Flauraan, Abigail is 16, Sophie is 18
I find myself staring at all the notes and research littering the table with a hollow feeling in my chest. All of these options, all of this potential, all these futures Sophie has available for her; it’s all too immense. She sits across from me with her eyes shining, and the problem is that I can see all of these plans for her, I can see her living all those lives, but every last one of them is so far away from me. Not that it would change that much about our situation; for almost three years now Sophie and I have been friends long distance. For a long time of that I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again, yet now I had at least the surety that she wouldn’t intentionally disappear from my life forever. We are able to steal precious weeks at a time for sleepovers and adventures and stupid conversations. She is the most important thing in my life. She is a creature of light, especially when without her my thoughts are clouded by thoughts of doom, of the Weraynian war. I stare at the notes and almost felt sick. How could I be thinking these things? How could I begrudge her the exciting life she led? How could I selfishly, foolishly, contemptibly, long for her to sweep all these other options off of the table and choose me?
So when she asks me, for the hundredth time, “So what do you think I should do?”, I hesitate for a moment, the only real answer I have threatening to stumble past my lips. I give a noncommittal shrug and make an erudite observation about the comparative appeal of this or that experience, and as she follows the path of my finger to one of the notes with interest I resist the urge to grab her by the wrists and implore her, Sophie, stay with me. Please. I want you to stay.
Flauraan, Abigail is 16, Sophie is 18
So we’ve reached the end of another few weeks together, hopefully far from our last. Abi has kindly indulged my silly quest for a real big girl career, some new task to give my life some sort of direction. Ultimately, we came to no conclusions. I can’t really say I’m too bothered by that. This was, after all, a thinly veiled excuse to visit her. Being with Abigail for any length of time makes me feel like my life hasn’t been an utter waste. From the moment I teleport into Flauraan’s atmosphere and take my first breath, I am immediately treasuring the chance simply to be breathing the same air as her. I don’t know where I’d be without her.
I wonder if she knows; what a pathetic mess I really am. I mean, of course she does, she knows everything. But sometimes I get this feeling of guilt when she looks at me, like she sees a better person than I deserve to be seen as. I have spent the many months since I found dad’s expedition being treated as a hero, and maybe I am, I don’t know. It doesn’t all feel very heroic. Since my purpose in life, my reason for utter and complete drivenness and focus, has fallen away and left the rest of me a gaping void, I can’t help but contemplate the creature I have become, through years of running away from any problem I had as if it would solve things.
The thought of self-loathing that gnaws at me the most is that it is a miracle I am here with Abigail at all, that she has allowed me back into her presence after all I have put her through. She escorts me to the hill to say goodbye, with my half-hearted plan to look into spaceport work, and all I can think of is the time we were on this hill and I hurt her. Where she grabbed onto me and begged and pleaded; “You don’t have to do this. Please, stay.” and I wrenched myself away from her. And I left her. And she didn’t even know if I would be okay. If I would survive. And even though I’d promised her I’d come back to her, for a long time I stayed away, out of guilt and fear and shame. Believing I didn’t deserve her friendship or loyalty. But once I realised what an idiot I’d been, I went back to Abigail and she forgave me and she understood that I was wrecked and blasted and damned and maybe I could pull myself back together now and be a real person.
The guilt is still there though. Saying goodbye to her always feels like a betrayal. I can hardly stand it. My stance now is that she runs the show. That’s why I’m here at all, I need her to know that I’m not going anywhere or doing anything without her knowing about it. I need her to know what she means to me. I probably haven’t done a great job of that.
All I know is, if she asked me to stay, if she’d let me live here on Flauraan with her, I’d drop everything else in a heartbeat. I could spend every day by her side, taking care of her, planning things for her. I kind of can’t imagine anything better than that.
And yet we still go through the routine, the setting of the teleport watch, the going over of last minute details, the drawing out the goodbye, and then she hugs me and I can feel her heart beating and I almost lose all resolve and beg her myself, Please, Abigail, ask me to stay. I let you down last time but this time I will be there for you. But of course I know she’d never trust me for that, never want that from me, not anymore, even if she’s long forgiven me. I pull back from the hug, loosen my grip on her hands and teleport away with a final goodbye, but not without leaving a part of myself behind in the process.
Like always.
Flauraan, Abigail is 17, Sophie is 19
Pottering about in the kitchen with my mum, I try not to smile at the sounds of laughter from the roof above us. I am remaining stoic and dutiful, passing my mum measurements of twine as she divides up her herbs, then moving over to cast an eye over the sterilised jars lined up pristinely by the window, which is ajar and letting in a slight breeze. When she turns around I am distracted, gazing past her and focusing on the sounds of mechanisms carried by the wind. She smiles knowingly at me and before I can even be embarrassed to be caught she crosses to the cooler and pulls out a pitcher.
“Why don't we fix up some refreshments for our hard workers?” She teases gently and I accept the inevitable shedding of my own aloofness. I don't even know why I feel the need to hide what this means to me. It's all a bit overwhelming, really.
We carry out a tray of one of my mum’s slightly fruity concoctions and I squint against the sun as I take in the construction site that Sophie and my dad have been toiling in. My parents have good reason to worry when Sophie and technology mix in our home, and honestly I don't know how she convinced them to let her mess around with the preexisting wiring there. Alright, I know how she convinced them. They love her almost as much as I do, and even though I have played it cool, they clearly all know that this is affecting me.
We are standing there for a while, watching them work, my dad supervising as Sophie crouches in the now exposed communications unit and tinkers with a focus I've rarely seen her show anything except machines.
Mum clears her throat and speaks over the wind, “Are you ready for a break?”
Dad turns around and smiles warmly at us, Sophie tries to do the same but gets snagged on something and starts yelping and apologising. Dad quickly reaches down to help her get unsnagged and now I am the one laughing, clear and happy, and I don't try to stop the sound from carrying into the sky.
Once Sophie is untangled with only a few minor scrapes and cuts in her clothes to show for it, she stands for a moment and looks right at me as my laughter dies down. For that moment it feels like we are the only two people in the entire universe, and I try to transmit all the feeling I've been trying to suppress straight into her. Then the spell is broken, they climb off of the roof and we sit and chat together as a family as they take a well earned break before returning to their work.
Once it is all done, and Sophie is covered in grime from some unclear source, she presses into my hand the communicator she made for me the first week we'd met. It is surprisingly pristine.
“Obviously we still need to test it.” she is speaking casually, as if she's handed me a trinket, as if this is any other gadget in her bag, as if she doesn’t know that I know that she is giving me a direct line to her, a lifeline, as a way of trying to apologise for all the time I spent tortured by her absence. Making up for her joining the Alliance and continuing to be so far from me by using Alliance transmission technology to ensure we can talk even if she is systems away, a promise that she will always be here for me, always come back for me, always be in contact with me from now on.
I couldn't hold it against the suffering Sophie, the aggrieved Sophie who'd just watched a friend die and blamed herself for it. Even when days turned into weeks and months and I didn't know if she was dead or alive. And I certainly can't hold it against this Sophie, who is doing everything in her power to make it up to me, to earn back my trust. I can’t pretend it doesn’t make me incredibly anxious, that there hasn’t been lasting damage from the way she abandoned me. I really do hope that this new era of both of our lives with assuage my anxiety.
Time will tell. But now when I am sick with worry about her, I at least have something to do other than wait and see.
She is surveying her work but all I am doing is looking at her, and thinking how lucky I am.
Flauraan, Abigail is 15
I always loved traveling, and had thought that if Sophie had asked me to go with her on her mission through the universe, it would be an enthusiastic yes.
Since Halapatov however, I’ve been afraid. Even if she came back now and asked me to travel the stars beside her, I don't think I'd have the guts. It sort of feels like the whole concept of leaving home has been poisoned for me. After what happened with Riowyn… Well, I haven’t even left my village since Sophie brought me home. The universe has lost its spark for me.
Not that I should be thinking about Sophie; I know now that that is just asking for trouble. I’ll wake in the middle of the night and forget that she’s gone, reach out and find only an empty room. She left so abruptly, and abandoned so many small things in my house and I’ve found myself welling up with tears as I stumble upon a scrap of paper with her writing, or a half finished gadget, or even just open the cupboard missing the duffel bag she took with her. I am furious with her, I am worried to death about her. In my worst moments, I can’t shake that crazed look in her eyes on the hill that day, regress into the panic I felt as I begged her not to leave me, and in that state I feel sure that she is dead on some planet out there, and I will never see her again, never even learn her fate. For the first days, weeks, I had the hope in the back of my head that she would snap out of it and come back to me, that we would work through everything together, but so much time has passed now that I feel convinced that either she is gone or I don’t matter enough for her to come back to.
That thought stings more than anything else; but really I have gotten really good at not thinking it. I have other things to worry about, I have a life outside of her, I will be studying at a healing centre in a few years, and the Weraynian war could start at any moment, and I have my family’s business to help with, and other friends here on Flauraan. It helps that no one knows about what happened between us except Reeina, no one really has any reason to think that there’s anything wrong. And I’m glad for that. Even if I’ve lost Sophie, not that long after losing Leila, well, good riddance. I don’t need them, and I certainly don’t care about their absence anymore.
That’s what I convince myself on the good days, in any case.
Still, I have this aversion to traveling now, and though I feel like that will be hard to dismantle in its entirety, my first hurdle is facing a trip outside of my town, to the local city, a challenge brought to me by my friend Sierra at the learning centre one day.
“So Abigail, I know you've been looking into studying healing. I have too. There's so much to learn! It's enthralling.”
“Oh, that's really cool Sierra!” I say, genuinely excited at the thought of a shared interest with a friend.
“In a couple of weeks there's a two day conference in the city on healing; new medical technologies, pharmacology and so on.” Sierra informs me, smiling disarmingly. “We should go together, it could be fun.”
I am paralysed for a moment. I’ve always liked Sierra, always wanted to be closer to her since we were kids. We weren’t friends for a long time due to the incident with my powers as children, but since reconnecting she’s always taken a special interest in me, though we’ve mostly spent time together in group settings. She’s right, it would be nice for us to go on this trip together, nervous as it might make me to even think about the concept. It’s hard for me to defy the logic of it, the conference being related to healing studies and all. After all, I can’t spend all my time stewing at home in my feelings of doom and gloom about the war and - well, the war is the thing I can do something about. She is asking me so earnestly too, and the twist in my gut isn’t enough to dissuade me entirely.
“Let’s look into it,” I say, and sure enough, a few weeks later we are taking public transport to the city - not that it is a big city by any means, certainly not as elaborate as any I saw on Halapatov, or even the one my brother lives in, simply bigger than our small farming village - where their largest healing centre is holding a two day conference in its attached study hall, almost as an orientation to healing with a variety of interesting topics and technologies to draw in potential students. I am especially interested in the different medicines my people and the Halapatovians have been able to derive from plants, fungi and microorganisms, and their efficacy with the differing physiologies our system has. It’s hard for me to conceptualise the future at the moment, but it’s almost a dream to imagine Sierra and I attending here when we turn 16, maybe commuting from the village or even staying in a dorm for extended visits. We get to stay in one of the dorms for the one night we are here, a room with a double bed, which Sierra organised and asked very sweetly if I was comfortable sharing with her. I agreed to it without fuss, even though I’ve only ever shared a bed with…
Well, in the spirit of a resilient future, it’s a good idea to open myself to the possibility of sleepovers with new people. Sierra is an old friend, and incredibly smart and considerate and pretty. We’ve had such a nice day too. She hangs onto my arm as we are shown around the healing centre’s facilities, and after a long presentation at the end of the day where we take laborious notes, she leans on me with a tired affection. I smile down at her profile, and focus on her hair tightly braided into two plaits. I absentmindedly fiddle with one of them, and she catches a hold of my hand and kisses it.
Suddenly everything changes. My brain switches on and I am interpreting everything in a new light, and the way Sierra has acted since we became friends again makes a lot of sense if she is also attracted to me. There’s been a bit of relationship talk in my life lately, especially with Runer and Jayne having started dating a few weeks ago, and I know from group discussions that Sierra has kissed a few people before. I’ve never had much experience with flirting or dating or any of it, but this feels different to any friendship I’ve had before.
She is still holding onto my hand. I am trying not to tremble. “Is this okay?” she asks, and she is so beautiful, so considerate, so straightforward, nothing at all like- okay, it’s not helpful to make any comparisons. I’ve obviously been a bit distracted ever since the Weraynian scare, and just generally have been pretty isolated and not really thought about crushes or dating. But of course it’s something that I want. I’m Paladanian, and have known I’ve been attracted to women since puberty. I wasn’t expecting this right now, here on this trip, Paladanian flaw and all, but Sierra is definitely the sort of person I could see myself with. Everything is very nice and easy between us. So I respond sincerely, “Of course.”
She smiles widely at me and lifts her head off of my shoulder. “Let’s go have dinner,”
We eat in the healing centre’s cafeteria, the food only slightly different to the sort of thing we have at home. We are chatting and laughing and talking about our highlights of the day, and only a small part of me is terrified that I don’t even know what I have agreed to. Sierra grips tightly to my hand as we go back to our room, and I have no idea what to expect, how to navigate anything, but nonetheless my heart is racing at the possibilities.
I decide to follow her lead, as she has the more experience. She sits down on the bed and loosens her collar, then takes my hands in hers. It’s nice to have someone new to associate with hand holding.
Sierra looks at me, eyes flirtatious in a way that is new to me. I can’t help myself from looking at her lips; she notices and laughs at me, but it’s not mean. I feel a bit like a bumbling idiot, but it’s a nice feeling. It only gets better when she kisses me. It’s different to what I was expecting. She moves from gripping my hands and caresses her fingers up my arms as I lean in for a second, before our lips part again. I feel like I’m breathing heavier than I should be.
“This is nice.” she says, and I nod wordlessly, nervous system alight. “I’m glad you joined me for this.”
Glad is an understatement for me right now. I’m a little overwhelmed by it all, but I do my best to make my voice more flirtatious, almost seductive. “Yes, this has been a nice conference.”
She smirks at me and we are co-conspirators. “So you want to go over our notes now?” She is teasing me, I know, but the thought almost makes me wince.
“If you don’t have anything else in mind.” I say, absurdly cooler than I have any right to be.
“I’m sure I can think of something.” Her arms are tracing the sleeves of my tunic, and I figure I have the guts to go a little further. I tug the tunic over my head, and Sierra regards me thoughtfully. I’m barely even self conscious. She unbuckles her belt, unbuttons her shirt to expose bare flesh, and then half kneels on the bed beside me.
As she is tracing kisses down my neck and collarbone I say breathily, without thinking, “I've never done this before.”
She glances sharply up at me. “Huh, really?” I stare down at her, equally confused. “Do you want to stop?”
“No!” I say a bit frantically, and lean down and kiss her again, roughly this time.
She responds enthusiastically, hand reaching for my chest as we shift together on the bed. I wrap my arms around her and we roll, and it’s all a bit awkward as we shift and she discards more items of clothing. I end up laying on the bed as she straddles me. I stare up at her and notice that her braids are still perfect. I wonder how messy I look right now. She presses down on me, we kiss more and I let her tongue into my mouth. It’s all electrifying, and by the time we get tired and stop it’s not hard for me to drift into a dreamless, worryless sleep for the first time in a while.
I open my eyes to the unfamiliar room, and I am uncharacteristically confused. There is a body in the bed next to me, and I reach out and softly say, “Sophie…”
I immediately feel a rush of horror as I remember that not only is that definitely not Sophie, but Sophie is gone forever. How many nights have I slept in the same room as her, to have my brain wired like this? I spend one night with another girl and yet I can't get rid of the feeling that it's her I should be waking up next to. I hope that Sierra didn't hear me, humiliated enough by my own pathetic slip of the tongue, but then she rolls over and looks at me with such an expression of pity that I want to tear off all of my skin and hide in it.
“Sierra, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-”
“Aw sweetheart,” She props herself up on one arm and runs the other hand through my hair. “You're really hurting huh? I should have known that you two had something going on.”
“We don't!” I say in panic. “I mean we never- she is- was my friend.”
She raises her eyebrows at me and I realise how stupid I sound. “She's gone, anyway. I just associate sleepovers with her.”
“Gone?” Sierra inquires. It is incredible how much I don't want to talk about this.
“It doesn't matter. I just- I'm really sorry. I don't want you to feel like I was leading you on or anything. I really enjoyed being with you.”
Sierra squeezes my cheek and sits up properly. “Don't be silly! This whole trip has been so nice. Don't worry, I don't regret anything.”
I smile gratefully at her, the pit in my stomach diminishing ever so slightly.
“Come on,” she says, pushing me teasingly. “Let's get ready, still more to do today,”
That evening, after the bus drops us at the main junction in our village, we say goodbye before going our separate ways. We'd had a fun day, with more activities and studies at the healing centre to take our attention but it couldn't erase that feeling of awkwardness, like I'd fumbled something really special. Sierra can clearly sense the angst I’m feeling. She embraces me in the dark and I sink into her.
“Thank you for everything.” I say stiffly, heart burning.
“Don't mention it.” She says affectionately. “I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.”
As I start to head off, she calls, softly, “Abigail? I hope she comes back.”
I am startled, ashamed, afraid. I feel exposed and vulnerable. “Me too.” I choke out pathetically.
Sierra gives me a wave and says, “Well, if you ever want someone to kiss, I'm always here for you. See you!”
I blush furiously as she disappears into the night. I almost want to run after her, grab her hand, beg her, “Kiss me now!” And promise her that I'm not a freak, pining after someone who's gone. That I can be here and live a normal life and date her and there's nothing holding me back anymore.
Instead I trudge back home to bed and dream of drawing star charts with Leila.
Halapatov, One Day after the Wedding
“It’s so mature of Zara to step up and look after the girls so we could have this outing.” Robyn says as we approach the brunch place on Halapatov. “It’ll be nice to be able to relax without worrying about the children.” She glances at Mickey and quickly adds, “No offense of course Mickey. I’ve had a lovely time with them.”
“Oh, it’s okay, Robyn, I’m looking forward to some time without them as well.” Mickey replies, smiling. “It will give me and Steve the chance to practice our special language.”
Beth looks at him sharply. “You guys aren’t still on that idea? I’ve told you that you can’t invent a language based purely on looks and implications; it’s not a language at that point!! You’re just trying to invent telepathy, which is a real thing some species can do, but is a method of communication, not a language.” They spread their hands out and look between us, searching for backup.
Abigail touches my arm and speaks softly into my ear, “I get the feeling this is an ongoing debate.”
“Oh yeah,” I say back. “This is the most heated topic of debate within our group. Steve and Beth are always going at it over this.”
Steve is curled up in one of Mickey’s graspers, and speaks up in a much louder voice than usual, as normally happens when this conversation topic reappears. “Beth, I think you’re just jealous because Mickey and I have the type of bond that has allowed us to create a Language With No Signifiers.”
Robyn scrapes two of her arms down her face. “Please, can we not spend this event talking about your Language With No Signifiers.”
“I have told you all to stop calling it that!” Beth wags their finger in the air. I’ve seen Beth willing to die on many stupid hills for stupid stances in conversations, but this conversation topic is possibly one that they wholeheartedly believe in and feel like they must be proven right. “None of you have a degree in linguistics or communication. I am the only one who has ever worked in a communications role. If it was possible to communicate via inferences then why would speech ever have become an adaptational advantage to any species? Think of the energy that would be saved by being able to communicate without any signifiers. You’re all idiots.”
Of course, once you’ve died on multiple stupid hills everyone is more likely to make fun of you when you try to be serious for once. I mostly try to stay out of this discussion when it comes up. It’s usually pretty interesting to watch without extra input. I would expect Robyn to weigh in about now about how even though her main degrees are not in communication, she has also studied languages and is just as qualified if not more so than Beth to discuss the nature of spoken language and its purpose in a variety of alien societies. We are saved from this by the line moving forward and the Halapatovian worker at the front of the store ushering towards a table.
We are seated on a round table with a basket of pastries in the middle. I am eyeing them, thinking of the breakfasts Abi and I had on our trip to Halapatov all those years ago, how nice it all was before it got dark. I hope we have many happy memories ahead of us with nothing dark to spoil it. Robyn orders mimosas for the table, and after explaining to the waiter what a mimosa is and finding out what the closest Halapatovian equivalent is to have instead, she picks up the menu and asks me what I recommend. I smile at Abigail to the right of me as I tell Robyn about the different Halapatovian egg preparation methods, but Abi isn’t looking at me, she’s smirking at Beth to the right of her, who is absolutely fuming across the table. I look to the left of me and Mickey and Steve are on top of each other again and staring intently into each other’s eyes, not saying anything.
I wonder how they got back onto this topic, I don’t remember them doing this at all during the wedding. They haven’t brought up their Language With No Signifiers in years. I remember when they first became obsessed with it.
Alliance Base 17, Sophie is 19
Beth is staring at Mickey and Steve and fuming. I am a little bit worried about them. They’re not normally the intense type, at least not like this. I guess the main problem is I don’t understand what the big deal is; all Mickey and Steve are doing is talking about them hanging out over the weekend.
“Bro, that was the best weekend ever. You’re my favourite guy in the world and I want to spend my life with you.” Steve leans forward and bats his head against Mickey’s side.
“Brooooo, you’re literally the light of my life and I want you to move in and raise my girls with me. I would do anything for you.” Mickey hovers his grasper against Steve and sighs.
Okay, maybe this is kind of weird. Doesn’t explain Beth’s reaction though.
“HAHAHA!” Beth’s voice comes out all high pitched and forced, which does happen a bit when they’re talking to Steve. “Steve, babe, why didn’t you invite me to your guy’s weekend? It sounds like so much fun.” They grin in a very unnatural way. I feel like I’m always bearing witness to stuff like this, I am so out of my depth.
Steve shifts awkwardly and stammers. “Aaah, hah, hem, well, we would’ve loved to have you Beth but you know, Mick and I have a special bond. He’s my bro.”
“Bro, you’re my bro.” Mickey says, tearing up a little. “Hey, Steve, guess what bro?”
“What, bro?” Steve looks up at Mickey’s three eyes and then suddenly the room gets really quiet. They stare at each other for a long minute and then Steve starts tearing up too. “Bro, your mind is so beautiful bro, you just get me.”
Beth rolls their eyes. I am grinning, though I’m not really following any of this.
Mickey turns to us and smiles dreamily. “Steve and I have gotten so close that we can communicate without any need for words. We invented our own language.”
“It’s a Language With No Signifiers.” Steve nods along, speaking in the same dreamy voice.
Beth’s whole demeanor changes. They almost always look at Steve like he is a puppy or something, but now they look horrified. “What did you say?”
“A Language With No Signifiers.” I repeat helpfully.
If I thought Beth was fuming before, that was nothing compared to the look on their face now. “How can you even say that? It’s completely antithetical. You can’t have a Language With No Signifiers.”
“We do though.” Mickey says. “We just get each other.”
Beth closes their eyes and clenches their fists. “You can’t just say things like that. Language and communication are very serious things. I bet Robyn would back me up.”
They promptly leave and head for Robyn’s office. I stare after them, worried. Are they really going to bother Robyn while she’s in her office? That’s just asking for trouble.
Mickey and Steve continue to stare into each other’s eyes and then occasionally make comments until Beth returns with a very annoyed looking Robyn in tow.
She looks tiredly between us all and says, “So Beth tells me you’ve invented a Language With No Signifiers?”
Beth throws their hands in the air. “That’s not what I said. They’re claiming to have invented a Language With No Signifiers, which isn’t a real thing. Tell them!”
Robyn turns her head towards Beth and watches them for a minute. The display on Robyn’s suit head is absent of activity as she does so, and it’s really unnerving. “Do you have nothing better to do with your time than focus on this infantile nonsense?” she says eventually.
“This is important!” Beth pouts, crossing their arms stubbornly.
“I believe you have a backlog of work to get through that would be a better use of your time.”
“Actually, I should finish my report on last week’s visit to Thoo before mine and Steve’s wonderful weekend away.” Mickey pipes up and ambles over to his desk.
“I’ll help you Mick.” Steve says, “Our Language With No Signifiers is perfect for this sort of work.”
“You’re the best, bro.”
“Anything for you bro.”
Beth looks like they’re about to shout again as the two move off, but Robyn grabs their shoulder.
“Beth, I’m not sure why you’re letting this get you all worked up, but for the sake of all our sanity please let this go. Mickey and Steve had a trip together and this Language business is just an inside joke as is natural from such trips and I’m sure the novelty will wear off soon and you won’t have to hear about this anymore.”
Beth’s shoulders sag in defeat. “Okay, you’re right. It’s a stupid idea but I’m sure they’ll get over it soon.”
Halapatov, One Day after the Wedding
“Bro, we are so in sync.” Mickey says in a weirdly familiar tone, still staring into Steve’s eyes.
“Bro, you are so fluent in our Language With No Signifiers. I’m obsessed with you.” I might be imagining it but I think Steve throws a smug glance Beth’s way.
I think Beth is about to get up and start yelling but then our waiter comes back with six glasses and places them at the table. “Your drinks.” he says, and Mickey and Steve stop staring into each other’s eyes. Mickey sips at his glass and Steve leans over to Robyn.
“Still need to figure out what to order. What are you getting Rob?”
I glance back at Beth, who is swirling their drink around in the glass instead of drinking it and looking defeated.
“I wish I was still sideways in time.” They say grumpily.
“Come on Beth,” I attempt, knowing it will be fruitless. “We’re celebrating, all the stressful wedding stuff is over, let’s try some weird food combos.” I point at some choices on the menu but they don’t even pretend to look. Come on, dude.
“Weddings, pah.” They turn their head. “Do you remember my wedding, Sophie? When I thought I was marrying my best friend and a beautiful person but instead it turned out to be someone who thinks he can create a language that doesn’t follow any perceivable laws. I deserve to be with someone who cares about what's important to me.” They say all of this loudly so that Steve looks over from his conversation with Robyn and pulls a face at Beth in response. I think this is maybe flirting for them. I probably should understand this all better than I do. All I know is that this topic drove Beth crazy when they had a hopeless unrequited crush on Steve and now that that’s all worked out and they’re married and live together and everything they still get all riled up when Mickey and Steve act all gooey together.
Suddenly Abigail speaks up, surprising me. Normally she’s the one who loves to sit and watch conversations play out, analysing things as they happen so she can pick them apart later. I don’t think she’s ever known how to approach conversation with Beth; I feel like I should’ve warned her away from engaging in this topic though. “A Language With No Signifiers is of course an oxymoron by definition, but it’s not inherently a flawed premise.”
Beth freezes with their glass held near their head and slides their gaze across to Abigail. “You really think so, do you babe? I thought you were the intelligent one. Don’t buy into their stupidity like everyone else does.”
“You’re talking about definitions of languages, though. And by definition there are plenty of non-normative modes of communication that could explain the Language that Steve and Mickey are describing. Body language and shared memory that are not perceivable to outsiders but are internally resonant. It makes sense.”
Beth’s mouth curls up in response to Abi’s cool logic. Abigail meets Beth’s gaze defiantly, and the two are staring at each other so long that I get a little worried that they are inventing their own Language With No Signifiers. I think I see something change in Beth’s eyes, as if something has suddenly clicked and a slow, somewhat evil smile splits across their face.
“Body language, huh?” Beth says, and their voice sounds kind of different, I don’t know how to explain it really. They flutter their eyelids and reach out and touch Abigail’s arm. “Oh, I’m sure you’re an expert in body language aren’t you, Abigail?” Beth says Abi’s name really slowly and silkily, and then bites their lip pointedly. I’ve officially lost track of what’s going on.
Abi has frozen with her arm still being caressed by Beth’s hand. She glances quickly over at me and then away as if she’s panicking. I notice her eyes are kind of sluggish, which is weird. She looks at Beth again and then down, and then back up, seeming more or less back to normal after a few seconds of weirdness. I wonder what’s going on in that head of hers.
She pulls her arm from Beth’s hand and rests her chin on clasped hands, leaning forward. “I’d say so. I’m sure you couldn’t understand the intricacies of more intimate communication styles though, it can get quite difficult.”
Should I be worried about this? I glance over at the others. Mickey and Steve are communicating silently again, but with concerned expressions instead of lovey dovey ones. Robyn is leaned back in her chair, possibly on her third mimosa, counting the glasses in front of her. I wonder how soon the eggs will get here.
There is a weird zipping sound and I am very confused as to where it comes from until I see Steve shaking his head sternly at Beth, who smiles innocently back at him.
“What? It’s hot in here, I’m just getting some ventilation for my legs.”
I crane my head around Abigail and see that Beth is wearing their pants that have a weird opening on the inner thigh, and mesh underneath, so that they can cool off without like, getting naked. Abigail is also staring intently at the basically exposed skin on Beth’s thigh. It’s a pretty cool item of clothing, to be fair. Quite versatile.
“Beth.” Steve says out loud, and Abi’s whole body jumps as if she’s been jerked awake. She turns around and sees we all are watching her and Beth.
She shakes her head as if to clear it and grabs my hand, smiling at me reassuringly. “Sorry, got distracted. What did you want to order? How about those eggs we had when we were on Halapatov years ago?”
I smile fondly at her and agree enthusiastically.
Mickey and Steve uncharacteristically drop the Language With No Signifiers discussion for the rest of the brunch, and the weird tenseness disappears. It’s nice. I think of everything that has led to this day, not just the intense wedding and week and months of planning but the years of friendship and adventures and struggle that have led me here, to delicious food in the company of my favourite people in the universe. I make a mental note to take some leftovers for Zara and the girls so we can include them in this memory as well.
Robyn does not get quite as drunk as she did at our wedding, and before we get ready to go she raises her glass and says with surprising clarity, “A toast to the happy couple!”
Everyone raises their glasses and echoes the sentiment.
I look to Abigail, who smiles at me and then looks at Beth.
Beth smirks and winks, and I swear there’s an audible ding.