited to this party, but there’s no one here we know. So who would introduce us? We only guessed who you were and who the Johnsons might be, because Reggie thinks he can tell by
how people move.”
“What?” James looked momentarily horrified then turned wide-eyed to Reggie. “You looked around and guessed I was a teep?”
Reggie sat up straighter and squared his shoulder in one of those “take me serious” guy poses. “Yeah. I picked out you and an older couple, a graying Caucasian man and a smallish Asian woman.”
“And Sarah?”
“No. She moves . . . differently.”
“None of the servers or kids look like teeps?”
Reggie looked around again. “No, but the girl standing over there does. She wasn’t here before.”
James turned to look. “That’s Emma Johnson. Sure to be a telepath, since both parents are, and she’s about that age, let me call her and see.”
Emma looked up. She met James’ gaze with a mixture of juvenile annoyance and embarrassment, then stalked away into the house. James, on the other hand, looked pleased. He quickly pulled out a battered PDA, selected a screen, tapped in one dot, and hid it away again.
When the silence stretched, James said, “Emma’s gone to find her parents. I told her it was important. If you can really spot teeps, that could be very useful. Just knowing that none of the servers are would please the government.” At a quizzical look from Reggie, James continued. “Teeps often try to find employees with closed minds. Some pass it off as respect for privacy, but it’s also embarrassing to have your butler thinking bad things about you as he greets your friends. Anyway, they can try speaking telepathically to applicants with closed minds, but they can’t know if the person’s just refusing to answer.”
Sarah said. “You want Reggie to check for spies!”
“Well, we’d have to test his accuracy first, but it would be much easier than sneaking genetic samples. Here come Samuel and Ida.”