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“Just tell me,” I beg. I’m so nervous. There are people around us on all sides. Any one of them could stick the short serrated knives they’re merrily sawing their food with into us. This isn’t safe. People shouldn’t do this.
“I love you,” he says, looking deep into my eyes, making me forget all the people surrounding us with knives instantly. “I think I’ve loved you from the first moment I met you, and I can promise you now, whatever happens, I’m going to be there for you. You’re my girl. Not because the Head gave you to me, but because you gave yourself to me.”
“I’m going to get face water here,” I whisper. I don’t like to say the word cry. It makes me feel weak. But there are tears rolling down my cheeks and I can’t stop them. I’m not sad. I’m so happy I can hardly contain myself.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m sorry. I should have told you somewhere private, but this is a special evening, and you’re the most special thing to me. I love you, Electra.”
“I love you too,” I whimper, hiding my face behind the tablecloth until Tom redirects me to the napkin which is more fit for the purpose.
“Good,” he smiles. “Then we’re in agreement, and in love.”
Is that what has been happening to me? Giving me the aching feeling in my belly and chest, making it all go away when I look into his eyes and return full force when I think of ever losing him? Is this what love is? It is amazing and terrible all at the same time, if it is. I never had anything to lose before, only my life, and I never cared about that.
The tears dry themselves and suddenly I cannot stop smiling. Every breath tastes like freedom, and Tom is by my side, the man who loves me.
I need him. I need him to plunge himself inside me and take the last bit of innocence I have. I need him to spread me open and thrust deep. To consume me and let me consume him. But the waiter is giving us menus and I can make an educated guess that fucking is one of the things people don’t do in restaurants. At least, not before they’ve eaten.
Tom
“Appetite-zers,” she says. She picked up reading fast. I think she had actually been taught to read at some point, perhaps when she was quite young, but then she was deprived of anything to read until she thought she’d lost the skill. It is impossible to be around Electra without sensing the losses of her life, but I am going to spend the rest of mine restoring what should always have been hers.
“This food all sounds weird,” she says, barely looking at the menu.
I order a few small dishes while she’s distracted with gawking around the restaurant. They come not very long after, prawn cocktails, and two bowls of soup of the day. Electra shows no interest in anything there is to eat. It wouldn’t surprise me if she didn’t eat at all. She’s too busy scanning everybody else in the place.
I know she is worried about the others in the restaurant, innocent civilians who certainly don’t deserve to be exposed to the darker side of her, but I am not concerned about that. I know she is trying her best to restrain her animal instincts, to be civilized. She has a deep desire to be part of the world she has been denied. But she knows she’s not part of it yet, at this moment she is still a thing apart. So many complex emotions are running through her, but she’s not panicking as she used to. She’s letting them be, drinking them in, and I am proud of her.
“Holy fuck,” Electra exclaims, a little too loud, but impressively, not at full volume.
“Language…” I say, my voice dropping into silence as I look in the direction Electra is looking and see the Head herself gliding between the tables. Her presence precedes a cooling sensation. I know the temperature could not have dropped a dozen degrees just because she walked in, or if it did, it’s probably because the opening of the front door sends a gust of cold air from the street all the way through the restaurant. There has to be a logical reason. She’s not an actual ice queen.
The woman couldn’t let us have a single night to ourselves. She has some kind of obsession with Electra and me which borders on the bizarre. I hope she finds another distraction soon, because this is not helping.
My stomach sinks as the Head draws closer, especially when I see Electra’s expression. She’s still afraid of this woman. I think she always will be. Some fears are deep, so deep they get into your bones, seep into your DNA. Electra was not made to fear, but the Head has ensured she has learned.
