I liked the way he looked—strong and wiry and healthy and brown, striding as though there were springs in his legs.
“You will have to talk to your first,” Preston said.
I glanced up at him, startled.
“You don’t want them fighting or competing with one another in ways that make the rest of you miserable. Each must find a way to accept the other. Each must find a way to accept the other’s relationship with you. You must help them do this.”
I sighed.
The young man came up to me, towering over me, smiling down.
“Shori Matthews, this is Joel Harrison,” Preston said. “I believe the two of you will be very good for one another.”
“Thank you,” I said to him. And to Joel, “Welcome.”
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Joel said. Slowly, deliberately, he extended his arm, wrist up, clearly not so that we could shake hands.
I laughed, took the hand, kissed his wrist, and said to him, “Later.”
“Date,” he said. “Is there room for me over here?”
“There’s room.”
“I’ll get my stuff.”
I watched him walk away, then said to Preston, “He smells wonderful.”
Preston crooked his mouth in something less than a smile. “Yes. He’s been told that, I’m afraid. Be good to each other.”
He had started to walk away from me when I stopped him. “Preston, do you know whether I had my own family of symbionts before … before the fire?”
He looked back. “Of course you did. You can’t remember them at all?”
“Not at all.”
“Good.”
I stared at him.
“Child … you have no idea how much it hurts when they die. And you’ve lost all of yours. All seven. If you remembered them, the pain would be overwhelming … unbearable.”
“But they were mine, and I don’t recall their scents or their tastes or the sounds of their voices or even their names.”
“Good,” Preston repeated softly. “Let them rest in peace, Shori. Actually, that’s all you can do.” He walked slowly away to the house Joel had gone into. I watched him go, wondering how many symbionts he had lost over the years, over the centuries.
The sun was rising now and growing bright enough to be uncomfortable even through the low clouds. I went back inside and found Celia frying frozen sausages from the refrigerator.
“How are you?” I asked.
“I’m good,” she said. “How about you? You didn’t hurt me, but you filled up on me, didn’t you?”
“I did.” I looked at the sausages. “Do you need more food? You can get things from one of the other houses.” That felt right. No one here would wonder why a symbiont needed to eat well.
“Some butter?” she asked. “There are frozen waffles in the refrigerator, and there’s syrup in the cupboard—good maple syrup—but no butter.”
“Go to the house next door and tell whoever answers that you’re with me. If they don’t have what you want, they’ll tell you who does.”
She nodded. “Okay. Don’t let my sausages burn.” And she ran off to the nearest house, introduced herself, and asked not only for butter, but for fresh fruit and milk as well. I listened while turning her sausages. Wright hadn’t managed to teach me to cook, but he had cooked food around me often enough for me to be able to keep pork sausage from burning. The symbiont who answered Celia just said sure, introduced herself as Jill Renner, put the things Celia wanted into a bag, and told her to have a good breakfast. Celia thanked her and brought them back to the guest-house kitchen. Brook came in just then, and she dove right into the bag, took out a banana, and began to peel and eat it.
“A new symbiont will be coming in sometime soon,” I told her. “Offer him breakfast, would you?”
“Ooh,” Brook said. “Him?”
“Damn,” Celia said and sighed. “See, now here’s where I don’t envy you guys. You’re going to go upstairs and kick that nice hairy man of yours right in his balls, aren’t you? A new man already! Damn.”
“Keep the new guy down here until I come back,” I said.
I left them and went up to talk to Wright.
Wright had showered and was shaving. There was another sink in the bathroom—one that had a chair in front of it and a large low mirror with lights around it. I sat down in the chair and watched him shave before a similar, higher mirror. He had collected his electric razor from his cabin when we stopped there and was using it now to sweep his whiskers away quickly and easily.