The Variables

When she reappeared downstairs, her mother was waiting. She was wearing a black skirt, knee-high boots and a tight sweater. Her mother wasn’t thin—she hadn’t ever been tiny—but Lucy always thought her mother was the perfect size. It hadn’t ever occurred to her that her mother was anything but gorgeous. Her dad thought she was beautiful and she carried more confidence in her pinky than Lucy would have in her lifetime. She never shied away from a body hugging sweater despite her paunchy belly. It was like her mother owned her extra pounds with pride. Sometimes, she was downright inspiring.

Lucy had carried so much anger since arriving at the System that she forgot what it was like to see her mom all dolled up for a date, waiting just for her. To see that loving wink, the melting away of pretenses, the beauty of knowing that everything was going to be okay for a few hours.

“You ready?”

“What’s the plan?”

“I have a map,” Maxine a

“He thought of everything,” Lucy said with a droll laugh. “Sometimes...this place...”

Maxine poked her finger into Lucy’s shoulder. “Save it, kiddo. You have my undivided attention today. Let’s get going and then put it to good use.”

They started with manicures. And then they ended up at a small place called the Tea Room. The Tea Room was nestled between a music shop and a job recruitment center. Maxine stopped in at the small recruitment office just to ask questions while Lucy stood there hoping her mother would stop talking, but the young man working there had recommended the tea house as a good place to visit and they took his advice.

It was ornate and sophisticated and dimly lit. The couches and chairs were reproductions of Victorian-era furniture: opulently carved walnut sofas with tufted backs and parlor chairs upholstered in patterned fabrics. The tables boasted lace tablecloths and all the utensils were pure silver.

Lucy stood in awe of the entire setup and couldn’t help but look confused when the big black man with the calloused hands introduced himself as the owner. She didn’t think of herself as someone who would be so quick to judge, but she would have bet anything that a little old lady had been the one to craft each egg-salad sandwich without the crusts and hook tiny cookies onto each teacup.

“I’m Jeremiah,” the man said, and he greeted Maxine with a sturdy handshake. He turned to Lucy and took her hand next.

“Maxine and Lucy King,” her mother introduced for the both of them. “Which EUS did you come from?”

Jeremiah motioned for them to sit in a fancy velvet sofa and chair. “I’m not from an EUS,” he said, and he cleared his throat. “I’m one of Huck’s builders. We’ve been employed for a long time, and when the Islands were finished, we were offered second chances. I suppose that’s how you’d put it.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Wait,” she said. “I don’t mean to be rude, but—”

“Yes,” he answered before she could finish her sentence. “I was in construction. And now I own the Tea Room. Many of the shops here in the main tower are run by people who were employed by Huck and were no longer needed. Electricians. Engineers. Construction workers. Huck worked hard to make sure we could follow our dreams. That man is in the wish fulfillment game and I’m indebted to him.”

“That’s wonderful,” Maxine answered. Lucy thought she seemed teary. She sent up a silent prayer that her mother wouldn’t start crying.

“So, welcome to my dream,” Jeremiah said, and he explained the tea offerings of the day then disappeared to get them ready.

“We should be wearing dainty little hats,” Lucy whispered to her mother when he was out of earshot. Maxine smiled and nibbled on a cookie.

“This is nice,” her mother said as if to remind her.

“It is,” Lucy answered quickly, not looking for a fight. Their afternoon had been wonderful so far. They had talked to their manicurists and learned their stories, and had wandered from one end of a floor to the other, assessing all the amenities. Payment for services was taken out of a virtual bank. Every month residents were allotted a fixed amount to use for things that qualified as entertainment or luxury. Necessities were freely provided. While it felt strange to simply name an account and leave without exchanging money, Lucy knew that she would soon adapt to Kymberlin’s strange set of rules. At times, it felt like they were on vacation in a foreign land and exploring their large hotel. Lucy had to remind herself that she lived here and she couldn’t leave.

“Thank you for coming to the date today...I know you could have fought it, and...” Maxine started.

Lucy braced herself. She had seen her name on those pieces of paper and knew that her mother had wanted to spend time specifically with her. If the date had some ulterior motive, it was about to rear its ugly head in the privacy of their Tea Room booth.

“Can I ask you something?” Lucy interrupted. Maxine nodded. “Do you think you can be happy here?”

Maxine picked up a silver fork and hit it against her open palm. Then she put it down and straightened it on a cloth napkin. She took a sip of water.

“Mom?” Lucy asked.

“It’s not fair to ask me a question like that,” Maxine finally answered. “Because it’s not about me. It’s not about my happiness.”

“Yes, it is,” Lucy said quickly.

“No,” she shook her head. “It isn’t.”

“It’s unlike you to play the martyr,” Lucy said. She looked down at the tablecloth. “Will you be happy here?”

“I will,” her mother answered without delay. “For the rest of my life. I will find the happiness that awaits us here. I will raise my children on Kymberlin the same way I raised them back in Portland. I will be the same wife, the same friend, the exact same woman. Nothing has changed except my location. My desire to protect my family is even greater now that we are here...and the best way I can protect you is to show you that this is our life now.”

“Mom—”

“It’s not martyrdom, Lucy. And frankly...when did that become a bad word? You asked me and I’m telling you. Just because you don’t like what you’re hearing doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Living here doesn’t mean I accept the actions that brought us here...”

“Mom—”

“Everyone has to live under or work under people who they disagree with. For me, I understand what Huck is capable of and I want my children protected. Huck’s...”

“I told Grant that I loved him,” Lucy blurted.

Maxine blinked.

Jeremiah appeared at their table and placed a white porcelain teapot between them and two floral teacups. He poured them the tea and explained what they were drinking: a citrusy black tea from Ceylon. Sensing Lucy’s blush and Maxine’s tight-lipped smile, he poured quickly and then left them alone.

Lucy took a sip of tea. It was hot and it burned her tongue; she set it right back down on the table. She didn’t really like tea. “Well, say something, please.”

“What do you love about him?” Maxine asked. She leaned over to inspect the intricate pattern of roses on her teacup.

Lucy didn’t hesitate. “He’s kind. And he cares for people and puts them first. He might be the most trusting, caring, compassionate guy I’ve ever met. He just thinks everyone is good and I like that he looks for goodness first. He never wants to hurt anyone’s feelings, but he’s strong. Stronger than I give him credit for. And he’s talented...and he has convictions and...he’s moral…”

“You love him.”

“I do.”

Maxine sighed. She blew across the top of her teacup. “It’s fu

“I’m not the same girl you left behind.”

“I know,” Maxine said. “It’s hard for me sometimes.” She stared off behind Lucy’s shoulder, inspecting a watercolor picture of a vase overflowing with purple and blue flowers. “Lucy...Huck can keep you and Grant apart for as long as he wants.”