At the end of the table sits my oldest brother, Denver, together with his husband Gus.
Denver and Dallas are both my father’s children from his first, strange and turbulent marriage and have a huge age gap between them, a full twenty years. Their dad died during Dallas’s childbirth due to severe internal bleeding.
A few months later, during his police work, my father helped my dad and his brother, who had fled Russia as illegal immigrants and had troubles with the law.
He saved them from deportation, and they soon realized my dad and my father were High Mates. My dad was a very family-oriented omega, and he helped my father raise the barely few-months-old Dallas. Two years later, he became pregnant himself, and Marlow was born, and another two years after that, me.
My dad’s brother, Zosim, also married another policeman and lives not that far from my parents with his six kids.
While I have a good relationship with Dallas, I barely know Denver. He wasn’t even living at home when I was born. He’d already graduated and was working.
His husband, Gus, sits beside him with a gloomy expression. He’s a college professor. After a serious accident a few years ago, he now uses a wheelchair. They don’t have children, and both are rather quiet people, so they react to Blue in a reserved way, offering little more than polite nods.
My parents invite us to the table, the food is served, and general chatting begins.
The discussion desperately avoids the subject of my strange arrangement with Blue. Not a single question even brushes against it, which is almost strange, because I know my dad and how inquisitive he can be.
Occasionally, the conversations drift toward current world events. At one point, my father brings up the latestdevelopments on the front against NFH, complaining that not enough progress is being made, that more and more people are falling victim, and that the massacres are taking place across the entire Southern Hemisphere, turning into real purges.
Blue listens politely, then after a moment says that this might change soon, because there are rumors the military have now an innovative method of tracking combatants.
The conversation quickly shifts to lighter topics. My dad asks Blue about his education. As Blue lists a long string of majors and doctorates, everyone’s jaws drop except… my brother Dallas, who watches him with a sour expression.
At one point, he speaks up.
"Axel Lowen is your nephew, right?"
"Yes," Blue says. "Do you know him?"
Dallas grimaces slightly.
"I wouldn’t call it ‘knowing.’"
Blue narrows his eyes a little.
"Bad blood?"
Dallas lets out a mocking snort.
"I’m ranked third in the state chess championships, and he’s second, so you could say we’re rivals."
"Oh, I see. A sports rivalry."
"Not just that. Axel works at the same college as me, in a different department, but… we’re not friends. Absolutely not."
"Dallas, what’s with the sour tone?" I say mockingly. "Did you two fall out over him taking your queen?"
Dallas grimaces. "Not that I’m petty, but I’ve always thought he has more luck than brains. It’s not about skill. Axel… in my opinion, he’s very inconsistent."
"Then perhaps you should try beating him, if you think he doesn’t deserve that ranking," Blue says calmly, cocking his head slightly and fixing him with a challenging look.
"I definitely will, at the next state championship," Dallas bares his teeth.
"I won’t wish you luck, since Axel is my nephew, but I trust the match will be fair and the best player will win, as it should," Blue adds, responding with a faint smile.
All this time, Marlow keeps staring at his plate, while Denver may be observing us but remains silent as well, and his husband Gus watches us with the same somber expression. Those two are a real mystery to me. How do they even communicate with so little interaction?
The rest of the dinner goes relatively smoothly, but the conversation drifts back to politics. At one point, it touches on recent events in Beta Activation facilities.
