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Back A Fractured Infinity Save as PDF
Chapters (41)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. Acknowledgements
  41. About the Author

Back in the baking heat outside. Yusuf walked ahead of us, eyes on the dusty sidewalk. I’d catch up to him, but first—my eyes twitching, catching the last hints of Kaori’s margarita-buoyed smile on her lips—I stuck to her side. We should do this again, I said. I could crash their enhanced whatever sessions, or we could make them something more fun. Margarita club. Who doesn’t want to be part of a club? I’ll even make T-shirts, I joked. Why not, she said. And while she was in a good mood, I poked again. What if I recorded bits here and there around the Compound? A snip of a reply, a hand-wave. Just don’t get in the way. She didn’t even blink about me admitting that I’d smuggled a camera here. She probably already knew since there was no way some nondescript like me could get anything past her.

Back on the minibus, I sat next to Yusuf. He didn’t have much to say before he crossed his arms, leaned against the window, and tried to sleep.

9

FOOTAGE FARM

The f-word from Kaori. Have a little faith. Who knows if she meant to wound him or if she was just brushing him off.

Weeks later, when me and Yusuf were swapping the obligatory coming out stories in his room, propped up on pillows as the night breeze from the open window swept across our skin, I brought up faith again. I’d been scared to tell my mom I was gay because she dragged me to church every Sunday, where I listened to a priest talk about all the things I wasn’t supposed to do. She’d whack me on the back of the head if she caught me dropping a jesus christ as a swear, though she’d grumble about the goddamn busted dishwasher when she didn’t think I could hear her. She’d fast for days, sometimes, talking about sacrifice and devotion. Looking back, some of those devotions must’ve been because she only had the cash to feed one mouth.

When I came out of my glass-doored closet to her when I was fifteen—“I’m your mom, I always knew in my heart,” she told me years later—I expected her to freak. Of course she didn’t. And why would I even think that, she asked? Because of god, I told her through the snot and the tears.

“I believe in God,” she’d whispered into the top of my head while she hugged me. “I love God. But I love you more.”