Connections

Sam was not a morning person, but after a night spent tossing and turning in a hotel bed too perfect for human sleep, she found herself lacing up her sneakers at sunrise and pacing the marble halls like a caged animal. She had managed to grab a hug from Andy just before Dawn had reached his Suite last night, so she figured she’d be good until the afternoon.

Her plan to walk the hotel’s corridors lasted all of fifteen minutes before the urge to escape became overwhelming. The resort’s “Fitness Center” was well-stocked, but the only thing worth doing was running outside.

She was pounding the perimeter of the main building when she spotted Liesa, hiking shoes on and radiant in the early light, following the path that led to the hiking trails. Sam hesitated. She’d admired Liesa’s stride: long, loping, purposeful, like she belonged to a faster species of human. It didn’t hurt that her legs looked like they’d been carved by a goddess with a grudge against pants. Liesa was wearing tight gym shorts and a crop top.

Sam jogged to catch up. “Hey,” she called out.

Liesa turned, brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead. She smiled. “Samantha,” she said, her accent hitting the second syllable like a ping-pong ball.

Sam grinned, falling in beside her. “Sam, please. Only my dad still calls me Samantha.” She winced at the memory.

Liesa’s laughter was the kind you wanted to bottle and save for rainy days. “Sam,” she said, obediently. “You are an early riser?”

“Not even a little,” Sam said. “But I can’t sleep in that bed. Too soft. Makes me feel like I’m drowning in angel fluff.”

Liesa scrunched her nose. “That sounds unpleasant.”

They walked in companionable silence for a while, the gravel crunching under their shoes. The trail looped through a mini-rainforest planted with all the ambition money could buy: towering palms, vast leaves that caught the sun and funneled it into dense pools of green and gold. The air was hot, but not yet oppressive.

“You ever hike back in Antwerp?” Sam asked, sidestepping a tangle of roots.

Liesa shrugged, arms swinging easy at her sides. “Not so much. Belgium is very flat. We bike more than walk. Here, it is like walking inside a salad.”

Sam snorted. “A very expensive, probably radioactive salad.”

They reached a fallen log spanning a shallow ditch. Liesa hopped up, balancing easily, but Sam hesitated. She didn’t trust the wood, or her luck. Liesa turned, held out her hand.

“Let me help,” she said.

Sam eyed her, wary but amused. “You think I’m going to fall and sue the hotel?”

Liesa just smiled. “I think maybe you want someone to help you, sometimes, even if you pretend you don’t.”

Sam stared, then laughed, mostly at herself. “Fine,” she said, grabbing Liesa’s hand. The skin was warm, the grip strong but not competitive. They crossed the log in three steps, Sam wobbling on the second but righting herself before she could make an ass of it.

“Victory!” Liesa announced, letting go and bowing slightly.

Sam rolled her eyes, then pointed at a break in the trees. “C’mon. I think there’s a lookout up ahead.”

The trail wound upward, steeper now, and the canopy thinned, letting in shafts of white-hot light. By the time they reached the overlook, Sam was sweating through her tank top, breath coming hard. Liesa barely glowed.

The view was worth it: the resort spread out below, perfect and glossy, the ocean a sheet of hammered silver in the distance. They leaned on the rail, soaking it in.

“This reminds me of a park near our campus,” Sam said, voice low. “Nature preserve, out west of the city. You ever go there?”

Liesa thought, then nodded. “Once. I think you were there, too.”

Sam turned, eyebrows up. “Yeah?”

“You had black hair then,” Liesa said, eyes laughing. “You were with a girl. She wore all black and had very loud opinions.”

Sam snorted. “Joanna. She was a phase.”

Liesa shrugged, diplomatic. “I thought you were… interesting. Always so much energy, but when you talked to people, you made them feel seen.” She looked away, as if embarrassed. “That is not common.”

Sam felt her face flush. She wasn’t used to compliments that didn’t come with a price tag or a punchline. “Thanks,” she said, quietly. “I always figured people mostly found me annoying.”

“Maybe,” Liesa said, grinning, “but good annoying. The kind that stays in your mind.”

They watched the water in silence, each lost in thought. After a while, Liesa spoke.

“You dated Andy in college, yes?”

Sam shook her head. “Nah. We were just friends. I think he wanted it, maybe, but I was already mostly over guys by then. I told him straight out, and he took it better than any guy I ever met.” She smiled, bittersweet. “He was always solid. Like, you could trust him with anything, and he wouldn’t break.”

Liesa nodded. “I remember that. He was kind. When I left, he wrote me a letter in Antwerp. I still have it, somewhere.”

Sam looked at her, surprised. “He never told me that.”

“He would not,” Liesa said. “He was private about feelings.”

Sam leaned against the railing. “You missed him, didn’t you?”

Liesa’s eyes were very blue, and very far away. “I did. But now… I don’t know. I am afraid, maybe, that I ruined what we had. That if we try to really talk about it, it will break.” She paused. “Andy and I, we talked yesterday. A bit. But not enough, I think.”

Sam nudged her gently. “You could do worse than Andy. Even if he’s a clueless dork sometimes.”

Liesa laughed, then caught Sam’s eye. “What about you? Is there anyone back home?”

Sam hesitated. “There was. Mikaela. We lasted a four dates, then it just… fizzled, I think.” She stared at her shoes. “I’m bad at holding on. I get restless. Push people away before they can bail on me.”

Liesa rested her arms on the rail, thoughtful. “You are not restless. You just need to feel wanted.”

Sam tried to joke, but the words stuck in her throat. “Yeah, well, in here, it’s all about what Arabella wants.”

Liesa’s smile was soft. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s about what you want, and you just have to ask for it.”

Sam grinned. “You saying I should make a wish list?”

Liesa nodded, solemn. “Yes. I think you deserve nice things, Sam.”

They stood together, sharing the view and the warmth. The awkwardness was gone, replaced by something easy, familiar. Sam looked at Liesa, the strong lines of her face, the graceful way she held herself, and wondered how she’d ever missed the appeal. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe she was just scared to see it.

They started down the trail, talking about nothing—favorite foods, old movies, the best beaches in Belgium. When they reached the fallen log again, Liesa didn’t offer her hand, but Sam took it anyway. They laughed, and this time, they both wobbled and almost fell, catching each other in a clumsy hug at the bottom.

Back at the hotel, the air conditioning was a cold shock. Sam held the door for Liesa, and they walked the hallways like a pair of conspirators.

“You want to have lunch with the rest?” Sam asked.

Liesa smiled. “Let’s clean up first. You are sweaty, and I have sand in places sand should not be.”

Sam laughed, “Deal. Race you to the showers?”

Liesa shook her head, eyes glinting. “No, you will cheat. But maybe tomorrow.”

They split up, promising to meet in the lounge in an hour. Sam watched Liesa walk away, then headed for her own room, feeling lighter than she had in days.

Maybe this place was a trap, a game, a freak show. But at least there were good people to share it with.

She grinned, wiped sweat from her brow, and went to get clean.

The infinity pool was deserted except for Erin and Norah, floating at opposite ends like rival planets. The water was a mirror, flat and so perfectly blue it looked painted. In the far distance, the ocean met the sky, the line between them soft as a bruise.

Erin had staked out the deep end, swimming slow, deliberate laps, her auburn hair slicked back in a way that made her look even more severe than usual. Norah claimed the shallow, propping herself against the rim, H-cups rising and falling in the water like a pair of expensive pool floats. Neither woman said a word for a long time. The only sounds were the slow splash of Erin’s arms and the soft, ceaseless rush of a filter somewhere below the deck.

Norah finally broke the silence. “So. I guess it worked out for him, didn’t it.”

Erin stopped swimming, treading water, eyes locked on the horizon. “What are you talking about?”

Norah’s lips twisted, not quite a smile. “You. The new setup. Now you can’t even get off unless Andy is there to watch. Seems… convenient for him.”

Erin’s body went rigid, her legs scissoring under the surface. “That’s not—” She cut herself off, the words bubbling up and sinking before she could finish. She pushed herself to the ledge, gripping the stone hard enough that her knuckles whitened.

Norah shrugged. “Hey, I’m just saying. If it were me, I’d probably be pissed.”

Erin glared, but said nothing. Her breath came fast and uneven, little whorls forming in the water around her. She stared at her own hands, then at Norah, then back at her hands.

“You don’t know anything about it,” she said, voice flat.

Norah let herself slide further down the wall, arms splayed, breasts threatening to breach the water entirely. “No, I guess not. Never really had the Master’s attention, did I. I just work here, apparently.”

Erin closed her eyes, her jaw tight. She pulled herself out of the pool in one sharp motion, water streaming down her arms and legs, dripping from her hair like rain off a power line. She didn’t bother grabbing a towel, just stalked away, leaving wet footprints across the deck.

Norah watched her go, face unreadable. When Erin vanished around the hedge, Norah closed her eyes and lay back, floating, arms wide. She let the sun burn her eyelids, and didn’t move for a very long time.

Later in the afternoon, Andy was on his way to the gym to find Sam for her daily “hug therapy” when he ran into Emi near the elevator. She was reading as she walked, a thick library book splayed in one hand—one of her original hands, Andy noticed, and it looked almost natural now, the way she let the extra arms curl around her body like a scarf or a clutch bag. He almost didn’t recognize her until she waved, all six arms moving in perfect sequence, a ripple of motion that was graceful and uncanny.

“Hi, Andy,” she said, voice as soft as always. The extra hands fidgeted behind her back, as if uncertain whether to join in.

He smiled, genuinely happy to see her. “Hey, Emi. You’ve gotten really good at that.”

She shrugged, a little bashful. “During the day, it’s easier. At night, I’m still learning. I think maybe they’re smarter than I am.”

Andy tried to picture sleeping with six arms, and failed. “Does it… hurt? Or feel weird?”

“Not weird. Just… new,” Emi said. She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry if I startled you. I saw you wandering and thought maybe I could help.”

“You could help by telling me where Sam’s hiding,” Andy joked.

Emi smiled, but it faded. “She’s in the gym. She says she likes punching things in the afternoon.” Then, in a rush: “I like seeing you. I mean, I used to see you a lot more when we were younger.”

He caught the shift in her voice and slowed his pace. “I know. I missed it, too. I always wondered why you stopped coming over.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “I didn’t want to make things harder for you.” She didn’t explain, but the sadness in her eyes was answer enough.

He walked with her, not speaking for a while, letting the silence be soft instead of sharp. from a pocket somewhere, she pulled out a piece of origami paper.

After a bit, Andy asked, “What do you do now? For work, I mean?”

Emi brightened. “I illustrate children’s books. Mostly animals. I like making stories for kids who feel a little lost.” Two hands made a tiny origami crane as she spoke; she passed it to Andy, who let it perch on his finger.

“Do you ever go outside?” he asked, thinking of how Laura used to complain about Emi becoming a “hermit in a shell.”

She shook her head, smiling. “Not often. I don’t really like crowds, or noise. But I love the library, and the little pond near my house. Sometimes I walk there and draw the ducks.”

Andy laughed. “I’m glad you still do that. You used to draw Laura and me all the time.”

Her smile faded, replaced by a wistful look. “I miss her, you know.”

He nodded. “Me too. Every day.” His voice went rough. “Sometimes I think I see her in crowds. Or I think I hear her laugh, and for a second...” He broke off, biting back the rest.

Emi reached for his hand—with one of the new ones, this time—and squeezed. It was just as warm, just as gentle.

“It’s okay,” she said. “We can remember her together. I think she’d like that.”

Andy squeezed back, and for a moment, the grief in his chest loosened. “Thanks, Emi. It means a lot.”

She blushed, then pulled her hands away. “There’s something else,” she said, voice quieter. “You know her parents moved out two years ago. I mean, pretty much vanished. Nobody in the neighborhood saw them. And the house—” She shook her head. “My parents told me it was bought and then torn down. Someone just leveled it.”

Andy’s jaw tensed. “Yeah. That was me.”

Emi looked at him, eyes wide.

“When we were kids, and she’d come to my home because her father was hurting her mother, Laura would say that one day she’d buy the house and raze it. She hated what happened there, how her dad treated her mom. The procession of women he slept with, right in that house, as if her mother meant nothing. So when I had the money, I did it. I thought maybe if she could see it, wherever she is, it would make her happy.”

Emi smiled, all six hands pressed to her heart. “That’s so like you, Andy. You always keep your promises.”

He felt his throat tighten, but this time it didn’t hurt as much.

Emi reached out, hugging him with all her arms, real and new. It was a little clumsy, but Andy hugged her back, letting himself be folded in. She rested her head on his shoulder, her hair soft as feathers.

Hugged the Master! +1 VP

“Don’t change, okay?” she said, muffled.

He nodded. “I’ll try.”

She let him go, then stepped back, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You should go find Sam. She’ll get grumpy if you don’t.”

He grinned. “You’re right. Want to come with?”

Emi shook her head, smiling. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe I can show you my drawings.”

He nodded, and watched her leave, each arm moving with its own odd grace. For the first time in a long time, Andy felt like he could breathe.

He tucked the origami crane into his pocket, and headed to the gym to find Sam.