They work together almost in silence, speaking only about the mechanical elements they’re repairing. Noemi’s desperation seems to fill the room as surely as heat or perfume. Abel works as fast as he can without completely leaving her behind; their margin of time, while tighter than before, is still adequate—and he knows she needs to be a part of the solution.
But not everything can be rushed. After several hours of effort, they reach a point where the shields have to go through a long round of self-diagnostics. This leaves them with nothing to do for some time to come.
“You will have enough time to sleep a full eight hours,” he tells her as they pack up their tools. “Plus exercise, if you desire it.”
“I need it, but I can’t.” Noemi winces as she rubs her temples. “I can’t even think right now. I’m so wiped out, but there’s no way I could sleep. Every time my mind wanders, I think about the Masada Run, and then—”
“Dwelling on events you cannot yet influence will only discourage you.” He considers the possibilities. “Recreation might provide a welcome distraction.”
“Recreation?” She leans one shoulder against the wall. “Like what?”
Abel had been speaking in general terms, but now he knows the perfect suggestion. “Would you like to see a movie?”
“If that plane leaves the ground and you’re not with him, you’ll regret it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.”
As thrilled as Abel is to finally be watching Casablanca again in real life, he keeps glancing over at Noemi to gauge her reaction. It’s nearly as good as the film itself. She’s been rapt since the first few minutes, laughing at all the jokes once he explained the antique references. Now she’s completely caught up in the bittersweet ending. All her troubles have slipped into the background for a time; for the moment, at least, he can simply make her happy.
They’ve turned the junior crew’s bunk room into their makeshift theater, each of them curled on parallel beds, the story playing out on the room’s one large screen. These movies were known as “black-and-white,” but really the images shimmer in a thousand shades of silver.
Rick touches Ilsa’s chin, tilting her face gently upward. “Here’s looking at you, kid.” Abel’s always liked that part. He wonders what it would feel like, touching someone’s face that way.
“That can’t be the end,” Noemi says, as Ilsa and Victor Laszlo walk toward the plane, leaving Rick behind forever. “That’s why she leaves?”
“You don’t think she should stay with Laszlo?”
“Of course she has to go fight the Nazis. But… when does she decide that for herself? Rick’s the one who made the decision.”
Abel’s never considered this before. “It seems she decided while Rick was speaking to her.”
With a frown, Noemi scrunches down farther in her bunk. “I wish she’d made the choice on her own.”
“You wish she showed greater autonomy. But if she did so, the movie would perhaps suggest that she really hadn’t loved Rick at all. That she was only pretending for Laszlo’s benefit.”
“Good point,” Noemi says absently. She’s already caught up in seeing which way Captain Renault will turn.
At the end, she applauds, which catches Abel off guard. “You enjoyed it?”
“What? Of course I did. That was amazing.” Noemi’s smile is warmer than he’d known it could be. “There really is something about 2-D films. You only get the images and sound, but it makes your imagination work harder, doesn’t it? So you wind up wrapping the story around you. And the whole idea of her being in love with Rick but not wanting to hurt Victor because he’s so heroic and important… it’s pretty romantic.”
This topic strikes Abel as particularly fascinating. “Have you ever been in love?”
Noemi stares at him, snapped out of her dreamy mood. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m curious about human emotional development and response.” For some reason, that makes her laugh. “Did I say something wrong? Is the question too personal?”
“Kinda. But—” She sinks back onto her bunk. “No, I haven’t been in love. I thought I was once, but I was wrong.”
“How can you be wrong about your own emotions?” Abel finds his feelings confusing, but he’s always assumed that was due to their relative newness.
“It felt like love, sometimes. I was crazy about him, wanted to be with him, hoped he’d love me back—all of that. But really I was only in love with my idea of Jemuel. My daydreams of all the romantic times we could spend together, in theory. Not in reality.”
“Did he not love you back?” That strikes Abel as unlikely. Noemi is courageous, forthright, intelligent, and kind. These must be desirable qualities in a mate.
“No. We flirted a few times—he even kissed me once—but that’s all.” Her fingers belie her casual tone, tracing absently along the curved line of her lower lip. “Actually, he wound up falling for Esther. They were right for each other in a way the two of us never would’ve been.”
“None of this correlates with what I know of human behavior in such situations. You experienced no jealousy or anger?”
Her expression clouds. “At first I did. At first I felt like I would die. Just… drop down and die. But I never let Esther see it. That would’ve devastated her, and she’d have broken up with Jemuel, which would’ve been stupid because it’s not like he would’ve come to me instead. What’s the point? So I kept my mouth shut and pretended I was fine with it until I really was fine. Now when I talk with Jemuel, I can’t believe I was ever into him. He’s kind of stiff, really.”
“But you still sounded wistful, when you spoke of him.” Abel finds himself going back to that memory of her… her dark eyes searching an unseen distance, her fingers brushing her lip.
Noemi says, “I guess it’s just the idea of love I miss. And, well, it was a good kiss.” Her smile turns rueful. “At least I got some practice.”
A wonderful idea occurs to Abel. “Do you need more practice?”
“Huh?”
“We could practice, if you wanted.” He smiles as he starts to explain. “Remember what I told you on Genesis? I’m programmed with a wide array of techniques for providing physical pleasure, via every activity from kissing to the more arcane positions for sexual intercourse. Although I’ve never performed any of them before, I’m confident I could do so very skillfully.”
She stares at him, eyes wide. Since she is swift to voice objections if she has them, Abel takes her silence as an encouraging sign.