Forever Magazine Issue 86 by Nancy Kress & Suzanne Palmer & Michael Swanwick

Author:Nancy Kress & Suzanne Palmer & Michael Swanwick [Kress, Nancy & Palmer, Suzanne & Swanwick, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: magazine, novella, science fiction, Science Fiction - Short Stories, science fiction magazine, short fiction, short stories
Publisher: Wyrm Publishing
Published: 2022-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

9.

Caroline and I ride in a taxi. I like taxis. I put my head out the window. The taxi has many smells. We stop at Deborah’s house. Caroline and I go get Deborah.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Deborah says. Her door is open only a little. She stands behind her door. “I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are,” Caroline says.

Deborah says, “You’re not my mother!”

Caroline changes her smell. She has a cane to walk. She leans on her cane. Her voice gets soft. “No, I’m not your mother. And I’m not going to push you like a mother. Believe me, Deborah, I know what that’s like. But as a senior dancer, I’m going to ask you to come with me. I’m willing to beg you to come. It’s that important. Not just to you, but to me.”

Deborah looks at the floor.

“Don’t be embarrassed. Just understand that I mean it. I’ll beg, I’ll grovel. But first I’m asking, as a senior member of the company.”

Deborah looks up. She smells angry. “Why do you care? It’s my life!”

“Yes. Yours and Privitera’s.” Caroline closes her eyes. “You owe him something, too. No, don’t consider that. Just come because I’m asking you.”

Deborah still smells angry. But she comes.

We ride in the taxi to Caroline’s mother’s house. I say, “Is there a party tonight?”

Deborah laughs. It sounds funny. Caroline says, “Yes, Angel. Another party. With music and dancers and talking. And you can have some pretzels.”

“I like pretzels,” I say. “Does Deborah like pretzels?”

“No,” Deborah says, and now she smells scared.

We go in the back way. Caroline has a key. People come to the basement. Someone starts music. “Not so loud!” a man says.

“No, it’s all right,” Caroline says. “My mother’s still in Europe and the staff is on vacation while she’s gone. We have the place to ourselves.”

A woman brings me a pretzel. People talk. Caroline and Deborah and two men talk in the corner. I don’t hear the words. The words at parties are very hard. I watch Caroline, and eat pretzels, and watch two people dance to the radio.

“Christ,” the man dancer says, “is this fake revelry really necessary?”

“Yes,” the woman says. She looks at me. “Caroline says yes.”

In the corner, two men show Deborah some papers. Caroline sits with them. Deborah starts to cry.

I watch Caroline. Deborah may touch Caroline. The two men may touch Caroline. But Caroline says parties are happy. No people smell happy. I do not understand.

The buzzer rings.

Nobody moves. People look at each other. Caroline says, “Is the gate still open? Let it go. It’s probably kids. There’s nobody home but us.”

The buzzer rings and rings. Then it stops. Caroline talks to Deborah. The door opens at the top of the stairs.

A man with Caroline takes a bottle from his pocket very fast. He puts the papers on the floor and pours the bottle on it. The papers disappear. “All right, everybody, this is a party,” he says.

Steps run down the stairs. A voice calls, “Wait! You can’t go down there! Young woman! You can’t go down there!” The voice is angry.

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