“I try not to think of her.”
“That’s normal too.”
“I have guilt.”
She nodded. “Survivor’s guilt. That’s the term they call it.”
“I hate being alone.”
“You aren’t. I’m here, and you’re surrounded by other New Species.”
“You know what I mean. Sleeping alone. Eating alone. The utter silence is horrible.”
Dana nodded. “It is.” She inched closer to him. “You should try to make friends. They do help. I lost a lot of mine after Tommy’s death. Some of them avoided me because they couldn’t face his death, or maybe they just didn’t know what to say. Some people I avoided because I couldn’t take the way they looked at me. Pity sucks.” She paused. “Or some people acted as if the loss of someone is like a contagious disease they can catch from you. It’s a reminder to them that their own lives can come crashing down around them. I was exhibit A.”
He turned his head and peered at her. “Exhibit A?”
“Proof that it could happen to them, that they could lose the person they love too.”
“Some Species use me as an example of why they shouldn’t take a mate or want one. It makes them vulnerable to pain.”
“Exactly. You’re exhibit A too, for them.” She smiled. “I made new friends who didn’t know Tommy. They weren’t comparing the before- and after-me. It helped. I was just Dana to them.”
“Everyone knows me here and at Wild Zone.”
“You still made a new friend.” She leaned over a little and bumped his arm with her shoulder. “Me.”
He smiled, and it was devastating. It transformed his features and she had to avoid gawking a little. He was good-looking before but a happy-looking Mourn proved that he wouldn’t remain single for long, if other women could help it.
“I’m glad you annoyed me.”
“Me too.”
“I looked forward to talking to you today. It gave me purpose.”
“I thought Paul and Becky were never going to go to bed. I was looking forward to talking to you too.”
“What is your life like outside the gates?”
“I went back to work about nine months ago. I took an office job that keeps me busy. It gets me out of the house five days a week. That’s where I met new friends. I’ll go to a movie with a few of them on the weekends from time to time. That gives me purpose and it beats sitting in my home staring at walls, feeling sorry for myself. The pity party was over. I did that routine far too long.”
“Pity party?”
His confused look amused her. “It’s a saying. It means I was feeling sorry for myself, and that I didn’t do much to change that for a while. I just wanted to immerse myself in my pain. Even I got sick of it eventually.”
“I’m not assigned duties at Homeland like other Species are.”
“Maybe you should be.”
“I’m not sure they’d trust me. They know I’m unstable.”
“So don’t be. Tell them you need something to do. It helps you start keeping track of what day it is again.”
“I know what you mean.”
She figured he would. “It’s Saturday. At least, at the end of it.”
He chuckled. “Thanks. I didn’t know that.”
“I’m sure the NSO will do whatever you need. Paul can’t say enough great things about them.”
“They are good people.” He looked away. “What about sex?”
That threw Dana. “What about it?”
He cleared his throat. “A few of the females have offered to share sex with me. Will it heal some of the pain if I touch one of the Species females? They have said it might help me get over her.”
“You mean the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else?”
He jerked his attention to her and scowled.
“It’s a saying I’ve heard often. It means to have sex with someone new. I don’t know. I have gone on a few dates since Tommy died, but I haven’t gone to bed with any of them. It would have been too weird, and I wasn’t sexually attracted to them. We discussed it in grief counseling. Some of them swore it helped, while others said it made them feel empty inside. I guess it depends on the person. What do you think?”
“It would be uncomfortable.”
“I agree.”
The silence stretched between them. He finally spoke. “She was the only female I knew.”
They had something else in common. “Tommy and I were together since we were young. He’s the only man I ever dated. He was my first kiss, my first everything. My last too.” Depression threatened. She shook it off. “But I have hope. That’s new. I think I’m reaching the point where I might want to find someone to date again. I’m lonely. At first I wouldn’t even consider remarrying. It’s progress. You’ll get there too. Give yourself time.”
He seemed interested in the floor, studying it. “Have you found a male who interests you? Will he be angry that you’re staying here longer than planned?”
“There’s no one. One guy at work keeps asking me out, but he’s totally not my type.”
Mourn lifted his gaze and stared at her. “What is wrong with the male?”
She smiled. “He’s kind of an office player.”
His eyebrows drew together and he frowned.