Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Okay,” Gina said, taking a deep breath. The little townhouse door felt so huge, so terrifying. But despite the weeks of preparations, the pep talks Callana had given her, and the texts assuring her that her da and ma were thrilled to meet her girlfriend, she couldn’t stop cringing.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Callana asked, taking Gina’s arm. In the month they’d spent officially dating, she’d been a real gem. She’d helped Gina apply to colleges, duplicated enough funds that they didn’t have to worry about rent and groceries, and even learned how to cook real, human food. She still had a habit of grinding up glass shards and sprinkling them into their meals as “seasoning,” but some habits never died.

“Y-yeah, gimme a minute,” Gina said, stepping onto the sidewalk and giving her hands a little shake.

This was gonna suck. Fatherland Unification Day—or “FUD,” as most people called it—was one of those days only retentionists actually cared about, as it mostly celebrated Borakovoni imperialism. Just an excuse for people to wave the flag around and shout down progressives.

And yet, it was Gina’s favorite holiday. Sure, she accepted that it was problematic, that it only served to fuel nationalist propaganda, that fireworks were awful for veterans, wildlife, and people with PTSD—but damn, if her ma didn’t make the best borscht.

“Do you want me to knock?” Callana asked, her eyes darting from Gina to the doorway.

“No, no… I-I got it.”

Gina stomped up onto the porch and rapped her knuckles on the solid, green door. After a few minutes, the door whipped open to reveal her ma. With her curly, black hair, her slanting jawline, and her nearly black eyes, Ma looked almost identical to Gina, but her skin was a few shades darker, and the ravages of time were beginning to show on her face. Give it twenty years, and it would be like looking in a mirror—though Gina supposed she’d never look old at this point, thanks to Callana’s intervention. That thought weighed her down even as she put on a big smile, said “Hi, Ma!” and practically tackled her mother in a big hug.

“It’s been three months since you’ve visited, young lady!” Ma said with a stern affect. “And don’t give me all that ‘oh, I was busy’ guff, Ginavriklin, you’re never too busy to visit your old ma and da. You’re always welcome here—you remember that.”

“Maaaaa,” Gina groaned.

“I won’t hear it!” her mother said, frowning. Then, she grinned. “Is this Callana? Oh, look at you! I’m so excited to meet you, after everything Gina’s said. You can call me Shierie, Ma, anything you like, okay?”

“Okay!” Callana said. “I am ex-ci-ted to meet you, too!”

Ma shot Gina a toothy smile. “I love her accent! You’ve got quite a catch on your hands.”

Flushing, Gina stammered for a bit.

“Come in, come in!” Ma said, ushering them up the little stairs right inside the doorway, up into the old-fashioned living room of Gina’s childhood. It truly hadn’t changed a bit—they still had all those old, antique, floral couches with the studded seams and hand-carved wooden feet. While they’d upgraded to one of those fancy plasma screen TVs, they still had the same ancient speakers Da had hooked up eons ago. They apparently hadn’t made the upgrade to DVD players yet, though, since that creaky old VCR with its faux-oak paneling still featured prominently on their non-faux-oak TV stand.

And there, in the hall leading off to the kitchen, stood Da, with his balding head and his tiny glasses and his dopey overalls, looking like someone had screwed a giant thumb onto someone’s neck and scribbled facial features on it with a permanent marker. For whatever reason, he had two oven mitts on—odd, because he never cooked a day in his life. He was traditional like that. “Traditional,” of course, being a euphemism for “useless around the house.”

“Ginny!” he hollered with his gravelly, chemo-ravaged voice, lumbering over and enveloping her in a tight bear hug. “Oh, and this’d be the girlfriend, eh? Callie?”

“Callana!” Callana chirped. “Hi!”

Da whistled at the sight of her, then shot Gina a cheeky wink. “Well,” he said in that thick accent Gina loved mocking so much, “come on in! Sit, sit! I’ve got pirozhkis in the oven, comin’ out soon!”

“Wait, are you baking?” Gina asked, bewildered. She and Callana shuffled over to one of the old couches and sat on its springy surface, quietly holding hands.

“Poorly,” Ma interjected, wrapping her long arms around Da’s bulky waist. “But he’s learning!”

“Old dogs, new tricks, yadda yadda,” Da said. “We’re exchanging hobbies. See, Callana, I dunno how much old Ginny’s told you about her da, but I’m a fisherman—not professional, ’course, but I take the old skiff out every other day, bring home pike and breams for dinners, you know.”

“Brovar’s ashes,” Gina groaned. “Do you have any idea how many times a week we did ukha for dinner? Since I’ve moved out, I haven’t even touched a soup that has fish in it. If I never have to eat fish again, It’ll be too soon.”

“She loved it,” Da said. “Anyhow, I’ve been taking Shierie out on the water, and she’s been teaching me how to cook and all that. It’s been a fun little project, y’know, doing stuff a bit different and all that.”

Callana smiled. “You’ll have to take us along some-time!”

“Oh?” Da said. “Well, I like this one.” He pecked Ma on the top of her head, then shuffled off to the kitchen. “I’ll be back!” he hollered. “Just getting’ things ready!”

Ma sat across from Gina and Callana, settling into her old wing-tipped chair, whose floral pattern just slightly deviated from the couch’s. “So, spill it! How’d you two meet?”

“Uh…” Gina said. “Well, we said we weren’t gonna lie to you guys, so… I found Cal on the side of the road, walking all by herself just off the beach… naked.”

Ma cocked an eyebrow. “Really? Uh…”

“I was lost,” Callana interjected. “And I did not have any of the clothes, and Gina… well, she was kind, and she gave me clothes and took me to her house, be-cause I did not have a place to stay.”

Ma’s eyes widened, clearly assuming something similar to what Gina had thought prior to the whole “elder god” revelation. This was going to be… an interesting conversation.

Da shuffled back into the room, carrying a piping-hot tray of filled pastries, which he set on the glossy coffee table between the couches and the armchair. “Sorry, did you say you were naked?”

“Y-yeah,” Callana said, flushing. “It is a long story…”

“I bet,” Da said. “Must’ve been quite a view, though, eh?” he said sitting on the couch beside Ma’s chair.

“Da!” Gina said. “I was worried she’d been trafficked or something; I wasn’t thinking about… that.”

Ma elbowed her husband, staring at Callana with concerned eyes. “Were you? Trafficked, I mean?”

“No, no,” Callana said. “I was just lost. I did not even speak the Boraki.”

“Really?” Da said. “You learned quick then, huh? I hear it’s hard to learn, especially for you Niminvian types.”

“She’s really smart,” Gina said, leaning over and palming one of the pirozhkis, wincing at how hot it was.

“Oh! Careful with those, they’re right out of the oven,” Da said.

“I got it,” Gina said, setting the meat pie on her lap to cool down. “Anyway, she’s as quick as they come. But it was a bit awkward for the first few days, not gonna lie.”

“You were still living with that Vonveir lad, yeah?” Da said. “Gotta say, I’d thought you two were practically married for years. Quite a shock when I found out, I must say.”

“Y-yeah, he moved out recently. He’s living with his boyfriend now.”

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“What a world we live in,” Da remarked, picking up a pirozhki of his own. “In my day, that kinda thing never happened.”

“I mean,” Gina blurted, “it did, but you never heard about it, because people just had to keep it secret.”

Da shrugged, taking a bite of his steaming bun.

“Well, we’re really glad you two are happy,” Ma said. “You two look good together.”

“Never quite figured how ladies were attracted to blokes anyhow,” Da said in between bites. “What’s there to like, y’know? I don’t get it. Men are so shapeless, y’know?”

“I dunno,” Ma said, tracing a finger up his bicep. “I think there’s a… certain appeal.”

Da rolled his eyes.

“So,” Ma said, changing the subject, “what do you do for a living, Callana?”

“Oh. Yes. I worked with Gina at the res-taur-ant for a while, but then the earth-quake de-stroy-ed it, so… I am in between jobs, like Gina.”

“Are you looking at applying to any universities?” Ma asked.

“Maybe?” Callana said. “I am hel-ping Gina apply to places, but I am not sure about my-self.”

“I’m glad you’re going back, Ginny,” Da said, wiping a streak of sauce off his lips. “Never did sit right how you threw it all away just ’cause I got sick.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Gina said. “I still don’t know what I wanna study.”

“If it wasn’t ‘that bad,’ then I wasn’t ‘that sick.’ You’re so much better than workin’ waitress jobs your whole life. And it’s a damn miracle I went into remission, ’coz if I hadn’t, you’d’ve been stuck—”

“Da, it’s fine. You can’t blame yourself for getting sick.”

“Can too!” Da said. “Chewed tobacco for thirty years. Can hardly act surprised I got cancer from it.”

Gina’s shoulders drooped. The room went quiet, and everyone looked around for a few minutes. Da’s four-year battle was easily one of the worst periods in Gina’s life, and even though he’d gotten better… there was no doubt over what would kill him in the long run.

“Anyhow,” Da said. “It worked out, and you’re gonna head to college, and it’ll all turn out.”

“Yeah,” Gina said. “But… there is something I figured I ought to mention.”

Ma gave her a concerned look. “Are you alright, Gina?”

“Oh, definitely, I’m alright. But… I’m gonna be alright for a long time, if you catch my drift.”

Ma and Da shot odd glances at each other.

“No, I don’t get what you mean,” Ma said. “Alright… like ‘all right?’ Are you—oh, Brovar, are you getting your left arm amputated?”

“What? No!” Gina said. “I wouldn’t announce that with a fu—freaking pun! No, I’m just… uh, well, some things have happened in my life, and I’ve undergone some changes recently, and things are a bit different now.”

Da squinted. “What, you’re one of them transgenders now, is that what you’re gonna say?”

“No! Brovar’s ashes, people, I’m not saying anything like that!”

“Well, you’re being very cryptic, sweetie” Ma said.

“Just spit it out!” Da said.

“I’m immortal!” Gina said.

Silence.

More silence.

Da blinked a few times. “So… what was that?”

“I’m immortal,” Gina said. “As in, I’m never going to die.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Ma said, leaning forward in her chair.

“Fucking—ugh.” Huffing, Gina closed her eyes. Subtly manipulating her cells the way Callana had shown her a few days back, she disconnected her nerve endings in her hand.

Then, she split her own palm in two. With a slight ripping sound, her skin tore apart from between her middle and ring fingers, leaving a full cross-section of her bloodless flesh visible in between. Her muscles twitched as her tendons slid up and down, wiggling her flesh this way and that, as she made it as clear as possible that this was no special effect or trick.

Ma and Da shot to their feet, yelping. Rushing over, Ma stammered something about getting bandages, while Da looked halfway ready to puke. Even Callana looked disturbed, since Gina hadn’t mentioned this was how she planned to prove things.

As the three gaped at her mangled limb, they watched in horror as her hand began to seal back together, seamlessly knitting into one solid piece. After it fully healed, Gina reattached her nerves, wincing at the slight twinge when they came together.

“Tah-dah,” she said, giving them a round of jazz hands.

No one said a word.

“Sorry about that. But, yeah, I’m immortal,” Gina said with a slight shrug.

Ma locked eyes with her daughter and shouted at the top of her lungs, “What the fuck, Gina?”

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