29

Rae kept trying to see Sara. Most of the time she had an excuse—an errand, or a check-in with some government official, papers to sign or a document to retrieve. The Martians did provide some small assistance to the members of their society who had been trainwrecked by history, but they felt guilty about the fact of their existence, and so they made the process of receiving this assistance incredibly difficult and time-consuming. It helped to hide the injustice that was the true source of their miserable circumstances. These many foolish tasks often kept Sara from stopping with Rae, but inevitably there came a day, perhaps when she had been denied the chance to see her children or perhaps when she had been able to see them and they had been frustrating as children are, and on her way home Rae was there, on a bench, and he called to her and she stopped.

She did not come too close.

She did not sit down.

She just stopped for a minute. And she looked down at Rae, at his still fresh, young face. She remembered the pleasant way he chatted when they used to be together, and she thought of his loyalty. He still hadn’t given up on her. And as they talked, with Rae mostly talking and Sara saying only a word here or there, she realized that she really wanted to be able to relax, just for a few minutes, because she had been trying so hard of a long time now. So she found herself sitting next to him on the bench, and still he was talking, and it felt nice to be there.

‘Here,’ said Rae.

‘What?’ she said.

‘Have a sip.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I can’t. They test us where I’m staying.’

‘Come on,’ said Rae. ‘Just one sip. It’ll warm you up.’

‘No,’ she said, but she didn’t leave. She should have left.

She spent the whole night with Rae, drinking gin, and listening to him talk until they both passed out.