Despite my reservations, I visit Wyler the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, always cautiously keeping an emotional distance. I continue to go back, and he continues to get better. Thanks to his Mod genes, it's not long before he's back on his feet.
We spend our days walking throughout the ship, talking, and sometimes, even laughing. My heart feels light when I'm around him. It's a welcome change and a feeling that I wasn't sure I'd ever experience again. The other passengers stare at us and keep a distance. Curious, but cautious. Wyler and I live in a protected bubble, soaking up every minute. Only my daily briefings on the logistics of locating The Snow Moon and landing, bring me back to reality. Sometimes I wish we could stay in our little bubble forever, insulated from the outside world. What awaits us out there is unknown and the unknown fills me with a sense of uneasiness.
Wyler never asks me what happened after he turned me over to Environettix and I never offer up the information. I don't think he wants to know the details, and I certainly have no desire to relive them. Over time, I actually find myself smiling again. The odd thing is that this is how I always imagined it being with Wyler and I, if we had been given the chance to actually be together, but thinking about that fills me with immense guilt. I would much rather have Lex alive and with me, then have Wyler all to myself. Some days the guilt is suffocating. It rests upon my chest like a weighted vest, making it difficult to breathe. Wyler and I never speak of Kelly or Lex. We never speak of my parents or his mother and siblings. Remembering the past is pointless and painful. I decide to take on the narrative that Environettix has written for me, at least for now. I am the Mod with the sole ability to procreate, that will save humanity from itself. I don't fully know what will await us once we arrive on The Snow Moon, nor do I know exactly what Environettix's plans are for me, but I try to change my attitude surrounding the whole experience. Still, I keep my guard up with Wyler, never letting him in more than I can comfortably shut him out. I had the situation pretty under control, until the day he asked me out.
"Hey Ever," he says, sounding slightly nervous. He stands next to me in the greenhouse as I shovel dirt into a pot, replanting some flowers. Each passenger is required to take part in a certain number of activities or "chores" within the ship. It's to prepare the wealthy clientele, who have little experience with servitude, in understanding the importance of pitching in. Things will be different on The Snow Moon. There won't be personal housekeepers or chefs where we're going.
"Hi," I smile, handing him a shovel. He grabs it reluctantly and looks up at a camera in the corner of the room, scowling in irritation. He doesn't like that Environettix tells him what to do and that they're always watching to see if he's doing it. I don't either, but it's not worth the fight.
"I was looking at the cafeteria yesterday, there's some pretty nice restaurants in there."
"Pretty nice" is an understatement and "cafeteria" is hardly the word that I would use to describe the posh restaurants housed inside the ship. Environettix included a wide variety of restaurants with five star atmosphere and food. They left innocent children behind to die, but spared room for the world's greatest chefs. Their callousness disgusts me, and I refuse to eat at any of the restaurants on principle.
"I was thinking we could give one of them a try."
"Why would we want to eat at any of those places?" I ask in irritation that he has even suggested it. "It's Environettix's way of pleasing the upper echelon, which we are neither a part of, nor do I desire to be." I stuff a flower in the pot and pat a scoop of dirt around it.
"I know, but I thought it might be fun. Mix things up. Make dinnertime a little less monotonous."
I give him my best, "you've got to be kidding me" look.
"Remember fun? It's that thing we used to have sometimes," he jokes and I try not to crack a smile.
"What's fun about snooty self-absorbed people all congregating in the same room acting self-important?" I point to the shovel in his hand. "Dig," I instruct.
"What about Il Cantori?" he suggests, ignoring my objection. "It's Italian. Your faaaaavorite," he sings the last word, while reluctantly moving dirt from the bag into a pot.
"That place is ridiculously fancy. No one eats there unless they're trying to impress a date." I think of all the people I've seen over the months, dressed up and holding hands, trying to form relationships as we head to our new home. I have to remind myself that we will need to populate this new world. A lot has changed, but mankind's desire to find love seems to have remained the same.
"Well," he pauses, waiting for me to pick up on what he's trying to say. "We could go on a date."
"Oh," I reply, stopping what I'm doing. His response shocks me. I honestly didn't think that was where he was headed. "I, uh.." I stutter.
He puts down his shovel and turns towards me, taking the shovel from my hand and setting it down on the table so that I'll pay attention.
"Let's have a night where we pretend like we're not hurling through space in a giant metal tube headed towards the unknown," he jokes. "I think it would be good for you, for both of us."
"I..." I'm unsure how to answer. It sounds kind of nice, but silly at the same time. I've been stuck in survival mode for so long it's difficult to adjust to the idea of actually living life and experiencing things other than the urgent need to not be killed.
"It's just one night," he says.
"What good is one night going to do?" I ask earnestly.
"Let's find out."
***
I can't believe I agreed to this, I think to myself as I finger through my wardrobe. None of my pants and sweatshirt ensembles seem appropriate for a fancy restaurant. For a split second, I think of Lex. She would have been great at helping me find an outfit, even if it were to go out with her ex-boyfriend. She always put friendship first. I could use that kind of unconditional friendship right now. Come to think of it, she may be the only person I've ever been able to fully trust, a realization that doesn't help me now that I left her behind.
After 30 minutes of frustration, I give up and reluctantly enlist Constantine, who practically jumps at the chance to help me find a dress. She takes me to an area of the ship, dubbed "the mall" where there are several shops to choose from. Everything is free. There's no need for money in outer space plus, the majority of the people on the ship have paid an arm and a leg to be onboard, so Environettix is happy to provide any comfort they desire.
"This one," she says handing me a simple green slip dress that shimmers when the light hits it. "This is the one."
"No," I shake my head emphatically. "That's a little too.."
"Gorgeous? Perfect? Flattering?"
"I was going to say, sexy."
"So? Just try it on. Trust me." Her last words ring in my ears. She's so kind and our friendship feels so natural that I have to remind myself that she's one of them. I often find myself wondering if our friendship is genuine.
I reluctantly take the hanger from her hands and walk to the dressing room. I slip the dress over my head and shimmy it down my body, smoothing out the silky fabric. I turn and look in the mirror. I have to admit, it's beautiful. It hugs me perfectly in all the right places. I almost don't recognize the girl in the reflection. I could pass for a regular teen dressed up to go to a high school dance, not that I ever went to any of those, other than the one time, but that was with a friend. This is different. This is a date.
As I stare at myself in the mirror, I suddenly have an odd nostalgia for what seemed like such a terrible time in my life. I never liked the type of things that would be categorized as "typical" teen experiences, but in this moment, I find myself craving a normal experience, something that might actually be happening if I were still on Earth and going to high school. For a minute, I forget about the insanity that I'm living, and I realize how much I need this, how much I need to feel normal, even if it's just for one night.
"Well?" I hear Constantine say from the other side of the dressing room as she eagerly awaits my response.
I pull back the curtain, and throw my hands out to my sides, palms open, in my best "ta-da" pose. She inhales sharply, holding her hands under her chin and giving little claps of approval. Then she lets out a little laugh, "Wyler is in big trouble."
***
The rest of the day goes by at an excruciatingly slow pace. I feel anxious. This is my first real date. Figures it would take the world ending for me to get asked out.
I check myself in the mirror for probably the fiftieth time. My hair is pulled back in a low, lose bun, with two slightly curled tendrils pulled out, framing my face. A pair of emerald and gold earrings dangle from my ears. They're small and delicate and add the perfect finishing touch, at least that's what Constantine said.
There's a knock at the door, which startles me. He's early. It's a good thing I was so nervous that I wound up getting ready an hour before I needed to.
I turn to walk towards the door and nearly fall over. I'm not used to wearing heels, and the black stilettos that wrap around my ankles, which Constantine insisted on, suddenly seem like a poor choice.
"Breathe," I remind myself. I inhale deeply and release the air before opening the door.
Wyler is dressed in a black suit with a black shirt, the top of which is slightly unbuttoned, revealing his collar bone and just enough of his chest to make me curious about the rest underneath. He doesn't have a tie and his hair is slicked back. I almost don't recognize him at first. He looks different: grown up and extremely handsome. I watch as his eyes trail down my body. I've known him for a long time, but the expression on his face is one that I can honestly say I've never seen.
"Wow, Ever, you look...you look..."
"Like a normal girl going on a date?" I try to help him find the words.
"I don't know any 'normal' girls who look this good."
I blush.
"Must be a Mod thing," I say, trying to ease the uncomfortableness I feel from his attention.
"Seriously," he says, ignoring my last comment, but still unable to find the words.
"Thanks," I reply, trying my hardest to accept his compliment. "We should probably go," I suggest, but Wyler stands in the doorway, blocking the exit, unable to move.
"Uh huh," he nods as his eyes continue running up and down my dress. I try not to smile.
"I might need your help though," I say, pointing to the torture devices strapped to my feet.
"Sure thing," he says, coming out of his trance and offering his assistance.
I link my arm through his and I wonder if he feels the same electricity fire through his body as I do when we touch. We walk the whole way to the restaurant, arm in arm, without saying much at all. With Wyler, the quietness feels comfortable.
All eyes are on us as we enter Il Cantori. It could be the dress. It could be that we're Mods. It could be that everyone sees me as the odd girl who is able to procreate. But tonight, I decide to ignore the freak show. I decide to allow myself this one night to feel ordinary, maybe even...happy.
Wyler pulls the chair out for me and as he helps me scoot in, he leans in close to my ear and whispers, "everyone is staring."
"It's because they think we're freaks," I reply quietly, glaring back at the eyes that meet mine. My stare makes them uncomfortable and they drop their eyes to their plates, pretending to be interested in their meals.
"No, it's because you look stunning," he says and lightly kisses me on my neck. It feels a little too intimate for where we are and the remaining eyes on us, turn in response. His lips on my skin are light and damp. My entire body tingles at his touch. My face goes flush and I stare down at my lap as he makes his way around the table to his chair. Now it's me that's unable to look the others in the eyes.
The server brings us water. He stops for a minute and looks at us, recognizing who we are. He looks around, as if he's unsure if we're allowed to be here, then he gets a nod of approval from a man in the corner dressed in an Environettix uniform.
He begins to tell us about the specials and I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes at the absurdity that they have the ability to serve something different every night.
"I'll take the spaghetti and meatballs," I cut him off mid-special. I might be embracing this date but I have no desire to embrace the ridiculousness of this "restaurant."
"An excellent choice," he says and again I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes at his word choice over the most generic item on the menu.
"I'll have the carbonara," Wyler says, giving the server a smile. "You love giving these people a hard time, don't you?" he says after the server has left.
These people. Our differences are dividing us more and more each day and I can't help but wonder how long it will take before we turn against one another.
"Isn't there a small part of you that's impressed by this? I mean, we're floating through space, in basically a luxury cruise liner, headed to an unknown world."
"I'm not sure 'impressed' is the word I would use."
He nods.
"Maybe we should make a pact not to talk about anything related to Environettix tonight. Deal?" he says, sticking out his hand.
"Deal," I reply and shake it.
And so that's what we do. We spend the next hour talking about anything other than this place. We laugh, a lot, and at one point it almost feels as if we're back on Earth, sitting in a restaurant, on a date, hopeful and nervous for where the night might lead. But the constant glances and whispers from the people sitting at the tables around us, bring me back to reality. I watch as a creepy looking older man caresses the shoulder of his much younger date. The woman leans into his touch and smiles. Are they married? Did they come here together? How much did they pay to buy their ticket on this flying love boat?
"Careful," Wyler interrupts my thoughts. "I might get jealous if you keep staring at that old guy."
"Gross. Never," I reply. "Just interested in their situation, that's all."
"Their situation?"
"Like, why they're here."
"I think they're here to find love...or to get lucky," he replies.
"True," I laugh. "But that's not what I was referring to. I just don't get the point of trying to make a love connection right now. It seems trivial."
Wyler looks disappointed.
"Love or sex?"
"Aren't they the same?" I ask, my relationship inexperience showing. I know that Lex and Wyler never had sex, because Lex shared everything with me, too much frankly. But I can't help but wonder if Wyler has ever been with a girl before.
"Not always," he replies.
"Regardless," I say, trying to shake the idea of him being with another girl, from my brain. "What's the point?"
"Sex has a way of distracting people from reality."
"Yeah, but it's momentary."
"A moment of pleasure beats living in a constant state of anger and depression. Don't you think?"
I look at Wyler and he smiles and I can't help but blush at the implication of his last question. For years, I imagined what it would be like to actually date Wyler. It seemed like something that would never happen. The idea lived in my dreams. I always thought I was too afraid to make it a reality, but maybe something in my heart was stopping me, the part of my heart that still belonged to Kelly, even though I didn't know it.
"So which one did you bring me here for?" I inquire, half-joking half-serious, but as soon as I say the words aloud, I'm mortified that I asked the question, and his reaction only worsens my embarrassment.
Wyler looks up and frowns.
"I think something's wrong."
"With the food? Tastes great to me," I say, trying to pretend I didn't ask the last question as I shovel a forkful of spaghetti into my mouth.
"No, I mean, something's wrong." He lifts his head in the direction behind me. I turn to see Sutter approaching at a furious pace. He stops abruptly in front of me, giving Wyler a nod, which seems to say, "sorry for interrupting your date, bro."
"Ever, I've been looking for you everywhere," Sutter huffs and puffs. The poor guy has probably walked miles around this ship trying to find me, since this is, no doubt, the last place he suspected I'd be. "Captain Ryden needs to see you right away."
"Now?" I say, chewing my mouthful of spaghetti and trying to erase the memory of the unanswered question I just asked Wyler, which lingers in the air, slowly killing me of embarrassment. "Why?"
"We found it."
"Found what?"
"The Snow Moon. It's time."
And just like that, my embarrassment, and my attempt at having a normal night out, comes to an abrupt end.