Sweetish

chapter 21 (tw racism mention)

Lying in the bath again, Samuela wasted the night away on her phone, hopping between gaming applications back and forth, like an animal swinging their head around in an old fashioned zoo, slowly going mad as their disconnection with time withered them down to the bone. She reminisced on her school days when they first watched the documentary on that. She remembered crying, asking why the people of the past did such things entraping such majestic and powerful creatures in such small and caged environments. The grootslang was especially heartbreaking. Her teacher, in a rare moment of humanity,  admitted to her, "Sometimes its easy to se something different and call it...slow. In the past we looked at these animals and thought they wouldn't even notice what we did to them." 

Of course, as a teacher and a role model, she had to keep her composure. "And it took a long, long time-" she spouted, while wiping off her dress of some invisible dust. "-But now things have changed and we are better than our ancestors. No longer do we hold them in cages and force them to mate for pelts. Our country is better, stronger, and more blessed than it ever has been. The abuse is OVER. And we prosper because we put it the work. Just follow our leaders and trust our superiors, and all of your dreams WILL come true. Remember that."

Back then she looked so tall and elegant. Now she just seemed...rehearsed. How many times had she given that very same line to every class she taught. She was violently ripped out of this memory by the buzz of her phone, who could possibly be calling at...4 am? 

"Hello?" 

"Hey, it's me."

"Hey D. Its kinda late, why are you calling?"

"No reason I just, uh, I wanted to hear your voice." 

His voice was wrong. It sounded shaken. Like he was in an oncoming earthquake.  There was none of that stonelike strength she was so familiar with. 

"Dulce, are you alright? I can come get you-"

"No, no that's not really necessary..."

"Come on, thats not fair, you get to help me but I can't help you when you need it?"

She stood up from the bath. "I saw on the reports where you live. Not to be a stalker or anything. "

"Please, isn't it your job do stalk me? Ha ha..."

"THERE'S the snark I remember." 

Even his laugh seemed weak. She dried herself off quick and threw together whatever she could grab off the shelf. For fifteen minutes she openly described her routine, desperately trying to fill the near silence coming from the other side of the call. Her heart beat nearly out of her chest between the long waits between his "Uh huh"s and "That's crazy"s. She was dressed like a cheap lady of the night, hair in a more tham messy, greasy updo. She was wearing an old horror manga shirt, a pair of red leather pants, some chuncky black heels and her pink flamingo robe. 

Flamingo. Grootslang. Lipstick. She needs Lipstick. 

"Hey which one, blue or red?" Sammy tried to ask a question to snap him out of his trance.

"Huh?" He asked dumbly. He really had stopped listening a few minutes ago. She expanded the question. "Should I go with blue or red? I can wear whatever because its illegal for paparazzi to bother us at night."

"Oh uh..." he took a second to find the words, to remember the language.  ANY language.  "Either is fine." 

In that moment Samuela felt foolish for even bringing up the question. She decided to forgo it altogether.  She grabbed her keys in silence and hopped into her other car. This one drove badly, and it was ungodly flashy but the buses dont run at night. 

During the ride she kept hopping back and forth between subjects. Anime trailers, manhua recommendations, paperwork. As she pulled into an old cul de sac, she felt something off. The buildings were old and broken down. She hadnt driven THAT far. They were made of cement and wood, nothing like the cozy steel and marble of home. Sure there are some traditional districts but she never thought they actually lived in them.

"Im about to pull up to your house now Dulce."

But she didn't. There was no house. There was only ashes. Ashes and paint and a little pile of shivering goo being wiped off with towels and fire trucks everywhere.  That pile looked like Dulce, but it couldn't be him, because he looked small. Scared.

Sammy was already at his side before she could even process the fact that she got out of the car. 

She couldn't hear anything over the alarms. He was delirious, but unscarred. Firemen explained what happened, but all noise and time was a blur. She was running back and forth demanding justice. Dulce on the other hand, kept his head low and his arms crossed. When Sammy came back to him and guided him to her car, his arms unfolded and revealed a little pink bird, too scared to make even a peep. She didnt know he had a bird. She wanted to speak, but her attention was caught by the message on the grass behind him. In large white letters she could clearly make out the words "GO HOME MUDS".

She nearly threw up.