Then again, it feels like we’re pretty much even. Because it would wreck me to separate from her too.
Inara leans into me and her tail comes around to hug my knee on the far side of her. With my arms, I give her a deep hug.
“Okay, tell us more about your brothers,” Kerry says, dipping a carrot in browned butter sauce.
“I have seven of them,” Inara responds, her lips curved up as she anticipates the reaction.
She is not disappointed. Despite the fact that my sisters just got done loyally extolling my brotherly virtues, they all squawk various exclamations of horror at the idea of having to deal with seven of me.
“They are very protective too,” Inara shares. She gives my thigh a fond pat. “I suppose it helped prepare me for this.”
My family laughs.
When it gets time to kick back and cry together, Inara sets up the DVD player (yes, I have one of those) and my sisters tease me for breaking my vow that I’d never again subject myself to the Me Before You movie. Stiffly, I remind them that I declared I would not return to the theatre for a second showing of MBU. I never said I wouldn’t watch it under duress at home.
I get dust in my eyes all over again, Inara sobs uncontrollably, and when everyone is good and heartbroken, I break it to my family that Inara and I have to leave for her safety. It’s understandable that they’re shocked and lovingly opposed.
“You’re going to leave?” my sister Kacey cries with so much feeling that I’m touched down to my marrow.
When I see my mother’s face though—and all of my sisters’ faces—I feel like I’m being torn apart. “Look, guys, I know…” My voice cracks, and it takes two tries to clear it. Despite the effort, my next words still come out rough. “I know this is sudden. I know I’ve always said my heart is in Chicago.” I knit my fingers with Inara’s and hold up our hands. “But then Inara showed up, and my heart became hers. And we’d stay, for you guys, I want to stay—but it’s not safe for her to be here. She kinda sticks out.”
Looking ravaged and solemn, my mother stares at me from eyes that pierce straight into my soul. “I always knew that when you found your woman, you’d be 100% for her.” She tries to smile. “The only surprise here is that she’s not only ‘not from around here.’ She’s…”
“Alien,” my sister Kaley finishes hollowly. “You’re going to travel to an alien planet and live there.”
I shrug and nod. I clasp Inara’s hand tighter, and welcome her tail’s reassuring squeeze on my leg. “Yep.”
“What are you going to do there?” Kate asks, voice cracking.
My shoulders inch up. “Don’t know yet. A lot’s still up in the air.”
“I’m guessing this is like an advanced society that you’ll be joining? How’s that going to work exactly?” Kerry pipes in, glancing between me and Inara, gesturing to her. “Because, Matt, you’re like the worst person in the world when it comes to accepting new technology. Remember how long it took you to get a cell phone?”
I grimace. “I know, Kerry. But we’re gonna deal.”
“Where will you stay?” Kate asks.
“Initially, I’ll keep him in the human preserve,” Inara says like I’m her pet hedgehog.
“Will we,” Kaley chokes out, “ever see you again?”
Inara brings out a tablet and holds it out for the Shawnessy clan. “This is a Comm unit. It will allow you to communicate with us.”
“We’ve talked about traveling back if we can,” I tell them. My heart hurts, but I meet all of their eyes, the gravity of what the future looks like hitting hard. “But we may not be able to. It’s expensive to travel across galaxies, and dangerous. And even if we’re here…” I don’t look at Inara; I don’t have to. The degree to which she does not blend is evident for all to see. “It’s still dangerous,” I finish.
“Okay,” my mother finally says. And as the matriarch of our family unit, we all take our cues from her, even though we’re all grown up. My sisters immediately put steel in their spines, and the crying slows to soft, shaky inhales. “Okay,” my mom says again. She reaches out, takes Inara’s hand, and pats it, looking absolutely genuine when she says, “Welcome to the family, Inara. I’m so, so grateful I got to meet you. You don’t know how much I’ve been looking forward to the day Matt finally found the woman meant for him. May I give you a hug?”
My sisters follow her example, welcoming Inara warmly and kindly, even if they are sad.
Inara shows them how to use the Comm, having them send test communications to the spare unit she has. Then we start talking logistics. My family understandably has a lot of concerns, some of which Inara and I haven’t gotten to hash out fully yet. Some of their questions we have covered though, including “What are you going to do with your fish?”
I shoot an arch look at Inara, who bites her lip apologetically.
Eyebrow cocked, I drawl, “If I have any left by the time we leave, they’ll be safest with one of you guys. I’ve noticed they’ve developed a disappearing problem.”
“A disappearing problem?” my mom asks.
“Yeah,” I confirm, shooting another look at Inara, at the penitant set of her ears—but honing in on her eyes, which are taking on that blown-pupil look she gets when she stares at my fishtank and gets hungry. “You could say it’s a bad habit.”
My sisters peer at Inara with nonplussed looks, probably not sure they’re hearing me right. Wondering if they’re misunderstanding my insinuation.
They’re not. My alien eats my fish.
(Yes, along with the fishes’ food.)
“What about Grandpa’s car?”
This from Kelly, but everybody is suddenly eyeing me with a new predatory light.
“Ha,” I tell all their expectant faces. “I’m getting buried in that fucking car.”
“Matthew! Don’t swear,” my mother warns.
“Sorry, Ma,” I tell her quickly. Then I look at everyone. “It’s coming with us.” I glance to Inara, because actually, we didn’t cover this—but she nods easily like this is non-negotiable for her too and we’ll make it happen.
“You can’t be buried in the Boss,” my mom states. “What if you have kids? You need to pass it on,” she chides.
Inara takes my hand, and I give her fingers a squeeze and tip my head at her. Break the news, Baby.
“I’m carrying a litter,” Inara announces.
SMG. My family loses their minds.
(No, not OMG. SMG: Sequential Manual Gearbox.)
(Don’t get a car with an SMG gearbox. Just a friendly Public Service Announcement, because these suckers have a high failure rate, replacement parts (which you can’t return) that have price tags starting at a cool seven grand—and there’s no guarantee your car will run when you slap in these new parts. Just… SMGs, DON’T GET THEM.)
Screams, shrieks, congratulations from my family—it’s loud and happy and sad all at once.
Gently, I assure them, “Although us leaving needs to happen, we’ve got a little time.” I move my stare over each of their overwhelmed faces. “And I’ve got some stuff I need all of yous to look over. Let me get my laptop.”