To The Moon And Back

Chapter 17

The rebels dare to send me another email. They're rudely persistent. Maybe I should just delete it.

Maybe not. I'll read it and delete it quickly without replying.

'To whom it may concern,

Everything you think you know is a lie. We cannot prove it, but you can. Check the information storage facilities and you'll understand.

We wish you nothing but the best. I hope one day you'll believe that.

Sincerely,

Q.'

Again, this Q person. What does this riddle-ish message mean? What's an information storage facility? These rebels are getting on my nerves.

Jay sends me a text. 'Let's have lunch in the kitchen.'

'Sounds good.' I text back.

After my lessons, I head to the kitchen to meet Jay but find Caron instead.

"Caron, hey, how are you?" I say. I don't know how to ask her how she's feeling since her son died.

"Fine. Jay doesn't come this early, by the way."

"That's alright," I say, "by the way, you don't happen to have a Turkish coffee pot, do you?"

"We have everything here." She opens a cupboard and takes out a cezve with intricate adornment. "But who taught you to make Turkish coffee? It's rare for an American to know this nowadays."

"My caregiver," I reply. I prepare the coffee with cold water and set it on the stove on a low flame.

"You know what," she says. "There's something I shouldn't be telling you, but I'll do it as a thank you."

"For what?"

"Your kindness the day my Marvin p-passed. Anyway, I worked with your father back in the past. He was generous and kind, you probably inherited that. And he was also really curious, particularly about things the government hides from citizens."

"What type of things?"

"I don't know, they—"

"Wait, do you know what the 'information storage facility' is?"

"Yes, it's here in HQ, it's—"

Jay interrupts us. "Ladies."

"Jay, your lunch is ready in the salon you requested," Caron says. "Excuse me now, I must go."

He nods. "Thank you, Caron."

She leaves the kitchen and I'm left with Jay. I can feel the blood pulsing into my capillaries and my heart buzzing. Here in HQ?

"Hey there, gorgeous."

I smile. "Hello, Jay."

"What are you making? What's this?" He points at my coffee.

"This little pot is called a cezve or ibrik. I'm making Turkish coffee."

He furrows his brows. "What's wrong with normal coffee machines?"

"They don't give the same taste, Jay."

"Ugh, well, hurry up, I'm hungry."

I give him a look. "It needs to be cooked slowly."

"That's boring, you know." He hugs my back and places his head on my shoulder. My mind drifts with the scent of coffee and the ecstasy of the man embracing me.

"You'll change your mind if you taste it," I say, breaths shallow.

When the coffee is done, I pour myself a cup and sip it. The flavor of roasted beans and concentrated caffeine bursts in my mouth. Delicious.