CHAPTERSEVEN
Bela
The meal set out before us, while completely unfamiliar, is flavorful, and Nita and I eat everything that was offered. Skylar mostly picks at hers, which adds to my belief she must have lived a very comfortable, and sheltered, life. I’m willing to bet she’s never been truly hungry, or ever wondered when her next meal might be.
I look at Nita over my bowl and catch her rolling her eyes at Skylar. I suspect Nita and I both have far more in common than just being abducted. I see a lot of similarities in her, in fact. The same way she watches everything that goes on around her. The way she eats everything she’s offered regardless of what it looks like, because she’s known hunger—real hunger—the same way I have.
I can’t fault Skylar for being raised differently than I was though. It’s hard sometimes. It’s not her fault that, when I was her age, I was working two jobs and going to school in order to keep food in the pantry and the power on.
Shaking that unpleasant memory from my mind, I sit back.
“What do you think of all of this?” Nita asks quietly without looking at me. She’s taking in the room while Cybele and the blue-haired Elara talk quietly between themselves.
“I don’t think it’s sunk in yet.” I’m still trying to come to terms with being taken from Earth and the wholealiens are realthing.
“You know what’s funny?” Nita begins, letting out a mirthless snort. “My mother always told me I’d end up as a whore someday.”
My jaw drops. “How is that funny?” What an awful thing for a mother to say! Although my own mom said her share of awful things to me too, usually in regard to not working hard enough to pull my weight when the power company sent threatening letters. Or all we had was a jar of spaghetti sauce and noodles for the third time in a week.
Nita dismisses my concern with a wave. “She was a fucking bitch and always hated me. Like it wasmyfault she got knocked up at fourteen. Myabuelamostly raised me.”
“That’s your grandmother, right?” I ask and Nita nods. “I never knew my grandparents.” Both my mother’s parents were gone before my sister and I were born, and my dad was never in the picture. I’m not even sure my mom ever told him, or knew who he was. Thinking of my sister sends a stab of pain under my ribs.
“How many people did you leave behind?” Nita asks me quietly.
“None.” I watch Skylar push a pea-like vegetable around her plate. When I look up, I ask, “You?”
Her mouth is pinched, and she’s looking down at her hands. “My kids and their worthless sperm donor. My mom too, I guess. None of them will miss me, though.”
I want to tell her that I don’t believe no one will miss her, but I don’t really know her well enough to be able to make that kind of statement.
“My ex took my kids when we split. My youngest wasn’t even two when I found out what a lying cheater he was, and so I left his ass. His family’s got money, though, so he could afford lawyers and shit. My family ain’t got nothin’. He wanted me to stay home, you know, raise the kids up right.
“So when I left, all I could find was work as a damn waitress and barely made enough to support us. He threatened to take me to court; fucker knew I couldn’t afford that. He got me to believe the kids would be better with him until I got on my feet. But the asshole turned them against me. Told them I didn’t care about them; that’s why they lived with him.
“Then he wouldn’t let me have them. Wouldn’t let me see them. Every time I tried, he refused but told them it was me. That I’d turned my back on them.
“When I finally saved up enough money to get a lawyer to try to get them back, it was too late. It had been too long, and my kids didn’t want nothing to do with me.”
“That’s awful,” I say, shaking my head. “I can’t believe he got away with that.”
“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, “that and worse happens to others.”
Yeah, I knew that. I’d seen it often enough.
“Have you eaten your fill?” Cybele asks as she begins to gather the empty plates.
All three of us nod. When Skylar hands her a barely touched plate, Cybele frowns but stays quiet. Once everything has been cleaned up and put back on the cart, she gets to her feet.
“Alright, might as well get this next thing over with,” Cybele mutters and then reaches under the cart for a basket. “This is best done by the tub.”
Cybele gets almost half way across the room before she realizes none of us have moved.
“Well? Come on,” she says.
We still don’t move.
“What are you planning to do over there?” Nita speaks up.
