Page 61 of Owning His Pet
“Smart,” I say.
“Do you have the funds to get those materials?”
I do have some money, though it wasn’t obtained in a legal way. Alara dropped me on the other side of the galaxy with nothing. Not even a pair of underwear. I’ve been working my way toward Mara’s colony for weeks, laboring on ships and taking money fights. I’ve got about enough to buy a patch of land, too. From her father’s perspective, I’m just the same as every other pioneer-minded man who lands here.
“I reckon I do, sir, and if I don’t, I’ll work until I do.”
“You need some labor work, you can get in touch,” he says. “I know most of everyone around here. Just make sure you keep your hands off my girl until there’s wedding rings being exchanged.”
I cock my head to the side, and lift my tone so I sound curious in an innocent way.
“Why are you so sure I am interested in your daughter?”
He gives me a flat look. “I saw her walk you to the tractor, and I saw you all go behind it. Don’t do that again unless you’ve got a house to offer her.”
“Understood,” I say, giving him a small salute.
“There’s plenty of good men around here, and she’s a good woman. I won’t be giving her away to anybody who doesn’t deserve her. You can be sure of that.”
“I understand, sir,” I say.
“You’ve still got all your fingers too,” he says. “You should be grateful for that, because I’m not sure you deserve ‘em.”
“I will do my best to earn my fingers, sir,” I say. I am enjoying this exchange, even with its violent, threatening undertones. I like this man. I think he likes me too.
* * *
I think about that interaction as I leave. He didn’t ask me a lot of questions about myself, really. But he seemed to come to a decision anyway. Interesting how that happened. A lot of human interaction is done in the spaces between words. Especially where men are concerned. You get sized up in an instant.
I really thought that I was going to have a hard time dealing with the basics of the human experience, being surrounded by limited beings who do not know how to properly live. But now that I find myself immersed in their world, I am surprised by their sophistication. There is more in the subtleties of their communication than I would have ever imagined.
I go away with the intention of doing as he says, more or less. I do need a home to bring her to. He’s right on that. I want it tobe a place she will feel at home. I want to reclaim my pet. I want to house her well. I want to have her by my side for the rest of our lives. There is a lot to be done before that happens. The days of swinging into a reality then abandoning it a moment later are over. I have to stay here and build in the old-fashioned way. Nothing will form itself around my desire simply because I have it.
I place the order for lumber with Mr. Bones. He is glad to take my money, and Mr. Gut takes almost all the rest. I find myself with a reason to go back to Mara’s father and petition him for some work.
“You’ve got a younger back than I do,” he says. “You can help shift and strip engines.”
“That sounds good to me, sir.”
He wastes no time in putting me to work. This is a man who has more ideas than he has time to execute them. His inventory is vast, and held in containers that used to be used for shipping freight when the original colony was settled. They’re big, corrugated iron structures that sound hollow when you bang the walls, and have an eerie echo about them. I’ve never been unsettled before. In my previous existence as a free Psyon, nothing scared me because I knew what everything was. Now I can be surprised. It’s a fun little bonus.
As I work, I am aware of the fact that Mara is watching me. I can feel her gaze on the back of my neck like a physical force. I pretend not to know that her eyes are running all over me while I work. I wear a singlet that keeps things modest the way the colony likes, but gives me range of motion and something to sop up the sweat I perspire while working with my hands.
If Alara could see me now, I am sure she’d consider me well punished. I am filthy with grease, have blisters on my fingers and palms of my hands, and my stomach is growling with hunger. But I am also satisfied. The act of taking mechanical things apart and cleaning them before itemizing them, oiling them, and reassembling them is satisfying in a way I would not have previously understood if someone was trying to explain it to me.
“Mara! Make us up something to eat before the big blue boy faints,” her father calls.
I look at him sharply.
“Blue?”
“Your overalls are blue,” he says, so deadpan I don’t know if he’s really referring to the overalls, or if he’s making a comment about something he really shouldn’t be able to see.
Mara can see me for who I am, I think. At least, partially. Most humans won’t. I might be banished from the home realm, but I still have the ability to cloak myself in appropriate garb, including the aspects of my face, skin, and hair visible to those who look at me. I am still myself. Alara could not take the fundamentals of my being away. All she could do is banish me from a shared space.
For now.
Maybe forever.
