Page 30 of His to Take

“That’s what’s so funny. I couldn’t leave! I tried so many times, crazy with the need to escape those same walls.” She paused, stirred the pot she had the chicken cooking in, and scoffed to herself. “The hinges had frozen shut on the hatch. I couldn’t get the damn door to open. I was stuck down there. I thought about suicide, but, well, I was raised Catholic. It’s a sin.”

And that was the end of her story, as far as she was concerned, Ann could see. “Thank you for telling me, Amelia.”

“Thought you should know something about me.” The woman with dark hair scraped back into the world’s tightest bun and dark eyes was tough, often brusque, and her arms were covered in tattoos. But she worked hard and meant well. She didn’t cause problems, and Ann could see now that she was shy more than anything. “Tell your parents dinner will be in 25 minutes. I have to put the dumplings in, let them cook for 15 minutes, and then I’ll bring it all out to the dining room.”

“Thanks, Amelia.” Ann smiled at her as she left the kitchen and headed up the stairs. The house was filled with the scent of bay leaves and sage, some of her favorite smells. The plants grew in their backyard secret garden, and their freshness made their food amazing, even if it was only chicken or fish.

“Mom, Dad? Are you ready to eat?” she called softly and knocked.

“Come in, baby.” Mary’s voice was tinged with tears, and Ann could see her eyes and nose were red. She’d been crying. “Come here to me.”

Ann did, and let her mother embrace her without complaint. “It’s alright, Mom. Really. Maybe it’s better this way.”

“How? You’re going to be married to some kind of barbarian!”

“Of course, he’s not, Mom! He traveled across the galaxy, somehow. Have they explained that yet, Dad?”

“It’s some kind of wormhole. Something about folding points in time and getting from point to point. Apparently, it only took them a couple of months to get here.”

“Wow,” Ann said, her thoughts on how far they must have come. “It’s millions of light-years to the edge of our galaxy. They must have come from somewhere beyond there, for us not to know about them.”

“I think Amanda would understand more about it than I do,” he said, but then looked away. “Not that they’ll ever explain it to her.”

“You can, Dad, between the two of you, I’m sure you could figure it out.”

“Not how to replicate it, I’m sure, but maybe how it works.”

“I’m still here, you know,” Mary snipped and Ann sat up with a laugh.

“Sorry, Mom. Look, I’m okay with this. I don’t have a choice, and maybe I’ll freak the fuck out tomorrow, but right now, I’m calm. I get why this has to happen, and I’m good with it.”

“I wish I was as brave as you. You always were brave though. That’s why you beat Rex at sports all the time.”

“What?” Ann asked, her gaze on her Mom. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course, you remember, honey. All those games you had during the school’s field days, when you were little kids? You always beat him. He hated it, but Amanda and I used to laugh about it at the time. She thought it was good for him.”

“I really don’t remember that.” She didn’t like to play sports at all, how could she have been better than him?

“I’m surprised. But then, you’d always give him your ribbons and medals. He tried to take one once, after the principal gave it to you. He’d come to expect you’d give them to him. You socked him right in the eye and told him not to be rude.” Mary laughed, and John joined her.

“I remember that,” her father said. “I thought the Wolfsons would sue us, but they thought it was funny too.”

“Have you two been smoking weed or something?” Ann asked. She couldn’t remember any of that, at all.

“No, honey, ask Amanda. She’ll tell you it all happened,” Mary said and got up from the bed, in a lighter mood now. “I was so upset when you didn’t want to play sports, but you said it wasn’t fair to Rex because you always beat him.”

“Nope. Don’t remember that either. I just remember I hated sports.”

“Not when you were little. You wanted to play baseball with Rex, and track, and you loved volleyball. But then, you stopped playing, and I had to get used to it.”

“It’s just so weird that I can’t remember,” Ann said and tried her best. She remembered Elizabeth in a volleyball uniform but couldn’t remember ever having played it at anything other than in her gym class.

“You were taking up for him, even then, Ann. It’s not surprising.”

“Hmm. Well, I can’t take up for him anymore, it seems.” She regretted it as soon as she said it.

“I’m so sorry, honey.” Her mother’s eyes filled with tears, and Ann knew she had to start all over again.

“Mom, stop.” She wrapped her hand around her mom’s face and looked at her. “It’s alright. I’m going to make the most of this. I promise.”

“I’m sure you will, honey. I don’t like it either, but there’s little choice, for any of us.”

“I know, Dad. Mom, don’t be upset. I’m not. I’m looking forward to the things that we can do to help our people. It’s going to be alright, really.”

She didn’t know if that was true or not, but she wanted it to be. And she had no other choice. She could cry, and whine, and protest, but it would do no good. There was no higher authority to appeal to. He was the supreme commander, and he had chosen her.

She wondered, for a moment, if he’d been in other women’s dreams. Or if it was some kind of connection that only they shared? She wasn’t so romantic, or naïve enough, to think that he wanted her out of love. He didn’t know her and there was only sex in her dreams. She didn’t know if he had the same dreams, either. She might be the only one of them that had them.

There was no way of knowing anything, at this point, and there was nothing she could do about it. She wondered if Rex would be relieved. He wouldn’t be stuck with her, after all. He’d said she was the best-looking woman their age around, but she’d wanted him to love her. He never seemed to really care about her though, now that she was being frankly honest with herself.

She wanted to be his wife, to have all of those teenage dreams come back to life, but for a moment, she let her delusions wash away. He’d be angry, more than likely, but only because he’d lost her. He wouldn’t be angry about what would happen to her, or that she had no choice, he’d just be angry that he lost her.

Ann brushed a tear away and led her parents downstairs. Don’t cry yet, she told herself, just wait, and maybe you can hold the tears off forever.