The Persistence of Memories - A Novel of the Mendaihu Universe by Jon Chaisson Page B

plastered across his face.
    Peace, Love and Light, Dearest One, he
said from within.
    “I —” Denni sputtered, utterly mortified.
    “Greetings, emha Johnson, emha Ehramanis!” he
exclaimed. “My name is Dasso Mikhadei, and this is my
establishment. It's an honor to have the both of you here! Your
orders are on the house today. Is there anything else I can get
you?”
    Out of here! Denni felt her cheeks
burning crimson. Amna began giggling both at the owner and at her,
politely declining anything else. Oh Goddess, this is so
embarrassing!
    “No, uh...no thank you,” she managed. She
flushed again, and vainly tried to hide it by taking a hurried sip
from her water glass. She glanced at her steaming plate of pasta
and chicken and wavered…the plate did look and smell heavenly!
Shaking her head at the absurdity of it all, she finally smiled and
nodded. “This...this is truly wonderful, edha,” she said. “Sa’im
taftika.” And from within, she added: Peace, Love and Light to
you, eicho Mikhadei .
    The owner did not miss a beat. He bowed
quickly and backed away, the wide smile still on his face. His gaze
had lasted a little longer than it should, yet not enough for
anyone to notice. She wasn't sure if it was out of devotion or
simply awe. Either way, she could still sense his strong aura
within the place. It felt comforting in its own way.
    “Don't even ask,” she mumbled to Amna, who
let out a quick snort of amusement.
    They enjoyed the rest of their dinner in
silence, but with the constant reminder that edha Mikhadei stood
just inside the kitchen's swinging doors, chatting and laughing
with his employees about all kinds of subjects. The man just loved
to talk and interact with people. Denni half-listened to their
conversations, mostly joking verbal abuse towards each other, but
always with a positive vibe. When they could not eat another bite,
Denni dropped her napkin on top of her plate and exhaled in
satisfaction.
    Amna had polished off her own plates as well,
and leaned back heavily, ready to take an afternoon nap after all
that. She looked just as content, though it seemed there was a
tinge of melancholy in her eyes. Amna had only spoken a few times,
commenting on the food or attempting conversation, but it was
muted, as if she too had been overwhelmed by the optimism here. The
meal and the owner had certainly distracted them both, but Denni
was still concerned about her. Amna had seen or sensed something,
and Denni had missed it. She asked within, not wanting to keep the
conversation as private as possible.
    “Nothing to worry about,” Amna said aloud and
shrugged, waving a hand at her. “Just felt something off.” She
looked away in frustration. “I felt something, but I’m not sure
what. It felt like déjà vu, but not. I’m not going to worry about
it.”
    Denni shook her head. “Everyone gets that
when they’re still adjusting to their own awakening Amzi. There was
something else, wasn’t there?”
    Amna's head sunk between her shoulders. “I
guess so.” Her voice was barely audible.
    “What was it?” she pushed. “If there's
something wrong nearby that I should know about, then —”
    “That's not it, okay?” Amna spat out,
a little louder than she'd wanted. She lowered her eyes, stuffing
her hands under the table. “Sorry. I can't explain it. Not here.
Can we drop it for now? Please?”
    Denni relented. She did not want to argue,
anyway. She felt close and uncomfortable, and she wanted to
discharge some of this energy that had been welling up inside her
for too long. She wanted to get out the apartment, out of the
business of being the One of All Sacred and just be Denni Johnson
instead. Arguing with her best friend was the last thing she should
be doing.
    “I'm sorry,” she said after a moment. She
frowned, thinking it sounded a lot less sincere than she'd meant
it. “I was just concerned...” She stopped again, knowing that
wasn't any better. Amna gave her a wilting look that