by Nikki Clarke
I’m too stunned to be glad that my apartment is still there and my family doesn’t think I’m dead. Kwarq has been back to Earth? Why didn’t he tell me? Furthermore, why didn’t he take me if he never wanted me to stay in the first place?
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
We are still sitting in the pod. The garage is dark, but the internal lights of the transport make it easy to see the frown that pulls at Kwarq’s face.
“Amina, you are my lehti. I said I would take care of you. I would not just bring you to my home without ensuring that your life here would continue as uninterrupted as possible. I would not have you come back to chaos. I thought this was understood.”
I thought a lot of things were understood, but Kwarq is dropping me off back home, so that is clearly not the case. Still, I can’t help but be a little grateful that he had the foresight to handle these things. I sure wasn’t thinking about them.
“You didn’t have to do that, but thank you. I probably should have thought about all that. I hope coming back here wasn’t too much trouble.”
“It was not.”
His response is careful, and I can feel him staring at the side of my face. I keep my eyes trained to the inside of the garage. When it’s all said and done, he’s been good to me. I don’t want him to see my hurt and feel guilty.
“Well, thank you for bringing me back. I really enjoyed being—visiting—with you.”
I press the door release button on my side of the pod and it hisses softly open, sliding back into the side of the transport. I turn to step down before I realize that I’m a good two feet off the ground. The bulk of my belly makes it hard for me to counter the momentum, and before I know it, I’m sliding out of the seat toward the ground.
“Ah!—“
In an instant, Kwarq is there. He stops me mid-air, probably only a few inches from the ground. The fall wouldn’t have killed me, but with my added weight and general awkwardness of movement, I would have been sporting a nice little sprained ankle.
His grasp on my hips is gentle. I barely felt the jolt of him halting my fall. In the shock of my rescue, my eyes fly to his and I freeze as he holds me suspended in air like I’m weightless. The yellow of his eyes is warm and open. I wish it wasn’t. I wish he didn’t insist on looking at me like I hold his heart in my hands, even if I kind of do. I wish he didn’t hide the anguish he feels about being leht to me instead of Li’aht. It would make it easier to let him go.
I wiggle my legs, prompting him to finally let my feet touch the ground. Once I’m on firm footing, I ease out of his grasp. There’s too much feeling there. His first heart is loud in the quiet garage, and after a while, it begins to feel like it’s taunting me. Like it’s emphasizing the fact that I may have Kwarq’s heart by biology but never by choice.
“So are you just going to settle things here at your place?”
He nods, but again he’s looking at me carefully.
“I will. There is no need to keep it, but I will continue to pay your housing fees if you would like.”
“No, that’s not necessary. I’m sure I can get my old gig back. And if not, I have some savings. Once the babies are born, I’m sure I’ll find something.”
I’m not sure, but I say it with as much confidence as I can muster. Actually, I’m pretty sure my life from here on out is going to be a world of struggle. And I can’t even think about the mechanics of giving birth to two half-alien babies, right now. An image of me giving birth on a dingy bathroom floor flashes in my mind. I’m not even sure going to a hospital is an option.
Kwarq seems less concerned, but his brow furrows again.
“Amina, I am more than happy to secure your apartment for as long as you wish. Your are my leh—“
“Yes, I know, Kwarq, I’m your lehti, your heart beat, but we’re on Earth now, you don’t have to do all of that anymore. Fortunately for you, here, you can leave and go be with the one you really want. No one, least of all me, is going to hold you to some flaw in your biology, so you can stop with all the first heart obligations, okay. It’s not like I’m going to sue you for child support. Or even can. So just give me a break with the heartfelt vows to protect and provide. You’re free from all that here. Welcome to America.”
This comes out on a frustrated rush. Our parting of ways is taking too long. I was hoping he’d just drop me off, wave goodbye, and blip on back to Lyqa. All of this pomp and circumstance is just making me want to cry. I’d rather do that when I’m alone in my apartment.
“What do you mean, ‘sue for child support’.”
I sigh, dropping my chin to my chest. Of course that’s all he got from my little speech. I’m sure the linguist/doula in him couldn’t resist. I consider ignoring him, but it’s probably just easier to answer the damn question.
“Basically, sometimes fathers end relationships with the mother of their children and decide they don’t want to contribute to care of their kids. They don’t love the mother, so they don’t think they should have to care for the children. Or maybe they love someone else and they want a real family. In those cases, if the mother is having a hard time, she has to go through the legal system to make the father help. But I was joking. Obviously, you live on another planet. I can’t expect you to be around to buy school supplies and take our daughters to little league.” I go for a wry chuckle, but Kwarq is tight-lipped as he stares back at me.
“You think I would not care for you? For our children?”
Oh god, here we go. You would think that for a man who’s pining after his ex-lover, he would take full advantage of this whole from another galaxy loophole.
“No, Kwarq. I know if things were different, if I were a different person, you would take care of us. You’ve already taken such great care of us. More than you had to. I’m just saying that this doesn’t have to be difficult. I don’t know if we’ll see you after this, but I just want you to be assured that I can handle it from here.”
I can’t handle it. Just the idea of handling it, any of it, makes me want to scream and cry and run far far away. Run to another planet. Preferably one where a beautiful, tall, golden Lyqa man loves me and wants to be a family. I know that’s not an option. I’m on my own with this. I remind myself that millions of women take care of children by themselves every day. My mother did it. My sister is doing it. I can do it. Even if Kwarq wanted to help, it’s not like he can just wire me some money every month. Can he?
“How did you pay for our apartments here? You came back?”
He shakes his head. “There was no need, and I would not have left you during your resting period. I sent the funds.”
He sent the funds. Like what, through the instant payment feature on his cell phone?
“And how did you do that? I mean, what did you just wire it?”
“I did. The transfer is merely a signal. I just sent the appropriate signal to indicate that the required monies were present in your account. It is simple and untraceable. Do not worry, my lehti.”
If a month on Lyqa has taught me anything, it’s that humans tend to overthink just about everything. I do it. In fact, overthinking is my main character trait. As it is most people’s. I imagine that if we didn’t overthink things so much, our lives would be so much simpler. Maybe this is one of those times when I should take a page out of the Lyqa handbook of taking things in stride. If Kwarq wants to help support our children, why reject it?
“In that case, I guess it wouldn’t be too terrible if you helped me a little. Just until I find another job. Since I don’t have a job anymore, I don’t have health care. I don’t know how I’m going to swing giving birth to twins.”
Kwarq frowns and steps close to me, taking hold of my arms. “You do not have to worry about the birth, Amina. I will be there. I will always be with you.”
That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. I don’t want him to be nice to me. I don’t want him to do his duty and follow his stupid first heart. I can’t get his conversation with Li’aht out
of my head. It sours everything he’s saying to me. It makes me want out of his presence.
“Kwarq, I’m going to go now, okay. I can’t do this anymore. Go home. Go back to your real life. Go back to Li’aht.”
Kwarq
Go back to Li’aht? I don’t know what’s going on. My lehti is behaving strangely. She has been since we left our home on my planet. First she cried in the bathroom and embraced my family like it was the last time she’d ever see them. Then she went on about child support as if a father and partner does not automatically support his family. Now she’s talking about leaving as if I would ever allow her to be away from me if I could help it. I don’t understand what is wrong, and I don’t understand what Li’aht could possibly have to do with us any longer.
“Amina, why do you think I would want to go back to Li’aht? She has nothing for me any longer. You are my first heart’s beat. You are my lehti. You are the only one I love. The only one I will ever love.”
I’m upsetting her, and I don’t understand. She turns away from me and there is no mistaking the disgust that rolls off of her.
“Kwarq, please just stop. You don’t have to lie to me anymore. You don’t have to pretend.”
“I do not pretend, Amina, and I would never lie to you. Ever.”
Her face seems to crumple with hurt and disappointment. She steps away from me, shaking her head. A heavy sigh fills the silence and with it, her whole body seems to weigh down. I reach out and take hold of her arm, gently, but I don’t release her even when she tries to pull away. Everything in me says to pull her back, make her stay, but I’d rather fix what’s wrong. I’d rather understand what’s changed.
“Amina, please give me a chance to understand how I have hurt you. I have only ever tried to love and protect you.”
She looks up and smiles. I have seen her smile in a dozen different subtle ways, but this is the only smile that makes my heart ache. I have seen it before. It is the smile she wears when she is expecting to be hurt. It is the smile that she cannot help when I tell her that she is beautiful. It is the smile that made her uncomfortable with accepting my love.
“It’s okay, Kwarq. I know you tried. I know your heart betrayed you. I know this isn’t what you really want.”
“It is the only thing I want.” It is. Except, perhaps, for this moment to be different. For this trip to have gone as I imagined. Not me standing in a dimly lit garage as Amina tears my heart out for reasons I can’t understand.
“But it isn’t.”
“Why do you think I do not want you more than anything in this universe?”
“Because I heard you.”
I know I’m frowning. Perhaps even scowling, but I feel like I’m missing something, and it’s making me angry that whatever it is, it’s keeping Amina from me.
“What did you hear? I do not understand.”
“I heard you talking to Li’aht before we left, Kwarq. You don’t have to pretend. I know that you are only doing this because I’m pregnant and because of your stupid first heart. I know you really want to be with her. I heard you two talking, okay. So stop it. It’s harder to hear you say things I know aren’t true, even if it’s well intentioned. I know I could never be the one you really want.”
The relief that courses through me is cold and jolting. I release the breath I’ve been holding and pull Amina against my chest, burying my face into her fragrant cloud of hair.
“You humans and your imaginations. Amina, when will you realize that I love you more than my life? That even if my stupid first heart had not bound me to you, I would have followed you on that bus even if it went to the ends of this ridiculous, silly little planet?”
She’s stiff in my arms where I have her crushed to my chest, but I can still feel the tremor running through her as she sobs into my shirt. My poor, poor Amina. She has such wild, crazy ideas.
“Come.”
I set her away from me. Her face is puffy and streaked with tears. I reach up and brush my hand across her cheeks and then lap at the salty water on my fingers. She tastes like so much sorrow, so much worry, so much disappointment. My poor, poor Amina.
“Kwarq, it’s probably best if I just go—“
I shake my head and hold her firm when she tries to ease away from me.
“I said come. I can fix this. Although I wish I could fix your very human tendency toward distrust and wild, unreasonable pessimism.”
She sighs, but lets me lead her back to the pod. I take her by the waist and lift her up, settling her into the seat and closing the door so she can’t try to hop back out. I go around to my side and slide in beside her.
“Kwarq, we don’t have to go all the way back home. I know what I heard. I know how much this hurts you. I never really expected this to last in the first place. It’s okay.”
I shoot her a quick frown and then roll my eyes. This gesture is probably my second favorite thing about humans. Amina is my first. Even though my lehti loves to say that things are okay when they are clearly not okay.
I don’t respond to her comment. I pull up the controls for the pod and switch all of the displays and audio to English. Then I activate the database search feature and begin to type.
Amina
LOVE’S TRUE BEAT.
The English letters blink in succession across the screen and I turn to see Kwarq watching me expectantly. My sigh feels like it’s coming from the depths of my spirit. Am I really ready for another Lyqa love lesson?
“Don’t tell me, I’m your lehti, but every Lyqa has a true love and for you that’s Li’aht? Am I wrong?”
“You are.”
I frown, but Kwarq’s smiling. It’s probably the closest to gloating I’ve ever seen. He’s so unbothered, and it’s pissing me off.
“Then what the hell is that supposed to mean? Don’t tell me it’s a metaphor or something. I thought your people didn’t do metaphors.”
“We do not,” he says just as easily and then taps the panel.
The screen flashes onto a lush field covered in feathery flowers and tall, bluish blades of grass. The angle pans out and two figures appear on the screen. My eyes widen and I glance over to see Kwarq looking slightly uncomfortable before my eyes glue back to the screen.
Holy. Shit.
“I would not have chosen her for myself. She holds not even a candle to you. To your beauty and intelligence. She is not who I want, you know that!”
Kwarq collapses to his knees, gripping his head in agony. A heavy rain begins to fall, and his hair hangs into his flashing yellow eyes.
“If she wasn’t your beat, would we have had a chance?”
Li’aht is in a flowing, red gown. Even in my stupor, the symbolism isn’t lost on me. It’s surprisingly subtle.
“If I’d never passed her on the street, I would still be yours. You know our hearts are bound. I can’t stop it. Help me, I can’t stop it!”
“Oh, my love, we may not be able to have a life, but we will always have our love. Go to her. Do what you must.”
“I will go, but she will never replace you. You are my true heart’s beat.”
Kwarq’s hands are fisted in his hair as he stares off into the night sky in anguish.
I raise my hand to my mouth to stifle the chuckle that threatens to escape. I turn to Kwarq and his eyes are fixed to the screen, but his shoulder is flinched up as if he’s trying to ward off the horror of what he’s seeing. His face is pained.
“Oh, shit, Kwarq, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—I—” I try to inject some genuine regret into my voice. I did just accuse him of betraying me, but instead I end up laughing. I lean over, holding my belly as my cackles fill the pod. Kwarq presses the control panel and puts a halt to what is perhaps the worst movie ever made, Lyqa or otherwise.
Chapter 27
Kwarq
I would rather have my lehti laugh at me than cry, so I wait patiently as she rocks back and forth in her seat, holding her round belly and laughing her beautiful laugh.
&n
bsp; “Oh, shit. That is hilarious!”
She continues laughing, so I wait, and wait, and continue to wait.
“It is not that funny, Amina.”
She snickers and pulls herself upright. She folds her lips in, and her nose flares with the effort to control herself. She takes several deep breaths and then blinks for a long moment before turning to face me.
“You’re right, babe. That,” snicker, “was not that bad.” Snicker. “It was just,” snicker, “unexpected!” She loses the battle for calm and bursts out laughing again. I roll my eyes and lean back in my chair. Tears roll down her face. I’m only feigning impatience. She called me ‘babe.’ Everything is right in the world.
After several long moments, she seems to recover. She stares at the screen where the image of me on my knees is paused and shakes her head, every so often a little chuckle erupts from her.
“I just can’t believe it.”
“I have tried many things in my life, lehti. It is not uncommon among Lyqa.”
She turns to me and her eyebrows raise to meet in the middle of her forehead.
“Oh, no, linguist/doula/actor I can definitely believe. But how you could even fix your face to talk about human movies when you knew this garbage was floating around the universe, I will never understand.”
“What I will never understand is how you can believe that you are unworthy of my or anyone else’s love.”
Amina’s smile drops and she looks away from me and down into her lap.