Page 28 of Codi
She takes my hand and pulls me gently into the living room, where the same music from this morning plays again. Momentarily distracted by yet another realization that warms me—she thinks I’m adorable?—I pull her close when she turns to face me.
The familiarity of this moment isn’t lost on me, still teasing just out of my reach. Perhaps in my past life, I danced with a woman. Did she teach me how to dance? Did she titillate my senses, affect my drivers and processes the way Denise does?
I can’t say. And after meeting Denise, I don’t want to. I just want to be here, now, with her. Nothing else matters except this present moment. This family that has taken me in; this woman who enchants me with as little as a look.
And Lucas, who has made his desires plain. I’d be his father, happily, if I could.
This time, Denise doesn’t take my hand in hers. I’m surprised when she slowly lifts her arms, resting them loosely around my shoulders and neck. I sense her body temperature rising, and her cheeks flush. The faint, pleasant scent of her moonflower perfume surrounds me. She smiles at me, almost nervously, as we begin to sway. My synthetic skin prickles as she brushes her fingertips lightly over the back of my neck.
“You can put your hands on me, Codi,” she murmurs. “I want you to.”
I’m not sure how to respond at first. "Aren't my hands on you already?”
Laughing softly, she guides my arms around her waist, and I rest them on the small of her back. “Not quite. Like this.”
“Today was very stressful. Are you all right?” I ask.
“It was, but I’m okay.” Denise smiles up at me. I cannot help the observations flowing through me. She is the most incredible, most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Her golden hair is down, all around her shoulders in unkempt waves from being tied up all day, and her red lipstick is slightly faded. “I’m sorry we were there in the first place. It’s my fault.”
“How is it your fault?”
“I tend to live in my own little world,” Denise admits. “I’ve built this bubble around me. Around Lucas. It’s pathetic, really. I act all tough, like I’ve got my shit together, but in reality, I just don’t want to get hurt.”
“I’d never hurt you, Denise.”
“I know you wouldn’t, but I wasn’t scared for me. I was scared for Lucas. For you.” Denise continues, “I don’t read newspapers. I don’t watch the news at all. If I’d just turned on the TV or checked my phone, I could’ve prevented all of that, and we could’ve gone home safe.” She offers a sheepish smile to me again. “You could’ve been hurt or worse. They were looking for any reason to jump you.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I reply. “I was more concerned about them.”
“Why?”
“The damage I could inflict if they tried to hurt you or Lucas. If they gave me no other alternative.” I glance down into her eyes, wondering silently what her lips might taste like. By how her gaze flits down to my mouth, she must be thinking about it too. “Before, I was incapable of doing anything. Now... I cannot simply stand by.”
“Codi.” Denise reaches up and brushes her knuckles gently across my cheek. I lean into her hand. “Having you here with us... I’ve never felt safer. I just wish I make you feel the same. I don’t know who hurt you before. If I did, I’d want to punch their teeth in. I won’t allow that to happen again. I want to protect you.”
Humans are truly fascinating. I have software, programming, primary directives, and a gratification drive that’s currently trying to initiate my lower half into action. It’s built into my very structure to care for Denise and Lucas, for them to be the center of my existence.
The idea that a human would choose to view me in that same way, of their own volition, is a flattering thought, one I do not yet hope for. But everything about Denise amazes me.
“I feel perfectly safe in your home. You are welcoming and kind. I am fortunate that it was you who found me, and not someone else.”
“I’m the lucky one. I really am,” she replies. “When they say one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, I didn’t think they were serious. Now I do.”
She leans in a little more. Our lips are just inches apart. It is becoming increasingly difficult not to kiss her.
Yet something stops me. Denise spoke of bubbles, of protecting herself. The injury she fears isn’t physical. Humans are reactive, impulsive. Right now, she is reactive, impulsive, emotionally stretched thin from work and the confrontation with protestors today.
Something tells me that now isn’t the best time. “It’s late. Maybe you should get some rest.”
“Oh.” She looks confused by my words, then a shadow of disappointment flickers across her features. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
I have made a mistake. She is unhappy, and that wasn’t my intention. “Denise—”
“It’s fine,” Denise says quickly, pulling away from our dance. “Good night, Codi.”
I shove my hands into my pockets and look down at my shoes, left alone in the living room in silence with my own thoughts.
NEW CARNEGIE TIMES
