I catch a series of trams across the city and into a neighbouring bubble. Two bubbles later and I’m in Marinnek’s neighbourhood. That’s when I realize I don’t know exactly where they[1] live.
With my holocom missing, I can’t even call her. I sigh and head to the first bar I see. Maybe someone there will know them or have a com I can use.
The glass on the door to the bar is frosted, so I don’t realize someone is opening it until it’s almost pressed against me. I step back, catching my balance and inadvertently meet the eyes of the person opening the door.
“My bad,” they say. “Didn’t see you there.”
I see the eyes first but it’s their voice that registers—soft and warm with a friendly, apologetic lilt. Then I realize I’m still staring and I cough and look away.
“No worries.”
They smile. “Nice flower.”
They take a step closer and I wonder if something is going to happen. I freeze, preparing to fight or apologize or run, but they just walk past me with a wave. I exhale slowly, trying to force my tension out with the breath. I look down at the street, but all I’m seeing are their brown eyes—umber at the edges lightening to ochre as iris approaches pupil—and their smile—white teeth flashing, lips pulled in an expression of small joy.
I make my way to the bar trying not to overanalyze the interaction or my sudden surge of anxiety. It was a surprising interaction. I was unprepared. There’s a bounty on my head. My reaction was rational, normal even.
It’s not until I’m waiting for the bartender to return with the office holocom that I can identify the source of my unease. The person I bumped into, the one with the warm voice and brown eyes and lighthearted demeanor, the one with the deep russet skin and smooth wave goodbye and black hair falling in loose curls around their face—that person—seemed oddly familiar.
I can’t place them at all, but it feels like I know them from somewhere.
I thank the bartender for the com and quickly pull up Marinek’s work repo. ‘Mercenary for all your mercenary needs,’ it reads. Well, she was never known for subtlety. I grab the com code from the ‘Contact Me’ section and dial.
After three rings, they pick up.
“Hello?” her voice is groggy and I feel a twinge of guilt. I forgot how early they go to bed.
“Hi Marinek,” I say. Then I swallow. No words come, so I swallow again. Marinek doesn’t make any sound. “It’s Jinsang. I ended up in town kind of by accident, and…” She’s still made no noise. I start to worry that they’ve fallen asleep. “And I was wondering if I could spend the night?” The last part comes out a bit faster than I would have liked.
There’s a pause so long that I seriously consider hanging up and redialing in case she actually is asleep.
“You want to come over and spend the night?” Their voice is slow and still slightly sleep-gravelled.
“Yes. Yes, please.”
“Now?”
“Ideally…”
“Come by. I’ll be waiting downstairs in 20.” She rattles off their address.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t sweat it,” she says and hangs up.
I look up Marinek’s address and pass the com back to the bartender. Realizing I should order a drink, I take a look at the menu and realize this establishment is a bit out of my price range. Instead, I transfer the bartender a sizeable tip with a nod and a smile that they return.
Marinek’s place is about a 15-minute walk from the bar, but they’re already waiting when I walk up. I notice that her amber skin has richened from the sun since the last time I saw them. Her hair is cut short on the sides with longer curls on top. In the light of the streetlamps, their dark brown hair has a noticeable red tint to it.
She gives me a quick once over, sighs, and pushes away from the wall they were leaning on.
“Come on,” she says, “my treat.”
“A place to stay is more than—”
“You look half dead.” And then because she’s started walking and I haven’t moved yet, they add, “Keep up.” As I fall into step next to her, they elaborate: “We’re getting food and then you’re going to sleep. Hope you don’t mind the couch.”
“I’m sure it’s lovely,” I say and, after a pause, more quietly, “Thank you.”
“Honestly, I was hoping you’d call sooner. You fell off the map and I was—am—worried about you. So thank you for reaching out once you came to town. It’s good to see you.”
I nod, trying to process a sudden onrush of feelings, not sure what to say. They don’t seem to mind though. We walk in companionable silence to the restaurant, and I feel gratitude filling me that she hasn’t asked how I’ve been or where I’ve been or why I’m in town.
[1] Here we have another pronoun that doesn’t exist in English. Marinek’s pronouns are often used by people who are between neutral and female, a mixture of neutral and feminine, or are comfortable using pronouns associated with that experience. Because of this, I’ll be switching between they/them and she/her when referring to Marinek.
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