Eva narrowed her eyes. “So what does BOFA have you doing all the way out here?” she asked.
Regina smiled with her mouth closed. “I thought we were all very sleepy, mija,” she replied.
Touché. Eva nodded and yawned, lacing her fingers together and stretching her arms out in front of her.
“Gracias, Mami,” Eva said. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”
“Cierto,” Regina agreed, and Eva wondered briefly whether they could somehow wake up extra early and sneak out before her mother noticed.
The smell of coffee, proper Cuban coffee, greeted Eva when she startled awake from a nightmare. She’d been back at her childhood home, lying in her mom’s bed, and the xana they’d called Mother had stood in the doorway staring down at her. Had drifted closer while Eva clutched her blanket and tried to scream, tried to leave, but her muscles wouldn’t respond, her voice was a whisper, no one could hear her and no one would come to save her, and then a tiny perfect circle bloomed on Mother’s forehead as purple blood trailed down between her enormous, dark eyes . . .
Eva sucked in a lungful of air and wiped her face with the back of her hand. That had been milder than usual, and no less than she deserved, but it wasn’t the best way to start a cycle that promised to be its own special brand of unpleasant.
She’d opted to sleep on the couch, with Vakar sitting across from her, close to the door in case someone tried to get in—or leave, though where her mother went was less of a worry at the moment than whether they were about to be rounded up by agents of the Prime.
Part of her was still wondering why they hadn’t been, why the Watchers had agreed to bring them all here when asked. Lashra Damaal was playing a hell of a game of dominoes, laying down one tile after another with no clear strategy. And Eva had a bad feeling she’d be the one locked out and left knocking on the table.
“Good morning, good morning, good morning to you!” Regina sang, hovering over with a tacita of coffee for Eva, complete with espumita. “I know you prefer a cortadito, but I forgot to bring any milk, and I can’t figure out how to get this cabrón máquina to work.” She gestured at the synthesizer in the kitchen behind her.
“It’s fine, gracias, Mami,” Eva said, and took the tiny cup. “I’m surprised they even have tazas de café here.”
“Ay, no, I brought my own,” Regina said. “And my cafetera. When you travel as much as I do, you realize very quickly that no one has what you need, so . . .” She shrugged and returned to the kitchen, retrieving her own cafecito and sipping it delicately.
Eva inhaled the dark, bittersweet scent and sighed happily. For all the other reasons this whole trip had been shit, a cup of good coffee almost made it worthwhile. Almost.
Regina returned, inching toward Eva, but with her eyes on Vakar. He was resting, his eyes closed and his palps still, scales gently shifting as he breathed.
Regina leaned in close to Eva’s ear. “Is he asleep?” she whispered.
“He doesn’t sleep,” Eva whispered back. “Also he can hear you, he’s just being polite.” You sang a whole song a minute ago, Eva thought, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Ah, bueno, good morning then,” Regina said. “Do any of your . . . friends drink coffee, too?”
“Not Cuban coffee, no,” Eva replied. “Pink prefers iced sweet tea, Min likes hot green tea, and Sue drinks some weird thing she calls ‘root beer’ that’s like if licorice and malta had a baby.”
“I hope they can get the synthesizer to work, because I didn’t bring any of that.” Regina studied Eva critically, continuing to sip her coffee, lips perfectly lined and colored the same dark red she’d worn for years. Eva waited, wondering which of them would break the silence first, and what topic they would start with. Why Eva was on Garilia? Why she hadn’t mentioned it during their prior call?
“You should have told me you had a boyfriend, mija.”
Eva sighed, in relief or exasperation, or maybe both. “What, like, sent you a q-mail? ‘Oye Mamita, I’m good, by the way I have a partner now, here’s a picture’?”
“Sí, eso,” Regina said. “Your sister sent me a picture of her last boyfriend.”
Yeah, right. “I didn’t think about it. I’ve been busy with work.”
“Claro. And now you’re here doing what, exactly? Looking for that criminal?”
Eva exhaled loudly and threw herself sideways to lie on the couch. “No empieces, por favor. What are you doing here, hmm?”
Regina looked away and took an unusually long sip of her coffee. “This is my business trip, like you said,” she replied.
“What business?” Eva asked. “You’re an auditor. What are you auditing here for BOFA?”
Regina’s expression flattened out, like she was making an effort to control it. “Garilia’s membership application. A lot of things have to be checked and rechecked before the planet can upgrade its protected status.”
Of course someone had to oversee a whole planet being in compliance with whatever rules and regulations BOFA churned out. Eva had never imagined her own mom doing it. That was a job for random, faceless bureaucrats in stuffy offices with desks covered in holocubes of kid pictures—exactly the kind of thing Eva had run away from when she was a teenager, going to work for her dad, with his glamorous universe-traveling life of adventure.
And here her mother was, out from behind her desk, apparently traveling the universe to check . . . Whatever the hell needed checking. A bureaucrat with a face. And coincidentally, conveniently, assigned to the last place in the universe Eva wanted to be, and the place she needed to be the most in that moment.
Eva found herself deeply unsettled in ways she couldn’t process immediately, so instead, she deflected.
“I need to get some breakfast,” she announced, springing to her feet and taking her taza to the kitchen for sanitizing.
“I can make you something,” Regina said, floating up behind her.
“No, it’s okay, I want to see what they have that’s more . . . local. Maybe take a walk by the water.” Eva smiled, hoping it looked genuine.
Vakar opened one eye, otherwise not moving. “Would you like me to go with you?”
“No, that’s fine, I’m fine. How are you?” She was aware of how absurdly chipper she must sound to him, but hoped he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it.
Pink emerged from the room she was sharing with Min and Sue, yawning and stretching like the cat that followed at her heels. “I want some local breakfast, too. I’m coming.”
Eva almost protested that she wanted to be alone, but the look in Pink’s eye stopped her. “Fine, great, salpica. My stomach isn’t going to feed itself.” She crossed to the other couch to give Vakar an awkward sideways hug, which he returned, resting his head briefly against hers before releasing her. He smelled like licorice, like the air before rain, but as much as she wanted to keep sitting with him, she couldn’t stay there for another minute.
Regina smiled like she had a secret. “Bueno, I have to get to work, but I’ll be here when you get back.” She hovered over to Eva, who dutifully planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek before practically running for the door.