Aborigen

Rylee frowned at Dakota. “You went up to the bar, and you didn’t even get me a drink?”

“I didn’t know you were done.” Dakota pointed her chin at Rylee’s glass, which was still a third full.

Rylee looked scandalized. “For when I run out! Come on, you’re supposed to be the scientist! Don’t you think in systems or something? I’m gonna run out eventually, and the waitress hasn’t checked in on us the entire night. I would’ve gotten you a drink!”

Dakota doubted that. “Sorry, I should’ve gotten you something. I don’t remember what you ordered.”

“Anything would’ve been nice! It would’ve shown you cared.”

“Hey, now, what color is that kettle?”

Rylee took a long blink, her mouth agape. “Excuse me? What are you trying to say?”

Resting one elbow on the table, Dakota leaned into her friend. “You nagged me to come out to this event. I didn’t want to, but you insisted. You didn’t respect my wishes.

“And then? Once we got here? You went straight to your phone. You missed the entire second presentation, that giantess Kath—”

“Kathryn,” Rylee blurted. “Yeah, no, I listened.”

“You were on your phone,” Dakota said louder, “the whole time. It was actually really lovely, but when I tried to share it with you, even admit that you might’ve been right about the evening, you were all”—she put on a dopey, stoned expression—”guh? huh? wha?“

Whatever Rylee said was lost in the roar of the crowd. Dakota glanced up: apparently some kind of drawing was going on. She didn’t recall being handed tickets at the door. “—and just because you’re no longer Miss Complainey-Pants, suddenly I’m supposed to fall down at your feet with gratitude?”

“I never said that, Rylee. I just had a change of heart, I was open to what was going on, and you completely shut me out.”

Rylee snorted. “I can do more than one thing at once, you know. I’m a great multitasker.”

“No, multitaskers do a lot of things badly, at once, and studies show they shorten their lives. You were focused on your phone when I was vulnerable and needed connection. And if you want to keep fighting about this, we can leave right now. Or I can leave and you can find your own fucking ride.”

“Dakota!

Dakota was trembling with anger, as quickly and inordinately as her libido had been triggered by something in this setting. She struggled to swallow what she wanted to say, and when Rylee filled in the space, she lifted a hand to silence her.

“Rylee, I’m losing my shit right now.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but—”

Dakota looked up with a hard, sharp expression. “No, Rylee. I need you to not be Rylee right now. I need you to apologize to me, even if you don’t fucking mean it. I need to hear the words, so I can begin to calm down. And if you want to test me … I recommend that you don’t.”

Now Rylee’s hands flexed and tensed into fists with pale white knuckles. She reached for her glass, and for a second, Dakota thought she’d throw the contents in her face. But Rylee only sat there, glaring, then slammed her beer down in one gulp. That was a trick she showed off at college parties, tossing beer straight down her gullet, no need to swallow.

“Fine,” she stage-whispered. “I’m sorry, Dakota. I’m sorry I was on my phone when you needed me. I’m glad you found something to enjoy tonight, and I’m sorry I couldn’t share that with you.”

They sat there, Dakota hunched, Rylee ramrod-straight, glaring at each other.

But having said the words, Rylee’s eyes softened. “I am sorry. You were having a moment, and I wasn’t here for you.” She reached out to her friend.

Watching Rylee get over herself so quickly moved something in Dakota. She took her friend’s hand. “And I’m sorry I didn’t even think to get you a drink. That was really shitty of me. I’ll get you something—”

“Oh, you don’t have to!”

“—but first, you gotta hear what happened to me at the bar.”

Dakota relived the story, and Rylee was an excellent audience. She swore and looked around the room for the big oaf in the samurai knot. She cackled and sympathized when Dakota attempted to hit on the tiny bartender: “Only you couldn’t pick up a man that small! So, are you gonna call him?”

Dakota winced. “I don’t know Rylee. Something’s going on with me tonight, that’s what I needed to talk to you about. My emotions are all over the place tonight. I’m feeling really unbalanced, and …”

“Let’s get ready to MINGL-L-L-L-LE!” The woman in the Right Fit hoodie was back, a little more charged after a cocktail. “We only reserved this place for a couple hours, so let’s get on with it! Who’s ready for our fourth eligible bachelor … ette?”

Rylee gave a helpless shrug and leaned in to hug her friend, before both women straightened up to perceive the stage. This time, only one person climbed up the stairs to accept the mic and clicker. “Hi everyone, I’m Roisin,” she called out, with just the trace of an accent. Her hair fell in thick, yarn-like waves, tight curls of black ending in russet. She wore a simple white tee tucked into hip-hugging faded jeans, with streaks of bare thigh to catch the eye. “I’m sure you’ve all met my friend, Jasmin.”

Click. A smiling round face beamed from the broad screen, with perky eyebrows that hinted at curiosity and play. The crowd turned toward the pudgy titaness in the yellow rain jacket and cheered. There was no hiding for a titan when their turn came up, unlike with the normies and tinies, and Jasmin could only blush and wave at the crowd.

“And if you haven’t met her,” Roisin continued, “you’re probably gonna before you leave tonight. Jasmin’s one of the most open-hearted, outgoing people I’ve ever met. I call her my big golden Lab: she’s got to meet everyone, know a little something about everyone. She likes everyone, and her smile’s infectious.”

Click. A picture of Jasmin painting on a perfectly vertical canvas. “She has a huge artistic streak, and she’s incredibly skilled. She sculps, she paints, she carves. Jasmin’s starting to get recognized by the city, even: you’ve seen this painting on the cover of last season’s tourism council brochure.” A collective ahh floated around the room as people recognized the mural—not a canvas at all, but the side of a building. All scale was lost in the skillfully composed photograph, but people remembered when this titan slathered great wodges of paint over the Flour Exchange to create a symbolic image of the city’s foundation and development.

“That was her?” cried Rylee. “That’s amazing! I need to get her autograph!”

“Jasmin’s parent emigrated here when she was three. She learned English quickly, and not only is she fluent, she’s a published poet.” Click. A table, covered with zines and magazines. “She’s getting her master’s in creative writing, and she hopes to start her own imprint. That’s the thing: it’s not enough for her to kick ass, she has to encourage and support others to.”

Another cheer went up. Jasmin covered her huge face with huge hands, grinning.

“She loves video games. We go down to Daisy Creek Drive-In and rent the screen to play N64 and PSX games. If you hear thunder on a clear day, that’s her losing her shit ’cause I beat her at Gran Turismo, again.”

The titaness shook with chuckles and flipped her friend off. Roisin grinned at the audience. “The kind of girl she’s looking for,” click, “is someone who always sees the good in every day. It could be raining, your car could break down, but there’s still something that makes you glad you woke up.

“Jasmin needs someone thoughtful and considerate. She can’t eat soy products, gluten, or alliums. And believe me, it kills her that she misses out on so much delicious food. She hates feeling like burden when we go out, like we have to plan around her.” She stared up at the giant woman. “But we’d do anything to keep her around. Me and her friends, we don’t want to go anywhere if she’s not gonna be there. And it’s not even because she’s the center of attention—which, face it, she is—but because this big woman can make you feel like the center of the universe. When she fixes her big, brown eyes on you, you can tell nothing else exists for her. She’s listening to ever word.

“I think it’s only fair that she has someone who does that for her.”

Dakota only barely noticed Rylee leaning into her. “I’m so sorry, Dakota. I didn’t mean to blow you off.” Dakota grinned and kissed the top of her head.

Click. “And you haven’t lived,” Roisin yelled, holding the mic away, “until you’ve seen this big girl dance!” The screen was an explosion of colors, created by flowing, frilly fabrics swirling rapidly. It was a video of Jasmin salsa dancing with other titans, in a granite quarry. Crowds of tiny people (by comparison) cheered from the upper ridge, as four gigantic men and women were mostly lit with floodlights, weaving and spinning in a performance of their art.

The audience clapped in time with the music playing, and Jasmin threw back her head and laughed, her voice bouncing among the steel trusses crisscrossing the corrugated ceiling. Roisin took the opportunity to shimmy along, shaking her butt saucily at the crowd.

The presentation wound down with the contact information, and Jasmin’s friends swarmed over her lap once more, cheering and smacking high-fives into her fingertips. “I’m single too,” Roisin quipped, as Hoodie-girl reached for her microphone.

“Well, that’s what we’re all here for, isn’t it?” said the host. “All right now, let’s play a little music trivia, before the next presentation. Macauley and Nell, you’re on deck!” The sound tech, feeling a little more comfortable, boosted a song without any feedback, ducking and rocking to the beat.

“You wait here,” said Dakota, rising. “I’ll be right back with your drink.”

“Thank you! I want—”

“Nuh-uh, it’s gonna be a surprise. To make up for the surprise I should’ve done before.”

Rylee preened at her, then took up the pint of red, sniffed it, and had a pull. It appeared to not displease her. “You better hurry up, then. This is tasty.”