Fourteen

 

Sophie had barely seen Marsha all week, and she hated it. She had nothing to do without Marsha around, and all the speech-language pathology journals in the world couldn’t keep her distracted.

As she walked to her Latin teacher’s house for her class, she tried to see the bright side. She’d been studying a lot with all of her spare time, and the verb declensions were starting to click. She finally saw how the ancient language related to French, Italian, and Spanish.

But she wished Marsha was with her. If Marsha ever had a Wednesday or Friday night off, she’d bring her along the way she should’ve in the first place. Marsha would’ve found it interesting to be among other humans, even if she already knew Latin perfectly. And who knew? The grammar rules might’ve appealed to her since she didn’t actually know how the language functioned.

Herman, the eighty-something teacher, was with the three other students in the living room. This class was casual, in the sense that Herman ran it by himself with no oversight. But he was a taskmaster, and their lessons followed a rigorous format.

They started off with greetings, and each of them did their best to say something in Latin about their day. “I addenda domi,” Sophie said when it was her turn. “Nihil feci.” She was bored at home; she did nothing.

Since conversation wasn’t so important in this class, that was all the time they spent on speaking. They focused more on reading and writing, and Sophie could see herself improving there much faster than she had with more commonly spoken languages.

Herman gave them a worksheet of grammar questions to go over. Sophie sucked on the end of her pen, focusing intently as she worked through them. She wondered how Marsha would do with these. Would she fly through them, or would it be more like her experience with tutoring?

Marsha was still on her mind as they went on to the practice translations. Herman gave them a short excerpt from a classical author every week, and they were getting progressively harder. Sophie stared at the paper, trying to remember if pāreō meant “prepare” or “give birth.”

Marsha would’ve translated this in a second; the microchip would’ve made it seem like she was reading in English. Or in her own language, rather. She’d told Sophie that it was totally unlike any human language. She’d tried to teach Sophie a few words, but even her own human mouth wasn’t able to properly form the sounds.

It was strange to think that everything they said to each other was filtered through an unconscious translation device. Sophie felt like there was less distance between her and Marsha than anyone else, but she guessed that feeling was misleading. Maybe Marsha would become close with anyone she spent a lot of time with; maybe she was just that type of person.

“Sophie, are you finished?” Herman asked. “Would you like to read your answer?”

“No, not quite.” So much for all her studying. “Someone else can go.”

One of the other students read the translated passage, and then Sophie stood up to leave with a sigh. Before she went, she took a moment to speak to Herman. “I’d like to bring a friend along sometime. Would that be all right? I can pay for her, too. She’s just curious about these classes.”

Herman’s wizened face lit up. “Of course! It’s so seldom that you find anyone of the younger generation who’s interested in learning these old ways. Don’t worry about payment; I’d be happy just to share my knowledge.”

“Okay,” Sophie said. “As soon as she’s free, I’ll bring her along.”

The way she should’ve done in the first place.

 

***

 

Marsha’s boss wanted her working from one until ten every day, Tuesday to Saturday. After five straight days, she was exhausted. She didn’t even have the energy to bug Sophie about going to see her parents on Sunday night. As long as she got to spend the afternoon with Sophie, she was happy.

“There’s no way I’m going to call that couple,” she yawned, sprawling across Sophie’s bed. “I just can’t handle that right now.”

“What couple?” Sophie looked at her sharply.

Marsha tried to read into that look. To a certain extent, she was trying to test Sophie, to see if she might have any more-than-platonic interest in Marsha. Unfortunately, her knowledge of human facial expressions was still developing. For such a primitive species, humans could be so confusing.

“They gave me their phone number at work,” she said.

“As in, they were hitting on you?”

“I think so.” Marsha showed her the note.

“Marsha, they straight-up propositioned you.” Sophie blinked down at the paper. “Are you into them?”

“I don’t know,” Marsha said. “You thought I should try dating.”

“Sure.” Sophie didn’t sound all that sure. “Dating, not hooking up. And not a damn threesome.”

“What’s wrong with a threesome?”

“It’s—it’s just—” Sophie shook her head. “Ew.”

“Why?” Marsha took the paper back to examine it again, genuinely curious what Sophie thought was wrong with it. On her planet, no one was opposed to any combinations of consenting adults, no matter how many of them there were.

“I guess it’s different for you, since your parents had a three-way relationship,” Sophie said thoughtfully. “It’s just that on Earth, one guy and two girls is like a porno fantasy.”

Marsha stretched her legs toward the ceiling, experimenting with what this body could do. “What’s wrong with fantasies?”

“It’s just… Hmm.” Sophie looked at her strangely as she crossed her legs to one side, then the other. “From what I’ve read online, couples like that don’t respect the women they bring into their bedroom. They see them more as a sex toy than as a human being.”

“Or a non-human being?”

“Exactly.” Sophie lay back and tried stretching the way Marsha was doing, then let out a giggle. “This feels funny.”

“I’m just playing. It’s fun to play sometimes.” She raised both arms and legs in the air and wiggled them wildly. It felt good, but the best part was seeing Sophie imitate her. “Anyway, I could still do it. They’d just be a sex toy for me.”

Sophie’s expression went blank. “You’d want to use people like that?”

“I’m curious about certain things.”

“I guess that’s your prerogative.” Sophie lowered her limbs to the bed. “I can be a little more old-fashioned. I see sex as more serious.”

“Because you’ve never had it,” Marsha said. “You’ll find out. It doesn’t have to be a big deal all the time. It can just be fun.”

Another flash of her and Sophie together went through her imagination. They were so close together, it’d be so easy to lean over and kiss her the way humans did. Sophie’s clothes could be off in a matter of moments, and she could be naked and shaking under Marsha…

“Well, it’s your body.” Sophie moved to the edge of the bed and stood up. “You can do what you want with it.”

“I know that.” Marsha watched her, frowning. “And it’s not like I have any other options.” Her real question hung silently in the air between them. Do I?

“You’re a beautiful woman,” Sophie said, fidgeting awkwardly where she stood. “You lucked out in the looks department.”

“By your strange human standards, maybe. It’s just a vessel, anyway.”

“Your vessel means you could have anybody you want.”

Marsha changed tack. “Aren’t you curious about sex?”

“Sure, but I can wait. I’d like my first time to be with someone I love.” Sophie looked at the floor. “Even if that might be unrealistic.”

“I’m sure it’ll happen.”

“It hasn’t yet.” She moved toward the door. “Ideally, I’d like the first person I’m with to also be the last person. But you can’t plan that sort of thing.”

“That’s true.”

Sophie left the room—to do what, Marsha didn’t know. She stayed on the bed, pondering everything Sophie had just told her.

Sophie wanted to be in love; she wanted it to be permanent.

If Marsha couldn’t be that person, she should leave Sophie alone. She thought she could be—but that was for Sophie to decide.

If she could ever drum up the nerve to tell Sophie.

 

***

 

Sophie had planned to go to her family dinner. She really had. But she’d missed Marsha far too much this week to spend a minute away from her if there was any possible alternative.

So even though that alternative included standing up to her parents, she was going to have to take it.

She stood in the kitchen, working up the nerve to dial the phone. She was scared of what her mom would say—but also scared of what would happen with Marsha when they were alone tonight. That conversation just now had been so strange. Marsha seemed to be getting more and more curious about her love and sex life, and a small part of Sophie couldn’t help but dream there was a reason for that.

Taking a seat, she pressed the speed dial button on the phone. Her mom picked up after two rings. “Sophie, darling, I didn’t expect to hear from you. We’ll see you at five-thirty tonight?”

Sophie swallowed. “No. I’m not going to be able to come.”

“Why ever not?” Mama sounded as sweet as pie, but she was cloaking her annoyance. Sophie had heard her sound like that too many times through the years.

“My friend is visiting again,” she said. “We have plans.”

“Again?” Mama’s irritation came through more clearly. “She was just there a few weeks ago, and you tried to back out on us then.”

“Because I have friends, Mama. I have a life outside of my family.”

“You’re not even working right now.”

“My friend is, and I’d like to spend some time with her.” Sophie was getting frustrated. She’d known Mama would be difficult, but thirty-four years of experience hadn’t taught her how to deal with it. “I visit you every week. I can miss one Sunday. I’ll be there next time.”

“No,” Mama said. “You’re coming. We don’t ask that much. One evening out of your week—you can manage that.”

“I’m not asking for your permission!” Sophie’s voice rose slightly. “I’m telling you. I’m a grown woman, and I can do what I want to.”

“You’ll come tonight, or you won’t be welcome next week.” The phone clicked, and Sophie heard the dial tone.

She took a deep breath, then noticed movement behind her. Terry was there, giving her a sympathetic look. “Trouble with the fam-jam?”

“You could say that.” She summarized the conversation. “I guess I have to go.”

“Are you kidding? You can’t go now. You’ll just be showing her what it takes to make you give in.”

“You think so?”

“Honey, I’ve been waiting so long to see you stand up to your parents. They walk all over you, and you just take it. Now that you’ve come this far, you can’t back down now.”

“But I can’t miss family dinner next week.”

She’d wanted one Sunday night off, not infinite ones. She pictured next week coming and going without seeing her parents’ faces, or her sisters’. She’d never gone more than six days without seeing them in her life.

They were annoying, but they cared about her, too.

“You might be surprised by what happens next week,” Terry said, patting her arm. “They want to see you. They need you more than you need them.”

“They said I wouldn’t be able to come.”

“I have a feeling they might change their minds if you actually go through with it. It’s a lot like what my parents did when I came out.”

Sophie blinked. She didn’t remember him ever talking about this before. “They weren’t okay with you being gay?”

“They said if I didn’t ‘stop it,’ they’d cut me off. Spoiler alert, they didn’t.” He grinned. “I called their bluff. Once they figured out they couldn’t bully me out of loving men, they learned to accept me pretty quick.”

“Hmm.” Sophie wondered if a similar tactic would work on her parents. Probably not—but she’d never find out at the rate she was going.

Marsha emerged from her bedroom, looking curious. “I heard you talking out here.”

“Sophie is skipping her family dinner tonight,” Terry told her proudly.

“She is?” Marsha gaped at Sophie.

“I wanted to be with you,” Sophie said.

“You could’ve brought me.”

Sophie snorted, and then she shook her head. “Never—ever—going to happen.”

 

***

 

Sophie and Marsha ended up going out to dinner with Terry and Gary. They chose a casual-chic spot a few blocks from their place. While the ambience there was relaxed, Sophie was not.

She couldn’t let go of the tension in her shoulders and her neck. Nor could she focus on the conversation. It was mostly Terry and Gary talking while Marsha stayed quiet and sent frequent glances at her.

Was this worth standing up to her parents? She might’ve ruined her relationship with them forever for the sake of one evening with Marsha. She hoped Terry’s advice had been true, but the fact that it’d worked for him didn’t mean it’d be the same for her. Her parents were different than his. They were eccentric, quirky people, and they didn’t function the same as anyone else. Now that she’d given them a reason to be mad, they might hold that grudge against her.

“Sophie,” Marsha whispered, putting her hand on Sophie’s under the table.

The tingles that went through Sophie’s lower belly snapped her out of her trance. “Yes. I’m fine. Sorry. I’m just distracted.”

“Are you going to finish your fries?”

“No. Go right ahead.”

Marsha dug into the fries as if that was all she’d wanted—but the way she kept looking back at her told Sophie that she was more worried than she was trying to show.

Terry and Gary tried to engage Sophie in conversation for a few minutes, but Sophie couldn’t make herself laugh or smile. Her family was the only thing on her mind. It wasn’t just her parents she’d miss if they cut her off. Her sisters had shared the womb with her, and they didn’t have the same toxic qualities that their parents did. But she doubted Nicole and Katie would stay in touch with her if it meant going against her parents.

“Excuse me for a minute,” she said, her throat choking up. “I’m going to the restroom.”

Once she was alone in the stall, she pulled her phone out of her purse. There were no missed calls—that was no surprise—but there were eleven messages from her sisters in a newly-created group chat.

KATIE: Are you not coming tonight, Soph?

NICOLE: Or are you dead? Our parents won’t say anything about you.

NICOLE: This is freaking me out.

KATIE: Nic, did you see Mama’s face just now?

NICOLE: Uh, yeah! I asked about you, Sophie, and she went dead-eyed and silent.

NICOLE: I haven’t seen them this pissed since you moved out.

KATIE: Reply back, please, Sophie. I’m worried about you.

NICOLE: You know she’s fine, right? She’s partying with her friends up in Rocksoil.

KATIE: On a Sunday night? She never did before.

KATIE: Why would she skip family dinner?

NICOLE: Shit. Mama’s going to catch me texting you, Katie. Let’s catch up after dinner.

Sophie took a deep breath. She almost wanted to laugh, if the texts hadn’t made her want to cry. She could picture the scene all too easily—her parents seething, her sisters confused. She sank, fully dressed, onto the toilet seat and typed out a response.

SOPHIE: I’m fine, you guys.

NICOLE: She lives!

SOPHIE: I did have plans with friends, and they told me I should stand up to Mama and Dad.

SOPHIE: I don’t know if it was the right thing to do.

SOPHIE: They said if I missed dinner tonight, I wouldn’t be welcome next week.

KATIE: It’s going to be okay. They’re not going to disown you over one missed dinner.

NICOLE: Katie’s right. I’ll call you soon, all right?

KATIE: Let’s do a three-way call.

SOPHIE: Thanks, both of you.

SOPHIE: Nicole, did you bring apple pie tonight?

NICOLE: I sure did.

SOPHIE: Have a piece for me.

NICOLE: Will do.

KATIE: Talk to you soon.