Clarkesworld Magazine - Issue 55

by E. Lily Yu;Erin M. Hartshorn;Brit Mandelo

  Before getting dressed, I paused to look at the yellow star hanging on my wall. The faded ancient fabric was framed behind glass in a controlled atmosphere that prevented further deterioration. I stroked the wooden frame. Had that distant ancestor married for love, or had she, too, been to a matchmaker? I knew she hadn’t met her husband until after the war. I wondered what her dreams had been. They hadn’t been passed down from mother to daughter as the star had been.

  “I remember,” I whispered.

  I pulled out the dress and overskirt that ReeAnn had insisted would be perfect for meeting my future husband. I felt like an idiot with the skirts swishing and swirling as I walked. It was the price I’d had to pay to go alone.

  That wasn’t the way these things were done. The shadchen should have met me to size me up for herself. Then Mother would take over, whether I was difficult or not. Mother should meet with Miss Berazazz and my future husband and mother-in-law to work out the details. Only when the contract was sealed would I set eyes on him. There were several arguments I could have made; I used the simplest.

  “The shadchen said we should do it this way.”

  That was that. Not even Mother would offend a matchmaker willing to take my unruly self in tow. And so she sat once more in the uncomfortable chair by the front door and waited for me to come down the stairs in my new finery, waited to say good-bye to her grown-up daughter who would finally get married, waited to take one last stab at my self-esteem.

  She stood as I approached the landing. “You’ll do, I suppose, but would it have killed you to do something with your hair?”

  And there it was. I touched my hair self-consciously. “Short of cutting it all off, this was the best I could do.” I paused in front of the mirror and pulled my hair off my face. “I could try that. Might start a new trend.”

  “Your father must be spinning in his grave to hear you talk like that.” She pushed me at the door. “Go on, then. Try to remember to be a lady.”

  As if I could forget in this get-up. I thought about turning back, but ladies do not renege on their word, even if they didn’t like their options. I didn’t even know my options. Miss Berazazz might have already chosen someone, someone I couldn’t stand. I quailed. The only thing that pushed me forward was the thought of telling Mother I didn’t go.

  I pushed the door open.

  A kurz looked up from an armchair. His eyes were the same deep green as the edge of his frill. “Yes?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry.” I tried to back out of the room while still talking, but my overskirt snagged on the door. I tugged at it without looking. “I didn’t realize someone else was . . . I was looking for . . . I’ll come back later.”

  His frill rose in mild surprise. “Do you think you should do that?”

  “Come back? Yes, I’m expected.”

  “No, not that. I meant — ”

  My overskirt tore. I stopped pulling, but it was too late. A large piece of fabric remained caught on the bottom of the door, and the skirt itself was beyond repair. I felt my ears growing hot with embarrassment and knelt to pry the fabric loose, letting my hair fall forward to mask my face.

  “Here, let me help you with that.”

  I inhaled to argue and stopped in surprise. “You don’t smell.”

  His frill rippled. “I beg your pardon?”

  My face should have been in flames based on the heat I was feeling. “You — I — kurz always — I’ll shut up now.”

  “Not on my account, I trust.”

  I was spared from answering because Miss Berazazz entered from the back room at that moment. Her frill rippled when she saw the two of us together at the door.

  “I see you’ve met my son.”

  I learned a lot in the next few minutes.

  Kurz mating habits are reasonably close to human, although they’re compulsively monogamous. Miss Berazazz had chosen the courtesy title “Miss” based solely on how it sounded to her. She was married, he was off-planet, and Chur-kil was their only child.

  “Which brings us to you.” Miss Berazazz finished spieling off history. “You need a husband. My son needs a wife.”

  I gaped at her. Our species weren’t even from the same solar system. I had more in common biologically with chimpanzees than I did with any kurz. Then there was that bill before the council. “But — we’re incompatible.”

  “I don’t know. I thought we were getting along pretty well.” He had the nerve to wink his right eye at me, and I blushed again.

  “Perhaps not so incompatible as all that. Chur-kil is the first generation of . . . an experiment.” I stared in horrified fascination as she triggered a holo on her desk. It could have been the older brother of the man I’d met in the library, identical except for blue eyes, streaks of gray above his ears, and a ridge of sensor implants under each eyebrow. “His father.”

  “That’s not possible,” I said. But I remembered the stolen genetic material mentioned in the bill. I bit my lower lip. “Do you have documents?”

  I blanched. Mother would’ve found the rudeness unforgivable, but Miss Berazazz didn’t even wave her frill.

  “Certainly.” She used her monitor to call up copies of her marriage certificate and Chur-kil’s birth certificate. They could have been faked, but since I could access the information from the central database, there wasn’t much point.

  I leaned back in my chair. “And he’s the actual father?”

  “We’ll give you the medical records later, but right now, hear me out. As I said, my son is the first generation. We want a second generation, one that will be able to breed freely with either parent race. That’s where you come in.”

  This was why I had to be twenty-one. Mother would never have listened to this. It wasn’t illegal; no one thought it possible. But Mother, a blessing on her head, had always wanted me to marry —

  “I don’t suppose you’re Jewish? Or a doctor?”

  Was I really considering this? So I’d never see Earth. That had never been realistic.

  Chur’s frill was ruffling again. I watched, confused.

  “Neither, I’m afraid. I’d be willing to convert, but I’m afraid a bris is out of the question.”

  My mouth opened. Pause. Think about what you’re going to say. “I’m afraid the rabbi would insist.”

  Miss Berazazz — his mother — cut across our interchange. “Did you pay no attention to comparative anatomy in school?”

  I shrugged. “I learned science from test to test.”

  “Kurshall keep us all safe!” She leaned across the table. “Physically, you may be compatible enough to join, but there is no foreskin.”

  “So your entire race is circumcised. Even better.”

  This couldn’t be real. I didn’t joke about such things. Mother would be appalled to hear me even discussing them.

  “More or less.” His brow creased, and the corners of his mouth turned up. It didn’t come naturally to him, but he was trying to smile. I found it charming, even if he had been practicing long before he’d heard my name.

  “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  The marriage license was already made out. The ceremony could take place immediately. Accompany Miss Berazazz to a clinic the following day, and by the time my party rolled around, I should be well on my way to being knocked up. We could try for future children the old-fashioned way. Only one thing hadn’t been taken care of.

  “I didn’t know where you’d want to live.” He touched the back of my hand with a single finger.

  I pulled my hand away, leaned back in my chair, and rubbed my temples. What would Mother say about a kurz for a son-in-law?

  I went back to something tangible. “I met someone the other day who looks like your father.”

  They exchanged looks. Miss Berazazz said, “My husband had a child from his first marriage. Chur-kil’s brother . . . never accepted his father’s remarriage. He may be here to cause trouble.”

  That perfect smile, those grey eyes. I looke
d at Chur-kil. His frill was flat against his head. I didn’t want to be superficial. I didn’t. And yet . . .

  I opened my mouth to refuse.

  “Life won’t be easy for our children,” he said. “But with time, more time than we’ll see, our peoples will truly be one.”

  The wistfulness in his voice struck a chord in me. They had a glorious vision. I came from a people proud to be set apart, a people he was willing to join. But he’d been planning this for a long time; I hadn’t. I wouldn’t rush into anything. I told myself it had nothing to do with his brother’s dimple, and I almost believed it.

  I pushed my chair back from the table. “I need time.”

  “Of course.” Chur looked disappointed but nodded.

  His mother was less understanding. I’m used to dealing with mothers, though, and she was a pushover compared to even Aunt Nomi. I promised to return in a week with a decision.

  Chur walked me to the door. “I’m sorry about your skirt.”

  Tell him it had been bought for the occasion? No. “It wasn’t my favorite.”

  Time to go home and re-read the bill. Marriage would be making a stand, but it had to mean more than that, more than green eyes and a forced smile. I had to think. First, though, I had to decide what to tell Mother.

  I couldn’t — didn’t — tell her all the truth. Fortunately, when I walked in with a torn skirt, Mother’s attention was all for that. “How could you? It wouldn’t have been suitable for your party, certainly, but it could have been part of your trousseau.”

  Just like that we were on the subject of my marriage.

  “Perhaps.” I twitched my skirt and moved past her to the stairs.

  Her voice stopped me. “Young lady.”

  I’d had the entire trip home to think about what to say. Except I was thinking about the marriage proposal, legal threats, in-laws who smelled, and talking to my rabbi. Chur had been . . . nice. A vague word, but it fit. He was pleasant and witty, completely agreeable.

  And he’d winked at me. No man had ever winked at me, except for Uncle David when I was a little girl. Chur didn’t care about my dad’s nose, about what I looked like — so far as I knew, all he did care about was that I was unmarried and twenty-one.

  Not exactly a ringing endorsement.

  I sighed. “He was friendly, but I’m afraid his mother will try to run our lives. I asked for some time to think about it.”

  “I see.” The infinitesimal eyebrow lift. “Is he at least Jewish?”

  “He says he’ll convert.” I kissed her cheek. “But I do need time. You wouldn’t want us to name our first-born child for someone on his side of the family, would you?”

  With that, I breezed past her and up the stairs. Everything I’d said was true. I’d only left out the fact that he was kurz. Not fully by biological standards, but to all appearances. I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

  I worried at the decision that day and the next and the day of my party — even as I prepared to greet my guests, I wondered what they would say if Chur stood next to me.

  A surprise guest showed up at my party — the handsome stranger from the library — Chur-kil’s half-brother. I first spotted him with Ben and a couple of Ben’s cronies from the Spaceport council. I wanted to talk to them — Ben still hadn’t returned my calls — but hostess duty compelled me to chat with women who wouldn’t have been near my party if they had dared offend Mother.

  “I hear you went to a shadchen.” I couldn’t remember her name. Some vacuous person a couple years older than me, probably with two boys and two girls by now.

  “Mother’s idea.” Why elaborate?

  Uncle David joined the conversation. “Historically, matchmakers create more lasting unions than personal choice does.”

  “Historically,” I replied, “there wasn’t usually a way to dissolve a marriage short of murder.”

  “Interesting. Are you looking to hire somebody for the job?” It was the stranger. Ben stood next to him.

  “I’m not married yet, so I’m afraid it would be premature. I can take your references to keep on file.”

  “Alas, I have none.” His smile was as charming as I remembered.

  “Do you at least have a name?”

  “My apologies,” he said at the same time Ben said, “I brought him over to introduce.”

  “The least you could do if you helped him crash my party,” I said.

  Ben gave me his standard exasperated cousin look. “May I introduce Joe Yee? Joe’s recently arrived at the port and is crazy enough to want to make it permanent.”

  “The lure of the unknown,” Joe said. “As well as the fascinating beauties on your planet.”

  Ben coughed. I ignored him, even though I didn’t blame him. I tried to keep the frown off my face. I was certain Joe was here to cause trouble for Miss Berazazz and Chur, but what in the world was he doing at my party?

  “What would you do here?” I asked.

  “Oh, no. You’re going to set each other off,” Ben said.

  “I was thinking of going into politics,” Joe said.

  “I suppose you lapped up all that arguing about the different spacer companies the other day.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve heard it all from the other side. What do you think of the recently tabled motion on cross-breeding?”

  Was he actually going to announce his views? I said, “I’m no biologist. What about you?”

  He spread his hands. “I’m afraid I haven’t studied enough of the particulars to have an opinion yet.”

  Uncle David snorted. “He’s a politician, all right.”

  “A pity,” I said. “Perhaps you can explain it to me after you’ve had time to study it.”

  “I’d be delighted.”

  Later, I managed to get Ben off by himself, but only after promising I wouldn’t talk to him about any of the bills facing the council. I asked him about Joe. “I could swear I’ve seen a picture of his father.”

  A shrug. “It’s possible. His father’s a captain on an interplanetary run. The news often has pictures of one or another of them — usually when something bad happens.”

  Morbid curiosity and gossip. That just about sums up news. I’m not above it myself, but Ben didn’t know about any other family Joe might have. “I thought you had an engagement just about ready to announce.”

  “Nothing’s final.”

  Mother found us talking then and chased us back to the party. I wasn’t being a responsible hostess, and it might not be too late to catch the eye of the Governor’s younger son. As said son had a wandering eye and hands to match, I wasn’t as enthusiastic about the prospect as Mother was. I followed her across the patio toward him anyway.

  Help arrived from an unexpected source. Joe caught my arm. “You promised me a dance.”

  Mother, never one to complain about a gift to the giver’s face (unless you were family, and then it wasn’t so much a complaint as a megillah of what the money could have been better spent on), pushed me into his arms and glided off to speak to Aunt Nomi.

  The song was half over, but I went through the motions. Dancing doesn’t thrill me, although the feel of his hand on mine did strange things to my heartbeat. When the music changed, Joe would have kept dancing.

  I drew him to a nearby bench. “I thought only elected officials refused to give an opinion.”

  “I don’t want to say anything I might regret later,” he said. “People would expect me to live up to it.”

  “You haven’t been involved in politics before, have you?”

  “So young to be such a cynic.” He brushed his lips across my hand while looking into my eyes. It was a romantic gesture, even if I did see the flash of a sensor implant on his upper lip. He wouldn’t be using it away from the transport sector, not with the penalties. The texture implied simulskin on the surface, and most girls probably never noticed it was there. I wondered what he was wired for.

  I left my hand in his. I looked at the hands, not ready
to meet his gaze.

  “Perhaps you’ll make a true believer of me yet,” I murmured.

  He leaned in close. “But a believer in what?”

  My eyes widened at his tone, and I looked up. His eyes were narrowed, and the charming smile was gone. His grip on my hand tightened.

  His voice low, he said, “Do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

  The music changed again. People moved past us to the dance area. I pulled at my hand, but he didn’t let go.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The kurz. Don’t deny it. Their pheromones cling to you like sewer water.”

  The sensor must be good to pick it up after two days.

  I shrugged. “Mother sent me to a shadchen. I was surprised to find she’s not human, but if she finds me a husband, it clearly doesn’t matter to Mother.”

  “If you’re not telling me the truth, I will find out.” His sneer marred his good looks. “I know of their plans to pollute the human race with their filth. I’ll stop this — ”

  I couldn’t prove he’d used the implant. And if I accused him, it would just give him one more opportunity to air his bigotry when he got his day in court. Distasteful as he was, I had to get him out of here without that satisfaction.

  It was time to be outraged. I’d spent years watching Mother do it; time to see if the passive lessons paid off. My voice rose just enough to cut across the nearby din. “Is that why you came here uninvited? There are standards of behavior in this community.” I snatched my hand back with great force.

  A few heads turned, but Joe couldn’t see them from where he was. He said, “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m checking all the unmarried local women.”

  “My, a libertine or desperate. Perhaps both.” I knew that wasn’t what he meant, but the onlookers didn’t. I stood. “I’ll thank you to leave now.”

  He looked as though he wanted to say something else. Then he saw Mother standing next to him. To his credit, he didn’t blanch.