Let’s Not [Obliterate]

“Okay, well. I can’t guarantee that spots will open up at the last minute, but if you want to play at this festival, I will need your names.” He fetched a list and wrote a few notes, then looked up expectantly.

“Theora Napkins.” 

He nodded, and jotted it down. His gaze went back up.

“Serim Lee.”

That wasn’t even Serim’s legal first name. Not that he would have any way to know; and not that Serim would give her legal name.

“Dema D’éville.”

He wetted his lips. He wrote that name down too, a little slower. His eyebrow creased. Eventually, he said, “Make sure you give me your legal names. Not stage names.”

“What do you mean!” Dema let out in playful fury. “That is my legal name, thank you very much. Why, you think I was just gonna lie to you? Some people have funny names.”

Theora had no idea if Dema was actually telling the truth; not that it really mattered; legal names were a scam. At least it matched up with the name Dema had given the hospital.

The receptionist seemed to be regretting his words, but didn’t say anything further. After a sigh, he wrote Dema’s name down too, and then looked at…

“Invent One.”

 

After being thrown out, they roamed back towards their tents. Serim kicked a rock down the gravel path. The festival grounds were huge, with the northern area reserved for camping, the southern part offering several stages with differing programs throughout the weekend, as well as a large abandoned factory building for late-night dancing. They were passing hundreds of other people. Theora wasn’t quite sure if she’d ever seen this many people in one place before.

“I guess names are really important here?” Dema asks.

Serim shrugged. “They only ask for names for insurance reasons, I think? If you give a fake name, that just means you can’t sue them if something goes wrong. Like a waiver.” She looked at Invent One. “Though perhaps Invent One was a little too

cheeky.”

“Cheeky?” Invent One asked. “Dema has assigned this denomination to me. No ‘cheek’ intended.”

“Well…” Dema scratched her head. “Technically…”

“So, that means we won’t get to perform in front of people here after all?” Theora asked. She had actually almost been looking forward to it, after their street performance attempts had yielded mixed results.

“There’s still a chance we can get to know other bands,” Serim murmured. “I’ll ask around if someone wants to put us on as an opening act — not even here, just in general. Invent One, you busy? You look kind of hot. I could take you with us to brag.”

“I am not—” IO started, but seemed to have a lot of difficulty getting the last word out. Her nostrils flared, but perhaps repeating it said by someone else made it easier, so she eventually closed with: “… ‘busy’.”

Serim laughed. “You really hate saying simple words, huh?”

“They contain less data, thereby increasing the likelihood of miscommunication.”

“By the way,” Dema said to Serim before they could run off. “Why’d you give them a fake name? Can’t anybody know that your actual name’s Zappie?”

“It’s Zap-Pie,” Serim lied. “And, no. The fewer people know my legal name the better. For when, uh. In case someone starts asking questions.”

“Oh, right,” Dema let out. “It’s ’cause you’re squatting, right? If they find out you’d be in big trouble.”

Serim shrugged. “That’s the least of my problems. And even if that happens, I’ll just send Theora to rough them up.”

Theora jolted up. “What? I would not— I wouldn’t—”

Serim arched an eyebrow. “Really? If they went into my home and put me in chains, you would just watch? Not lift a finger?”

Theora fell silent, staring at her thighs, grazing her nails against her jeans. In a low voice, she said, “They wouldn’t do that.”

Serim huffed out a laugh. “Exactly. And we both know why.”

“Wait,” Dema interjected, eyes open like a deer. She pulled Theora’s large attire back over her shoulder; it kept slipping off her. “Let’s make that three people who know why? You both knowing why’s not enough, I wanna make it three people who know why. Maybe even four.”

Serim shrugged, pulling at a loose cable. “The fire brigade and other organisations work closely together sometimes. Of course, the brigade knows better than to send Theora on calls together with them, but like — she’s leaving impressions.”

“Impressions?”

“When she was sixteen, she obliterated one of their cars.”

Dema’s head swivelled around. “You can do that? They just let you?”

“Well,” Serim said, “the bullets miraculously missed.”

Theora looked away. They didn’t miss.

“How do you know all that?” Dema asked.

“I used to get arrested like three times a year, so I picked up some stuff.”

Dema tilted her head. “Used to? So you’re not a criminal anymore?” She smiled. “Got rescued by a girl to settle down with?”

Serim scratched her head. “Had to stop because there’s only one store left in town I’m not banned from.”

“They banned you from the stores?” Dema asked, eyes wide. “Those rascals!”

Serim snorted. “You get riled up over the most ridiculous things.”

“Because you gotta get your food from somewhere!”

“Exactly. And that’s why I pay at Sandy’s.”

It was also why she and her roommates were growing crops on the meadow behind their premise. 

 

When Dema’s eyes sprang open early the next morning, they found Theora staring.

“Why, up already?” she murmured sleepily. “Rare sight.”

Theora swallowed. “I didn’t think I could wrap myself out of this old coat and leave the tent without waking you up.” She nudged a layer of the attire. “I’m not sure why you insisted on bringing it, but it did keep us warm.”

“And if it keeps you by my side for longer, that’s like, two wins in one.” 

With a soft grumbling sound, Theora looked away. “Flirting with me first thing in the morning, huh? I get no rest at all with you.”

“Oh?” Dema smirked. “You want rest?” She booped against Theora’s nose with her own. “Not here, I fear. We’ve got a full day ahead of us.”

Theora tried to excavate the memories of what they had planned.

Then, she realised, “We don’t have anything planned.”

“Well, but yesterday at the speech they said that they still need helpers, right? The festival’s organised by volunteers, and they’re handing out shifts and all.”

“You wanted to volunteer?”

“There’s this playground area for children. For when people come as a family and stuff.”

Theora nodded. “Where the big jumping castle is? I saw it yesterday.”

“Yeah! And when I spoke to one of the organisers, he told me that area is always kinda understaffed. So I was thinking of helping there.”

“I will come with you then.” Theora fished her phone out of the chaos in the tent. “Shifts start in two hours, right? So we still have time to clean up and eat breakfast.”

“And snuggle,” Dema claimed, and pushed herself into Theora’s arms.

“And that, yes.”

Theora left the screen on for a moment, watching the seconds tick by as Dema’s breath tickled her neck. Four days total, they arrived a day late, this was the first morning. Tomorrow, they’d already return home.

And yet, watching the seconds rinse away gave her some solace. It made time go slower somehow. If she savoured every single second until the end, it wouldn’t suddenly be here, out of nowhere.

Eventually, though, the screen turned black, and Theora didn’t put it back on. She closed her eyes, nudging her face into Dema’s hair, horn gently pressing against Theora’s cheek. 

Usually Dema was a little cold, but today, her body was hot like a hearth, without a hint of sweat on it. Theora’s attire must have absorbed all the moisture, because the world wasn’t lacking it. Rain patted against the tent. Wind howled through the foliage outside.

When they went out a while later, Serim was already at the breakfast benches, under a pavilion.

She waved them over. Dema left the umbrella to hurry forward — wearing Theora’s attire, big hood drawn over her head to shield from the rain.

“You really like wearing that, huh?” Serim pushed a plate over; she’d already gotten food for them.

“It’s warm when it’s cold and it’s cold when it’s warm and it’s waterproof when it rains and it lets your skin breathe when you’re wet. It’s perfect! And it’s got so many pockets!”

As proof, Dema picked up a fold and presented it to Serim’s disinterested nod.

And, as Theora sat down, Dema added, “And it smells like her.”

Theora took a deep breath.

“I wonder if the rain will let up later,” Serim mused. “The bands will play under a tent. Though it will cut into their audience.”

Dema shrugged. “More left for us, then!”

Serim snorted. “What do you even mean by that? More left of the audience or more left of the music?”

With a lopsided smile, Dema said, “More left of the rain.”

 

A while later, crouching in front of a group of children between the ages seven and thirteen all dressed in raincoats, Dema pulled a laminated sheet out of a folder. “How about we do this one?” she asked, presenting it. It featured a twin-circle pattern looking like a lying eight.

Theora was holding three smaller children in her arms who couldn’t walk yet; she’d carried them until they’d fallen asleep. One in each arm, and the third strapped in front of her chest, with an umbrella strapped to her back, shielding them all from the weather.

“Oh, like an… infamity sign?” one of the children asked, and Dema nodded.

The caregivers were off to visit other parts of the festival; if just for an hour or two. Sarah — the oldest child in the group — took her two siblings by the hands, ready to rush off to find materials. “We can take anything we find, right?”

Dema nodded. “Like, stuff that doesn’t belong to the festival, yeah. Rocks, leaves, twigs ’n such. If we find a lot we can make it a big one!” After a shrug, she added, “Well actually y’all can make whatever you want but I’m gonna make a big one and you’re free to help.”

Sarah gave a serious nod, and went off into the adjacent small woodland. The idea was to use things found in nature to form shapes in the ground that looked like those on the laminated sheets; an activity that seemed to work really well with children. 

“This is fun,” Theora murmured, because it was working really well with her too. Maybe she and Dema could do this with their daughter at some point.

As the children buzzed around with Dema shouting excited instructions and ideas and helping when someone couldn’t carry as much as they wanted, the hours passed. One time, Dema of all people told a girl not to run so fast or she’d slip in the mud. Despite the weather and the troubles, they eventually managed to set several versions of the symbol, and Dema came back to Theora’s side.

“It’s a cool shape, right?”

Theora turned to Dema, then back at the patterns. “Is it?”

Dema gave her a look. Theora couldn’t quite put it. Her face was relaxed, and yet there was a hidden question in it. Dema’s hands were buried inside the travelling attire, and she tugged it closer around herself.

And somehow, Theora knew. She knew at that moment that Dema was about to pull off the bandaid. 

“If we have time later, could we talk?” Dema asked, eyebrows pulled up. “There’s something I gotta tell you.”