Without looking at the house next door, she hurried to the front door. As she reached for the handle, the door opened, revealing her mother.
"Amanda," she started to say but fell silent. Concern etched itself around her eyes. "Come inside dear."
When the door was closed behind them, her mother gave her a big hug. No tears came but that didn't surprise her. She enjoyed the embrace, the now rare display of comfort from her mother, ever since her dad had died.
She slowly pulled out of the embrace and looked into her mother's eyes. With a small grim smile, she muttered, "I look that bad huh?"
"Your eyes are swollen, your nose is a little raw, you have tear streaks all over your face..." Her mother trailed off and had a distant look in her eyes.
"Dinner's ready?" She removed her shoes and put them on the welcome mat. She started toward the kitchen and stopped when she noticed her mother had not moved. "Mom?"
"You've only looked like that once in your life..." Her eyes clouded but she didn't elaborate. "Dinner's been ready for an hour and I've eaten. I can heat up whatever you want."
Amanda knew exactly the moment her mother was referring to. All other trials she'd faced paled in comparison. The day her father died she'd been unable to eat and cried herself to sleep. And woke up with a horrible headache! She still missed him, missed his art, but mostly missed his presence in the family. When he'd been alive her mom had been too. To think they went sky diving during their honeymoon! Although she tried to supress it, the ends of her mouth creep upward at the thought, but her mother caught it. She knew better than to mention her dad to her mom; it never ended well when she did.
She turned and went to the kitchen.
Thankfully her mother didn't pursue an explanation. When she finished eating, Amanda realized that her mother was remembering her husband because she was simply sitting in her sofa with a glass of red wine. At least it wasn't the bottle.
Dutifully she cleared the table and washed the dishes. She cleaned herself up, washed her face and got ready for bed. It was still quite early but she felt drained. Her gaze fell on an old friend. She knew what to do and it would help everyone.
She sat on the bench and started to play. At first she played a dark, heavy melody and followed it with a quiet, mellow piece. She then played a few challenging fast paced numbers, and although she made one minor mistake, she felt good about it nonetheless. She peeked at her mother from the corner of her eye and found her smiling, the glass was still half full. It was pretty clear from her eyes that the wallowing was over for tonight.
A curious thought came to her. It brought a smile to her lips. Surely she still remembered how to play her first piece? Closing her eyes and resting her fingers lightly on the smooth keys, she played Chopsticks.
Her mother groaned, then laughed. It made her laugh too.
She played for over two hours, playing all the oldest pieces from her youth. She was surprised she didn't remember a couple of them. But with her mom's help, she played them anyway.
They went upstairs to their respective bedrooms. Just as she was about to close her door, her mother called her. "Here, you might want your phone." After a brief pause, she said, "I called it when dinner was almost ready. If ever you need to talk about it, you can. But I won't force you." Her eyes clouded for the briefest moment. "You look better now though." They both retired to their rooms.
She lay in her bed, eyes wide open after half an hour had passed. She remembered the pastor's advice, "Where will the lies begin to keep his secret safe?" She wasn't new to secrets; what teenager has never kept secrets from their parents, from their friends, even from those they love? They're not necessarily secrets like Kyle's of course. His were so much more.
She'd avoided thinking of him till just now. Now that she had, a flood of secrets threatened to spill over the dam she'd built. Who was she kidding? It was practically a tsunami of secrets! She couldn't hide from them, ignore them. She either had to live with them or separate herself from him.
That mere thought hurt her heart. She realized she was 'just a teenager' and that relationships formed during high school were quite unlikely to continue through one's entire life, particularly romantic ones.
Kyle was not 'just a teenager' either. In some ways she figured he was still a child. He wanted to please everyone, help everyone. She could see why Latnok had abducted her on her prom night. He would have done anything to save her. In fact he had; he had jumped in front of a plastic bullet all in the name of science. She smiled grimly and muttered to herself, "Don't they know he would do the same for his family, for his family's friends? Despite the initial animosity from her mother toward him, didn't they know he would risk everything to save her too?
He was young at heart -- she smiled when she remembered telling him exactly thus months ago. He'd taken the expression literally, had reflected inwardly for a moment then nodded. She now realized he'd probably checked it physically and when he didn't discover anything wrong he'd nodded his satisfaction.
It dawned on her. She swallowed, hard.
He couldn't remain this way forever. If he did he would eventually fall prey to Latnok regardless of his abilities. They would continue to push him or lead him down a set path. They would eventually realize his weakness and when they tired of him they would let him kill himself for a hopeless situation.
It didn't escape her notice that Kyle was constantly learning, changing, evolving. Was it possible that he would eventually find her dull, dimwitted, or worse, predictable?
He already knew so much about her but there was no sign that he could tire of her. She smiled even as her heart ached. She knew that although Kyle had no romantic interests in Jessi, Latnok may certainly force their coupling in the future, perhaps with her life as a reward. He'd do it; any child conceived could be withdrawn and grown in one of their pods... Goose bumps formed all along her arms and legs. They didn't need to have them conceive a child. All they had to do would be extract the necessary -- ingredients -- from both of them.
She swallowed again. Her stomach roiled as her thoughts took another 90 degree turn.
They'd captured him before and had abducted her on prom night. Could their 'ingredients' -- she couldn't say the proper term to herself -- already have been merged and put into a pod? Were there an untold number of Kyle offspring in hidden pods around the world?
Her heart was beating rapidly and she was surprised to be sweating profusely.
It was a path she wouldn't follow. Even if it meant he left her, she knew within her heart there was only one thing to be done.
She had to corrupt him.
It was then she noticed a shadow across her blinds. The moonlight was blocked by a human's silhouette, Kyle's. It didn't matter that she was on the second floor. She smiled as she got up and opened the blinds. She couldn't open the window; she didn't want her mother to wake up. She smiled even more broadly when she saw his concern and his cell phone in his hand. He mouthed, "Text me." When she understood, he lowered out of sight.
When she got to her cell phone she saw several texts from Kyle. The latest one was a simple "R U OK?" She sighed, smiled, and got comfortable on her bed.
"I'm OK," she typed, "Thoughts on rampage."
"A lot to take in." Of course, he would figure out what her swirling thoughts were about. Before she could reply he added another text. "Beautiful music tonight."
She knew he loved her and would do anything for her. Even leave. It made her both happy and sad. They texted for an hour before sleep came to her.
***
Kyle knew the moment she'd fallen asleep. He was happy to hear her whisper, "I love you Kyle," even though she hadn't texted it. He recalled the journals he'd read about various religions, and had read variations of the main holy books on which they were based. For more than a year, he had known there was a probability that her faith would have been at odds with him. There had even been outrage around the world about Dolly the first cloned sheep. It was one of many reasons he had kept the truth from her for so long, despite her feelings, and despite his.
As he lay in his tub, he reflected again on her reaction when he had started to tell her the truth. Remembering the entire conversation, once more he noted that one word had changed her demeanor. Clone. Had he left it out, let her connect the dots so to speak -- smiling to himself on an expression he'd finally mastered -- would likely been a much larger error. It was highly likely to have been construed a betrayal.
His ears picked up the beating of her heart and noticed it was going faster again. Her breathing quickened and he could hear the rustle of her sheets and he pictured her in a nightmare.
Nightmares he knew well. He experienced them much more often than he cared to. For the most part he was able to recognize a nightmare as it began and separate himself to become an impartial observer. In some he would almost fulfill Adam's and Foss's wishes, saving the world or eradicating disease or discovered perfect nuclear fusion, only to get killed by some ridiculous or ludicrous and often minuscule thing. He'd learned to laugh at those dreams eventually, but it had taken time. Nicole had been a tremendous help.
In some nightmares he killed people, lied, and cheated others only because he could. Those nightmares he didn't enjoy. He knew he could be trained in the military to be a near perfect assassin. It was a future he totally rejected.
In others, he lost the people he loved, starting with bare acquaintances, to friends, to family, Jessi, and finally Amanda. Despite everything he could do, with or without Jessi's help, he always lost everyone. That nightmare still terrified him. He needed human contact, good wholesome people to connect with. When he was completely alone in his nightmare, he would allow them to capture him and do their worst to him. He no longer cared by then. And because they would starve him of the good aspects of relationships, of love and friendship, he would transform into a darker form of himself. He would be significantly weaker in many respects because he'd be broken. He would conduct his own experiments on the world at large, experimenting on bacteria, viruses, cybernetic implants. The dream would only end when everyone on the world was dead. He felt his heart beat faster and he shuddered at the thought.
Alone. Five letters could not be worse. Was it coincidence that clone could be nearly as bad?