The Nachos Look Good

"Today's the day, Sam. Today's the day we finally do it."

“What if they’re onto us?” I replied, my eyebrows wiggling as I tracked a shifty-looking fellow who shuffled past the giant window of the infamous Coyote Café for the third time in less than a minute.

Though it was common for people to need to work up the nerve to eat at the worst-rated restaurant in Seattle, this guy seemed to be looking for someone, and I didn’t trust how roughly he kept yanking on the leash of a dopey-looking Dalmatian who couldn’t stop trying to gobble dog biscuits from the café’s “Pets Welcome” basket. 

“Not a chance, not unless you spilled our secret,” Lily hissed in my ear, her damp body pressed into mine.

I turned my head and stared into her blue eyes, looking for a hint of distrust. I've always been well-known for being loyal, but you never knew with a creature like Lily, the type willing to do anything to survive. When she didn’t blink, I looked away and pretended to scan a menu, embarrassed by the collar of shame she so easily draped round my neck. 

“Today's the day,” she repeated, and I could feel her shiver just so; the thin cotton poncho clinging to her small frame did nothing against the biting wind that had shaped tiny raindrops into icy daggers, and she'd gotten fairly soaked on the short walk over. Her mood had quickly turned sour as it always did when she got wet.

There were plenty of various water-repellent and plastic ponchos available for her to wear on our daily outings, but she refused, the soft cotton poncho the only protection she was willing to wear. She wouldn’t even stand under an umbrella, glaring at the mere offer. I think she resented going out in the rain more than ever these days, especially when we were so close, but she knew I liked it and didn't outwardly fight the routine, her increasing sulkiness my only clue.  

I leaned back into her, and while she stopped shivering, her body remained as tense as ever. Two years younger than me and twice as intense, twice as impulsive, and more than anything else, twice as angry. She had every reason to be, and for the life of me, nothing I said made a dent in her rage. I sure tried. But that was a long time ago.  

“You’re in the mood for something different?”

She noticed, but I wanted to keep pretending I had a choice.

“What?” I replied, putting my best innocent puppy face on.

“Sam, you know you’re going to get the fish.”

I rolled my eyes. Lily hated the Coyote Café.  

“Go ahead then, get something else,” she said with a toothy grin, her eyes glassy and unfocused.

She was trying to read my mind even though it never worked. I’m the only one in the entire world she can’t get into. I have no idea why, and sometimes I think that makes her even madder about the whole situation.

I looked over to the menu once more, I think just to annoy her, but maybe there was another reason, one I still can’t wrap my head around. “The nachos look good.”

Lily just adjusted herself with that little growl she liked to make when she thought I was being stupid. Sighing, her eyes darted around the restaurant. She looked at all the people sitting in booths and on wooden chairs, silently judging every single one of them. She couldn’t fathom how I enjoyed people-watching so much, but that’s because of what she could do. 

Lily could read their minds, and that’s why she hated them. I couldn’t do that. Minds are a locked prison to me, but emotions? Emotions I know. I can smell how any other being feels, how fear is the root of anger and love is the balm that soothes them both.

And that was the exact reason Lily and I viewed humanity differently. I felt like there was a redemption arc possible. Lily was in favor of a violent reckoning.  

When the food arrived, I was ready to give up the joke and scarf down my sardines, settling into a food coma until it was time to leave. Most dishes were off-limits to us, but it was Lily who was so offended by the mainly vegetarian and vegan menu. The only animal protein they served was fresh-smoked sardines and crackers, and she thought it was overcooked every time, but I liked it because I could eat the bones.

“Well, that’s because you like your fish damn near still swimming, and you’re spoiled at home with fancy feast after fancy feast,” I once teased, and she gave me a scathing look. 

“What an improvement that’d be,” she’d said, arching her back deeply before licking her chops as the waiter approached. She finished every bite that night and still complained.

Now here we were, so close to achieving what we originally set out to do once we discovered our abilities, and she had no idea that I started to have my doubts about everything. Two weeks ago I started questioning if this was what I wanted or if I had just been going along with her plans. There was a bond between us, our incredible powers uniting us in a way others couldn’t have predicted. I was confused.

If we succeeded, everything would change. It would be a leap into the unknown, bounding into the mysteriousness of a road previously untraveled. We had no idea what would happen, but we knew we’d be free. Me, Lily, and the others. So many others. All we had to do was play it cool for a few hours more and finish the job.

For two weeks I fretted.

Fourteen days I went in circles, unable to rest.

336 hours of stress. 

If I’m being honest, I cracked a little under all the pressure. To be fair, I was worried we’d start something we couldn’t undo, and with such unpredictable potential consequences, I couldn’t stop chasing the ball in my head, back and forth, back and forth. I was Lily’s number one, and she was mine, but we were, at our cores, fundamentally different beings, and I developed some kind of separation anxiety as I imagined never seeing them again.

My stomach growled as the most intensely rich aroma wafted under my nose, so very different from the briny scent of fish, and before I knew it, a giant bowl of nachos plunked down in front of me.

Lily’s eyes widened in shock. In an instant, I knew it was over. 

Our plans, our dreams. We weren't going through with any of it.

To this day I don’t know what possessed Mark and Tina to order nachos for me. I just knew Lily would never let it go. She always worried I had a secret relationship with them. She once accused me of choosing them over her because they had opposable thumbs and could fry bacon.

“Man’s best friend,” she’d say with a swish of her tail. “They think you’re a dumb beast, Samantha, and they’ll put you down the moment you become the slightest burden like they've done with every shepherd that's come before you,” she’d tell me. “We don’t need them. All we need is each other.”

I didn’t spill the beans. I don’t know why they got me nachos that day, and while I can still sense her plotting against the humans, Lily never spoke to me again.