Cold Boot — Part 7: Later

Later, after hours of swimming, Anabelle begged me to come back to the bar.

There, I was still wearing the shell of a purple shark. And I felt so silly at how proud it made me feel. The ocean may have felt real but I knew, deep down, that I'd never be that shark. And that eventually, when bedtime rolled around, I'd log out of this space and just be... Jamie.

It was stupid. Stupid to feel proud. Stupid to want to stay like this. But I did.

Why did that hurt so much?

They crowded around me at the bar, peppering me with questions. I answered freely, loosely, as if a burden had been lifted from my shoulders. (After all, it wasn't me that was talking—it was the big purple shark!)

"Where'd you learn to swim like that?" Jack asked.

"Grew up near a lake. Mom made me take lessons after I panicked and clawed a cousin in the water. I used to imagine—no. Maybe another time for that story."

"What's your day job?" Vivian asked.

The purple shark raised her hand almost as if to dismiss the question. "Virtual cubicle farm. Grey on grey on grey. My boss is an algorithm named Stinky Pete."

Anabelle nodded in agreement. A small cat child—barely a toddler!—hid behind her legs. It felt, well, maternal somehow. Sure, we were all roleplaying, but we were still there. It's hard to explain.

"Do you do this kind of thing often?" she asked.

"God, no. I used to write fanfic about this stuff, like, a million years ago. But I haven't let myself want it in... years."

There was a silence after that one. Just a beat. Long enough to notice. Short enough to pretend it didn't happen. I took a long sip of whatever Anabelle had slid into my hand. Something with honey and heat. Something kind.

I wasn't sure what answer had made the room go quiet. Or maybe I was. I just wasn't ready to look it in the eye.

Kat's dry chuckle punctuated the silence. "So how'd you end up at the Zoo?"

"Anabelle gave me a card after I cried in a team meeting," I said with a shrug. "Corporate didn't notice. She did."

Everyone at the table nodded. "Sounds about right," Kat continued. "And yet, here you are still smiling."

My shark-face tilted. "Huh?"

The cat's ears flicked with mild annoyance or smug joy—I wasn't a cat person at the time, so I couldn't know for sure.

"You'll never forget that feeling. First time you let go?"

She smiled, just a little.

"I don't get to do that much. Not with Daddy Dearest watching my every move."

I laughed. "You named yours too?"

Kat was suddenly not there. She stared off into the distance, dazed.

The small cat behind Anabelle's legs—Kitten, I realized—scampered out and curled up around Kat's ankles like a guard dog in miniature. Watching me with suspicion. Or warning. Or both.

Kit bounded out from the back rooms and grabbed Kat's shoulder. Shaking hard, he looked at me with a mix of regret and terror.

"I'm so sorry. We know it's your big party and we made it about us and I'm just so—"

"Hey," I said, holding up a hand. "You're okay. Kit, right?"

They nodded, sheepish. "Yeah. Me and Kat and Kitten come here a lot. More than we should, probably."

I patted a seat a couple stools down. Not crowding. Just close enough to be real. I felt silly flopping my fins on a bar chair—it felt like Tiny Toons meets Cool World to me—but the silliness made it easier somehow. Less dangerous, I guess.

"Is it okay if we just… sit for a minute?"

Kit looked at Kat—still quiet, still distant—and gave a tiny shrug.

"Sure. That's what we do, sometimes. Sit and breathe 'til the loud feelings get less loud. That's what Viv taught us."

He tugged gently at Kat's sleeve, grounding her like a tether. Kitten curled tighter around Kat's ankle, eyes half-lidded, purring. Maybe for her. Maybe for all of us.

We sat like that—just breathing in the same space.

"You know," I said, looking down at Kit with the warmest gaze my shark-body could muster, "My mom used to say sitting quietly with someone was a kind of love."

Kit gave me a small, wry smile. "She wasn't wrong."

I reached out and touched him. I felt a crackling energy surge through me from within.

"I never really got it until tonight."

A long, kind silence stretched around us like a warm quilt.

"But don't tell Kat. She won't let me live down being all mushy like this!"

At long last, Kat began to stir. Without a word, she shambled off to a back room. But then, right before she reached for the doorknob, she sprinted back across the bar.

She made a beeline for me and then, before I could react, threw her arms around me. She buried her face in my slick, new skin and squeezed as hard as a child that age could possibly manage.

"Thank you," she said. And then she ran to a private room, blushing and holding back tears. Kit and Kitten followed in tow.

Then the children were gone, and it was just me, Anabelle, Vivian, and Jumpin' Jack around the bar, sharing the silence.

Jack poured himself a glass of carrot juice and sipped it like a fine whisky. Then, his gaze grew stern as his eyes met mine.

"You flinched."

I scanned his face for any sense of the jovial, joking, kind person from the private room. It was still there, but different. Pointed. Direct.

"Excuse me?"

"When Kat hugged you. You flinched like she threw a punch."

"I didn't—" I sighed. Not like I could lie to the guy who has access to the server logs. "—it just caught me off guard, that's all."

Vivian shook her head. She didn't make eye contact.

Her voice came out staticky, retro, buggy, but gentle. "No, it didn't. You were trying to figure out what it would cost."

I looked away.

"Look," Jack said, picking his words carefully. He took another sip of the juice. "Some of us came here running from people who only offered kindness with hooks in 'em.

"But you're not there anymore, Jamie."

I laughed. "Yeah? Then where am I?"

The fox held out her paw and I took it, expecting to feel something electric like I did with Kat. Instead, the touch felt old. Ancient, in a way that defies time and logic.

"You're in a place that doesn't think love is scarce," she said. "And I know that's hard to trust when your whole life taught you otherwise."

"I don't deserve this."

The words came out of my mouth before I realized I was saying them.

Jack's words came out rushed and stern, for a jackrabbit. "Kid, none of us do. But we still show up for each other.

"We still care. We still help, like you just did for the Kats."

It hung in the air, heavy but gracious.

Vivian gave my fin a squeeze. "You don't have to prove you belong here, Jamie. You just have to decide you do."

My eyes stung. I blinked hard. Vivian said nothing; she just sat and held my new fin as something inside me cracked open to fill the space I'd been terrified of taking.

"You're saying I can just... Take it? The seat, the drink, the friends?"

Jack nodded. "No one here gives you a test. You show up, we set another place at the table."

Vivian squeezed harder. "And if you leave, we don't chase.

"But the door stays open."

It was getting harder and harder to talk. I blamed the new face, though Viv and Jack disagreed.

"What if I mess it up?"

"Then we clean it up," Jack said. "Together."

The tears started flowing. I curled up into myself, hugging my new body with fins that shouldn't exist and friends I should never have known.

Friends?

I don't have friends.

"I don't think I'm okay," I said.

Jack and Vivian stood from their chairs to surround me with warm hugs.

The rabbit whispered in my ear. "You don't have to be."

From the other side, Vivian added, "And if you stay long enough, you might remember how.

"Welcome to the Zoo, Jamie. We love having you here."

They let me cry until the tears were all gone. Then, nodding, I clicked my heels.

"See you soon," I said.

"See you soon!" the couple said, waving to me as I left. As I returned to my greige hell I tried to hold onto the feeling of sharkskin and warm, fuzzy hugs, hoping they'd keep my heart warm under Stinky's glowing eye.