I can’t stop shivering despite the steaming shower. I tell myself I’m safe now. I’m home. Everything’s going to be alright. Dull pain radiates from my abdomen as the water flows over my stomach. There’s a sizeable bruise, beginning to turn crimson around the edges, where the commander hit me. I’ve let my injured arm get wet so I shake it out, hoping it won’t need another dressing. The brace on my knee didn’t fare so well. I couldn’t keep it dry so I had to remove the bandage. It doesn’t look too bad. A little swollen but it’s bearing my weight better.
The buzzer at the front door sounds. It can’t be Mom. She wouldn’t ring the bell, and it’s too early for Upsilon to have returned. I shut off the water and shiver as I grab for my pajamas. Whoever is outside is now holding the button down causing a continuous ringing that’s hurting my ears. I throw my robe over my pajamas and belt it at the waist before finger combing my wet hair, leaving untidy clumps hanging around my shoulders. Rattled by the noise, I head for the door where the buzzing is suddenly replaced by an urgent knocking. I dash to the intercom and press the button. “Who is it?”
“It’s Gamma. Are you okay?” She sounds frantic. Of course. I was supposed to meet her for dinner yesterday. The panel shudders as she pummels the door from the outside. Without thinking it through, I open it. She stands on the threshold, arms braced against the doorjamb, breathing heavily. She’s still in her factory uniform. “I’ve been ringing and ringing. What’s going on?”
“I was in the shower.” I indicate my damp hair, draped messily around my face.
She pushes past me and strides inside. “How could you not call me? I thought something had happened when I didn’t hear from you last night and then you weren’t on shift this morning. And now I find you lounging around in your PJs.”
I move forward, hands raised in surrender.
That’s when she notices.
My eyes.
The frozen look of disbelief on her face is all I need to remind me that I forgot to look for my spare contacts before my shower.
Her mouth drops open.
“It’s only a birth defect. It’s no big deal,” I say.
“They’ve always been this way?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“And you never thought to tell me? Your best friend? What else haven’t you told me? How about where you really were last night? You weren’t in the Clinic. I checked my mom’s datapad.”
“It’s kind of a long story.”
“That’s what they all say. I thought you were better than that. I thought we were friends.”
“We are, but—”
“Save it.” She turns on her heel and storms out.
I trail after her, but I’m much slower in my bare feet, and I need to stop to fix the door so it doesn’t lock behind me. I have no way of opening it again without my communicator. And part of me thinks it’s safer to let Gamma stew in her own juices. I’ve seen her get like this before, but never with me. I know I can’t really leave her this way.
The fire door slams at the end of the corridor. She’s obviously avoiding the less-than-reliable elevator. When I get to the bottom of the stairwell, she’s at least a flight above me. I can hear her stomping footsteps further up the stairs. She’s heading up to her quarters. I stumble over the hem of my robe and curse as I grab at the twisted metal banister to right myself. By the time I reach the sixth floor, there’s no sign of her. I head for her door and knock loudly, not caring that I’m on the important folks’ floor in a bathrobe without my contacts.
When Gamma’s door opens, I find myself face to face with her mother, Ma Temple. Gamma’s mom is an anomaly because she has a dual Calling: motherhood and Med-Tech. It’s rare, but it happens. Of the two, motherhood is the higher vocation, attracting the honorific “Ma” title like my own mom. She examines me from head to toe, not flinching at my appearance, or my eyes. Rather, she steps aside and motions me in.
“I suppose we’d better get that daughter of mine back here and sort this out,” she says.
Ma Temple is so much more stylish than my own mother, with her scarlet tunic over fitted slacks. The combination works somehow despite her pale complexion. She leads me to the lounge suite that takes pride of place in the living area and gestures for me to sit.
A door cracks open behind her to reveal Gamma hovering just inside the kitchen, scowling.
Ma Temple addresses her. “Could you come in here please?” Gamma takes a reluctant step, glaring at me.
“I suppose this”—Ma Temple indicates my eyes—“explains this.” Now she’s pointing at her daughter. I want to be angry with Gamma, but it’s true that I’ve kept this hidden from her our whole lives. It’s not every day you find out your best friend is concealing an inexplicable mutation.
Gamma looks from her mother to me and back again.
“You know about this?” Gamma says to her mom.
Ma Temple doesn’t deny it. My back stiffens. She’s obviously been keeping some secrets of her own. She beckons us to the sofa. This time I allow myself to sit. The cushions are so plush, I sink into them despite my best efforts to sit up straight.
“I suppose I owe you both an explanation,” Ma Temple says. “I only wish your mother were here, Omega. I told her something like this would happen. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”
My fingers beat a tattoo on the armrest. Gamma’s jaw sets into a tight line. Ma Temple touches her arm gently. “Honey, why don’t you come with me to the kitchen? We can calm down and maybe fix some hot chocolate? Then we can sit and talk.”
Hot chocolate. Ma Temple’s answer for everything. It usually works on Gamma. I want to push Ma Temple to start talking now, but that won’t be possible until Gamma gets her temper under control.
“Omega, you’ll be alright here for a few moments on your own, won’t you?” Ma Temple clearly isn’t expecting a response.
They’re in the kitchen for a long time. Their voices rise in pitch until the kettle whistles. Then the smell of hot chocolate wafts into the living room. It causes me to salivate, despite the charged atmosphere. I haven’t eaten anything since the factory yesterday.
Glancing out the picture window, I notice a hummingbird flitting around the branch of an oak tree. Quite a contrast to the view from the window in our quarters, overlooking the dumpster. The arguing from the kitchen has stopped. Gamma and Ma Temple return. Ma Temple holds two steaming mugs while Gamma cradles the third to her chest. Ma Temple presses one of her mugs to Gamma who takes it automatically. “Honey, why don’t you give this to your friend?” She emphasizes the last word and Gamma groans.
My heart sinks as I remember Gamma at the factory. Have I lost her as a friend? After a few moments, she places the extra mug on the coffee table in front of me and shuffles away with her own. She stops when she realizes her mother has taken the chair across from me, and the only place left for her to sit is on the sofa beside me.
I pull my legs aside so Gamma can pass without having to touch me. She gets like this when she’s annoyed even though she’s never been this angry with me before. Maybe she’s scared of me now, of what my eyes might really mean.
“Gamma, please,” I say. “I should’ve told you sooner, but it doesn’t change who I am.”
She still won’t look at me, and seems to be making sure she’s sitting as far away as possible without leaving the sofa.
“Please, Ma Temple.” I force myself to ignore Gamma. “Tell us.”