Quilliyn is glancing over at us, and Zane seems to be growing anxious.
“You wannn go outside. Freeeeshhh eeer,” I offer.
He nods and chews on the straw of the smoothie as we make our way to the double doors leading outside. It is cool out here, and Zane shivers slightly.
“One day, I’m gonna move to somewhere hot. Like Arizona or Florida.”
I have heard of these places, but have never been. Everest has told me about Florida men. I desire to see their wild ways.
“You do not lyyyk here?”
“I mean, I was born and raised here, but it’s getting old, you know? Same old shit. It’s getting exhausting, trying to keep up…”
The way he says that has me leaning toward him. He seems about to reveal a secret, but then he shakes his head and shivers once more. I do not like when humans are cold. Their skin is far too thin. I shuck my coat off and offer it to him.
He stares at it.
“It’s pink.”
“Yes.”
He blinks once, twice, and then mutters something under his breath and places it on his shoulders. It dwarfs him, the hem hanging down to his knees, but he is no longer cold. And that, for me, is a success.
We stand there, looking out at the parking lot and stepping out of the way for customers who are coming into the gym. I say nothing else, just stand in silence while he consumes his drink. He does not offer up any other information about himself, and I lack the words to inquire more about him.
Though I do desire to know more. He seems to have many secrets.
The slurp of the straw in the cup has me glancing over and seeing that he has finished his smoothie.
“Thanks again for this. I feel better.”
He walks toward the trash can and then lets out a small scream.
I rush toward him, worried he hurt himself, but instead see Zane scurrying back as a very cute, fluffy animal hisses at him. It is small and gray, like the night. It has bright eyes and a hairless tail. It has sharp teeth just like the Vyastil. My hearts thud in adoration as I stare at it.
And then suddenly it falls onto its side.
I trill loudly as I kneel near it.
“I fucking hate these damn things. They are like little demons.”
I reach out to touch it. “Deeead?”
“No, opossums are, like, fucking resilient. We used to get these all the time on the compound. He’s just scared. Pretending to be dead.”
I poke it, and it does not move. I fear that Zane might be wrong. That this creature may actually be dead. So I lift it gently in my arms, and Zane makes a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat.
“God, don’t touch it. It’s a wild animal.”
“Pusssyums.”
“Oh god. Don’t say that either. It’s poss-um. Try that.”
“Pusssy-um.”
He lets out a high-pitched laugh and then steps next to me. We stare at the animal in my arms, and I tuck it even closer to my chest.
“Pet.”
