Page 91 of Homebound
“Well, this. The kissing part.”
“You didn't like it?”
“That’s not what I meant.” She tried to choose her words carefully. “I caught you at a moment when you were resting. I didn’t give you a choice. I shouldn't have touched you without your consent.”
His impenetrable expression was making her uneasy.
She slowly pushed herself away from his lap and stood up.
Simon also rose from the chair and went to stand with his back to her, looking in the direction of the derelict railroad wagons and spaceship carcasses sprinkled over by a thin layer of snow.
She admired his posture from behind noting for the first time how straight he held his back, firm yet not stiff. He seemed to have a habit of standing with feet apart at shoulder width and both hands crossed at the small of his back. Gemma guessed the posture was a result of some kind of extensive military training, which, combined with his ability to wield a plumbing pipe like a machete, was a fairly obvious conclusion.
“You’re talking about today,” Simon said without turning. She could see his breath in the cold as he spoke. “But you’ve touched me before. You’ve been touching me since the moment you found me.”
“That’s different!”
“Is it?”
“Of course!” He put her on the defensive. “You were sick and you needed care, and yes, I have a compassionate nature. I wasn’t… it wasn’t like I wanted to kiss you then, it never entered my mind. I simply wanted you to get better… for you not to be so alone… ”
She trailed off, shaken by what he was making her realize. From the get-go, she’d singled him out, a male of a species completely unfamiliar to her. And the truth was, she couldn’t keep her hands off of him. She washed him, fed him, and brushed his hair, petting him in a thousand different ways. Because at the very first time she’d laid eyes on this perplexing, foreign creature, the heavy load of loneliness had lifted from her shoulders.
“If I didn’t want to be touched, you wouldn't have been touching me,” he said quietly. “Not then, and certainly not now.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I wish I never met you!”
His head whipped around so fast it scared her. He moved like a snake; she could hardly track him.
“Why?” he demanded to know.
“You can’t miss what you don’t know. And now I know… ” She was crying for earnest now and her tears appeared to fascinate him.
She wiped them angrily with her mitten. “Rix don’t cry, do they?”
He shook his head, his eyes hot on her face.
“Stupid aliens,” she mumbled, which only succeeded in amusing him.
“That overactive mind of yours has been at work again.”
“Yes,” she sniffed, defiant.
“You can’t miss what isn’t gone,” he pointed out.
“But it can’t last.” Gemma stomped her foot, feeling contrary and desperate for things to be different. “There’s no future for you and me. Us.”
His firm mouth softened and the curved eyebrows rose above his large eyes.
“Why do you always say words that make no sense?” he chided gently. “What future is there except you and me? Us?”
Chapter 22
The atmosphere at the McKinley household had grown depressing. Following Uncle Drexel’s poor prognosis as breadwinner and Leena’s misfortune with her seamstress training Aunt Herise, already worried about money, had gone completely off the rails with her preoccupation with the family’s dwindling reserves.
“If things go well, the boys may have to quit school early. We have plenty of eggs. The yogurt I make is better than any you can find. If we cut back on breakfast,” she glanced meaningfully at Gemma, “there will be enough leftovers to offer for sale at the market. The boys can take turns manning the stand.”
“Aunt Herise, they are only nine,” Gemma ventured carefully. “It’s hard for young children to conduct monetary transactions. They can be taken advantage of. Not to mention the fights and violence that can occur at any time.”
