by Nikki Clarke
His mother is wearing a long, bright yellow dress. It ties at the back of her neck and hangs low showing off the soft, deep black of her back. The skirt displays a large, tie-dye design of swirling browns and blues. The colors are familiar. I realize they almost exactly resemble the colors of her sons’ eyes.
Kwarq and Bati are wearing similar outfits. I smile at this, that even alien twins dress alike. They’re both wearing bright blue, fitted t-shirts. The soft material molds over their solid chests. The pants that hang low on their hips are the same color as their shirts and fit loose down their legs only to taper at the ankle. They’re cute. They look like they’re about to go practice karate.
Ah’dan is Ah’dan. There were two seconds back when I first got to Lyqa when I thought perhaps he had the hots for me. He likes to stare, and I’ll admit that I stared back a bit. He’s pretty gorgeous. But Ah’dan just likes to be Ah’dan, which means when when his entire family gets dressed up to go out, he chooses to wear hunter green culottes, gold woven sandals that tie up to his knee, and no damn shirt. I roll my eyes. He’s such a show off.
“You do not approve?”
“Please, you know you’re gorgeous. I can’t stand you.”
He throws his head back and laughs. Bati snorts and Kwarq smiles.
“Come on now, my dahni, do not tease her,” their mother chides and steps forward to link her arm through mine. It’s a little awkward. She’s so much taller than I am, that she ends up mostly holding my upper arm. I cover her hand with mine and turn my back on the grinning brothers.
“So where are we going?”
“I will take you to my place of work to fit you with a translator as you asked before.”
I turn to Kwarq and raise my eyebrows.
“Your job? You have a job? I was beginning to think Lyqa jobs weren’t a thing.”
Everyone frowns at me, and my face gets hot when I realize my mistake.
“Oh god, I wasn’t trying to say that you guys are bums or anything. I mean, I just never see anyone go to work. I mean, I’ve been sleeping alot of the time, but—ugh!” I cover my face with my hands and shake my head. “I’m sorry. That was really offensive.”
Quth’s deep, rumbling laugh sounds out before his arm comes around me in a gently squeeze.
“Do not feel bad, my dahnai. I and Mahdi are what you would call retired in your culture. We have provisions set aside to see to our comfort and the maintenance of our home. Bati is a builder. I do not know what you call it in English. My implant is not supplying the word.”
I look over at Bati and frown. “You work in construction?”
“He is the person who designs buildings,” Kwarq supplies.
Ah. “You’re an architect?”
I never would have guessed.
“If this is the word for the designer of buildings, then I am.”
“Hm,” I nod my head and turn to Ah’dan. “And what about you? Or do you just stand around looking beautiful?”
“I also do that, but I am an artist.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“So is this just like a break time for you?”
“Our system of work is a bit different here. It is less rigid. At the learning center where I work, I conduct lectures and presentations, periodically. Bati provides plans for structures as they are needed, and Ah’dan is Ah’dan. He does what he likes.”
“Damn, must be nice.”
Kwarq reaches out to cradle my cheek in his hand.
“I did not like to watch you work so much every day back on Earth. I am glad I can take care of you now.” His voice is gentle. I feel the warmth of it spread through my chest.
“I am also glad my son has brought you here where you can rest and prepare for the birth of my grandchildren without the stress,” his mother says at my side. “Shall we go now? I thought after Kwarq takes you to the learning center, we could meet at the market and then see a show.”
My eyes fly to Kwarq’s.
“A show? Like a movie?”
Kwarq’s mother smiles and frowns like she isn’t sure why I’m so surprised.
“Yes, a film, if you enjoy them.”
I’m listening to his mother, but I’m staring bullets at Kwarq.
“I don’t know, do I enjoy them, Kwarq?”
He has the nerve to look bored.
“She enjoys them very much, mother.”
“Great! Then we will go to the market and then to see the new drama that is showing at the cineplex. I am excited. I can never get the boys to come with me to see a film.”
As if to punctuate this point, all three of her sons groan loudly. Even Kwarq’s father appears uncomfortable with the idea.
“That’s so funny because I met Kwarq at the movies,” I say and have to cover my smile when his mother shoots him an disbelieving look.
“Did you?”
“I sure did. Actually,” Kwarq steps forward and tries to cover my mouth, but I dodge out of his way. “Kwarq was a big fan of the movies back on Earth. You must have seen, what ten, twelve movies while you were there?”
His mother’s eyes are now wide with shock and a little insult. Under her penetrating gaze Kwarq turns into a little kid. His head bows and he shuffles from one foot to the other.
“I was only there for her, mother. You know only something as irresistible as the leht would make me sit in a theater and watch that garbage. Earth movies are ridiculous.”
I snort. “Yeah right. You know you loved them.”
Kwarq looks away from his mother and pins me down with his stare.
“I love you. I would sit through a thousand terrible films to have you know that.”
I can’t stop the smile that pulls at my mouth. I love hearing him say that, and now that I’ve given him my permission, he says it all the time. I roll my eyes. He thinks he’s so charming.
“Well you only have to sit through one with your mother, right?”
His mother beams and nods triumphantly.
“Right.”
I send Kwarq a pointed look when it seems like he’s going to argue. He sighs and steps forward, dropping to his knees and lifting his mother’s hem to kiss it.
“Of course, mother, I will accompany you to any film you wish to see.” His mouth quirks up at the corner as he rises. “We all will.”
The chorus of groans is so dramatic that his mother and I both laugh out loud.
Chapter 22
Amina
“Is this a university?”
I tighten my grip on Kwarq’s hand as he leads me through the courtyard toward the place where he says his office is. It looks like a quad. Several young Lyqas walk and stand about. Groups sit on benches and in the grass. More than a few heads turn as we pass. I smile at the Lyqas I make eye contact with. They all nod and smile back before turning back to what they’re doing.
“It is a kind of learning center, yes. Lyqas have a much more informal education system. More like apprenticeships. Learning of any kind is open to all who wish it. These centers are places where anyone can come to gain knowledge. One can learn and try many things if they like.”
“Is that how you became a linguist/doula?”
“It is. A friend of mine was leht very soon after we finished our first training. His lehti conceived from their first joining.”
“Like us?”
He nods. “Like us. He was trained as a healer and attended his own birthing. He says that the feeling of those first moments after his child entered the world was like nothing he had experienced aside from the leht.”
“So you took training to learn to deliver babies?”
Kwarq’s shoulders lift and drop back into place. “I would know that feeling with my own young. I would not let something so small as a bit of training stop me from experiencing such love.”
My smile is immediate and unrestrained. “Wow, you really are a softie, huh? I think that’s probably the sweetest thing I have ever heard any man say.”
&
nbsp; In real life, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to someone, especially a man, speaking so reverently about love. He’s so serious, and he’s not even the least bit self-conscious about his show of emotion.
“I am not sure if I am a softie, since I do not know what that means.” His expression is reserved, as if he isn’t sure if I’m calling him something bad.
“It means you’re a sensitive person. That you’re not afraid to indulge your emotions.”
He frowns in the way he always does when I say something he thinks is strange. “I am not afraid to show them, no. Is this a bad thing on Earth, to be a softie?”
His question catches me a little off guard. How can I explain that most predispositions toward kindness or sensitivity are seen as a vulnerability among humans? We aren’t exactly a loving bunch of folk.
“I don’t know. I guess it’s considered a little weak. People take advantage of others who are too emotional.”
I feel him staring at the side of my face. I’m too embarrassed for my species right now to look at him. In moments like these, when I’m forced to explain our habits, humans seem pretty sucky.
“Do people take advantage of you? Is that why you were reluctant to accept my love?”
“I—uh, I mean, a lot of women get taken advantage of when it comes to love. Human men aren’t really as happy about love as you are. They don’t generally feel so privileged about it.”
“I do not understand. Do they not want love from a woman?”
“No, they want it, but usually so they can get other things they want from a woman, but they don’t really value it, I guess.”
A faint tremor vibrates up my arm from where I hold Kwarq’s hand. I don’t need Lyqa senses to know he’s finding this all very disturbing.
“What could you possibly want from a woman that is worth wasting love over?”
My chuckle is more cynical than I want it to be, but I couldn’t front, even if I wanted to.
“Usually, they just want to smash.”
He frowns. “Smash? Hurt them?”
I laugh a little uncomfortably. “No, it means have sex.”
“People call this smashing? It is such an aggressive word.” He’s frowning even harder now. His disturbance has morphed into genuine concern. I can only imagine what he’s picturing in his mind, even though it’s probably not too far off from what passes for sex with human men.
“Well, actually, that’s Ebonics. It’s a type of English dialect, but humans refer to sex a lot of different ways.”
“Yes, like ‘fuck?’”
He’s still serious, but hearing him say the word in his soft, lyrical accent makes a shiver go through me. It’s hard not to feel something when I’m talking about sex with the sexiest male I’ve ever met in my life. He must feel my slight flare of excitement because his hand tightens on mine for a second. When I look up, his gaze is heated on my face. I swallow around the sudden lump in my throat and look away.
“Yes, but fuck isn’t so bad. There’s also screw, bone, bang, nail.”
“Hm, I like ‘fuck,’ but the others do not sound pleasurable. When you called me a ‘fuck-boy’ is it because you thought I was having sex with Li’aht?”
I feel my face get warm. I forgot all about that.
“Uh, no. A fuckboi is like a guy who isn’t any good. A guy who does women wrong. I’m sorry I called you that.”
I peek up at him, expecting him to look hurt, but he’s smirking a bit. He pulls on our joined hands until I fall into his side.
“You do not need to be sorry, my lehti. I can see how my behavior would lead you to think I was a fuck-boy.”
Kwarq
Amina laughs and shakes her head again.
“You’re so funny when you use slang.”
“Why?”
Her shoulders jerk up and down. “I don’t know, you just are.”
“Do I use it incorrectly?”
“Yes, babe, you do. You sound super corny.”
“Is this word ‘corny’ also slang?”
“It’s also Ebonics, which is Black people slang. It means not cool or silly.”
“Black people have their own slang?”
She laughs again, and it’s a little lighter than usual. The tension she usually carries is missing.
“We kind of have our own everything. Black culture is pretty unique. We have our own music, dance, language, popular culture. We’ve had to reinvent ourselves a lot. It makes for some interesting creations.”
I know what she means from the research I’ve done. I find this ability to adapt and overcome so many varied circumstances admirable and impressive. I am again pleased that my lehti is who she is.
“Can you teach me Ebonics?”
Her mouth twitches like she wants to laugh, but she doesn’t. Instead, she leans in and presses a soft kiss to my arm.
“You’re so cute, Kwarq. I will absolutely teach you Ebonics.”
Amina
“Qim, you’re here. I thought you were going on a vacation.”
The male standing in front of the desk in Kwarq’s office turns with a bright smile on his face. I pause where Kwarq leaves me at the door to go embrace the man, hoping to god that I’m too far away for them to scent my reaction.
Like every Lyqa on this planet, so far, Qim is a cutie pie. He’s got this young, multi-racial Brad Pitt thing going on, and I have to stop myself from breaking into a stupid grin when he turns to face me. His eyebrows jump a little when they land on me, but his mouth curves back into his easy smile a second later.
“Qim, this is my lehti, Amina. She is from Earth.” Kwarq moves back to me after they release each other. He places his hand gently at my back and urges me forward. “Amina, this is Qim, my colleague and friend.”
“Uh, hi Qim.” Like Kwarq’s name, the ‘q’ in Qim is a soft click in the throat. I carefully try to recreate the sound when I say it.
“You’re Lyqa pronunciation is impressive, Amina. I have never met a being from Earth before. It is a pleasure.”
His voice is deep, much deeper and rounder than Kwarq’s, and surprising coming from such a boyish face. As he speaks, he takes a step forward, wrapping his arms around my back and pulling me into a gentle hug.
Kwarq shifts beside me, and I hold up my hand before he can tell Qim not to touch me. I really want to hug this dude. He smells good, not as good a Kwarq, but good enough that I take a nice deep breath when my face gets close to his shirt. My tight, round belly bumps against his waist, and even through our clothes, I can tell he’s fit and finely built. Goodness gracious. Qim pulls back, frowning slightly.
“You smell anxious. I am not familiar with human customs. I hope I have not offended you.”
“She is not offended. She finds you attractive.”
My eyes widen and my head hinges in Kwarq’s direction.
“Way to put a girl on the spot, dude.”
Kwarq’s smirk is cool. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that for a hot second I was lusting after his friend. He chuckles at my look of mortification and shrugs. When I turn back to Qim, his toffee colored skin is pulsing a dull dusty rose.
“I’m not attracted to you,” I rush out. “I mean, I think you are attractive. All of you Lyqa seem to be fine as hell.”
“Fine?” Qim’s head tilts to the side. His brows lower on his forehead. I keep forgetting that their translators don’t take AAVE into account.
“Uh, yeah. ‘Fine’ just means very good-looking.” He still appears confused, but he nods his head slowly in understanding. He’s no doubt trying to work out the linguistic connection between whatever database of vocabulary he has and what I’ve just said.
“It is Ebonics, Qim, a very wonderful dialect of American English originated among Black Americans, which my lehti has agreed to teach me. I think it would be a very worthy contribution to the language databases of Lyqa. If you like, perhaps she can teach you, too. We can submit the collection to the association together.”
Qim’s face brightens and his teeth flash between his full lips. I’m surprised to note this time that he has a little sliver of a gap between the front two. It’s charming and surprisingly sexy. This dude really is super hot.
Kwarq clears his throat, and I realize I’m staring.
“I’m so sorry. I swear, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I’ll try to mask my responses better.”
Kwarq snorts and pulls me against him. He doesn’t seem jealous, but there is definitely an air of possessiveness with how he settles his arm around me. I don’t mind it. In fact, I like the way his fingers are running little circles along my hip where his hand rests. He hasn’t touched me in such an intimate way for a while. I almost feel like after the miscarriage scare, he’s been treating me like I might break if he does more than hold my hand.
“My lehti, I don’t know if you realize, yet, but you are terrible at hiding your emotions.”
Kwarq
My lehti is a patient, generous woman. We have been sitting for nearly two hours as she carefully introduces me and Qim to various phrases and idioms of her native dialect. She breaks down the origin of sayings, constructing practical and appropriate uses for them in every day conversation.
“Ebonics is a little complicated. The greatest risk to sounding unnatural is not knowing what situations a word can be used. Then you end up sounding corny. You don’t want to sound corny.”
“And corny means ‘uncool’ or ‘uninteresting,’ correct?”
Qim’s and Amina’s heads are bent close together. His hand moves quickly over the keypad in front of them as he listens raptly to what my lehti says. The holoscreen flashes the English words and then the Lyqa equivalent. Amina watches Kwarq add the phrases, correcting him when the Lyqa translation back into English is incorrect.
“Yeah, if you’re talking about a person. But it can also mean that something isn’t funny if we’re talking about an attempt at being clever. Or boring if we’re talking about the potential for fun. So one might say, ‘That dude was corny,’ if talking about a man who thinks he’s charming but isn’t. Or ‘that joke was corny,’ if someone says something that was meant to be funny, but isn’t. Corny has many uses.”