Date: 5/31/2440 Time: 8:00 AM CST
“Good morning,” Angelina said as she swept into the kitchen, moving with that graceful chaos only she could manage—like jazz mapped onto an engineering blueprint. She wore worn denim, a Saline County Rural Rescue t-shirt, and had her hair twisted up with a pair of chopsticks from the takeout she’d ordered late last night. Despite the early hour, she radiated intention and don’t touch my coffee energy. This was her space, and it ran on a beat only she could conduct.
“You must be T’mari. Matthew said to expect you—and maybe more of your people—for meals today. Please, sit.” Her eyes moved over the sharp creases of T’mari’s uniform. “I hope he didn’t make you sleep in that thing. This is a kitchen, not a parade ground.”
T’mari shook her head. “No, he gave me… other clothes. For sleeping. Said this would be fine for breakfast.”
“Mmh.” Angelina smiled, approving but amused, as she poured coffee. “It’s fine for now, but around here, breakfast dress code is simple—something you can spill on without cussing about it. He probably gave you something else because he knows uniforms feel like armor, even when the battle’s over.”
T’mari looked down at her tunic, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle. It was comfortable enough, but she understood. This was still her ship-self, not her planet-self.
“I was surprised not to see him this morning,” T’mari said carefully. Her vowels were clear, but her grammar had a clipped rhythm, like a dancer learning new steps. “I heard he left early. Much earlier than I woke. But he was awake long after me. He does not sleep much?”
“He took your mother to see her people in Marshall,” Angelina replied, checking the simmering pot on the stove. “They lifted the quarantine last night. We started moving your injured there. He’ll be back later—probably take a short nap when it gets hot. Between the Mexican and Filipino sides of his family, a summer siesta in Missouri is practically law.” She smiled over her mug. “And yes, I know him as well as anyone can. We grew up together. We’re as close as brother and sister without the blood part.”
T’mari nodded slowly, searching for the right phrasing. “You are… family that is not by birth. That is good.”
“Exactly that,” Angelina said. “Now, we’re going to make sure you’ve got something more comfortable for around the house. But comfort comes from more than clothes. It comes from asking questions. So—ask. Anything.”
T’mari hesitated, folding her hands neatly. “I wanted to ask him more about his family… after he said of his sister. But I was not sure if proper.”
“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Thirty-one and one-third planetary years,” T’mari said. “Almost twenty-four Earth years. Our year is shorter—two hundred eighty-five of your days.”
“Then you’re old enough to ask polite questions,” Angelina said, smiling. “Especially as an attractive young woman.”
T’mari blinked. “You see me as attractive?”
Angelina laughed. “I’m not into women, if that’s what you’re wondering. But I’m a photographer. I know a pretty face when I see one. You’ve got symmetry, poise, and eyes that belong on a movie poster.”
T’mari lowered her gaze, uncertain. “You are not… uncomfortable? My color? I have seen your history media. Some humans did not like those who looked different.”
“That still happens,” Angelina admitted, her tone softening, “but not like before. Look around this house—you’ll see every kind of face on the walls. Matt’s a whole family reunion in one man: Mexican, Black, Filipino, Chinese, English, Dutch, Danish. Most folks around here are like that now. The rest of the world caught up.”
“And you?”
“My parents were from Japan. Very traditional. They wanted me to marry well, not work in a diner. Instead, I married a biracial chemist from Texas who spent three months eating my cooking until I gave in.” She smiled. “We’ve been married twenty-three years now.”
“He was patient.”
“Persistent,” Angelina grinned. “When we got engaged, Matt gave us a year of rent-free living as a wedding gift. Said it was the right thing to do.”
“He is very loyal.”
“He is,” Angelina agreed. “When Floyd lost his job after the schools closed, Matt didn’t wait to be asked—he just offered work. Floyd took it because Matt made it feel earned.”
“He sounds… steady,” T’mari said.
“He’s steady, and he’s godfather to our five kids. You’ll meet them later—they’re helping out for the summer. Floyd’s working with your medics on chemistry projects. He’s quiet. I talk. He listens.”
T’mari smiled, warming to her rhythm. “Do you live here?”
“No, just down the road. I run his schedule and manage the house when he’s away. I’ve done it for sixteen years.” She paused, stirring her coffee. “When I got sick during one of my pregnancies and couldn’t work, I asked Matt if we could delay rent. He said no—and hired me instead. Paid me double. Said I just had to check in on an old woman he loved like family. You might’ve met her—Lola Rhea?”
“Yes. She was very kind. Gentle.”
“She’s everyone’s favorite,” Angelina said fondly. “I keep her stocked and cared for, and I tell her it’s from him. That’s how he is—quiet about his generosity. Now, with your people here, I’ll be managing meals, staff, and probably part of your schedule too.”
T’mari exhaled softly. “I am… grateful. On the ship, I knew my duties. Here, I do not know what I should do. Or be. The food last night—it was wonderful. We eat fresh food only for ceremony. I did not realize how alive it could taste.”
“When he cooks, it’s a kind of love language,” Angelina said. “He won’t call it that, but it is. He’s a damn good cook too—though I say ‘decent’ so he doesn’t get a big head. First time he made dinner for me, we were seven.” Her eyes softened. “You’ll eat well here. Matt hates processed food—says if you can’t pronounce it, don’t eat it unless it’s medicine.”
“I like that,” T’mari said. “Simple, but wise.”
“Now, are there foods you can’t eat—biologically or culturally? I’m planning menus.”
“No taboos. Just… not sure what I can tolerate yet. We can eat, but I don’t know if we should eat everything.”
“Well, we’ll find out. Start with milk and bread. Any reaction?”
“I had both. No reaction yet.”
“Good sign,” Angelina said, jotting notes. “If you ever can’t tolerate something, I’ll find you something better. No one goes hungry under my watch. And if you ever want to help—cook, prep, learn—we’ll make room for you here. The kitchen’s the heart of the house.”
T’mari looked around—the hum of morning, the smell of coffee and fried onions, the light on the old wooden floor. It felt less like a kitchen and more like a living thing.
“No one on the ship ever invited me to help,” she said quietly. “They told me what to do. You ask.”
“That’s the difference,” Angelina said. “Out here, everyone helps, no matter the rank. You’ll pick up what you need by being here. You already belong.”
T’mari smiled, shy but steady. “Then I will learn. Thank you… for welcoming me.”
“Welcome home,” Angelina said simply, and poured her another cup.
