Things sort of get fast from then on. Finally getting the danger, Domenica calls her work to get a leave. I Phone Dave to tell him we’ll be ready tonight, more or less, and make some food: neither her on Nathan have eaten yet, and given the time span we’re gonna have to pack our bags and leave, we’d better gather our strength.

Nathan helps me with the cooking, he peels potatoes like a champ. Seeing how he seems used to the peeler, I guess it’s OK for him to use it. I wasn’t sure at first. Kids! They’re a lot more grown-up than you think, sometimes.

I stir-fry chopped vegetables with a liberal dose of curry paste. I confirmed beforehand that they do like spicy food, as it’s a thing that has backfired on me more than once.

“So,” says Nathan, “if you’re a vegetarian, does that mean that you don’t eat all the animals or only some of them, like beef or steak?”

That’s so cute I’m giggling again. “Nathan, do you know that beef and steak are the same animal?”

He stares at me with suspicion in his eyes. “You’re not making fun of me, are you?”

I stop laughing and nod seriously. “I swear. Beef is a male cow raised for its meat, and the steak is a part of its body.”

It makes him think hard. “I knew beef was a cow,” he says, “but I really thought steak was made from another one, like chicken.”

“Well, you can have chicken steak… I think, but mostly when people tell you they want steak they’re talking cow meat. And yes, being vegetarian, for me, it means not eating any animal.”

“Even if you eat one by mistake?” says Nathan. “My friend Jeremy said we eat spiders when we sleep. They crawl into our mouths because they don’t know any better and we eat them.” That thought seems to gross him out quite a lot.

“Hum,” I say, “I think it’s OK if it’s an accident? If an animal jumps into my mouth while I’m asleep, there’s not much I can do about it, right? But I can, I try to avoid eating them. I want them to have good, beautiful, full lives just like we do.”

Nathan seems bothered by it. “Can I like the animals and still eat them?” he says.

I shrug. “You do what you feel is right. That’s the most important. If like me you can not eat animals and be happy with that then it’s probably a good idea. Otherwise there might be other good things you can do for the world while you eat meat. What can you do?”

He thinks it over for a while. “I can protect mom and you from the bad god.”

I’m not sure if I’m impressed or scared he might try to put himself in harm’s way. “That’s… pretty good as long as you make sure it can’t get to you. Don’t do things that might endanger you, OK? I’m pretty sure that to your mom, your safety is more important than anything and I don’t want to see her cry.”

“Yeah, me neither,” he says, anxious. Did I flip the wrong switch?

“It’s all right,” I say, “I think you’ve been doing a pretty good job until now. Don’t worry about it, just… be a kid.” I beam at him.

He frowns in return. “I am a kid,” he says like I’m questioning it.

“True that,” I say.

The veggies are pretty much cooked, so we set up the table and go knock on Domenica’s door so she can eat with us. We exchange a few sideways glances, both of us reveling in the homeliness of it all. Domenica has good news, as local government seems ready to cooperate in warding the people off the mountain, setting a temporary curfew and using a cover story. This really feels like the end of this ‘mad god’ chapter. I’m not sorry about it.

“So,” I say, “what strings are you pulling to get the government to cooperate? I thought no one believed that supernatural stuff?”

“It’s not me,” she says. “By the way, this is very good, thank you, both of you, for the food!” She stops talking long enough to chew a mouthful and gulp it down. “Anyway, you’re right, by myself I don’t have that kind of pressure. I already told you about ‘non-official science business’, right? Not in details, I can’t go into details, but it’s enough to know that we aren’t the only ones who know about that particular field, and that there is a joint effort, higher up, to tackle these issues.”

Conspiracy theorists, how right you are. “A supernatural what? Agency? Task Force? Lobby?”

Domenica nods. “A bit of all that, yeah. I don’t get to friendly with them for… personal reasons, but they’re useful in a pinch. They should be able to put the town in some kind of serious lockdown in a few days.”

I frown at the idea. “I really have to convince the people I know that they have to leave. I have no idea how I’m gonna do that. My parents live here, damn it — sorry, Nathan — and they’re the most hard-headed people I know. They wouldn’t even flinch if that chicken god came knocking at their door.”

Domenica chuckles. “What?” I say.

“It’s just,” she says, “that ‘chicken god’ is so far away from what we’re living here, even if it’s technically correct, that I can’t help but to find it hilarious.”

“It’s a bit silly, I guess,” I say, deadpan.

“Mom does that to me sometimes,” says Nathan, who’s busy separating the carrots from the rest so he can eat them first. “I say something and she doesn’t believe me at all even if it’s very obvious!”

“Come on,” says Domenica, “I rarely do that anymore, you know it.” She picks a carrot from his plate. His eyes open wide from the outrage.

“Mom!”

A part of the afternoon is spent carefully picking what we should bring and what we shouldn’t. Domenica doesn’t have a car either, though she has a driving license, so we’ll have to rely on Dave’s vehicle. From what he said he owns a pickup truck, so we’ll have some space, but not that much. Anyway, this means we’re down to a bag of clothes for both of them, daily necessities and Domenica is gathering a ton of printing documents she wants to take with her. In the meanwhile I stare. I’m not much use inside the house, especially this one: I have absolutely no idea where stuff is kept and what to prioritize. I wanna give a hand, I just don’t know how.

“Maybe if you just brought your computer, you wouldn’t have to fill a box with printed emails?” I say, trying to help. Sadly it seems to be understood more as criticism.

“Well,” says Domenica, “the thing with those documents is I have annotated them, compiled them together by order of relevance, there is new information written on them… But yeah, I’m bringing my laptop too. I couldn’t live without it.”

I nod like I know what she’s talking about. I haven’t owned a laptop since I finished my studies. Looking at all the little things that set us apart, I feel very alone. I know it’s not the right moment to bring down all the questions about us that are still in the air. Will there ever be a right moment? What if the evil god pursues and we don’t get to say what we wanted to say ever?

“Domenica?” I say, clearing my throat. Very smooth. Not an awkward start at all. She raises from the piles of paper.

“Yeah?” she says, hearing something beyond my words that rattle her.

“Once you’re done with your papers,” I say, “would you mind just sitting with me for a few minutes to… talk about the things… what we’re doing together? I know it’s a busy moment but since I met you all we’ve had is busy moments so… I would really like if we could talk things out.”

Domenica is making her ‘deer in the headlights’ face. I knew she’d worry about me needing to have a big talk. At the same time, maybe it’s good she’s worried, because checking up on us has apparently not been on her list these days. If that’s what it takes, giving her a baby anxiety spike seems fair to me.

“Yeah, sure,” she says, nervous. “Do you want to talk now or…?”

Let’s not stress her out further. “Hum, you can finish what you’re doing, there’s no problem, I’m not in a hurry.”

“OK,” she says. She still looks pretty anxious about it. I smile at her the best I can. She resumes work for a minute or so. The silence is thick now, made of unease and unanswered questions.

She ultimately drops her box on the floor and comes sit with me. “OK, I’d rather have that talk now, I guess, because I can’t even focus anymore.”

I catch her because it feels like she’s falling right now. “I didn’t mean to upset you. This is awkward, but you have nothing to fear from me. It’s just… I don’t know. I have that weird feeling that I stepped through several very important boundaries of intimacy with you in less than a week. Usually that would take months for me. I don’t play family in three days. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy about it but I don’t know where I stand. Am I a fling, a partner, something else? Do you think about it sometimes?”

Domenica’s stumped. “Wow,” she says, “I wanted to have that talk also but I had no idea you felt so strongly about it. For me all that’s happened yet is that you suddenly became a part of my life. This is a very self-centered thing to say. That’s probably why you’re being sort of frustrated, when I get into my job I can drop other concerns and wonder afterwards how things all happen on their own.” She slumps. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. Are you mad at me?”

I have to think about it to give a honest answer. “A little mad, I think? But it’s good mad. I’m happy I’m mad at you because this is how I know you’re important. I strongly wanna make things good between us and it makes me mad when you don’t share that. Am I raising the expectations to much? You tell me, because I don’t want to be ‘problem girlfriend’ either. If ‘girlfriend’ is what you would call this.” So many ‘if’!

“What do you think of lovers?” she says. “I like the idea of being lovers.”

“I think I can work with that,” I say. The tension drops, we relax.

The real talk can begin.