Verity
The next morning Verity awoke to the utter silence of Chance’s apartment. Unlike her place, there was no road traffic on the 23rd floor, and no screaming neighbors too angry, too high, or more than likely both, to care who heard them.
She rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty, and for a moment, a wave of disappointment washed over her like the incoming tide. But the mud and snails at the sea floor sucked her into their muck, covering her with its filth as she remembered why she hadn’t been sleeping next to Chance. She wanted the comfort of his warm muscular body, but instead, she got the memory of the hard look in his eyes the night before.
“Ahem,” Imogen whispered, pulling Verity’s attention out of the sinkhole her heart was disappearing into. She had on a patchworn skirt made of denim and thick cotton pants and one of Chance’s t-shirts, tucked in primly at the waist.
“What do you think?” Imogen turned in a circle showing off her masterpiece.
“I didn’t think it could be done, but somehow you are the perfect blend of Ecovangelist and Cyn City. You look fabulous, is that more comfortable?”
“Oh yes, so much better. I almost feel presentable again!”
Verity dressed quickly but stopped before reaching the bedroom door. “Is Chance here?”
“He’s still sleeping. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“No, I will, but—not yet.”
“Okay. Should we wake him?”
Verity shook her head, tears she thought had dried out the night before teetered on the edge of her lashes. “No, I’ll—I’ll talk to him later. Let’s get something to eat, something hot to drink, and a little fresh air.”
“Do they make fresh air here?”
Verity chuckled, “I guess they keep it all in the skycity, but sometimes, if you stand really still, you can smell the ocean over the fumes of alcohol and trash, and that’s kind of wonderful.”
“I’ve never seen the ocean.”
“Me either. One day, we should go.” Verity grabbed her bag and made sure she had the keys to lock up Chance’s apartment when she left. She didn’t plan on coming back.
They tiptoed through the main room past Chance’s giant sleeping body splayed across the too small couch. Verity’s heart speed up. She wanted to wake him, hold him, have him tell her it would all be okay. But it never would be. They’d killed a man, and he’d done it for her. She couldn’t look at him without remembering her shame.
Out on the street, the two women walked arm and arm until they reached the main thoroughfare. Bicyclists and street venders swarmed the old sidewalks and wide street, leaving pathways for shoppers to wander through and still see everything available for purchase.
“Keep your bag over your shoulder and under your arm,” Verity said, spotting one of the many street kids flitting between groups of customers browsing the various wares.
“Why?”
“Imogen, you are my dearest friend, but look around you. These streets are crawling with pickpockets, scammers, and kids looking for handouts. This is how they make their living, and you’re either one of them, or you’re a rube. You have to pick which side of the line you’re gonna be on.”
“Rube?” Imogen stopped walking next to the coffee vender, they’d been heading toward. “Verity, you can’t let yourself think like that. You’re losing yourself here. Not just the clothes and the cyborgs but the way you look at life. You used to always see the possibilities.”
“There aren’t any other possibilities. Not in Cyn City.”
“I think you’re wrong, and I think it’s coloring how you see things. Stop staring down at the puddles and look up. These vender carts are beautiful, covered in bright colors and look, that one has skeins of beautiful fabric we can go pick through, and that one has food and is covered with wind chimes. There’s a magic about this place, but you’ve stopped seeing it. All you see is the darkness.”
Imogen ordered two coffees, paid with some of the credits Chance had given her, and dropped one coin into the tip jar, much to the toothless man who served her’s delight. She was soon surrounded by children, looking for handouts.
“See? You picked rube.”
Imogen laughed and shooed the children away, holding the coffee cups and her purse up in the air where the urchins couldn’t reach. “I chose joy, and I’m none-the-poorer for it.”
Verity chewed on the inside of her cheek before taking her coffee and following her best friend toward the fabric vendor. They touched and oohhed over silk and clonewool they couldn’t afford but found a few nice synthblends that would make the beginning of a nice wardrobe for Imogen, and even some black to help expand Verity’s work attire options. Imogen frowned disapprovingly but kept her mouth shut.
After a few hours of shopping for food for her apartment and other necessities, they ordered Jerk Patties and sat on one of the rusted metal benches near the park.
“Do you really think I’ve changed that much?” Verity asked just as Imogen stuffed the dough covered patty into her mouth.
She coughed at the spicy flavor and shook her head, her eyes watering. “What the hell is this?” She took a deep swig of water from the bottle they’d brought with them.
“Jerk protein patties. The spices cover up the flavor of the protein mash. Trust me, you’re better off burning your tongue off than tasting it without spices, and you need the calories. So do I.”
Imogen took another swig of water. “I don’t think you’ve changed that much. You still took care of me without question, and you care about Chance even though we’ve always been taught not to trust cyborgs.”
“I don’t want to talk about Chance.”
“Ok, you don’t have to, but you know, he’s not going to just let you go. He’s as madly in love with you as you are with him.”
“I’m not in love with him.”
“And I’m Saint Vogel.”
Verity laughed. You do look good with chaff between your teeth!”
The girls giggled and wandered the streets some more, and Verity enjoyed getting to show her friend a little bit more of the parts of the city she loved. The freedom. The choices.
But in the back of her mind nagged the constant question, how could she and Chance ever get past what they’d done?