Neptune - Part 11

Part 11- Trust


From Neptune's Green Sunshine

Act 2 Scene 1
(The scene begins with Merle leaning over Connor on the ground and Nate stands over them.)
Merle: "Nate, is he... ?"
Nate: "He's too sick to continue with us. I don't know when he'll wake up. Or if. If we stay here, we'll be found."
Merle: "I don't want to leave him behind. He's helped us so much."
Nate: "I don't want to, either." (paces and then looks off nervously) "But I don't want to lose you. I don't want to be caught."
Merle: "..." (moves Connor's face and hands to try and elicit a response.)
Nate: "Even if they catch him, they won't have him killed. He's still valuable to them. They'll be able to help him."
Merle: (angrily) "It doesn't matter if they help him. We're all going to die, and so will they. What's the point of leaving him to their help?"
Nate: "Please, calm down." (kneels next to Merle) "He's going to die if he stays with us. At least with them, he has a chance. I'm in his debt, and this isn't easy for me either. But you know what he'd tell us. You know what he told us. Even now, we should trust in him."
Merle: (strokes Connor's hair lightly) "No stop." (closes her eyes for a moment. Cue song: Thank You and Goodbye)

***

I feel relaxed despite my heavy breath. With this maelstrom of revelations that I have been faced with, I am a little bit surprised that I feel this way. But that surprise fades as I turn my head to examine the woman who lies next to me. I cannot even describe how she makes me feel. With a heavy sigh, I reorient my body towards her, unintentionally pulling at the covers that somehow find themselves on the floor with us. She is so beautiful.
I draw my hand across the downy soft fur of her cheek almost as if to check if she's real, not an illusion created by an imaginative mind. I know that, for her, it is just business and while she's selective about her clients, there is still a cost involved. The price is worth it, the only knot in my gut that forms is when I remember that someone other than myself will have the privilege of having her in their arms. It is a thought I push away quickly every time.
"You're wonderful, Nova," I whisper to her.
A small, musical laugh escapes from her lips, "Oh, I know that, Errol." She reaches her own hand to play with my dishevelled hair and give me a soft kiss on the cheek. While bit of covers dragged with us preserve my modesty (as much modesty as I can possibly have left at this point of the night, anyways), she has pulled herself too far from the blanket, but does not seem to mind having her body exposed.
Even looking at her nude form, I cannot believe that she is an androgyne. While most androgynes are like Samara, apparently non-sexual and built almost like adult children, Nova Seven has broken the mould. Her form is more feminine than most women I know, as if purposefully sculpted to portray the perfect woman. Whoever did her genetic recombination all those years ago must have been more artist than scientist.
"Oh? When did you realize?" I ask, with a small smile. She pulls back a little bit at the question and stares at me for a moment with questioning eyes.
"I hope you're not trying to steer the conversation towards me. You know the rules, Errol," she says softly.
I stare back at her and then nod, trying to let out a small laugh to diffuse the situation. "I do, but it is so difficult to flirt without talking about you."
"I'm not here to flirt with you. I know that you're already too attached to me emotionally, I don't want to reinforce that." She stands up, her fluffy tail swishing back and forth in a slow rhythm. Her 'S' shaped stance, pure white colour and feminine physique would make her appear a marble statue if not for that tiny amount of motion.
I watch her for a few moments, not just to keep beauty in my sights, but also as a kind of contemplation. "What do we say to each other if you never say anything about yourself? You and Samara, you're like two peas in a pod like that. You're both always prying, but giving nothing back."
I rise to my feet as well, letting the covers fall off of myself. There's no point in covering myself. I'm not ashamed of my body, despite my small stature. My body is toned from plenty of exercise and, despite whatever Cheryl may hypothesize, that I am a man is not easily questioned.
"That's because she and I shared a lot of time together. And a lot of those times are very painful to talk about. Honestly, it's none of your business," she says, firm but not harsh.
I shake my head and repeat, "None of my business. I'm not sure why not, Nova. The two women in my life I feel closest to and neither one is my business."
She seems to hesitate for a moment before reminding me of what is readily apparent, "I'm not a woman. You know that. Neither is Samara, technically, even if she won't admit it. You'll have to face that the woman closest to you is your wife."
I feel a pang of disgust at her even being mentioned here. "She left me. She's going to be granted amnesty."
Nova's eyes widen slightly in concern and she says, "Oh, Errol, I'm so sorry."
"In some ways, it's a relief, but in others... I dread what's coming. She's not the kind of woman who will not take the opportunity to ruin a life just because she can." I sit down on the bed and shrug. "I think she'll try to take the kids, but... This is none of your business."
She seems hurt, her stance and face subtly changing, and I almost apologize immediately. I only hold my tongue by force of will and offer her a level gaze instead.
"It's not the same, Errol. I want to help you." I don't take my eyes off of her, waiting for her to continue. Something in her voice tells me she will. "I know people in the underground, people with pull on Mars. I might be able to help you. But there's no point if you're going to be a child about it."
"A child? I tell you things, I pour my heart out to you, and I still know nothing about you. It's not childish to wonder about a person I-" I catch myself but there is still a brief moment's hesitation. "-care about."
"See, I heard that. That pause. That's what I'm talking about. You're getting too attached. Damn it, Errol! I'm an actress. I'm a whore!" her gestures lose their fluidity and her fur bristles as she becomes more and more visibly upset. "I don't want you to sympathize with me, I don't want you concerned for me! You are my client!"
I do not move as she raises her voice, but when she finishes I approach and put my arms around her and give her a passionate kiss, though perhaps awkward because of our height differences. I feel her tense more in my grasp for a moment before she relaxes slightly. I pull my mouth back from hers and whisper, "I wonder sometimes what you're more worried about. That I have become attached... or that perhaps that those feelings are mutual."
She looks at me for a few moments with an expression I cannot convey in words, but she pushes against my chest unexpectedly, knocking me backwards a few paces. "Put your clothes on and get out of here." She walks away and closes the door to the washroom behind her. I am left alone once again to collect my thoughts.

***

I enter through the front door of my home. Even though it is already late, Samara is still awake, arranging and rearranging pillows, sheets and blankets in the living room. She glances up as I pass into the living room and continues with her task.
"You came home early?" she asks, though it barely seems like any kind of a question.
"Yes. I upset her." I glance around at the furniture. Everything seems to have been slightly rearranged to be perfectly parallel to the walls. I do not want to sit down for fear of throwing off her arrangements. It might cause her to start over.
"Oh? Tell me about it," she says, shoving the couch slightly and then walking a few paces to the wall and back. Because I stay silent this whole time, she raises a brow slightly and looks towards me for a few moments.
"I pried. I said things. I don't regret any of it, but she's upset with me now."
"That's so incredibly specific. I like the part where you got into the details," Samara deadpans. She begins carefully folding up one of the sheets. I know that she's just going to end up washing it when she's done folding it exactly to her liking. I doubt that she will sleep tonight now that she's started a project for herself.
"It's kind of personal," I say, giving a small shrug.
The snow leopard recom looks up from her task and says, "Personal? Interesting that you'd say that. You might even say that it's none of my business." She gives me a long look, undoubtedly deciphering my expression, certainly a mixture of betrayal and annoyance if it represented my state accurately.
She continues folding as if nothing was said. I stare at her agape for a few moments and says, "No, it really isn't any of your business knowing what she said, Samara. That's different than knowing things about your pasts. I loathe the mysterious act you both put on. I just want to know her better. Is that wrong?"
"Yeah, it is. Have you ever thought that her past is painful to discuss? She's got a screwed up life."
"And you don't?" I ask, feeling my eyebrow quirk slightly upwards.
"My life's been pretty normal. Well, before my heart was ripped out. I've told you that before," says Samara, offering little else than a shrug.
"That's just it. I don't think it has been, Mercury," I stress the last word, her name.
She drops the corners of the sheet and blinks a few times at that before silently unfolding the cloth and starting the ritual over again. "I've told you before. That isn't my name. I'm just a clone of that defective project, nothing more."
"And yet you react to it. I'm not sure why I am supposed to feign belief to all of your obvious deceptions."
"In twenty years," says Samara, waiting until she finishes her current folding task before speaking, "Tash will probably still react to the name Natasha. But it's not going to be his name."
Emotions bubble forth as she refers to my daughter by the male pronoun. I had noticed before that she has always avoided gender pronouns for Tash in the past, and this makes me feel a little more suspicious. I know what she is trying to do, though. She is trying to change the subject on me. "We will see what happens with Natasha, she might grow out-"
"I doubt it."
"-of it." I raise my eyebrows at Sam and note, "You are so meddlesome. I just wish sometimes that you and Nova would trust me instead of staying guarded. I don't have many friends and neither do you."
Samara frowns slightly and gives me a subtle nod before returning her full concentration onto her task. As the silence pervades this space, I ascend the stairs to my room.