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But I don’t, because I’ve got to let them live their lives. Simone is an adult and can handle herself. She doesn’t need a much-younger clone fretting over her. So I remain in Jamef’s embrace, snuggled up against him as he rubs my neck and Bethiah waits at the bar for our food. She looks comfortable here, and it reminds me that she’s been to Risda a bunch of times. Jamef, too. Maybe we’ll be in and out more often than I realized—once we’re clear to travel again, that is. The idea makes me rather happy. I wouldn’t mind getting to visit Simone on the regular.
Rhonda…eh.
Bethiah returns to us with her eyes bright, a tray of steaming baskets held in her hands. “Breathe in that deliciousness. Are you ready to taste the best fried leaves on this side of the system?”
“Those might be the only fried leaves on this side of the system,” Jamef murmurs.
“Hush, you. You hate everything that is good and delicious.” She winks at me. “Come on. Let’s grab a seat.”
We grab a booth in the corner, wiping down the grease left from the last customer with a plas-napkin. I slip into the booth next to Jamef while Bethiah sits across and spreads the baskets out in front of us. She looks utterly delighted at this fried feast, and if she’s noticed my slightly melancholy mood, she doesn’t comment on it. Jamef’s picked up on it, though, and puts a protective hand on my thigh, his tail curling around me. It’s like he knows I need a little extra love at the moment.
I don’t know why I’m so moody over dropping off Simone and Rhonda. Maybe because it could have been me? Maybe because I haven’t met that many people in my clone life and I feel attached to them even if I want to throw Rhonda out an airlock? Do I have abandonment issues? I have no idea.
It helps to see Bethiah so excited, though. She shoves a basket towards us. “Okay, now try these leaves first. They’re made with a spicy local flavoring and it will absolutely destroy your taste buds, but in a good way.”
“In a good way, eh?” Jamef takes one and pops the entire thing into his mouth, and then coughs.
I bite back a chuckle and nibble on one of the leaves. They’re a weird texture—like a hard, crunchy lettuce that’s been coated in something thick and pasty and deep-fried. It’s not unpleasant, though, and the spice reminds me a bit of buffalo sauce from back home. “This is really good. We had something like it on Earth. You’d put it on chicken wings and then dip them in a cool sauce to add contrast.”
“Chicken?” Jamef asks.
“Birds.”
“You had me at the cool sauce and lost me at the bird wings,” Bethiah says. She tosses another into her mouth and washes it down with brew, closing her eyes in bliss. “Food that is terrible for you is the best kind of food.”
I take a sip of the brew and it’s a bit like watery beer from back home. Not my favorite, but I could learn to like it. It’s icy cold and rather refreshing, though. I take another sip and then point at the next basket. “What’s this one?”
“That is a veg-ball! Deep fried, of course, because all good things are.” Bethiah nudges the basket toward me. “Eat up.”
We make our way through the smorgasbord of deep-fried junk, and it’s clear that Bethiah is delighting in our reactions, good or bad. If Jamef has eaten here before, he’s not giving much of an indication, because he’s just as surprised at the taste of each food as I am. It ends up being a lot of fun and by the time we’re done with the food and licking our greasy fingers, my mood has settled into just a pleasant happiness at sharing this moment with my mates.
“I love you guys,” I say softly as I hold my brew close.
“Uh oh. She might have drank too much,” Bethiah warns. “Should I get her water?”
“I’m not drunk. Just happy to be here with you two.” I mean it, too. There’s no place in the universe I’d rather be than in this crappy booth eating crappy food and drinking watery beer than with Bethiah and Jamef. “You guys are the best.”
“Well I would hope so considering you mated us.” Bethiah tilts one of the empty baskets and picks at the crumbs.
Jamef sees right through my effusiveness, though. He puts his hand on the back of my neck again, and it’s as good as a hug. “Are you anxious, Dora? Because we’re here?”
“Not really anxious. Just feeling a little weird. It’s strange to drop off others and realize I’m not going to have the same fate. That I’m lucky enough to get loved by two people who will take care of me. I feel rather bad for Simone and Rhonda. They don’t have anyone.”
