I shambled half-awake toward the kitchen, blinking around for the moka and the coffee grounds. The ancient L.K. clock-radio perched on the kitchen windowsill said that it was ten a.m..
Cereal, apples, and a hundred dollars were on the table, with a note from Will written in a spidery scrawl. "Gave Gloria's number to K Embassy and Teresa Ortiz. Clothes in my room. $ just in case. Back from work 6. W."
Bravissimo, Will.
My detailed plan for the day: buy more ganja, and then bake up while waiting around for Gloria to come over with her phone, preferably with a kindly Embassy official talking down it. Pushing the increasing amount of money that I owed Will onto the shelves at the back of my brain, I made my way to his bedroom to find something to wear that wasn't Maria P.D.-gray.
Will's room was large but had little in there apart from the bed, his closet, and overstuffed bookshelves. The closet creaked open to shelves laden with T-shirts, baseball caps, jeans, in faded shades of blue and green. The topmost T-shirt and jeans from the folded piles would do. I stalked around the room until I spotted a canvas belt snaking around the foot of Will's bed.
Click-clack. The belt buckle rattled.
Click-clack. My intestines twisted, my heart racing from zero to prestissimo. The auditory memory toppled from my brain-shelves with a sickening click-clack, and suddenly I was back there, on my knees in Will's dour little bedroom in Maria. Click-clack. The buckle clattered, the canvas slithering through belt-loops around slender hips. Click-clack. Terror was etched into every crease on Will's face.
The belt slipped from sweaty palms, and I sucked in trembling breaths. Why had Will taken me in? What other disgusting parts of me would he have to endure?
Let it go, Zeph.
After sticking a note to Gloria on the front door, telling her to come to the back porch, I sat fidgeting in my baking-up spot on the porch bench.
The windy and overcast day had practically emptied the beach; only a few lone dog-walkers braved the gusts compared to Sunday's activity. I sat watching the distant waves while the coffee warmed me, burning the last of my THC and waiting for it to dull my mind enough to stop me from stressing. It didn't. Somehow I spent hours sitting watching the sea, my brain tracing repeating circular pathways around my various predicaments.
Four p.m., and still no Gloria bustling into the house with a phonecall from the Embassy. I trudged next door, where Gloria was sat typing manically on her laptop at the kitchen table, her phone lying next to her.
"Hi mi amor. I'm sorry but nobody's called yet."
"Thanks, Gloria." Her kitchen was pretty, with earthenware pots on the windowsills and plates hung on the walls. I'd expected her to work in a busy office somewhere in Arenosa, talking to people, rather than hiding away hunched at her kitchen table all day. "What do you do?"
"I teach mathematics online," she said. "I'm just writing notes for my evening class tonight."
"I'm so jealous!" I dropped into a chair next to her. "I loved math at school. It's a shame that it's not needed for medical studies."
"Will was brilliant at math when he was at school." Gloria gazed into the distance as if recalling a lovely memory. "I couldn't get Julia interested. But I guess she's got accountants for all that now," she chuckled as she continued to type.
"Why did Will become an electrician if he loved math?"
"Well he was going to study physics, but then they moved to María when he was sixteen." Her face dropped a little, as if it hurt to remember. She managed a stiff smile, perhaps a silent request that she didn't wanna talk about it, or that she didn't quite know what had happened.
It wasn't the first time that I'd wondered what medical treatment had persuaded Will and Mozhgan to go to María in the first place. It seemed counterintuitive when they both so clearly belonged in Santa Elena, and Arenosa's hospital must surely have offered similar care.
"What does Clive do?"
"He's Head of the Arenosa Port Authority."
"Oh, so you were serious when you asked me not to talk to him about boats!" I laughed.
She pushed a thick paperback into my hands. West Coast Yoga for Life by Julia Walker.
"Wow! Is this Jules's first book?"
"Yes, and it's always on the best-seller list for Health and Fitness," she said, eyes glittering with pride.
I flicked through pages of yoga poses and diagrams of muscle groups. It looked like Jules was a yoga practitioner, with a little calisthenics and assertiveness training mixed in. Seemed pretty cool. I could totally see how it would be a best-seller in a place like Arenosa, and across California.
On the first page Jules had dedicated the book to her parents, and to Mozhgan. Mozhgan wasn't even my mother, but I felt incredibly touched that Jules had mentioned her. They must have all been so close, like a family that spanned two houses.
We chatted on about Clive's work and Jules's business before I called the Embassy, where I was put on hold for a long while, Gloria milling around giving me tea and dark chocolate, and sliding Jules's yoga books and festival flyers across the table to me.
Eventually a very sweet-sounding lady called Erica Choi told me that there was no progress in finding Eomma, but the Embassy would call Will or Gloria immediately when they found her. Perhaps there was a day or two longer to wait, then.
"I'm sorry, cariño. You'll get to talk to your Mama tomorrow, I know it," said Gloria, her eyes watery with sympathy, doubtless imagining what the pain of losing Jules for almost three years would be like.
Next up, I called Teresa. The search for Eomma needed more time, but maybe the police had found my guys.
"Hey, Teresa. Are things going OK there?"
"Yeah, you know how it is in Este, sweetie. Worst place in the world," she laughed down the phone.
"Has Sofi heard anything about my friends?"
"Sorry, sweetie. No progress there. But Sofi said that there were files found on two of the computers in the printroom on the second floor of Seven. They might be vital evidence. We just have to wait, sweetie." Teresa's voice then changed from her perfunctory police officer tone to the gentle, cautious one from the day before. "Are you OK staying with William Graz?" She didn't seem to like Will. I guessed that it was partly to do with his awkwardness when he met her, but there was also some other animosity that I couldn't place.
"Yeah. He's amazing, Teresa. I'm feeling so guilty for imposing on him."
Teresa gave a dismissive grunt. "He's a Civic Savior, sweetie."
"Civic Savior?"
"It's a personality trait. Guys who run headfirst into disaster zones and burning buildings looking for people. They get a kick out of that hero shit. Don't feel too guilty; he probably loved every minute of it." She made him sound like a weird fetishist.
"Teresa, you're creeping me out."
"I'm joking, sweetie. He seemed sorta harmless when you guys came over to the police station," she said thoughtfully.
"Oh, thanks for putting me in the care of someone who seems sorta harmless."
Teresa guffawed down the phone. "Sweetie, I gotta go. Text me any time, OK?"
I'd waited two years and eight months already to hear from Eomma. I could wait another day. And it looked like there was a scrap of evidence from Seven that might help to find my guys. Or not.
The meandering walk from the vape shop took me along Main Street toward the beachfront, where I peered into store windows and cafes before deciding to stop for a coffee in the terrace café overlooking the beach.
I wondered what I'd do if Tuesday bled into Wednesday with no news. And what if Thursday came around and I still hadn't found out my new address, or worse, if Eomma didn't want me? If she didn't want me, for how long would I be stuck in the States before Nuna bailed me out and bought me a flight home? I needed to have a Plan B, but the thought of not being home was too frightening to plan for.
Lost in thought, watching people on the beach passing in front of the windows, my eyes landed on a man across the café, leaning against the row of sun-bleached bar stools at the counter. He was watching me lazily as he drank his espresso. I'd seen him earlier, giving instructions to waiters, talking to customers. I guessed that he was the manager, or the owner.
Our eyes met, and he gave the tiniest of smiles in my direction. Was he smiling at me? I looked behind me. He must have been.
He was slender and tall with a mass of hair and densely-packed tattoo sleeves. Pretty young, maybe in his thirties. There were no clients like that in Sigma.
The man smiled again, looking up through tufts of dark hair. I swallowed, but my throat had suddenly constricted in a rush of nerves. What did he want?
I tried to smile, but my mouth was frozen half-open. My hands trembled on my coffee cup so much that it rattled on its saucer. I looked down at my hands so that I wouldn't have to return his gaze. Why was he looking at me? What did he want? What did he have that I'd ever want?
He stepped away from the window and began navigating the tables and chairs in between us, still with that little smile. I'd lost control of my face, and I had no idea if it was a smiley expression or a terrified rictus that greeted him.
"Hey, mind if I sit here?" His voice was confident. Just like Noah's had been. He didn't wait for me to answer before pulling a chair next to me and sliding onto it.
"Sure," I managed to get out from my tightening throat.
Now that he was up close, I began to wilt even faster under the heat of his attention. What did he want from me? "What's your name?"
"Z...Zephyr," I said. I couldn't do it.
"That's an awesome name," he replied with a little laugh.
He seemed so nice, but I just couldn't do it. "I'm really, really sorry," I said, springing up from the table and attempting to run out of the café, but I had to pick my way between tables and backpacks and terriers to reach the door.
I didn't look back, but I guessed that the entire café had seen me lurch away from the man whose only offence had been to talk to me. I hoped that he hadn't been too insulted as I dashed along the maze of little lanes that ran parallel to the northern end of the beach, back toward Will's house, heart pounding and guts twisting.
I knew exactly what the man in the café had wanted; he was just a guy trying to talk to me. I should have wanted the same thing. If I'd been nineteen again, I'd have smiled, bought him a coffee, found out his name, tried my luck. But after three years of Sigma, I was more comfortable talking to counterfeiters, sex workers and smugglers whom I knew from the outset didn't give a shit about me, rather than a normal guy in a café whose interest in me was unclear.
I sprinted toward the last house on the lane, willing the burning in my lungs to bite harder, my eyes stinging as I held back tears. I raced in and slumped onto the sofa, covering my eyes with my arms. Tears bit at my eyes.
I was so sick of my fucking tear ducts. I'd never cried in Sigma, not after the first days, at least. But since the fire at Seven, my body had developed a habit of sending me into paroxysms of tears so fast that I was never able to hold them back. I refused to cry this time.
Footsteps padded into the living room, and a weight pressed down the cushions on the sofa. "You OK?"
Go away, Will.
A light tap on my arm. "Zeph?"
"Go away, Will."
The sweep of jeans against upholstery, and he moved away. "I'll shut up, but I'll sit right here for a minute, OK?" As if that was a compromise.
Just fucking go away, Will.
When had I turned into such a snivelling baby? I was never this weak in Sigma. "I'm sorry I'm being a dick," I mumbled into my elbow, eyes still squeezed shut.
Will laughed, a warm rumble that barely made it out of his body. "Did something happen?"
I grimaced into my arm. I'd run away before anything could even happen.
"I just...went to the beach café...and someone was there." How could I explain that I was almost in tears because a man had paid me an iota of attention? I used to live for that shit.
"Zeph, look at me," Will said, way too loudly, his forehead suddenly creased with alarm. He grabbed my arms and made me look him in the face. "Who was it?"
"Some guy," I said, confused.
"You knew him?"
"No." I shrugged out of Will's hold. "He was just checking me out."
"Did he try to hurt you?"
"What the fuck, Will?" I moved away from him on the sofa. "He was just talking to me," I said, attempting to rein back the stupid runaway conversation. "Then I kinda...ran outta the cafe," I added, embarrassment splashing around my insides.
But Will still looked scared as fuck. "What did he look like?"
"I don't know. A white guy. Tattoos. I think he was the owner."
Will seemed to calm down at that. He leaned heavily against the sofa, his voice returning to normal. "You OK?"
"Yeah. Nothing happened. I just...ran away. And now I feel like an idiot. That's all."
"I'm sorry," said Will, running his hands through his hair in relief. "I just got scared. That Sigma had found you."
"Nobody knows that I came to Arenosa except Sofia and Teresa," I said firmly, trying to convince us both. Will breathed more easily.
It was touching how worried Will was about me. He, Jules, Gloria and Clive all seemed so kind and generous that it would be sad to leave Santa Elena when the time came.
I could understand Will's concern for me though. He didn't know about gangs, apart from what he probably saw in movies about vast sprawling criminal organizations that could hunt down deserters and traitors within a day. But, I knew that Sigma would start looking for me soon, especially now that news reports had said that nobody had died in the fire.
"Sorry, Will. I didn't even ask you if you had a good day at work," I said. "Is your job tough?"
Will's pained expression softened at the change of topic. "Sometimes. Got a big contract on a real estate development north of Arenosa. Real close to the Santa Elena Faultline. I do the electrical installation for the houses, and there's a strip of stores being built there too. It's a pretty stupid place to build."
"Yeah. More of the suburban sprawl that Gloria was complaining about," I replied. "But fuck it. You have a job because of that shit. Besides, most Koreans are in suburban sprawl, if not in the middle of a city, and we're all doing OK. Kinda."
"It's a lot of work," Will admitted. "I should really have an employee to help me, but the developers gave me the contract anyways."
"Why did they give you the contract?"
Will chuckled at the question. "My quote was way cheaper than the other electrical companies, because I don't have an employee. Plus, I had a recommendation from my old company in María, so they know I'm good. But it means that I have to work a lot this month. If my Mom comes home in the next couple of weeks, I won't have time to complete the contract. I don't wanna work full time while she's in the house alone."
Mozhgan would understand, surely, especially if Will had grown-man shit like a mortgage and career reputation to think about.
"Isn't she alone most of the time in that place she's staying?" I asked, not sure whether it was a residential home or a hospital.
"That place is called Orchard Park. It's a clinic for people with chronic conditions. She's usually sitting with other patients there."
"Are there specialist doctors and stuff there? People you can't get in Arenosa County?"
"No. She...didn't wanna leave María."
"Seriously?" I asked, perplexed. "Even if Arenosa is a way nicer place? I don't get it."
Will looked at me with sad eyes, a gesture of defeat. I guessed that he'd been unable to convince Mozhgan to leave María for some reason, until she finally hadn't been able to make the decision for herself.
"When she got sick after Christmas, I took her to Orchard Park because it was an emergency. But I always planned to bring her to Arenosa once I was sure about...financial stuff. She's gonna need me when she's better, so I can't work so much. She's so clingy sometimes. Worried that I'm gonna leave her..."
My heart ached for Will and Mozhgan. It was such a mess, being ill.
"I can be your employee," I suggested, not very seriously.
Will puffed out a chuckle, shaking his head at me like he already knew that I'd be a total fucking liability on a construction site.
"But I wanna help you to get your stuff done faster. Except I'm super-lazy. And I don't know shit about electrical installation."
"And it's illegal for you to work."
"I meant that I'd work for free. You're already giving me food and a roof over my head. I could do a few days of work to help you out." Will didn't look convinced. "I guess that not many guys show up at construction sites saying that they're working for free to help a buddy out. Everyone there will think that we're doing something sketchy."
"You're woefully overestimating the construction industry," laughed Will. "Anyways, the terms of your visa might not even let you work for free. And I would never ask you to work for me."
"But my fake-ass visa is just a piece of paper that the Arenosa County D.A. and the Senator wrote together. The terms are whatever they want. Gloria could call the D.A. and ask-"
"Please, don't call the D.A.!" Will raised his arms up, as if getting ready to hold me down if I made a run to Gloria's house. He resettled himself warily on the sofa when he realized that I wasn't actually gonna do it. "Maybe I could do with a hand at work, but I don't want that for you," he said finally.
I was a little taken aback by that. It hadn't occurred that Will might have hopes on my behalf. "What do you want for me, Will?" I asked.
Will dragged a hand down his beard in thought before answering. "You're only here for a few days. I want you to remember Santa Elena as a place where you rested. And enjoyed the ocean. Like a little vacation before going home."
It was a very kind gesture, to hope that I could rest. As much as I liked the idea of that, it was kinda obvious that relaxation wasn't going to be a feature of my stay by the ocean, in limbo between María and Busan. I was pining for Eomma and worrying about my guys too much to carve out any rest.
"Are you hungry?" So, Will had returned to what was always uppermost in his mind: food.
"Why are you always asking me that?"
"Because you haven't eaten for over twenty-four hours. Again."
Had it been that long? Maybe Will had a point. Since Friday I had eaten nothing but a cereal bar and a small amount of Will's fantastic Sunday lunch. My appetite had always been pretty big; maybe I'd been doing too many appetite-suppressing things of late. Like moping around. And crying. And running away from men in cafes. And burning inadvisable amounts of ganja.
"You're a Mom with a beard, seriously."
Will didn't care that I was teasing him, judging by the booming bass-baritone laughter that trailed after him to the kitchen.
Will made laksa and we ate in comfortable silence. It was so delicious that it wasn't difficult to make a concerted effort to eat a lot, and I waved my empty bowl before Will's face when I was done, which earned me a smile and a resigned shake of the head.
"Why did you run away from that guy?" Will asked eventually.
I looked down at my plate, unsure if I could be bothered to answer Will's questions, given that I didn't really know the answers myself.
"I don't know. Just that I haven't talked to a normal guy for nearly three years. In Sigma, people only talk to me when they want something. All conversations are deals. And when I was with clients, I'd compliment them, tell them that I was happy in Sigma. Lies were part of the deal. The fantasy. And they'd tell me that they cared about me. We were both in on the deal. But that poor guy in the café? He was honest. He just wanted to talk to someone and have fun, maybe try his luck. You know, normal stuff."
"Were you attracted to him?"
"No. I mean, I don't remember what he looked like. Generic humanoid male. Before Sigma, I'd have been so happy if a guy checked me out. Now I wouldn't care if I never hooked up with anyone again. Maybe I don't know how to enjoy normal stuff for real anymore. Maybe I'll always have to make deals." I wished that Will could just poke around between my neurons and extract the data directly from my brain without me having to make such a fucking effort. "I'm sorry. I can't explain it well."
"Zeph, you've been out of Sigma just two days. It's gonna take a while to trust people. There's no rush." He had a point, but I needed to be strong for Eomma.
"There is a rush, Will. I can't be like this in Korea." I wouldn't have the luxury of crying on a sofa every time a guy accosted me back home.
"You won't be." He sounded so sure that it was hard not to go along with it. "You'll be your old self real soon."
I breathed out a long, tired breath. I didn't wanna be my old self anymore. The speed with which I'd run away from that guy meant that my body didn't want me to be my old self either.
"Damn. That guy must have thought I was so rude, just getting up and running away," I cringed.
"Nah, he probably thought that you were straight and has already forgotten all about it."
I looked at Will in surprise. "Will, nobody thinks I'm straight," I said. "Do I look straight?"
"You do in that T-shirt." It was Will's faded blue T-shirt, a size too big, with a local band's tour dates on it.
"Seriously, fuck you, Will Graz," I laughed, my fuzzy tenor joined by a bass-baritone counterpoint that went on for a long while.