Page 101 of The Lottery

And I am hers.

Forever.

* * *

Over the next few days, we begin discovering the rhythm of our lives together. We no longer sneak kisses in the shadows, but rather find each other in the room we share and fall into our bed.

As our relationship becomes more open, we venture into the land plotted off for development and look at the lot that will become our home. It is near the ocean, covered in the trees and stones that will be used to construct our new dwelling. We share our vision, discuss our future, then return to our suite aboard the ship and make love for hours.

The passion cannot be quelled. Our thirst for each other unquenchable.

If another man claimed to have the sex life I currently enjoy, I would label him a liar. Yet every day, this is my reality with Azalea.

At night, I sleep more soundly than ever before in my life. Azalea’s warm body stays locked in my arms from the moment we finish our lovemaking until we wake the next morning. Neither of us barely moves in our sleep, so content are we in this embrace.

* * *

While it is still early, Azalea and I take the rover south, where she has been working daily on seeding new crops. As we drive, she tells me, as she does every morning, of her work with the crew, of how they have begun to plant spinach and kale and collards. Vegetables that can survive the winter. Even though we are farming closer to the equator where it is warmer, Mars is still a colder place than Earth. “Once the greenhouses are set up,” she says, “we’ll have a lot more freedom around what we can grow.” She chuckles, buzzing with a contagious energy as she talks. I love seeing Azalea in her element, love the light in her eyes when she talks about dirt. “Lana’s been begging me for some grapes, even potatoes, anything she can make some alcohol with.”

I laugh, pressing on the break as we arrive at our destination. Astrid meets us at the rover, dressed in brown overalls and wearing leather gloves. She has been aiding with some of the greenhouse construction. I imagine this work must feel rudimentary to her, after helping design and build a spaceship, but she seems to enjoy it nonetheless.

“We’re out of pesticide,” says the chief engineer.

Azalea hops down from the rover, and I follow suit, my gaze glued to her and what she wears, tight blue jeans and a red flannel button-up that stands out in the snow-speckled earth. “That went faster than we hoped.” She frowns. We should have had supplies for months. But when our cargo crashed into the water, we were left with weeks. “Let me think…” My brilliant botanist rubs her chin, her eyes crinkling with passion as she scans the tiled fields. “Sulfur. We can use sulfur. It’s effective against both fungi and insects.”

Astrid nods. “We’ll need to mine some.” She pauses. “I’ll have to ask Declan for help.” The women exchange a brief look, unspoken words passing between them, before the engineer quickly runs off, rejoining crew members who are laying down wooden foundations.

I wrap my arms around Azalea from the back, whispering in her ear. “It seems there is something she is not saying.”

Azalea smiles at me teasingly. “Don’t worry. We’re not keeping secrets from you.” She shrugs. “Astrid doesn’t like dealing in the unpredictable, I think. Lana says she tends to over analyze. Just like someone else I know.” She winks at me, then grabs my hand and guides me forward. We pass a few people who nod as we go by, and the joy of living transparently hits me harder than I expected.

I have never gained pleasure from being deceitful. Lies fester and tear people apart, while the truth sets us all free.

I am free now.

Azalea and I are free, and the feeling is blissful.

“Here,” she says, guiding me past a hole someone is digging for a well. “Let me show you where we’re planting the parsnips and–” She freezes. Her breath becomes a quiet whisper. “Marek. Look…”

I follow her finger, looking to the edge of the forest.

A white hare lands in a heap of snow.

Azalea raises two fists, hopping from foot to foot with a pure joy she can scarcely contain. “It’s a bunny. A giant bunny. Marek, can you believe it? It’s so cute.”

I suspect she finds my response underwhelming. Yes. It is a bunny. It is a little larger than average, likely due to Mars’ lesser gravity, but still a bunny. A sight I have seen many times growing up on a farm. Still, this is a new farm. A new land. A new planet.

The possibilities are endless, and that brings a smile to my face.

The hare leaps away, gaining immense height with every jump as it disappears into the forest, and Azalea drops her arms, slouching, her eyes sad.

I sigh. “I need to return. There are a host of people waiting to speak to me. Or, more accurately, ask something of me.” They alway do.

“I know,” she says, a playful grin on her face. “It’s like being married to the president.”

“Married? You move quickly, Dr. Clark.”

She shrugs. “Gotta lock you down before you meet an actual Martian with three boobs and sex tentacles.”

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