EIGHTY-FOUR: The French Sauce

 

“Alden…you’re…I just knew you were gone forever,” Boe said. “I handled it about as well as you’d expec—mmmph!”

Alden was crushing him in a hug before he even realized it. He was solid. He was real.

“You weren’t here when I got back home!” Alden shouted in his ear. “I thought you were dead, too!”

“Didn’t Jeremy tell you—?”

“Of course. And I believed him. Mostly. But so much had already gone wrong, and sometimes I thought…you know it’s not the same as seeing you with my own eyes!”

“Asshole,” Boe said in a muffled voice. “You don’t get to play the victim when you died first. And instead of Jeremy telling me you were fine, I had the freaking System telling me you were space dust.”

Boe put an arm around him briefly, then pushed him off.

Alden took a step back. “How on earth are you here, Boe?”

“You just told the cat you weren’t going to ask me questions.”

“About where you were all this time. You don’t have to say if you don’t want to answer. But how are you on Anesidora?! How did you even get into my apartment? The door’s not supposed to open for people unless I give it permission to.”

He examined his friend. Ripped jeans. Drippy hair.

“And when you said you needed to collect yourself did you mean you needed to shower and get dressed up in my clothes?”

Boe’s smile widened. “That’s definitely what I meant.”

Alden laughed a little too wildly. “What the heck, man?”

“No. I really was collecting my thoughts. Showering helped. Actually…could you do me a favor?”

“Anything,” Alden said at once.

“…you sound so serious. I’m not going to ask you for your firstborn. Could you just…do your wordchain?”

“What wordchain?”

“You mentioned in a couple of your messages that you’ve got Peace of Mind down pat?” Boe shifted his eyes toward the damp streaks the towel was leaving on the floor. “That one.”

“Oh. Okay? You want me to do that right now?”

“Yeah.”

“…just a sec then.”

It took more than a second, but Alden composed himself and started the hand gestures. The gremlin stirred briefly and then ignored him.

“My heart calls out to another in good faith,” he said in Artonan. “Spare me a portion of your mind’s ease in this hour when my own mind is troubled. Tomorrow, I will grant another an equal comfort of mind.”

A moment passed, and he felt the chain settle. The overwhelming joy he was feeling faded just a little.

“You didn’t even ask why,” Boe noted.

“It’s only a wordchain. I’ll recite it all day if you want.”

“But it dimmed your mood slightly in this case. I’m sure that’s not how you usually want to use that one. Thanks. For doing it. And…for being so thrilled to see me in the first place that I had to ask you to.”

Alden considered that—a bit more calmly than he would have a minute before. He thought of a lot of questions to ask. All of them were things Boe had to know he was dying to have answers about.

Finally, he said, “You want food?”

“The magic food I don’t deserve because I’m a terrible person?”

“Yep.”

“I can’t say no to that.”

Alden stepped over to the fridge. “Scandinavian, Indian, or Chinese?” he asked, examining the containers.

“So international.”

“Natalie—did you hear any of my messages about her?—she wants to cook for everyone, so she’s trying to learn recipes from all over the place.”

“Indian food,” said Boe, leaning against the counter on his elbows. “And now that you’re not out in the middle of a crowd of superhumans, you can ask me where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing. And why I wanted you to do a wordchain. Just because you promised the cat you wouldn’t, it doesn’t mean I’m going to hold you to that.”

“You know…I had a reversed version of this conversation with Jeremy last week.” Alden headed over to the microwave with a veggie curry dish. “Where I said he could ask me anything because he was my friend, and he said he didn’t have to ask me anything because he was my friend.”

“Ugh.” Boe covered his face, and peered at Alden through his fingers. “He said that? With his own mouth?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. He is an angel among men. Fuck. How do you compete with that?”

“I can’t. And I know you can’t.”

“Well, I’m a bastard. It’s been established.”

“Me too. But I’m a lesser bastard. So I’m only going to ask one slightly prying question instead of the million I want to. How’s your hand?”

Boe uncovered his eyes. “My hand?”

Alden pretended to punch a cabinet. He smiled at Boe. “Your hand,” he said.

“Oh.”

“I mean the hand you put through a brick wall,” Alden clarified.

“I know what hand you mean.”

“The hand you put through a brick wall after trying to get the angel to beat you up. And saying something so horrible to him that he won’t even repeat it.”

“I was there. I know what I did.”

“That hand.” Alden took the curry out of the microwave and slid it across the counter toward him with a fork. “Is it broken? Do you need a healer?”

Boe stared down at his fingers. “Nope,” he said finally. “Not so much as a scratch.”

Well…then the question had to be asked. He took a deep breath. “Did you get selected while I was gone?”

“It was before you left.”

There was a brief silence.

“Oh, don’t do that, man,” Boe groaned.

Alden had been reaching for the soap. He paused. “Don’t wash curry sauce and train germs off my fingers?”

“No…please don’t be sad I didn’t tell you. Be offended. Or annoyed. Or even angry.”

“I’m not sad. This is just my face.”

“You’re sad,” said Boe. “Sad is…it’s the worst. I’m terrible at dealing with sadness. My own. Other peoples’. It ruins my self-control.”

“I’m not sad,” Alden said again.

He absolutely was. But only about that one specific thing. It wasn’t that important, and it was overshadowed by his relief that Boe was alive, his worry about what his friend was doing here, and quite a lot of happiness.

“Alden, I’m so sorry.”

There was an uncommon amount of sincerity in Boe’s voice.

“Why?” Alden forgot about his soapy hands and stared at him. “You haven’t done anything wrong except for being an enormous dick to Jeremy, and even he says you were amazing prior to the wall punching incident. I didn’t mean to make it into a bigger thing than it was by bringing it up like that.”

“That…the ‘wall punching incident’ was a much bigger thing than he let on,” Boe said. “But that’s between me and him. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I had powers. You told me right after it happened for you.”

Of course I did.

“It’s fine. Everyone has secrets.”

“I knew you didn’t think we had them. I knew it wasn’t right to keep it from you. I hated myself for it so much, especially after you… I didn’t want it to be that way. I’m just a fucking coward. I almost told you a hundred times. There were reasons I should have, but I didn’t want to lose my friend.”

Alden snorted. Then, he realized Boe was serious.

“I’m not going to stop being your friend.” How could he even think that? “We’ve spent almost every single day together since we were eleven. You could say harsh things to a dik-dik, and we’d still be friends.”

“What about a baby dik-dik?”

“No. Not then. I have to draw the line somewhere.”

They smiled at each other.

Alden said, “Those last few days before everything went wrong…I didn’t mean to be so wrapped up in myself? But I didn’t slow down for a second. Selection and then the funeral and then my moon mission—“

“Right,” Boe interrupted. “Moon mission. You’re going to need to explain that to me very slowly. Because the messages I’ve listened to so far were not clear at all. You just throw phrases like ‘grasshopper demons’ and ‘running until I’m bloody and broken’ into soliloquies about how much you love your private chef’s guacamole. Like those things are equally important. And like I have the full story.”

Alden opened his mouth.

“Not right now,” Boe said hastily. “Let me get my dramatic reveals out of the way before something comes up or I chicken out. Like I said, I regretted it. So let me do it. First, I’m a U-type.”

U-type. Didn’t see that one coming. Wait…

“That’s not why you didn’t tell me, is it? You should know I don’t have anything against U’s just because—”

“I know.”

“Well good,” Alden said. “And U! That’s cool. I was assuming Brute because of averages and the wall punching.”

“It’s not cool.”

“It’s not?”

“…uncomfortable is the kindest adjective I’ve ever applied to it, and that’s just on good days. Imagine the System stuck a Sway and a Mourner in a blender. And the thing that came out didn’t work as well as either of those. So it keeps trying to patch the creature with random shit it finds in its pockets.”

Alden stared at him.

“Sway. And Mourner?”

“And random shit.” Boe was biting his thumbnail and watching him nervously from beneath wet bangs.

Mourner. The emotional transference class.

“Oh…you weren’t saying I looked sad a second ago. You were saying you knew I was.”

Boe nodded.

Alden didn’t know how he felt about that. Or I do, but it’s not the way I think I should feel so it’s confusing.

“Eat your curry,” he said, finally turning his attention back to his hand washing. He watched the suds flow down the drain. He heard the scrape of the fork in Boe’s hand against the container.

If anyone else had told Alden they were spying on his feelings, he would have been furious. And scared. Even though he put effort into not being one of those people who treated Sways like lepers, he still had to consciously ignore that spike of anxiety when he was around them. Even Instructor Marion this morning in class…Alden really liked the teacher, but there was always a What if? factor you had to leap over before you could act natural around one.

So why…?

“You’re not doing some Swayner thing to calm me down right now, are you?”

Boe grimaced. “Don’t just cram the class names together. Swayner sounds terrible, and I’m not really either one. I’m my own monster.” He paused. “I’m not doing anything to you. But this curry is doing something weird to me. I feel like it’s cuddling me as I eat it? That can’t be right.”

Alden dried his hands on a paper towel while Boe squinted suspiciously at a chunk of carrot.

Where are his glasses?

“I don’t think I care,” Alden said.

Boe looked up.

“Maybe it’s just the wordchain working overtime, but…I don’t think I care very much if you’re reading my mind right now.”

His friend frowned.

Alden shrugged.

“Well, I’m not reading your mind. I don’t hear your thoughts,” said Boe. “But I am feeling what you’re feeling, like your emotions are pressing down on top of my own.”

“Then you know. I don’t really care that you’re doing it. That’s crazy, right?”

Alden bent to pick up Victor before the cat could try—and fail—to jump up onto the counter with the food.

“You’re going to care a lot later. Right now you’re very relieved and happy to see me.” Boe tilted his head. “The positive emotion and the Peace of Mind are cancelling out the anger you should be feeling.”

“Maybe.”

“You are slightly worried, though. If you want to leave, I—”

Alden stared down at the chunky orange feline in his arms. “I’m not worried about you reading my mind—”

“Which I’m not doing.”

“Or my emotions. The thing I’m worried about is, like, whiny little kid stuff. So let’s just pretend I’m not worried at all.”

Very little kid stuff. Lying in bed with your wombat plushie and wondering if maybe your best friend doesn’t think you’re his best friend because he’s been keeping a secret from you.

Is that kind of fear not something you grow out of?

Alden cleared his throat. “Even if I don’t care, you obviously shouldn’t be reading my emotions without permission in the first place. Because it’s rude. And immoral. So stop it.”

“I can’t right now. I was about to tell you, if you go away and come back in seven or so hours, you can have complete emotional privacy.”

“Just stop using your skill. Or whatever you call the talent you use to do it.”

“I’m not using one. My default state is empathic sponge. I use a skill to block your emotions, not access them. And since I’m magically toast at present…don’t squeeze the cat that hard, you doofus. He’ll bite you.”

“Sorry!” Alden set Victor back down. “What do you mean empathic sponge is your default state?”

“Pretty sure you know the definition of all those words.”

Alden narrowed his eyes at him. “That doesn’t make sense. The magic thing you do is your normal? And not doing the magic thing is…you using your powers?”

“Ta-da,” said Boe, waving his hands and wiggling his fingers like a party magician. “I’m real special. In a useless kind of way.”

“What the…are you a born psychic of some kind?”

Like Hazel Velra?

It was literally the only thing Alden could think of that would fit. But on the other hand, it didn’t fit at all. Psychic powers weren’t part of the standard human makeup. He just assumed Hazel’s uniqueness was because she’d been experimentally enhanced by some really unethical scientist. The Velras didn’t seem like the type to go for purely organic kids.

“I guess you could call it psychic? Makes me feel like I should have bangle bracelets and a crystal ball. But it’s not natural. Or at least I wasn’t born this way. The emotion reading came contemporaneously with my affixation.”

“That is a specific and unusual way to put it.”

Boe’s expression was sardonic. “The System likes to keep Uniques quiet. Our affixations are unusual. And we can get…significant help…with them if we don’t broadcast why we got our powers in a different way from everyone else in the first place. I’ve rejected the additional help so far. I think that’s uncommon, judging by how often the System nags me about it. But I’d rather not completely burn that bridge until I’m certain I’m not going to need to cross it one—holy shit, Alden, your emotions are all over the place! What—?”

“I’m good!” Alden said. He accidentally knocked over the soap dispenser and caught it just before it could fall.

“You are not. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Boe reached a hand out toward him. “Something is seriously—”

Alden whipped around and opened a random cabinet.

Oh my god. So clever. Turning my back to hide my face so that my empathic friend won’t know how I feel.

This was going to take some getting used to. He stared at all the bottles of multicolored coffee flavorings, trying not to think so hard about unusual affixations with unusual System involvement.

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“Maybe you should eat some of the curry?” Boe suggested in a strained voice.

Alden laughed in spite of himself. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be a freak. That came out of nowhere, huh? Now I guess you know how much of a mess the new me can be. Are you all right?”

“Don’t worry about me right now. Is there a subject I should avoid? I will, but I’m not sure what I said.”

“It wasn’t you. Don’t burn the bridge. I’m not sure what kind of ‘significant help’ Earth is offering you, but maybe it’s something you really will need one day. So don’t burn it. Affixations are…they’re super important. So additional help is good. Hey, I finally became a coffee drinker! I make lattes now. With this absurd magic bean machine. Do you want one?”

You’re babbling, Alden.

Just because Boe had something weird going on with his affixations.

It’s not something like mine was. His tone was too casual. And every U-type has something weird going on. Which you knew anyway. It’s not a huge surprise. They’re Uniques for some reason.

Boe let him change the subject at least.

“I’ll take a decaf mocha.”

“Didn’t you tell me once that decaf was for people with untreated heart conditions?”

“I don’t need to be more alert right now. And you definitely don’t.”

Point taken. Alden reached for the bottle of chocolate syrup.

“So…you really can’t turn off the feelings barometer?”

“I really can’t. And you’re really not leaving the apartment even though I told you so.”

“Boe, it’s my apartment. If I wanted to get away from you, I’d kick you out, not run away myself.”

“Don’t. I’ll get arrested.”

Alden turned back to face him. “Are you going to explain that?”

“I can’t tell you how I got my weird powers. But I can tell you what they all are,” Boe said instead of answering. He took another bite of the food. “If you’re interested.”