Love Minus Eighty (9 page)

Veronika couldn’t suppress a bray of laughter. “Yeah, definitely not helping himself. He needs to be in a jacket and tie.”

“That’s what I told him.”

A text alert flashed in the corner of Veronika’s vision. She froze when she saw it was from her sister. “Abort. That’s all, I’m finished,” she told the massage drone as she reached for her neatly folded clothes. Something had to toss her out of paradise, didn’t it? God forbid she should have an hour of bliss.

“What’s the matter?” Nathan asked, raising his head, but remaining on the table.

Veronika eyed the message like it was a mine. What the fuck did Jilly want? Hadn’t the phrase
zero contact
been clear enough for Jilly? One of their parents must be sick, or dead. If that was it, would she attend the funeral? No. Death didn’t change anything. So why even open the message? What could be in it that wouldn’t cause her pain?

Nathan stopped his drone and sat up. “What is it? You look like someone died.”

“Someone may have,” she muttered. If she didn’t open it, she’d wonder and wonder until she had no choice but to open it just to break the cycle of guesses and speculation spinning in her head.

So she opened it.

It was an invitation to her nephew’s second birthday party, on the roof of her parents’ condo building. The attached message from Jilly was short and to the point.
Please come.

Growling in anger, Veronika deleted it.

“Come on,” Nathan said, waving his hand in a beckoning motion. “Let’s hear it.”

“My sister invited me to her son’s birthday party.”

“I didn’t know she had a son.”

“Neither did I.” Although that was a lie. One weak and
lonely night, Veronika had checked up on Jilly and Sander, hoping to discover they’d divorced. Not that she would take Sander back if they divorced, but it would have been comforting to discover they weren’t living happily together. Evidently they were.

“What are you going to do?”

Veronika gaped at him. “What do you mean, what am I going to do?”

Nathan shrugged. “You have a choice: you can go, or not go. If you don’t go, you have another choice: tell Jilly you’re not going, or ignore the invitation.”

“Thanks. I understand the basics of human social interaction.” All she’d asked is for Jilly to leave her the fuck alone. Evidently even that was too hard.

“I think you should go,” Nathan said.

Veronika’s hands balled into fists, totally on their own. “Are you insane?” She waited for a response, but Nathan just looked at her. “That should be
my
child.
I
should be planning a birthday party, not Jilly.”

“Do you even want kids?”

“Yes I want kids. Why would you think I wouldn’t want kids? I love kids.” She was shouting; she could hear she was shouting, but seemed unable to control the volume, just like she was unable to unclench her fists.

Nathan held up his hands, like a boxer trying to stop the fight. “I’m not saying your sister is right and you’re wrong. She was wrong. You were right. But Vee, you’ve let her drive a wedge between you and your parents. You’ve let her steal your parents as well as your fiancé.”

“My family drove that wedge, not just her. They condoned what she did.” Still shouting. She took a huffing breath. This had been such a perfect afternoon.

Nathan let his head droop for a moment, then he lifted it. “I think ‘condoned’ is a little strong. They tolerated it.”

Veronika sputtered, words escaping her.

“I never bring this up, because I know it’s a painful topic for you, but just for a minute, try to step back from it.”

“I don’t want to step back from it. You think I’m the one who’s being unreasonable, don’t you?”

Nathan waved his hands, shaking his head emphatically. “Let’s drop this. I didn’t mean to suggest I was on their side. It’s none of my business; I should have kept my mouth shut.”

Fighting back tears, Veronika lunged forward and hugged Nathan fiercely, feeling his bare chest and belly against her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

She felt Nathan nod, his chin brushing the top of her head.

“But I can’t go. Even if you’re right, I can’t sit there while Jilly and Sander cuddle with the son that should have been mine while my parents beam.”

Another nod. “That’s a perfectly understandable sentiment.” Over Nathan’s shoulder, Veronika watched the drones, who were watching them, waiting for instructions.

“What if I went with you?” Nathan asked.

Veronika stepped back, mildly stunned as she reeled out the implications of his suggestion. What if he went with her? No one in her family knew Nathan, or knew she hadn’t been out with anyone since Sander betrayed her. She didn’t have to show up as the lonely loser she was—she could make a grand entrance, turn everyone’s head, turn Jilly lime green.

“Would you act like I’m the most fabulous woman you’ve ever seen?”

Nathan opened his mouth, feigning surprise. “You
are
the most fabulous woman I’ve ever seen.”

“No, really. The only way I could stand to be there is if it
looks like Jilly did me a favor by stealing Sander. If I showed up totally flash, a gorgeous guy on my arm…” The image in Veronika’s mind set her heart racing. She grasped Nathan’s arm at the biceps and squeezed. “You’d really do yourself up? Be utterly gorgeous? Charm the living shit out of everyone in sight?”

Nathan spread his palms, flashed that gorgeous grin. “Lead me to the fray.”

Oh, this was going to be magnificent.

It was their fifth or sixth date in just a few weeks, and they’d been talking about Tarrytown, Mira’s hometown, which Lycan had visited, or not exactly physically visited but had seen by opening some sort of remote portal, if Mira was understanding him correctly. Her parents’ house was gone, but the lighthouse was still there, and the park where Mira had broken her arm doing a backflip. Mira had grown fond of Lycan, which was a good thing, because the only thing she ever saw was Lycan’s face. He was her life, such as it was.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Lycan said.

“What is it?” Mira asked.

He looked off into the room, sighed heavily. “I’ve never enjoyed a woman’s company as much as yours. I’m afraid you won’t want to see me again, after I tell you what I have to tell you.”

Mira tried to imagine what this man could possibly say that would lead her to choose being dead over his
company. “I’m sure that won’t happen, whatever it is. You can trust me.”

Lycan put his hand over his eyes. His chest hitched. Mira made gentle shushing sounds, the sort of sounds her mother had never made. “It’s okay,” she cooed. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

Lycan finally looked at her, his eyes red. “I really like you, Mira. I might even love you. But I lied to you. I’m not a rich man. I’m well-off, enough to afford these visits, but not the kind of rich where I can afford to revive you. Not even if I sold everything I owned.”

She hadn’t realized how much hope she was harboring until it was dashed. A black despair overtook her and swelled until even the room seemed to darken. “Please. You have to get me out of here.”

“Mira, I can’t. We’re talking millions and millions of dollars.” He whispered the amount, as if it were too obscene to say aloud.

She wanted to cry, but no tears would come, her chest wouldn’t respond. She was left with nothing to express the rising panic she felt except a gargling sound in the back of her throat. “I can’t stand this. I can’t be here any longer.” She looked at Lycan, who looked away, ashamed. “You have to get me out of here.
Please.
” She was blowing it, driving Lycan away with her hysteria. She knew that, but the words poured out anyway.

Lycan covered his face with his hands again. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I did a terrible thing, raising your hopes.” He let his hands drop. “It’s just that I was so
lonely
.”

The women here must all be kind to him, must hang on his every word in the hope that he’d choose them and free them
from their long sleep. Where else would a man like Lycan get that sort of attention?

“But now I see how selfish I’ve been. I’m disgusting.” He swallowed thickly, shook his head. “Do you know, I’ve tried half a dozen social-anxiety stabilizers? But they all make my depression worse.” He laughed humorlessly. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? There’s always a catch, always a cost that’s too steep.”

The self-hatred in his tone, the flatness in his eyes, shocked her. It was as if he’d suddenly undergone a complete personality change. He’d been coming to this place to escape the man he was in the real world, she realized. He was dropping the pretense now, and he would never be able to face her again.

“I’d miss you terribly if you stopped visiting me,” she said. The truth was if Lycan didn’t visit, Mira would be incapable of missing anyone. No one else was visiting, or likely to stumble upon her among the army of bridesicles lined shoulder-to-shoulder in boxes in this endless mausoleum.

Lycan wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I’m sorry, Mira. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done.”

“Lycan, please—” was all she could get out as he reached above her.

It was stupid, but Rob found himself hurrying to get to Winter’s crèche. For months he’d been rehearsing follow-ups to their previous conversation—new, more upbeat lines of conversation. Mostly, though, he’d agonized over the months that had passed since he last visited her. Pressure had been building in his chest from the moment he made his promise, and this visit would release that pressure. Or some of it, at least.

He understood that Winter was beyond time, beyond impatience as she waited for an opportunity to live for a few minutes. What concerned him was that someone else had waked her since his last visit. If so, she would have asked this visitor how long she’d been dead, and when she heard it had been months, she’d assume Rob had lied, that he told her what she wanted to hear and slunk off to enjoy his life. He didn’t want her to think that, even for five minutes.

On the other hand, he had no idea what they were going to say to each other. That part made him nervous, which was
why he’d been rehearsing possible things to say while he’d plucked color-coded bits of technology from century-old husks for the past four months.

The seat was waiting for him, as usual. Squeezing his hands together, he waited while the crèche rolled out of the wall.

Winter’s eyes fluttered open. The timer began to roll. It was unfair that the timer began as soon as Winter was conscious; it would be fifteen or twenty seconds before she was lucid. He would pay about five hundred dollars during that time.

“You came back,” Winter said.

“Of course. I promised.”

They looked at each other, the seconds ticking away.

“I wanted to say again how sorry I am. If it’s any consolation, there hasn’t been a moment since it happened that I haven’t been miserable.”

Winter bit her lip thoughtfully. The gesture made her look more animated, almost alive for a moment. “How can I put this? That you’re miserable doesn’t make me feel better. What does make me feel better is knowing someone will wake me from time to time. If you do that, then there’s no need for you to be miserable. Fair enough?”

Rob nodded, though he wasn’t sure it was that simple.

“Is there anything I can update you on that you’d enjoy? The news, your favorite interactives? Your profile said you’re a Cubs fan—do you want to hear how they’re doing?”

“
No
,” Winter said. If she were capable of shouting, Rob thought she would have shouted it. “I can’t put the ‘why’ into words, but, no.” She thought about it. “I don’t want to be reminded that the world is moving on, that time is passing.”

There was something unsettling about her face, and Rob finally realized what it was. She didn’t blink.

“How much time
has
passed?” she asked.

“Four months.” He felt guilty admitting it had taken him that long.

“Though someone woke me a month after your last visit, so three months.”

Rob raised his eyebrows. “Oh?” He knew the odds of any one bridesicle being chosen for repair and revival were long, so he hadn’t dared hope.

“My ex-boyfriend.” Her eyes moved stiffly up, then down. She may have been trying to roll her eyes. “He broke up with me the day of my accident. Evidently he feels guilty now that I’m dead.”

“
He
feels guilty?” Rob looked toward the ceiling, shook his head.

“I asked him to visit once in a while as well. Nathan promised he would.”

Rob nodded. If someone else visited, maybe it would be all right for Rob to visit less often. He wondered if the guy really would, and if Winter knew how much it cost to visit. He glanced at the timer: almost two minutes gone.

“Do you want to pass along a message to anyone? I can make sure it reaches them.”

“No, thanks. My parents are dead, and I don’t want to upset my friends.”

“You don’t have brothers or sisters?”

“I have a brother, but you wouldn’t be able to find him. He’s a raw-lifer, way out in the wild.”

Rob nodded understanding. One of his favorite interactives was a raw-life show. You had to figure out how to make new shoes when your old ones wore out while also trying to learn how to avoid dead spots and people who weren’t living way out in the ruins by choice.

There was a date going on nearby, maybe one level down.
Rob couldn’t quite hear their words, but the murmuring was distracting.

“I wish I could see the sky. Trees.”

“There’s a window down there.” Rob looked over his shoulder at the picture window down the hall. It looked out on the tops of gorgeous hybrid cypress yaupons.

“I can’t see it.” She couldn’t turn her head at all. He wasn’t allowed to touch her to turn her head, and surveillance cameras were monitoring them. He wasn’t sure he could bring himself to touch her even if he’d been allowed.

“It feels like my head is a block of stone,” she said. “All I can feel is my face.”

Rob nodded, not sure how to respond.

“Tell me something happy,” Winter said. “Something warm. I don’t want to think about my life.” When she saw Rob struggling, she added, “What do you love to do?”