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“We can move out,” Cheryl offers immediately. She hates conflict more than anything, always ready to smooth things over whether the problem’s resolved or not. “We can figure something out. Why don’t y’all come sit in the kitchen and have some cake? I just baked it yesterday.”
Reluctantly, I agree. Mostly because I want to work this all out in one go instead of leaving and having to come back anytime soon. Cher is also a talented baker, and I haven’t had Earth food in ages. Kalla looks surprised when I accept the invitation, but he follows me silently. He dwarfs the bench in the kitchen as we awkwardly take a seat.
Over a slice of hummingbird cake that includes the substitution of alien tropical fruits rather than bananas and pineapple, I tell them about Raffa and my plans to look after him. They don’t need to know much more than the fact that his guardian is busy with the Sector 5 wars, and that ‘Koko’ is his uncle who will also be leaving for work soon. I keep the story matching with what we told DJ, because I don’t want anyone getting in my business more than they already do in a small community like EC-12.
“If you really have nowhere else to go,” I say with a sigh as I drop my fork, “my friend Raina won’t be returning to her farm. If I can get in touch with her for approval, maybe you can take hers over as a lease or buy it from her.”
Chris twists up his mouth, but shrugs. “That should work for us.”
I still haven’t heard any apologies out of his mouth, but then that was always the case with him.
“Oh, we’d really appreciate that,” Cher says enthusiastically. “We’ll just be the best of friends now. I can’t wait to meet your little buddy.”
I laugh. “He’s actually pretty big. He’s taller than me, and he’s something like an upperclassmen high schooler in human age.”
“Well, if he’s anything like his uncle—” Cher’s eyes dart over to Kalla.
“We’re not blood,” Kalla explains. “But he’s likely got another growth spurt in him.”
“Speaking of,” I say, monopolizing on an excuse for a quick exit. “We left him in the skimmer, so we’d better take him to Frankie’s farm.”
“You don’t know how much it means to me that you’re gonna help us work things out to stay on the colony,” Cher says, grabbing me and pulling me in for a final hug before I can escape the kitchen. “We were so worried about you. I’m so relieved to see you’re in one piece. And obviously thriving!” She gestures to Kalla as I edge toward the exit.
“Yeah,” Chris pitches in. “We’re happy to have you back here. You drive safe now.”
“Alright, thanks for the cake—” I’m ready to fly out the door, but Kalla tugs on my elbow to keep me lingering by the doorway.
“Hold it there, little flame,” Kalla says. I raise my brows. I would’ve expected him to be the one running for the skimmer.
“What?”
“You.” Kalla points at Chris. “You haven’t apologized to my female.”
Chris blinks at him in surprise.
“Excuse me?” he utters hoarsely. “What did you call her?”
“You. Didn’t. Apologize.” Kalla cocks his head. “She made it quite clear your actions upset her.”
My cheeks start to burn. “It’s not a big deal. Let’s go.”
Cher looks on in bewilderment as the tension between Kalla and Chris rises.
“Kaye didn’t ask me to apologize. In any case, I’m not sure what you think I’ve done so wrong. I took care of this farm.”
“Is it customary in human culture that the wronged party should ask for an apology from the person who took advantage of them?” Kalla asks, feigning innocent curiosity. It’s plain to everyone here though, that he’s not being innocent at all. “As I said, she made her frustrations known.”
Chris sputters silently, looking from me to Kalla and then back again. I watch him squirm, searching for any possible escape from admitting his mistakes. I’ve seen him do this performance plenty of times. He can’t stand losing the upper hand of any conversation.
“Quickly,” Kalla prompts him. “We’ve had a long trip, and we’d like to rest.”
Faced down by Kalla’s murderous aura and left with no other option, he gives in.
“I apologize, Kaye,” he says. “Obviously I misjudged the situation, and I’m sorry that my actions hurt you.”
Kalla squints. I know he’s enjoying this too much. He’s been behaving himself since we arrived, and I sense he’d like to do much more to wipe the floor with my ex than embarrassing him by forcing an apology. The gesture is nice, even if hearing empty apologies from Chris doesn’t give me any satisfaction. There was a time when a simple admission of guilt and a promise to do better would’ve saved our marriage. Now his words mean nothing to me. It probably means more to Kalla.
“Thanks for that,” I say. “I appreciate it. We’ll figure it out. Have a good night.”
