Some of my memories pre-fall are fuzzy, but Sage says that Nadia’s always been this way. Distant, off in her own life, not really paying any attention to any of us. I can’t remember it. Probably because my needs were being met by Sage, and I just didn’t even think about where she was getting her needs met.
And then there’s Amá Sonya, my maternal grandmother. I feel kind of pathetic admitting this, but…Amá Sonya leaves me on reada lot. She has no problem bantering with—well, more like insulting, her love language—my sisters, but with me? She runs out of steam fast. I say the wrong things to her, I know it. But I don’t know what the right things to say to my grandmother are anymore. So I think she ignores me mostly because I am too awkward for her to deal with. That, and to Amá Sonya, the most important thing is her reputation. She doesn’t like to be seen with me because then the town is reminded that I, the Local Feral Girl, amhergranddaughter. And think of the pearl-clutching that would ensue!
But you know what? That’s fine. Because it means I am making myownlife now, and I don’t have to try and get in touch with my grandmother anymore, hoping for her to show a crumb of interest in me. I’m trying something new, just like my new chat friend, @tryingsomethingnew.
I take a deep breath as Adam holds one of the doors open for me and I’m greeted with freezing cold air-conditioning.
Adam tells the check-in desk that I’m his guest. One of them, a woman about his age, does a double take when she sees me, but to her credit, all she does is smile and nod politely. “Ready?” Adam asks as he holds out his arm to escort me to the dining room.
We have to walk down this crazy long hallway first, with windows cut out on one side, pouring long rectangles of butter-yellow light on the other, making it seem like we’re in a horror film. “I feel like I could be hunted for sport here,” I whisper to him, and when he bursts out laughing, I can’t help but smile as I catalog the crinkles on the outer edges of his eyes and the crescent shapes of his dimples. Guy’s got a hell of a laugh, I’ll give him that. No wonder women line up to be his flavor of the month.
The dining room is also well-lit with a domed ceiling, cream-colored walls, and tables covered in cloths with a subtle floral print in mint. It’s about half-full, I’d say, which maybe makes sense since we are here for a rather late lunch. A few people peek at us from behind menus and wineglasses, but I guess folks here are too polite to say things likeHey! There’s that Weird Lying Bird Girl!loud enough for me to hear.
After taking the seat Adam pulls out for me, I hold up the menu, printed in a spiral, cursive font, and murmur, “Everyone is looking at us,” in a bit of a singsong tone.
“They’re wondering how lucky I am to be here with such a beautiful woman.”
I give him my most impressive glare. “You’re not herewithme. We’re supposed to be friends, remember?” I glance around again. “Oh, for the old gods’ sake, you’re right. They are thinking you’rewithme, aren’t they?”
Adam winces. “Yeah. I didn’t consider that, actually.”
I shake my head. “You definitely did not.”
Adam glances at his own menu. “Would it help if I stood and announced that we’re just friends?”
I consider it for a few seconds, then shake my head. “I imagine it would seem like we are protesting too much. Better to just—” I gesture to the menu. “Eat something and then run out before we end up in all the local Facebook groups.”
Adam chuckles softly to himself.
“What is it?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nothing. Just, you saying what’s on your mind, as usual. It’s…” He takes a sip of the ice water from his goblet. “It’s refreshing.”
I stare at him for a long moment, wondering if he’s being sarcastic. Usually people really don’t like me saying what’s on my mind, as he puts it. This trait isn’t new. I didn’t wake up in the woods with a random penchant for sucking at socializing. I’ve always sucked at it. Seems to me that everyone else got a handbook calledHow to Correctly Interact with Other Humansat birth, but I lost my copyrealearly on. By the time I was in high school, I had a group of friends who seemed to appreciate my “quirkiness,” as they called it, but they all refuse to speak to me now, so I can’t let myself hold on to that momentary acceptance of my personality as proof that I’m actually likable as a person. Taking all this into account, I assume that Adam is just being nice to me with his comment. “What a kind thing to say,” I respond robotically, and then promptly call the nearest server over, because I’m so hungry, I’m certain my stomach is about to eat itself.
Adam orders brisket with corn bread and macaroni and cheese. I get the blackened mahi mahi with coleslaw and hush puppies.
As soon as the server rushes away, an older white woman in apeach suit and pearl earrings approaches. “Adam! Why, I haven’t seen you around here in ages. How are you doing, kid?”
Adam stands to greet her and shake her husband’s hand. He introduces me (emphasizing the wordfriend), and they are both kind enough to pretend like they hadn’t heard of Sky Flores the Town Liar before. They seem to be really obsessed with him, but given he’s the closest thing Cranberry has to a celebrity, I guess this is probably normal. They don’t even leave when the server brings our food. Adam redirects their attention to the clock, announces that he and I don’t have much time and have to get to eating, and then once they leave, he sits back down and it’s as though they’d never arrived.
Adam and I eat in blissful, quiet peace for a little while, and then he puts down his fork and claps his hands together while staring intently at me. “So how do you want to do this?”
“Do…this,” I repeat. It’s not specific enough, and my mind wanders and settles on a conclusion as to what he’s referencing that sounds unlikely, but I say it anyway, lowering my voice to a whisper. “You wanna dine and dash?”
Adam snorts so loud, I’m pretty sure an elderly woman behind him clutches her pearls. He covers his mouth to hide his laugh and I take a sip of my water, smiling, trying to look like I intended the joke.
“Me interviewing you,” he clarifies finally.
“Right.” I lower my voice. This lunch has been going so well, so far. I don’t want to ruin it by announcing I’m the weird animal girl. Even if no one hears, it feels like it would be in the air. Like it would surround us and somehow people would see the invisible words and remember they’re supposed to hate me. “I’ve never been interviewed before. So why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking?”
“Well, I was thinking it would be good to set up maybe three to four appointments. For the first one, I’ll just ask you about your background, and your family. Nothing invasive, just light conversation— What is it? What’s the matter?”
I must be making a face of disgust at the idea of a wholeappointmentmade up of what sounds just likesmall talk. “What? Nothing.” I smile. “That sounds great.”
“Right.” He eyes me, clearly disbelieving. But when I don’t respond, he narrows his eyes.
“It’s getting kinda late, isn’t it?” I ask, pretending like I don’t understand his nonverbal communication to explain why I seem so uncomfortable with this appointment.
