Marta takes a step through the doorway of our bedroom.
She tilts her head up and, with eyes wide, stares into the waters that teem with life.
“It’s kind of beautiful now that I’m looking at it…” Her voice trails off, and she leans over the banister to get a better look.
“Since when does this view not terrify you?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“I don’t know, maybe since I drowned?” She seems just as confused as I do. “I guess when your worst fear happens, it gets a little less scary?”
She turns back to the room, and I follow.
“Open the curtains,” she says cautiously. A finger slips into her mouth, and she bites at her nail.
I click a button on my data pad and reveal the floor-to-ceiling biofilm window for the first time in a long while. It feels out of place after being hidden for so long.
I turn back to my mate, waiting for any sign of panic—but she remains calm as ever.
“Bizarre,” she mumbles before plopping back into the chair.
“Do you think…” I trail off, not wanting to admit what’s crossing my mind.
“What?”
“Never mind, it’s silly,” I brush off the thought.
“Raf’ere, tell me.” She looks at me intently, deserving of the truth now more than ever.
“Do you think the waters of I’loh might have taken away your fear? Maybe the goddess…I don’t know. The water was inside of your lungs, it surrounded you. Could our myths and legends be right?”
“Something happened, I feel…different,” she says, letting her eyes follow the undulating light that filters through the seas on display beyond the window.
I watch her, watching the waves, and am struck by her beauty, but also her melancholy.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the other humans?” There’s a hurt in her eyes that breaks me when she turns.
“Because I knew you would leave me.”
Marta jolts, her eyes going wide.
“So you took away my choice? That’s not right!” She blinks back tears of anger. “They’re my people, they’re as close as I’ll ever get to Earth again. God, I miss it!”
She’s homesick.Of course she’s f’teeing homesick. You’ve kept her locked up in your home for the past month, you monster.
“What do you miss the most?” I ask. Maybe there’s something easy I can get smuggled in for her. A favorite food?
“I miss everything.”
Oh, not so easy then.
“I miss my family, of course, even my stupid cousin Nick. I miss people watching from the brownstone window. I miss good wine, I miss little Italy, I miss reality tv, and I miss holidays—I would kill to have a Feast of the Seven Fishes.” Her face pales. “Oh god, I don’t even know what day it is. Did I miss Christmas?” Marta’s eyes get even sadder.
I was so busy worrying about if she would fit into my life here, that I didn’t bother to think of if I would fit into hers.
We’re different species, with different cultures, and I’m nearly as oblivious as I was when she first arrived.
“Marta?”
“Yeah?”
