Page 19 of Undone
Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought her invitation held a hint of hope. But still, she looked kind of stiff as I reached out again, taking the strand and twirling it in my fingers. After a moment, her shoulders relaxed. When I released the strand of hair, it was in a perfect, thick spiral. I stared at it, remembering what we’d been told, that their hair was shapable. It was like tiny strands of silky wire. I had an overwhelming desire to play with her hair and do amazing things to it. Instead I clasped my hands in my lap.
“Ms. Haines,” snapped a voice, followed by the clip of high heels. I stood and faced Vahni. Before I could say a word, she said, “Do not touch the children.”
“Oh.” My blood heated with irritation. “I’m sorry—”
“Baelese do not require contact the way humans do. In fact, we find it a distraction.” She shot an angry glance down at little Milna, who tucked her head down in shame, pulling the curled strand into a straight line again. It boiled my blood further.
“How are the studies going?” she asked.
“Great.” As if she had any cause to worry. “They’re all fast learners, as I’m sure you know.”
“Compared to humans, yes.” She looked down at the children, oblivious as to how my skin prickled and my teeth grinded together.
Apparently satisfied, she walked away, leaving me to compose myself with several deep breaths. I left the littles, turning on a learning video so I could focus on the elementaries. It turned out that they really, really loved timed multiplication quizzes. We spent the next hour doing those, and I had to laugh at their enthusiasm and competitiveness.
“Again!” the boy Zorion said after each quiz.
After the fifth one, Zorion paused and said matter-of-factly, “Humans make strange sounds.”
Huh? I pondered this, wondering what sound I had made.
“It is called laughter, Zorion.”
The children and I all raised our gazes to Senator Navis, who’d snuck up on us. Their little mouths parted in their versions of excitement, and even my own heart pounded to see him standing there so close.
He squatted near me, but kept his distance. “When humans are happy and amused, they make a sound called laughter. It is reactionary. And each human’s laughter sounds different. They cannot help the sound they make. It is part of their nature.”
How strange that they don’t understand the concept. And I hadn’t even realized I’d been laughing.
“Did you learn to laugh, Bahntan?” asked another boy.
“I did,” the Senator responded. “I still do on occasion. I have many human habits.”
My stomach soured, remembering that everything about him was a lie. The worst kind of trickery. The children listened with hero worship.
“I have come to tell you it is time for lunch,” he told the children. “You may go.”
The children rose, all jutting joints, and left us. When the Senator turned his eyes on me, I began collecting papers. I felt him watching me.
“All of them are doing very well,” I said.
“And how about you, Ms. Haines?” The genuine kindness in his voice made me pause, and I hated myself for the feelings of longing that filled me, for the urge and desire I had to sit and talk with him. I wanted to soak in his fake interest. I needed to talk to someone. To laugh and touch and be alive.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Fine.” The Senator moved closer, but still not near enough to touch. “A woman who says she is fine, but will not look you in the eye, is not fine.”
I stopped and looked up at him now, feeling a rush of fierce annoyance. How dare he try to read me, and to pretend to be an expert on human women. He expected me to be honest with him? If I did that, it would give away the fact that I’m not okay with what the aliens had done to Earth and humanity.
“You are having trouble coming to terms with my duplicity,” he said.
This made me drop my eyes. “Your wife,” I asked. “Is she really dead?”
“No . . . it was all planned,” he responded, almost sadly. “We trained together from infancy. Human notions such as holding hands and being exclusive in a crowd—none of that is natural for our people. She was never my mate.”
“Your mate?”
“Well . . .” He blew out a puff of air. “Baelese do not have mates the way humans do—someone we exclusively spend our life with. As you know, it doesn’t always work well for humans either.” I said nothing, refusing to bash marriage with him, or to argue that hundreds of thousands of marriages last. “We mate when it is time to procreate. We raise our young as a community. We find that it is safer and healthier not to claim ownership over other beings. Wife, son, daughter, husband, these labels draw distinctions that can cause friction. Think of how many humans struggle with issues that stem from poor parenting. The pressure is overwhelming. This is something we plan to rectify for the human race.”
