Sick Heart: A Dark MMA Fighter Romance

There is enough food here to last one person exactly twenty-five more days. She’s lucky I give her anything.

She gets to her feet—not saying anything, of course—and then picks up my empty bowl and walks off. After a few minutes, I get up and follow her because she probably won’t think about bringing the sleeping mats up. But when I get to the stairwell, she is already on her way up, mats in hand.

I smile at that. She doesn’t smile back. Just hands me a mat and then follows me back up to the helipad.

The birds are back. The gulls are loud on the platform below us, but the albatrosses are here on top, dropping off the last meal of the day for the chicks, who are several months old and as big as medium-sized dogs.

Some of them—the ones without chicks this year—follow me across the platform. They don’t beg much if it’s just me out here. It’s like they know I don’t have any food to spare. In fact, they will often drop slimy little fish at my feet like I’m their chick and they’re in charge of my wellbeing.

Anya lays her mat down in a spot near the center of the platform, but I walk over and pick it up before she sits down, pointing to a spot as far away from the nests as we can get.

Again, if the kids are here the albatross know their limits. They are outnumbered and a couple dozen brats under the age of twelve is nothing but annoying. But if it’s just me—or just me and Anya—that’s a temptation they can rarely resist. They aren’t mean. Not to me, anyway. But they are pests and once they get a little attention, they want more. So it’s best to stay out of their way.

She doesn’t motion or make any move to contradict my change-of-location decision. Just plops down on top of her mat and pulls her knees up to her chest with a sigh.

I sit down too, then lie back. Tired, not exhausted—you can barely call what I did today training—but tired in another way. Weary, I guess. And Udulf’s visit has left behind a bad taste. A lingering sense of doubt that I would prefer not to think about.

Usually, when I’m out here alone, I will cheat. I talk to the birds. And the moon. And the sea. I talk a lot, actually. It’s only when others are here with me that I keep the vow of silence I came up with that first time. And maybe, if Anya had been chatty, we’d have spent these weeks together getting to know each other. I probably would’ve cheated with her here, telling myself she doesn’t count since she’s not one of us.

But she’s not chatty. And now, after a few days of thinking about it, talking to her feels like submission. And isn’t it?

I imagine she had everyone in her king’s house under her spell of silence. That little sister of hers probably talked for Anya the way Maart talks for me when I’m in silent mode. And don’t I do it for dominance? So yeah. Fuck Anya. I’m not talking to her.

I point up at the sliver of moon out of habit, my arm straight out, my finger an extension. It is three days past new. I shut one eye, still pointing, like the moon is a target at the end of a rifle. This is a nightly ritual even when the kids aren’t here.

And then Anya lies back on her mat and points her finger at the moon too.

This pisses me off. Because she doesn’t know why she’s pointing at it. This is not her ritual, it’s ours.

I drop my arm, sigh, and turn my back to her.

Why did I bring her here again? I’m having trouble remembering. Probably because I was high on the Lectra.

Oh. Ooooohhhh. I chuckle a little under my breath. Because I get a flash of Rainer between Anya’s legs that night. And her lying on top of Maart. And… yeah. That’s why I brought her.

Fucking her again, though? That feels like a really bad idea.

She taps my shoulder and I turn over to find her sitting up, pointing at the moon.

What? I sign.

She points again and I realize she’s asking for a sign.

I make a little c with my thumb and forefinger, put it up to my eye, then gesture towards the moon. My sign devolves into a point, because that’s how we do it here, but that’s just a personal embellishment.

Anya mimics my motions, then lets out a long breath.

Life would be so much easier if she would just talk. Then I could cheat and ask her all the questions. I could maybe even… seduce her into giving up all the answers.

But no. This one has to be special. Silent. Frustrating.