Emmy And Me

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Planning on working until lunch, I got started early on my email backlog. Most of it was easy enough to deal with, no real fires to put out. The only real problem to address were the questions about scheduling meetings, since I really didn’t know when I was going to be back in California. I was trying to figure out what my calendar would look like when my phone buzzed with an incoming text.

What immediately caught my attention was that the text was from Oshida Hayate, the Japanese Night Child man that spoke English.

He sent two selfies of himself and his grandfather, completely makeup-free. In one picture they were eating in a little restaurant, and the other the two were standing on a train platform waiting among a ton of commuters.

He explained that he and his grandfather have traveled widely in the few weeks since our meeting and haven’t worn the traditional makeup at all. He said that some people saw them and avoided them but most didn’t care.

He went on to say that the elders have held many discussions and it seemed as if they were on the verge of agreeing to come out of the shadows.

The final part was that they wanted to send some people to me to see what it was like for people of the night under my rule, and to open formal discussions.

Pondering how to reply to the last part of the text messages, I congratulated Hayate and his grandfather for taking the giant leap of faith to live in the open, and said that I hoped that they found the experience as liberating as so many of my own people had done.

I went on to tell him that I wasn’t in Los Angeles and likely wouldn’t be for a while yet, but I was very pleased to hear that the Night Children of Japan wanted to move forward with possible relations with our nation in North America.

Almost immediately Hayate responded. “Our people here are ready,” he said. “We need your guidance.”

I quickly checked to see what time it was there in Japan, then gave Hayate a call, which he answered after one short ring.

I told him I was incredibly pleased that the Japanese Night Children had decided to come out of the shadows, but he corrected me and said the decision wasn’t final yet, but every indication was that they would take that step. “Grandfather and I have proven that it is possible to live in modern Japan without disguise,” he told me. “A few others have followed our example- mostly younger people. Those stuck in the past are having the most difficulty accepting the idea.”

“Don’t force them,” I cautioned. “Let them see how the younger people get on, and they’ll come around eventually.”

“That is the hope,” Hayate agreed.

I told him that I’d be perfectly happy to video conference in, but I just wasn’t going to be able to travel to Japan for probably another month.

“We could send our emissaries to wherever you are,” Hayate offered.

“Tell me about these emissaries,” I urged him.

“Do you remember Mrs Tanaka, from the meeting? She would bring her grandaughter with her. She has been one of the strongest in favor of- we have been calling it ‘revealing’. Her granddaughter has studied English.”

“I never got her name at the meeting, but I do remember her,” I confirmed. “How willing is she to travel? If she’s going to join me here, I’ll wind up dragging her all over the place before we get back to Los Angeles.”

“Is this… related to your duties as queen?”

“Very much so.”

“It might be… Let me speak with her. She is very interested in the cultures of our people outside Japan, so she might wish to travel with you, if it will allow her to see more,” Hayate said.

“That works,” I agreed. “I’ll take care of her at my end if she does decide to travel with me, so all she would need is to be ready for variable weather.”

We signed off after a few more pleasantries, leaving me staring at the phone in my hand, wondering how I was going to be able to juggle the Japanese shinobi and the Night Children of Cartagena at the same time.

It was far too early to call Emmy, but it was a great time to call her father, so that was what I did.

He answered after the third ring, and we spent almost two hours discussing the shinobi, and then what we’d stumbled into in Colombia. He asked if I planned on bringing South America into the New Nation, and I confessed that I’d maybe had the idea in the back of my head for a while, but this discovery in Cartagena was going to be a deciding factor in how it played out. I explained that the locals might not be in any hurry to accept our shadow, and if they didn’t, I certainly wasn’t going to press the issue. If they did, then it was a springboard into finding other communities in South America and the start of a new campaign of consolidation. “Of course, we’ve already had a program going in Mexico for a while,” I told Emmy’s dad, “But that’s part of North America.”

“You will have our complete support, whichever path you find yourself on,” he assured me.

This opened the door, so I sprung my request on him. I asked if he had any cultural historians that spoke Spanish, since we might build a school to teach the locals the history that they seem to have mostly forgotten. Satisfied with the promise that he’d look into it, we signed off with the promise to have lunch when I finally made it to London.

All this talking took most of the morning, but I’d wrapped up everything that was on my plate, so I had a bit of free time. Cecilia was going to come over to the hotel right after school got out, so I had a little over two hours to myself- a rare occurrence.

Dressing for the humid, hot day, I went out for a walk. I had no destination in mind and nearing noon was probably the worst time of day for it, but whatever. I had nobody demanding my attention, and I was going to capitalize on it. I soon found myself strolling along the top of the old city wall facing the Caribbean, with the busy highway the only thing separating me from the sea on one side, the old city on the other.

Sure, it was hot and muggy as anything, but at least there was a breeze off the water bringing fresh, clean air with it. I had the wall almost entirely to myself, mostly because everybody else was smart enough to stay out of the midday sun, such as it was.

Eventually I succumbed to good sense and found myself a shady spot under a tree in a little park right next to the wall. There was an old man with a freezer pushcart selling ice cream, so I bought a cold Coke and a coconut popsicle to cool off.

“Leah!” shouted a couple of my people in greeting as they happened to stroll by. I waved, but made no effort to talk to them, so they just continued on.

The ice cream man looked at the two Night Children, then at me, then back at the two walking away, then at me again.

“Amigos?” he asked.

“Sí,” I told him. “Buena gente,” which was nearing the limit of my Spanish.

Satisfied, the old ice cream vendor nodded as he watched the two guys until they rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

“One point for Team NC,” I thought with a smile.

I had time for a quick shower before donning my swimsuit and cotton sun dress before Cecilia arrived.

It was only a few minutes later when I got a call from the front desk saying that she was there, so I went down to meet her.

She looked cute in her white polo shirt and navy blue skirted school uniform, and I took a moment to imagine Angela at that age. The two sisters had similar features, enough that if someone told you they were related you’d see it, but that was it. Angela’s coloring was like their father’s, with the pale skin and blue eyes, but Cecilia took after their mother’s more typical Colombian darker skin and dark eyes.

“Can I see your room?” Cecilia asked as I led her away from the front desk.

Remembering what had happened the year before when the Castro family had visited us in California, I hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, sure,” I agreed, figuring I’d just be careful to not encourage her if she showed any signs of stepping over the line.

To my enormous relief, all Cecilia wanted to do was to admire the size of the suite and the view from the balcony. She changed into her swim suit in the bathroom, emerging in one of the hotel’s fluffy robes.

The pool was mostly empty, so we had our choice of which chaises to take. Even though it was hot and the sun pretty fierce, we claimed spots where we could work on our tans.

When Cecilia finally ditched the robe, I shot quick glance around to see if there were any families with young boys around. Her bikini was roughly four square inches of bright pink fabric held in place by dental floss. The bikini she’d had in Los Angeles was quite small, but she’d grown at the same time as her swimsuit had shrunk a couple of sizes.

“I am going to swim,” she announced.

I watched her as she made her way to the steps and down into the water. She’d filled out a lot in the year since she skinny-dipped in our pool in Los Angeles, now looking much more like a young woman than she had. In fact, she was turning into quite a beauty in her own right.

“Good genetics,” I said silently, congratulating Marisa and Rafael Castro’s DNA for combining so well twice in a row.

I watched Cecilia play in the water for maybe five minutes before giving in and joining her. We swam and splashed around for a while before I told Cecelia that I was going to get us something to drink.

I wandered over to the bar to order us some Cokes, only to see Mr Interesting, Emiliano Suárez, working on his laptop in the shade. I gave him a nod in greeting, but otherwise didn’t say anything to him as I passed.

Carrying a couple of ice-cold Cokes back to our chaises, I could tell that Emiliano had a clear view of the pool from where he sat, to my complete lack of surprise.

I handed Cecilia her drink as I took my own seat, leaning back to enjoy the sun on my skin.

“Who is that man?” Cecilia asked. “Do you know him?”

“We met a couple of nights ago here at the hotel. He says his name is Emiliano Suárez, and says he works for a shipping company,” I told her.

“Is he the man you asked Papí about? The one you think is CIA?” she asked, her eyes wide. It took me a moment to understand the last part of her question, since she’d referred to the letter agency as “Seeya,” rather than by the initials.

“I might be paranoid, but yeah, he’s the guy I asked about,” I admitted.

“He doesn’t look like a… espía,” Cecilia said doubtfully. “He looks like an old man.”

“What do spies look like?” I asked, curious.

“Like James Bond,” she answered confidently.

“Sure, let’s go with that,” I said, leaning back and closing my eyes.

“Lee,” Cecilia began in an unsure voice. When I opened my eyes and turned to look at her, she seemed to have transformed into a little girl.

“Yes, Cecy?”

“I have talked with mis papís about going to school in the US. I want to go, but…”

“But?”

“They are worried for me. I told them that I would be safe with Angela, Emmy and you, but they say you will have two babies to take care of and will not have time for me. I told them about Grace- how you…” she said, struggling for the right words.

“How we took Grace in and gave her a home when she needed it?” I suggested.

“Yes, but they are still worried.”

“I know we talked a little last year about you staying with us,” I said. “Have you talked about it more with Angela?” I asked, wondering if there had been discussions I hadn’t been involved in.

“No,” she admitted, looking downcast. “But I have been thinking about it a lot.”

“I’m not going to make any promises until everybody has had a chance to talk about it- your parents, Angela, Emmy, you and me. We all need to be involved in this decision,” I told her. “But let me tell you a few things before we do talk, just so you can be really sure if you do want it or not. First off, I’m married to your sister, and I love her more than just about anything. If you do come to live with us, you will make no effort to ever come between us- do you understand me?”

Cecilia seemed to shrink a little but nodded.

“Explain what I just said to you, so I know we’re both clear,” I told her.

“I can’t do anything that will make you want me,” she confirmed, not looking me in the face.

“I’m worried that you have feelings for me,” I told her in a much softer voice. “And I don’t want that to be a problem.” I put my hand on her sun-warmed arm to keep her from bolting. “Cecy. We’re family now. Familia. You’re my wife’s sister. That makes you my sister, just like Marisa and Rafael are now mis papís tambien,” I said. “I love your family. I had no idea that when I took Angela into my life, I also took such an amazing, wonderful family, too. Papá, Mamá, and you, Cecy- it’s made my life better to have you in it.”

Cecilia looked as if she wanted to say something, but she shut her mouth and relaxed back into her chair.

“You’re a beautiful young woman,” I told her. “Any girl would be proud to call you hers. Any boy, I guess, if that’s your thing,” I added, which got me a smile. “You’re smart, too- your sister has been telling me about your grades. You don’t want an old lady like me. You need to find somebody your age. Somebody who treats you like the princess you are. Somebody who loves you like I love Angela.”

“Everybody loves Angela,” Cecilia said, crossing her arms and pouting.

“Yes, they do, because she’s lovable. Sure, she’s pretty, and that’s what people see at first, but when they get to know her they fall in love because she’s so sweet and caring. Emmy and I think she’s beautiful, but we fell in love with her because of the person that she is inside.”

I leaned forward and put my hand on Cecilia’s shoulder. “Be who you are. You aren’t the same person as Angela. I wouldn’t want you to be. You’re interesting and fascinating the way you are. Be Cecilia. Don’t compare yourself to your sister,” I told her.

Cecilia sighed, letting her shoulders droop. “I know you are right,” she said. “But it still hurts.”

“Um, are you gay?” I asked in a soft voice so nobody could possibly hear.

“No, I don’t think so,” she said, sounding more than a little bit unsure.

“You know what? I’m not, either,” I told her in a conspiratorial whisper.

“What?” she asked, a puzzled expression on her face.

“Well, O.K. maybe I am,” I admitted, which made Cecilia laugh a little. “But I still look at hot guys and think they’re sexy. I don’t think the whole thing is as cut and dried as most people think. I think we might tend to like one thing or another, but that doesn’t have to mean that’s all we like.”

“What do you mean?” Cecilia asked, puzzled.

“I don’t think your sister is lesbian in general,” I told her. “I don’t think she’s attracted to women. But she loves me, and she loves Emmy. She doesn’t feel attraction to other women, though. Does that make sense?”

“No,” Cecilia said, shaking her head, but I could see that she was thinking about what I’d just said.

“It’s complicated,” I agreed, laying my seat back flat to lie on my tummy. “Just… trust your own feelings.”

We relaxed in the sun for a bit, not talking, just keeping each other company. It was nice, and I hoped that what I’d said had made an impact.

When we lost the sun we returned to the suite to get dressed. Cecilia pointed to the hot tub on our private deck. “I never said anything to Mamá about your party,” she said, blushing.

“I never told anybody,” I replied, still grateful that she’d had her little bikini on when I found her hot-tubbing with that actor.

“Kimmy and me, we were in the… bañera,” she said, “when that man and woman came. They asked if they could join us, and Kimmy said yes.”

I was glad to hear that it had developed that way, but I wanted to hear more, so I nodded for her to continue.

“They took off their clothes and entered. I saw his pene,” she confessed with a giggle. “He has no hair there.”

That wasn’t the detail I cared to hear, but at least it was a harmless learning experience.

“That woman with the blonde hair, her tetas were not real,” Cecilia said confidently. “Like Angela’s. I’m going to get some when I get older,” she added.

“No, Cecy, don’t,” I told her. “Your breasts are beautiful. You don’t need surgery to improve them. They’re perfect the way they are naturally.”

“You think so?” she asked, surprised.

“You’re a beautiful young woman,” I assured her. “You’re perfect the way you are."

She opened her robe to look down at her chest, making me fear for a moment that she would pop her boobs out of her top, but thankfully all she did was stare thoughtfully down at them, still barely covered by little triangles of fabric.

“Let me take a quick shower and get dressed and I’ll walk you back home,” I told her, grabbing a clean sun dress from the wardrobe and heading to the shower. Cecilia had gotten dressed in her school uniform by the time I emerged from the bathroom, so I slipped on my shoes and we headed out.

“You will talk to Mamá and Papá about me staying with you in California, right?” she asked as we walked to the Castro house.

“You promise you’ll be O.K. with the rules?”

“Yes, I promise,” she said a bit sullenly, but I was pretty sure the attitude was just for show.

“Then I’ll talk to them,” I agreed.