Editing Marco Domici: Strong Arm



Marco looked at the tent market from a distance. A cold breeze gently flapped a shelter panel loose and Marco watched an underfed little boy rush to tie it back down. Or was it a girl? Between layers of dirt, unshorn hair, and hand me down clothes from someone much larger, he just wasn't sure. 

Still, he watched. Leaning against the ill-fitted and sagging wood of a corner building, Marco saw two gangly teens trying to catch an errant creature destined for the stew pot. Frequent squeals from both sides of the race tracked them in and out of tent stalls. Laughter followed as often as curses. Marco smiled. 

For a few moments he closed his eyes and remembered the sights and smells of youth. There were some memories, buried deep, before Aldo and his young but ill bride had met him. 'The green room', the kids called it, not wanting to admit what it really meant. You went there to be looked at, inspected. Some few, the lucky ones, didn't come back. They used to scare the real little ones with stories of adults eating you if you went to The Green Room. One little boy had wet his ragged pants as the head lady tried to usher him gently in. 

Marco had been in The Green Room a couple times. The first time, thankfully, he wasn't eaten. However, the couple prodding and questioning him had seemed to have eaten little children before. Corpulent and rude, Marco had detested them. All the kids knew that if you got into trouble it'd go on your record. For a short while Marco set the high bar of times in solitude. He had about a month to himself, not counting lectures from the head mother. 

Then Aldo came. Third hand suit and his frail wife beside him. Marco had sensed, somehow, that she was as scared as he was. Yet there was Aldo, his gentle voice encouraging her as a firm arm wrapped around her. The exasperated house mother had been required to read Marco's  long list of transgressions so Aldo was 'fully informed'. She seemed to relish the details of his eighth floor escape and mostly nude sprint across ice covered rooftops. They hadn't caught him. Black ice, a long fall, and then the cops had brought him back; leg cast and all. 

As the house mother read diligently from the screen Aldo looked at Marco. They locked eyes and Marco hid nothing. Neither did Aldo. Then Aldo winked and moved his other arm just slightly. 

Without hesitation Marco eased out of the hard metal chair and moved around the interrogation table. The arm moved around him, pulled him close. Aldo looked at the house mother. "Thank you, Miss Mubunga. My wife, son, and I will be going out for lunch. Please have all the forms ready when we return. If my son has any belongings here, please have them packed and ready. He will not be returning to you."



Marco tensed slightly as an arm slid around him. The smell of cheap beer, rough smoke, and stale perfume clued him in as his eyes looked past the too thin and too few clothes. 

"Hello Tala." Marco said softly. He unbuttoned his coat and pulled her close. "You're dressed for the bar, not out here. Why are you out here freezing?" 

Tala let herself be pulled in. A moment's hesitation, then her gut told her this was a good man. Maybe not a safe man, but good. She snuggled a bit in the warmth of his coat and chest. Her pride balked, but her trust won. "No customers yet." 

Marco held her close as they relaxed together. He felt her thin body shiver as it tried to draw even more warmth from him. 

He stood straight and gave her a squeeze. Brushing back one long bang he looked down as she looked up. "You're with me, now, Tala. Let's go for a walk." 

Tala looked confused. His words were like so many others, and she expected him to lead her somewhere private. Yet hand in hand he pulled her towards the tents. In a moment she was wrapped in his coat. Many tent vendors knew her. Some men gawked, several women scowled. Tala cringed a bit until Marco's strong arm rested across her shoulders and his hand squeezed her arm. Her mind stumbled when he said "My friend needs..." and her brain went into "yes sir" mode as Marco found various pieces of clothing for her. Warm clothes. Person clothes, not something you temporarily drape over an object. 

They ate together. Sitting on a side bench, she devoured. Warm food filled her belly. Marco looked at her awkwardly, and smiled. "Whut?" She mumbled through a mouthful of something tender and juicy. He reached out a sleeve and brushed something off her cheek. 

As his fingertips gently brushed her throat she closed her eyes. His touch was gentle but her mind reeled. Sometimes it happened, she felt what she didn't understand. It had scared her the first few times, but she never talked about it. The girls had joked about "woman's intuition" and she assumed this was it. She felt Marco deep within her. Fearful bile rose as she kept stabbing some creature trying to hurt a friend she didn't know. She danced as a gangly teen with a girl she had never met. Tala stood against the raging fear of death; stood to protect her friends, whoever they were, against fearsome odds. 

Through eyes of wounded sadness she saw herself. Not pity. Not scorn. Compassion, tainted by hope. She saw the tears well up as her heart broke. 

It had been a long time since Tala had cried. Face buried in Marco's chest, she let go. It had been a very long time.



Each time she had tried to stifle the tears he had pulled her closer. Was he saying something? Or did he somehow realize how far she had fallen in her own eyes, and how much she needed to let go. 

"I must look a mess." She said, and then sniffled again. Her eyes closed involuntarily as he smiled at her again, and brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. 

"You're beautiful." Marco replied. She heard the lack of subterfuge in his voice. She remembered his kiss from the other day. He had not held back, neither had she. But maybe that was a different couple? Was he different, now? He seemed changed. Was he offering her the chance to become someone else? Or was it a trap? She bit her lip, but said nothing. 

"I assume there are some things a man doesn't normally shop for a woman friend." He smiled and pulled out several credits. "Why don't you do a little shopping on your own? Meet me back at the corner building where you snuck up on me, in half an hour or so, okay?"

She stepped away, warm credits clutched in her hand. Part of her wanted to flee, it was an obvious trap. She knew he wouldn't follow her, should she escape. Perhaps he even had given her this chance, to be totally free! Free from anyone! She had more than enough credits to get a few things and she knew how to earn money if she needed more. 

Tala was free. She walked around the tent city and looked at stalls she never dared look at before. She saw the double takes when people looked past the cozy warm clothes and realized who she was. A few credits were spent just to spend. 

Tala was free. Or was she? Sure, she could walk away. Was that freedom? She tasted the fear she had felt when Marco touched her. She stumbled as she once again tasted his fear. Catching herself on a tent post, for a moment she closed her eyes. The explosions were too close and she flinched. Images of friends drifted through her mind; their determined looks stared at her. They saw her as their leader, and their friend. Men and women. She felt their trust, and realized the fear that had gripped her was not fear of death, but separation. Of loss of friendships. She feared she would not be able to do enough to keep her friends alive. 

Tala was free. She opened her eyes and smiled. She was free to walk away, but why? When one is free to help a friend, to love, to serve others. What is freedom without friends?

She hurried from stall to stall getting the things she needed. Her last stop, maybe, would seem an indulgence. She knew he would understand, though. He had offered her a test. She would pass. 

There he was, again leaning against the dangerously thin walls of the shack. Her worn but useful backpack now had what she needed. He smiled at her, then his eyes grew wide as she pulled back the fur cap. He said nothing, and Tala nervously ran her hand up the itchy sides of her now closely cropped head. Her face had been washed of all makeup and her hair was high and tight, just like his other friends. 

"Do...do you like it?" She said quietly. "Is it okay?" 

He smiled, and took her hand. Tala was fully free.





Marco woke quickly but lounged for just a moment. The sheets were clean, he was clean, and the smell of coffee filled his room. It took his mind a couple extra moments to remember that he wasn't back in the barracks, coffee scents don't just walk down the stairwell. 

He opened one eye and saw the cup on the table. Hot. fresh. Marco sat up and sipped. Okay, it was very hot. The latch on his door flipped and Tala walked in. She was in some more of her sort of new clothes. Sleeves rolled up, broom and dustpan in hand, she paused when she saw him. 

"They said you liked coffee." She said, half statement, half question. "I forgot to ask if you wanted anything in it."

"Nyah. I just swirl my finger in it a little and it sweetens right up."

Tala rolled her eyes. "I gotta sweep up the rooms before I head out with Jillia. She promised to teach me to shoot today."

"It usually takes more than a day." Marco replied. "But you may get it faster than I did. Jillia is a good shot."

"Are you sweet on her?" Tala asked, then looked away.

Marco watched her for a minute. "Depends on what you mean. Is she attractive, sure. Am I liable to cross her battle hardened ex-sniper father for a little bit of adventure? Not today, thank you. Besides..." He hesitated. "You and I need to talk."

Tala held the broom tightly in front of her but didn't move. "About?"

"You're a girl...woman." Marco started, but stumbled. Catching he breath, he continued on. "Look, I don't know what you expect of me. I'm not sure what I expect of myself, really. I just want things to be clear between us."

"How so?" The broom remained on guard. 

Marco blushed. "Look, I don't want...well...I do, but...argh!" He rested his forehead in a palm.

"She likes looking at you too." Tala said, and then looked down. 

Marco sighed. "Is there anything simple on the agenda today? World domination? Popular Uprising? Something I can handle?"

"Not until this afternoon." Tala grinned maliciously. "For now, you need to get dressed and head upstairs for breakfast. Dealing with women is hard work. I brought your coffee but the rest is on you. Now scoot."

"When am I supposed to shower?" Marco said as he pulled on his clothes. 

"Do that tonight." Tala stuck out her tongue. "I used all the hot water this morning." 

"And I missed it?" 

"Yup. Maybe tonight I'll join you." Tala gave a wicked grin. "Or maybe Jillia will. Maybe both of us?"

"How am I supposed to get anything done with that on my mind?" Marco said. "I..."

"Get what done?" Jillia said as she stuck her head in the door. "Oh, sorry." She blushed when she saw Tala. "I didn't know you two were...talking."

"He was just leaving, Jil. Come in and let me fill you in." Tala seemed to enjoy Marco's deep blush as the battle hardened Marine fled the field. "It could be interesting..."