Nice to meet you

Time is a spice. It can be added, but it cannot be taken away. Too much or too little, and the noodles are ruined, the ingredients uncooked or overcooked. In ramen, as in life, we must be aware of the passage of time and be prepared to act. What do you want to spend your time on?
—1,001 Ways to Cook Ramen

Mel grabbed an extra burrito to munch on the way home. Jenny and Jordan were holding hands, and he trailed behind them like a lost puppy. There was something somber in the way Jenny took off his hoodie and handed it to Mel, so that his half-sister would recognize him. Almost as if they were giving him permission for something.

Unexpectedly, they came with him to the bus stop, they waited with him, and pressed kisses on his cheeks before he boarded. It was the first time they had done that, and the bus driver grinned at Mel as he slid his hand with the credit chip implant over the charge plate to pay the fare.

Rachel met him with a kiss at the college stop. She had a button-up shirt on today, black slacks, a fresh bandage on her neck. Held his hand on the way into the classroom.

Angelika and Angus were there, and Mel tried to shift into student-mode, though he felt the jitter of anticipation. Molly. What would she look like? What would she sound like? Would they have anything in common, except a sperm or egg donor?

"While there are signs for individual letters and numbers, called fingerspelling, most conversations in ASL consist of signs for entire words or phrases," Angelika McKinney said and signed. "As with all languages, you may be frustrated in the beginning because your knowledge of the vocabulary and grammar is necessarily limited. However, this will expand in time. In this class, we are going to begin with the most practical approach: how to introduce yourself, how to ask someone for their name, and how to introduce someone else. This will be a partner activity . . ."

They showed the signs. Then they had everyone paired off to sign to each other. Mel and Rachel paired off initially, but Angus quickly saw that they were too familiar with each other, and asked everyone to switch partners. Mel ended up signing with Dawn, Rachel with a young man with a crew cut. The exercise slowly expanded. Rachel introduced her new partner as Will. Mel introduced Dawn. By the end of the session, the entire class was silent as they played a game of telephone, Angelika's name being transmitted down through the whole class. Amazingly, it didn't come out too horribly mangled at the end.

"If you can, practice at home," Angelika said and signed. "Practice what you know, and learn new signs. This course is designed to help you, but actual fluency can only be achieved with practice."

Rachel knew the campus and led the way to the Campus Cafe. The campus was old enough to have well-tended lawns shadowed by gnarled trees, criss-crossed with cement paths, and here and there a bare earth track where generations of students had decided to make a shortcut. They passed buildings marked with numbers and the names of dead people who had given vast sums to the college and so deserved to be remembered. Or at least, that's what Rachel said.

"You seem to be picking up ASL quickly," Mel said. "Is the pearl helping?"

Rache frowned. "I don't think so. I mean, I don't know how to tell. It just seems pretty easy so far. Although we need to practice more at home."

"Agreed," Mel said. She kept frowning. "What's up? You look upset."

"The sleepwalking thing bothers me," Rache admitted. "What if I want to do more than just taste your cum? I was out of control on that bus ride, and you don't exactly wear a condom at night."

Now it was Mel's turn to frown. He could easily picture Rachel naked on top of him, splooging himself awake. His pants began to strain just at the thought, a sudden stiffness that took him by surprise.

"Yeah, that is a problem. Maybe I should ask Jordan for the chastity cage. Just to wear at night."

Rache turned to him. "You'd do that?"

Mel shrugged. "Better safe than sorry, right? I mean, it's not that I don't want to—it felt great when we did it. But there's the risk of pregnancy."

"Yeah," Rache admitted, and gave his hand a squeeze. "There is that."

Coffee shop on a weeknight. College students filled most of the tables. All of them were around Mel and Rachel's age. He looked around, focused on the young women reading, sipping, talking, working on their laptops. Searching for something familiar.

"Mel Arkwright!" a barista called out. Mel frowned and looked around. No one else went forward. The barista called it out again. This time, Mel stepped forward.

"I'm Mel Arkwright," he said.

The barista handed him the cup, which had his name written on the side in permanent marker, then turned back to the next customer. Confused, Mel turned around—and almost bumped into a short woman. Maybe 4'8". Cafe-au-lait skin. Dark, crinkly hair that frizzed out to her shoulders. A button nose and a generous mouth. Thick glasses. She was wearing a black pantsuit with broad shoulder-pads, which added to an overall sense of thickness.

She looked up at him, right in the eyes, and when she spoke, her voice had that slightly bilingual accent he associated with Québécois.

"I'm Molly Maguire," she said, and there was a challenge in her voice, as if inviting him to say something about it.

"Uh. Hi. Pleased to meet you," Mel stuck out his hand. He studied her face, not sure if there was anything familiar in it or not. "Where would you like to talk?"

"Outside."

There were picnic tables outside. They sat down on opposite sides. Rachel, following behind, sat next to Mel.

"I'm sorry. Molly, this is Rachel Cartwright, my girlfriend. Rache, this is Molly—"

"We've met," Molly broke in. She scowled at Rachel. "I'm the TA in her Calculus class."

Mel looked at Rache.

"I didn't know," the blonde said. "No idea at all. This is all new to me."

"To all of us," Mel said. He lifted up the cup. "What is this?"

Molly turned back to him, and her expression didn't change.

"Ice water. I needed to see who you were before I introduced myself," she said.

Mel nodded. "Sure. That makes sense. Thanks."

He cracked the lid and took a sip.

"So. Not sure how you want to do this. Do I tell you about myself, or do we ask questions, or what?" Mel said.

"Let's start with you," Molly said. "Who are you? Who are your parents?"

So Mel told his story. A story he'd rarely told to anyone in full. Even Rachel had only heard it in fits and starts. James and Sinead Arkwright. Orphaned in 2040. Raised in the orphanage. Just hit 18 in February. Living in an apartment with two roommates, working at the Cosmic Fill-Up.

". . . my roommate Jordan is possessed by a brain slug. Rachel is her sister, that's how we met. My other roommate, Jenny, is also a brain slug host. She used to live in the apartment across the hall, but her roommate attacked her. I intervened, and he stabbed me in the foot. He ran away and had a fatal traffic accident. So Rachel moved into the empty apartment with his sister Anastasia, and Jenny came to live with me and Jordan in our apartment." Mel took a big breath, realizing how much he was leaving out. "Anyway. Your turn."

"You were stabbed. In the foot," Molly said. "Did you ever get medical care for that?"

"Um. I had it cleaned up at work. It's healed fine. Little scar, but doesn't hurt," Mel said, flexing his foot under the table to demonstrate. "That's kind of how my DNA got out there. My boss didn't believe I didn't have any family and sent some of my blood in for the online test."

"And you knew about this?" Molly said as she glanced at Rachel. Mel couldn't read the emotion in that glance.

"I didn't really meet him until after he'd been stabbed," Rachel chimed in. "And the DNA test was a surprise to all of us."

Molly frowned, then shook her head.

"You're thin," his half-sister said. "What are you eating?"

"Um. I get free meals at work. Burritos, rice bowls. At home, I mostly eat ramen. I've been trying to add some more vegetables lately," Mel said, suddenly uncomfortable. He'd never had anyone this interested in his diet before.

Molly reached across the table and took his hands. Her hands were dark, strong, pink palms and clear-coated nails as she examined his fingers. The young woman's frown deepened.

"You're not getting another water or vitamins," she said, and ran her thumb over his nails. Molly looked at Rachel, and this time the gaze was definitely accusatory. Rachel bit back whatever she wanted to say to that glare, and kept her face eerily neutral. Like she was copying Jordan's placid brain slug host expression, giving away nothing.

Molly released Mel's hands with a sigh, then gave her own story.

"My parents went to college in Seacouver. It's where they met. After graduation, they moved to Quebec. That's where I was born, in 2035," Molly said. Which made her two years older than Mel. "Ma mère, Lucie Larrivée had family there. Roots. Mon père, Seamus Maguire, had a good job offer with a lab in Montreal. So they moved. I was raised there. I only came out to Seacouver for my education. Bryn Mawr College; they have the best Xenotech undergraduate program on the continent. I'm pursuing a degree in it, and do TA work over here at the community college."

She sucked her lips in. Brown eyes behind her glasses moved from Mel to Rachel and back again.

"When I was going through my medical documentation to update the records for school in December, I noticed a discrepancy. My blood type is O. Mon père is AB. That shouldn't happen unless there was a non-paternity event. When I confronted them about it, the parental units admitted that he wasn't my biological father. He was there since I was born, raised me, mon père in every way that matters, but it turns out he can't have kids. That's why I'm an only child," Molly looked tense, or possibly sullen. "And I . . . kind of always wanted a little brother or sister. used to ask the parental units about it all the time growing up. So I did the DNA test online. Which reminds me."

Molly reached into her purse and pulled out a clear plastic tube.

"It's not that I don't trust you, but I'd like you to do a cheek swab. Just to run a more precise DNA match than those online services. I'll pay for it," she said.

Mel blinked. Cheek swab. He took the tube from her and pulled it open, saw the little plastic lance. His thought went back to Detective MacElroy and her request for a "DNA sample." A cold sensation went through his guts.

"Sure," he said. "Happy to do it. How do I . . ."

There was an instruction sheet. A little scrape against the inside of his cheek, in the tube, which disappeared back into her purse.

"I'm going to ask ma mère tonight about your dad," Molly said. Then frowned. "Well, maybe I won't call her. Time zone difference. But I'll send her an email. Do you have an email?"

They exchanged information, Mel writing hers down with the stolen library pen on a Campus Cafe napkin; Rachel put her information into her smartphone's contacts. All three of them sat there awkwardly for a minute, not sure what else to say.

"We need to catch the bus back before it's too late," Rachel said. Mel nodded, and they stood. He looked at her. So different from what he expected. Yet a part of him thought he could almost see it now, in the cheeks, the eyes. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

"Whatever the results of the test," Mel told her. "I'm glad to have met you. I don't know how this is supposed to work, but . . . it would be nice, having a big sister."

He reached out to shake her hand, and the shorter woman grabbed it and pulled him into a brief hug. After a moment, he hugged her back. Not sure how long was too long. Not sure how to process the sudden feeling in his chest, like a tight knot coming unwound. Hoping against hope that Molly didn't feel his awkward erection as her breasts crushed into him.

She released him.

"Nice to meet you, Melvillé," Molly said, giving the end a little accent it didn't deserve. She gave a little smile. "I'll be in touch."

She turned her gaze on Rachel, and the smile vanished.

"Take care of him, okay?" It was the tone of voice Mel associated with cat-owners leaving their pets in someone else's care for the weekend. Like there was a dagger beneath it, a threat that if they weren't exactly as healthy when they came back to collect, there would be blood to pay.

"I will," Rachel said, as she slid her arm in Mel's and guided him through the darkened campus. When they were well out of earshot, she whispered to him.

"Your new sister can be a bit of a bitch."

Mel gave a sick smile.

"Well, I probably do need to eat better," he admitted. "And I probably don't drink enough water."

"How do you feel about her?" Rache asked.

"Unsure," Mel replied. "I want it to be true. I want to have that connection. At the same time, I don't know what it means. Don't want to screw up her life if our parents had an affair or something. I guess a part of me hoped there would be some kind of instant rapport or recognition, but I guess it doesn't work that way. I mean, she didn't hate the sight of me, that's something."

"Well, you're not too hard on the eyes," Rachel said with a smile, and bumped him with her hip. She reached over and kissed his cheek as they made the bus stop. "And you have one very good quality, though I hope she doesn't see that. But let's try to figure out a way to make sure Molly doesn't become an aunt before graduation."