Free Triptych by J.M. Frey

safe and happy, and then it would just happen again, wouldn’t it?
    Or…
    Evvie pinched the bridge of her nose. This was complicated.
    When Gwen came back to the table, her mug steaming again, she took a sip and contemplated what to say next.
    She settled on: “We were doing good work .” It looked like she wanted to say more, say something else, say something (personal) important. Instead she went on with her story: “There weren’t many of them, see, so it was easy — they settled in Canada mostly, or in European countries; communities used to people who are different coming in and setting up camp. To immigration. We taught them how to use zippers, which side of the road to drive on, social etiquette, street slang. We taught them that baring your teeth is considered polite, not a threat — a smile. Kalp thought I was doing some strange tuneless singing the first time he heard me laugh. It gave him goose bumps because…oh, you know, they hear with their skin, sort of like…uh, echo locations and — and it’s actually kinda thrilling when they touch you and…you know what? Never mind.”
    She pinked a bit, shy and feminine under the military shell.
    “They taught us how to build vehicles that run on solar power, how to predict major earthquakes up to seven months before they’re going to hit, the best way to throw a curveball and shoot a slapshot. How to form a cohesive family unit. How to get over our piddling gender issue bullshit; the countries that hadn’t legalized same-gender marriages wised up fast.” Another quick and guilty eye flick. “But the Institute, that’s where I met Basil. He was trying to reverse engineer a sort of mechanical wind-surfer and kept futzing the directions because he couldn’t read all of the alphabet. They sent him to my office and… God , he was an asshole . I actually dreaded the days he was scheduled with me. Then one day he asked me to translate this really dirty poem he’d found and…I guess I just liked his laugh.”
    She blushed again, the same shy pink that let Evvie know that there was still a woman under the academic patter, the regimented brusqueness. Evvie sipped her tea and said nothing, afraid that whatever came out of her mouth would be (prejudiced) ridiculous.
    So much that Evvie couldn’t follow.
    “Then they sent us Kalp — he was an engineer, too — and we all met at the Institute. They made us into a research team, but Kalp thought it was…like, some cultural arranged marriage thing…so he kept touching …It was a huge disaster.” The corners of her eyes crinkled a bit. “Kalp couldn’t understand why I was so angry that he was trying to dance with Basil. On their planet it’s in threes. Makes it easier, because how can two people possibly raise a child alone without sleep deprivation and going broke, or nuts? He didn’t quite understand that here we…he was so… innocent. So sincere. He was so good for us. It was too perfect.” Her pale eyes flashed with sudden bleak fire. “I’m such an idiot. ”
    She trailed off, and Evvie tried to swallow her heart. Gwen’s gaze roamed up the wall opposite, dark and shaded and once again unreadable. No, not unreadable; just used to being judged.
    Both of them?
    Oh, God.
    Evvie wanted to say no, and that’s disgusting ; she wanted to, but she could see the pain in Gwen’s eyes, see that she had loved him, missed him, even as she hated him.
    Can the world stay the same, after aliens show up and your best friend tells you to “look”?
    “He was… it was…it was nice, really nice. Our time together.” One hand stole down, fingers spread and then curling over her belly. Then they snatched up, back to the table top, to her hair, along the scar, then to pat her hair down over the thin white mark, and back to the side of the mug, heavy with guilt and sorrow, and then anger for feeling those. “There was opposition, of course, there’s always opposition. But it’s the