Page 15 of Homebound
“Here. Your hair is all nice and clean. It should make you feel better. I remember when I arrived at the City, my ankle was badly broken, and I was grieving the loss of my parents and my home. My whole existence just plummeted to rock bottom. It was the worst time of my life. Zeke and I were given that tiny room at my uncle’s house where I now live, and I spent weeks there in bed, unmoving. I was filthy from the trip, and so beat up, with no desire or energy to ever get up again. Finally, Zeke convinced me to take a shower. I’m sure he could no longer stand the smell,” she laughed a little, the suspicion only now entering her mind. Dear Zeke, he had been so patient with her. “He helped me take that shower, actually. I hated accepting his help. The whole experience was terribly undignified. But you know what? I felt a thousand times better. Emotionally, too. Cleansed somehow. And I learned then that sometimes accepting help is alright, especially if it’s freely offered.”
He heard nothing of what she said, of course, but Gemma felt like she had to talk to him. She couldn’t treat him like a wooden post.
She surveyed his clothing again, both shirt and pants threadbare and filthy. With his hair wet, he could catch a cold fast in his dunk cell. She covered him with a blanket again, tucking it around him.
Her gaze fell on the untouched bowl of cold gruel.
“Let’s try it together.”
She took the spoon and brought it to his lips so he can feel it. “Please, open up. Just a little, Simon. You’ll feel better, I promise. Just one little spoon? Yes?”
But no amount of coaxing produced the desired effect: he refused to eat. No, not refused, exactly, but never accepted, never arose from his catatonic state. The proverbial horse that was led to the water but wouldn’t drink.
Dispirited, Gemma dipped her finger into the gruel and pried his lips with it, rubbing some of the gummy porridge on the inside. It didn’t go in but smeared around his mouth and dribbled down his chin. She patiently wiped the mess with the hem of her overcoat and tried again. And again.
And at one point his throat worked, made a swallowing move. She saw it, and a flood of emotions poured into her chest, soft and warm.
“Good deal. We’ll do this again tomorrow.” She wiped her finger and had to put her face into her hands to give herself a moment. “I know you don’t mean to, but you’re driving me crazy, Simon.”
As nourishment went, the amount he took in was minuscule. A kitten wouldn't survive on this little food, but it was better than the nothing he’d been eating for who knew how long.
Gemma quickly gathered her cleaning paraphernalia and returned the bucket to the supplies lady, thanking her again for issuing her this clean one. Rushing back upstairs, she caught up with the last of the prisoners who were in the process of returning to their cells.
“There you are. You had me worried there for a minute,” Ruby grumbled. “Quickly, go make sure everybody is in place and locked up.”
“I’m on it.”
A guard was already ushering the inmates into their cells, and Gemma had to verify the cells were truly theirs, and that they didn’t decide to dick around and switch up. Confirming that everything was fine, she engaged the locks.
Arc the Perali strolled along the corridor to his cell with Arlo watching him from afar. He smiled when he saw Gemma.
“Hello, Gemma.”
“Hi, Number 34. Did you have a pleasant time outside?”
He was quite a bit taller than she, and without the bars separating them, his muscular physique was intimidating.
“I had a whale of a time. A whole hour to share with assholes who hate each other. Imagine the fun.”
He passed Simon’s cell on his way and did a double-take. “Did someone braid the Rix’s hair?”
Just like that, Gemma had Simon’s species name! She went giddy with excitement, even though she knew nothing about the race.
“I did,” she said, suddenly breathless.
Arc paused at the entrance to his cell and his brow puckered. “I’ve never seen one with a braid. Actually, I’ve never seen one with long hair either.”
“You’ve seen many Rix?”
He got in and Gemma locked his door by pressing her hand on the palm reader next to it, just like she did for every cell.
“My fair share. I’m from Lerta, and Rix have a small pad on the west side for shelter landings. I’ve seen them come and go on occasion. Haughty bastards.”
“Haughty?” Gemma repeated.
“Full of themselves. But I guess you can’t help acting like a hardass when you are one.” He looked in the direction of Simon’s cell even though he couldn't see its inhabitant through the wall. “But this one’s so messed up, he can’t act like anything.” He shrugged, switching his attention back to Gemma. “Why don’t you go out to the courtyard next time? Other helpers do.”
Gemma smiled with her polite smile. “It was nice chatting with you, 34.”
