The Genius

by Elin Peer

  The others laughed.

  “It’s true. I designed the machine to clean my skin and do my nails while I sleep. It’s called Convenient Beauty Care or CBC for short.”

  “What? You invented that?” Willow shrieked. “I love my CBC.”

  “You have one?”

  “Of course. So do all my friends. It’s the best machine ever invented.”

  “Not true, but thank you anyway.” Shelly smiled when Willow gave her a tipsy kiss on her cheek.

  “How come I didn’t know you had designed it? I love you, Shelly, you’re the smartest, most badass woman I ever met.”

  Shelly looked confused. “How much did she drink?” she asked Tristan.

  “Don’t be modest,” Tristan replied and slapped Shelly’s back. “You’ve made some remarkable things already, and we’re all just waiting to see what you’ve got up your sleeve next.”

  “Oh, can I make a wish?” Willow blurted out and sat up straight. “Could you please invent some kind of calorie condenser? Something that removes bad fat, sugar, and carbs from food we love but leaves behind flavor, nutrition, and satisfaction?”

  Shelly tilted her head. “That’s an interesting thought, but I have another project that I’m passionate about.”

  “What’s that?” Storm asked.

  “Pregnancy prevention.”

  Her announcement was met with complete silence.

  “When I’m done with my current project, I’m going to make sure that any woman who wants to have sex doesn’t have to worry about getting pregnant. It’s going to change the world.”

  “What are you talking about?” Hunter leaned forward. “Why wouldn’t a woman want to have children with her husband?”

  “Maybe they aren’t married. Maybe they’re just lovers.”

  “Lovers?” Storm laughed and held up a hand. “That’s it. No more weed or drinks for you, Shelly, you’re babbling.”

  “I’m not babbling. What if Willow and I were the type of women who didn’t want children and marriage, for instance? We could still want sex.”

  “But Motlander women don’t like sex,” Tristan pointed out.

  “Gennie did,” Storm argued. “She didn’t like me, but she liked the sex.”

  “I want the whole package with children and a husband,” Willow said and pushed her hair back. “I know I’m a freak like that, but I don’t care. And I want it with a large Nman.”

  “I’m at your service.” Tristan winked at her.

  “You don’t count. You’re too sweet. It’s because you grew up in the Motherlands.”

  “I’m not sweet.” Tristan objected. “I’m tall, strong, the son of a Northlander, and I curse, eat meat, and get drunk on occasion.”

  Willow tilted her head and smiled at him. “Tristan, you’re the sweetest Nman I know.”

  His shoulders sank. “I can be tough for you.”

  Willow leaned in and placed her hand on top of his. “You’re my friend, Tristan, but it’s never going to be you and me as a couple.”

  “You sure?”

  Willow nodded. “I’m conditioned to like large brooding guys. I can’t help it.”

  Hunter rubbed his forehead. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “I could tell you some fascinating facts about what happens when we drink alcohol. Would you like to know?”

  “No, Shelly,” Tristan said and waved a hand in the air to stop her, but Willow gave her all the encouragement she needed when she sat back in the couch and looked at Shelly with admiration. “Yes, tell us. God, you just know everything, don’t you?”

  “Of course not, but I do know that our liver can only metabolize fifteen milligrams per deciliter per hour, which means that if you drink more than one drink in an hour it will lead to alcohol accumulation in the bloodstream, which will lead to intoxication.” Shelly spoke a little slowly, concentrating on pronouncing all the words correctly.

  “I had three drinks, does that mean I’m drunk?” Willow asked with a snicker and ruffled Storm’s hair, with a grin. “I feel great.”

  Shelly intertwined her fingers and continued her small lecture. “Me too. That’s because the alcohol will decrease activity in certain areas of our brains, one of them being our prefrontal cortex where our inhibitions and self-control are located. Alcohol also increases our production of dopamine, which is our feel-good neurotransmitter.”

  “Whoa, slow down, Professor.” Hunter laughed. “I wish I could swap brains with you for one day and experience what it’s like to be a walking library.”

  “No, go on, Shelly. What happens if I swallow this drink? It’s my fourth.” Willow poured herself a mix of whiskey and soda and held it up to her mouth.

  “Well, side effects would start to show such as problems with your balance or coordination, slurred speech, and if you continue to drink the symptoms will be vomiting, nausea, and blackouts. Of course, alcohol is poison, so if you drink enough you would eventually pass out and die.”

  “Die?” Willow’s smile turned downward.

  “Don’t worry, sis.” Hunter touched Willow’s shoulder. “I’ve seen a lot of men drunk, but so far none have died.”

  “That’s not true. Ronaldo died a few years back, remember,” Storm said.

  Hunter scrunched up his face. “Because he fell asleep in a pile of snow. He died of hyperthermia.”

  “Yeah, but he passed out because he was drunk.”

  Willow put down her drink on the table. “Maybe I should stick with the weed instead.”

  “Sorry, but we’re out of weed.” Tristan held up both hands.

  “Then maybe we can do some of the party games we play in the Motherlands,” Willow suggested.

  “I’m not doing a fucking love circle,” I said. “I have enough of those at work.”

  “A love circle isn’t a party game, silly.” Willow grinned at me. “We could do the connection game or the ‘secrets are better shared’ game.”

  “I’m not sharing my secrets.” Hunter leaned back. “That’s a stupid name for a game.”

  “Then let’s do the connection game.”

  “What is it?”

  “Okay, so two people have to sit and stare into each other’s eyes for two full minutes. One of them has to focus on a message he or she wants the other to know, while the other person has to receive the message. When the two minutes are up the receiver has to guess what it was.”

  “I’m game,” I said. “Let’s see if Brainy can read my mind.”

  Maybe it was the fact that I used my old nickname for Shelly that provoked her to accept the challenge, but we pulled the chairs close together and sat knee to knee.

  Hunter and Willow did the same, joking that their twin connection would give them an advantage over Storm and Tristan, who couldn’t stop laughing about the funny faces they were making at each other.

  “Wait, shouldn’t the person with the message write it down before we start?” Hunter asked. “I mean as proof in the end. Otherwise the couples could cheat.”

  “You’re always so competitive,” Willow teased him. “It’s a party game, you can’t win anything.”

  “Then why call it a game in the first place?”

  “Shhh, just look into my eyes, and read my mind.”

  “The timer is set for two minutes,” Tristan informed us. “Starting…. Now.”

  Shelly grew serious as she locked eyes with me.

  I love having sex with you.

  I love having sex with you.

  I love having sex with you.

  I love having sex with you.

  I kept thinking the same thought over and over while pouring my regret for making the stupid ultimatum into my message.

  I love being close to you.

  I love being close to you.

  I love being close to you.

  The intensity of looking into her eyes and seeing every speck of light reflected in her dilated pupils made my heart race. I’d seen her pupils dilated like that when she was arou
sed, but it was probably the weed that was doing it now.

  I smiled a little, and Shelly mirrored me with a small smile of her own. My stomach did a somersault and I wet my lips fighting my desire to lean in and kiss her.

  I love…. There were so many things I loved about Shelly.

  I love… I couldn’t remember what message I’d started out with, only that it started with “I love.”

  I love…

  Her smile widened and I took a deep breath in to steady my heart.

  I love… your smile.

  I love your eyes.

  I love your hair and your sharp brain.

  I love… I love… Releasing the air in my lungs, I finally knew what my message was.

  I love everything about you.

  I love everything about you.

  I love everything about you.

  I love…

  My smile grew as the thought crystallized and filled every part of my being. …you…

  I love you.

  “Time’s up.” Tristan called but Shelly and I kept looking into each other’s eyes, just smiling.

  “I have nothing,” Storm said. “I’m clearly not a mind reader.”

  “What are you talking about? You were supposed to send me a message and I was going to read your mind.”

  “Fuck.” Storm laughed. “That explains why I didn’t get anything. I was worried that you didn’t have any brain activity at all, my friend.”

  “What was my message?” I asked Shelly and stroked her knee discreetly with my thumb.

  “You like me.”

  My smile grew. “I do.”

  “Was that the message?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you guess it?” Willow asked Shelly.

  “I did. Marco was being very friendly and said that he likes me.”

  “Aww, that’s sweet.”

  “What about you, Hunter, did you guess Willow’s mind?”

  “Not even close. But she’s a woman, so it’s no surprise. It would be a fucking miracle if any man could figure out what’s going on inside a woman’s head.”

  “You’re right about that,” I agreed and truly wished I knew what was going on inside Shelly’s head. Did she feel anything close to how I felt about her? And if she did, would she move to the Northlands and be with me?

  “Hey, Tristan,” Willow called out and distracted me. “Hunter was talking about the drone you designed. Will you take me flying in it one day?”

  “Sure, I can arrange that. You like fast drones?”

  She smiled. “Who doesn’t?”

  Willow’s words hit me hard. I had an old, crabby drone that couldn’t fly fast for shit. I was grateful when it chose to start in the morning and take me to work. Shelly deserved the best of everything, and without the million dollars I could win in a tournament, I couldn’t give her that. But if I won the million dollars, I couldn’t have her.

  I want to be with Shelly.

  I love Shelly.

  Loving a woman so far out of my league was depressing. She’d already made it clear that she’d never marry me, and still I was falling hard for her.

  Get your shit together, I scolded myself. It’s never going to happen, so stop fucking dreaming.

  “So Marco, if Shelly could read your mind, does that mean there’s a special connection between you two?” Willow teased.

  I could feel Shelly’s eyes on me when I answered with an overwhelming powerlessness pressing in my chest. “I doubt it. Shelly would probably be able to read your mind too. It’s her super brain. No special connection here.”

  “You wanna try, Shelly?” Willow asked and soon the two of them were staring into each other’s eyes. I felt a prick of jealousy at Willow. My minutes with Shelly had been wonderful. To have her undivided attention like that had made me feel like I was special to her. For two full minutes, I’d fooled myself into thinking that she loved me too.

  CHAPTER 16

  The List

  Shelly

  A real genius should be able to come up with a solution to just about anything.

  I had nothing!

  For two minutes, I had stared into the eyes of Marco. And during those precious one hundred and twenty seconds I had known that he was as important to me as eating, sleeping, or breathing.

  When I was fifteen, I had been infatuated with Marco.

  Now that I was twenty-five and we were lovers, my infatuation had grown into something deeper.

  I loved his beautiful smile, the way the edges of his eyes crinkled when he grinned. The way he argued about things that mattered to him. His love for children. I loved the way he smelled after we’d had sex. The groans and moans he made.

  Marco was the only man I could ever imagine being with. But his biggest wish was a marriage to a Northlander and I couldn’t give him that. Nor could I give him the million dollars he could win in a tournament, fighting for his Northlander bride.

  Lying in my bed, regret kept me awake.

  Maybe it would’ve been better for me if I hadn’t entered into a sexual relationship with him. At least then I wouldn’t know what I’d be missing out on when he married soon.

  He might not make it to be one of the five champions. And even if he does, Louisa might not pick him, I reminded myself. After all, despite Marco being an amazing fighter and making it to be one of the five champions in the last two tournaments, he’s still unmarried.

  It should have calmed me, but just the thought that Marco would have to fight, and could potentially get hurt or die, made me toss and turn. I came up with creative ways to sabotage the tournament to prevent him from putting himself in danger. But if this was what he wanted, who was I to take it away from him?

  I imagined seeing him with his bride. The visions made me curl up with excruciating pain in my stomach.

  Marco and I have never spoken about love between us. It had been understood from the beginning that our relationship would end when he left for the tournament.

  Once, I had asked him what would happen if he didn’t win, and he had dismissed my question, saying he was going to think positively.

  What if I was willing to marry him?

  I sighed with the realization that it wouldn’t be enough to make him happy. I didn’t have a million dollars lying around. The times he’d asked me to marry him I’d never felt love was a part of his reason for asking.

  It’s for the best. How would I explain to my friends and family at home that I love an Nman? Most people I knew were intellectuals and many of them were part of the groups of concerned citizens who protested the integration with the Northlands.

  So what? I’ve never cared what others said. Marco is the only man that makes me feel truly alive when I’m with him. My love for him is what makes my days colorful.

  Groaning out loud, I rubbed my forehead, hating that my thoughts were those of a hopeless romantic, and wondering how shocked Marco would be if he knew that I was in love with him. So far, I’d managed to keep it well hidden and focus on how incompatible we were.

  It’s better if I let him go.

  A strong push of resistance inside me refused. No, I can’t let him marry Louisa. Maybe he doesn’t love me, but he doesn’t love her either.

  I was awkward, quirky, and unsure about my future, but the only thing that made sense to me was having Marco in my life.

  If I don't at least tell him how I feel about him, I’ll blame myself when he marries another woman.

  Turning on some light, I sat up in my bed, pulled out my notepad, and began making a list of reasons why he should be with me.

  1: Sexual compatibility.

  2: Stimulating conversations.

  3: Shared humor.

  4: I love him.

  5:

  I stared at the electronic pad, wanting to put down at least ten things but all that came to me were reasons that made staying apart the most logical solution.

  1: He wants children, I don’t think I do.

  2: He wants ma
rriage, I don’t see the need.

  3: He is materialistic, I’m not.

  4: He wants to live in the Northlands. I prefer the Motherlands.

  5: He has never been in love with me. I’ve been in love with him since I was fifteen.

  6: Northmen are possessive and controlling by nature. I’m too independent and need my freedom.

  More things were on my mind, but I put down my pad and pushed it away. Curling up in a fetal position, I admitted defeat. If I truly loved Marco, I would have to let him marry Louisa, who could give him marriage, children, money, and the obedient wife he was born to dream of.

  Telling him about my love for him would only confuse him and make things awkward between us. My time with Marco was running out. In three days he would leave. In six days Louisa would choose her husband and Marco might share his wedding night with her.

  The same imagination that helped me come up with ideas for inventions now tortured me with images of Marco making love to another woman. In my mind Louisa was perfect and he would whisper all the little things that he had practiced on me – telling her that she was his and that he would never get enough of making love to her.

  The heaviness in my chest felt like I was sinking to the bottom of the ocean, pressure building to a painful sense of suffocation that had me struggling to breathe. I couldn’t see, what with all the tears filling my eyes, and pulled in oxygen in little gasps of hyperventilation. Suddenly, unable to release the air in my lungs, my chest was cramping and my eyes opening wide with fear that my body was literally shutting down in grief.

  I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t breathe. All there was left was a heartbeat loud enough to hear it in my ears, dark spots in front of my eyes, and gut-wrenching pain in my chest at the realization that soon I would never touch Marco again.

  Grateful… be grateful. It was my mother’s mantra that saved me as I began thinking about all the other things in my life I had to live for. I saw my sister hugging me, my mother laughing in her kitchen, Tristan teasing me about the CBC or the troll machine as he called it, Charlie wrinkling his nose at the talk of sex, and Willow kissing me on my cheek. I wasn’t alone – there were people who needed me to breathe.