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Ax had, with the solemnity he brought to all rituals, passed control of the remote to me this evening. No, seriously, he has a ritual for it. He holds his tail blade flat, balancing the remote on it, holds it in front of me and says, «Tonight’s entertainment is yours to choose.» He balances it there on his blade while I press the buttons with my beak. If Marco ever sees it, he’ll never stop teasing Ax for having a TV ritual. But I like the way Ax makes normal moments feel important, so I try to take it the same way he does.
I wanted to watch Voyager, but there was a storm blowing through outside Ax’s scoop, and all the channels except the basic ones kept fritzing out. «Fine,» I muttered. «Friends it is.»
Ax’s eyes lit up. He likes Friends better than Voyager. He can’t get over how weird and fake all the aliens and spaceships are.
I didn’t pay all that much attention. I was trying to figure out how to bring up something awkward with Ax, and with Ax that’s always a toss-up. He either makes it about ten times as awkward as it was to begin with, or he treats it like it’s absolutely normal and he has no idea why it was such a big deal. So I felt it out by saying, «So, how about Ross and Rachel? Think they’re gonna make it as a couple?»
Ax took the question as seriously as he always takes questions from me. He studied the screen with his main eyes. «Ross and Rachel’s predicament is one I have observed often on television,» he said. «Humans in volatile, passionate relationships wish to marry, even though they cannot create a stable household or a working partnership for raising children. Often, they divorce. This is treated as part of the life cycle of a marriage. Yet the effect on children like Rachel is apparent. She is forced to care for her younger siblings, a duty that ought not fall to one so young.»
Part of me wanted to tell Ax that Rachel’s divorce problems were none of his business. But it wasn’t like it was a big secret that Rachel’s family was split up, and she did complain a lot about having to look after Jordan and Sara. «So what,» I said, «do Andalites never marry the wrong person?»
Ax had his main eyes on These Messages and his stalk eyes on me. «We take great pains during the courtship process to ensure that does not happen. There is the unshaloul, where the prospective couples are placed in isolation for three days to see if they can tolerate one another, and the kaltet shax, where they care for an infant together, and – »
«Jeez, that’s more training than astronauts have to do to go to space,» I said, trying not to be too intimidated. «So, what, don’t they care if the couples love each other?»
Ax’s stalk eyes recoiled, a defensive gesture. «A marriage lasting a lifespan is hardly functional if the spouses do not love each other! My parents love each other very much!»
I felt bad right away. I hadn’t realized I’d kind of been dissing his parents. «Yeah, I’m sure they do, Ax. But, like, is it the same way that…» I wanted to say, that Rachel and I love each other. But I don’t really talk about that with Ax, because I don’t even talk about it with Rachel. I finished, «The same way that Ross and Rachel love each other? Or Gafinilan and Mertil?» That last part was a little defiant. Ax was still acting weird about Gafinilan and Mertil, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the vecol thing or the gay thing or some other Andalite prejudice I didn’t understand. But I thought their relationship was kind of amazing. And humbling. I didn’t know if I’d ever seen two humans in real life who loved each other the way Gafinilan and Mertil did.
Ax turned off the TV and used the quieter roar of the storm outside to think. I was grateful for that. I find it hard to focus on a real conversation with the TV on, always have, and the sharper hawk senses only make it harder. Plus, Ax sometimes says stupid stuff he doesn’t really mean when he’s speaking off the cuff. But when he really takes the time to think, he can cut right to the heart of whatever we’re talking about.
Finally, he said, «No, not the same way. It is different. But not less. Your language is frustratingly limited in this regard. One word, “love,” to encompass concepts that directly contradict one another.»
«It’s different in Spanish,» I offered. «I took a year of Spanish, you know, before. You can say “Te quiero” to anyone you love. But you only say “Te amo” to people you love like Gafinilan and Mertil do.»
«According to this system,» Ax said, «the love between, for example, Marco and Jake would be the same as that between Jake’s parents?»
My feathers all stood on end. I’d have choked on my own tongue if I’d been human. «No!»
«I agree,» Ax said, «but perhaps for different reasons. Why do you say they are different?»
«Jake’s parents are married,» I said. «They have kids. Marco and Jake aren’t going to get married.»
Laughter lit Ax’s eyes warm green and brown. «Why not?»
«They don’t – they’re not – » Oh, screw it, I wasn’t even going to say the word “gay” just in case Ax made me explain it. If Ax had already made the word “love” this complicated, what would he do with “gay”? I tried a different tack. «Jake is in love with Cassie! And anyway, even if they did want to get married, they’d probably end up burning their house down in like a week!»
«That last was what I had in mind, yes,» Ax said, eyes still dancing with Andalite laughter. «The love that married partners must have for one another in order to build a stable and supportive household. Shest orf.» That last word came with a feeling and an image, like when Elfangor spoke to me at the construction site: a solid foundation, firmly rooted in the ground, holding fast as living things danced their ephemeral cycles above it. Bedrock love, I thought. «My parents have it. Jake’s parents have it. Jake and Marco do not.»
«What about us?» I said.
Ax curved his left eyestalk in a way I’d come to learn was like raising an eyebrow. «What do you think? Could we build a scoop together and raise children?»
«Oh, hell no,» I said. «We’d be total screw-ups at it.» Not to mention, whatever Ax thought about families, the whole idea of an uncle and nephew making a home and raising kids together was just weird. But I wasn’t going to tell him that.
Ax smiled. «Yes. Our love is shest valeet.» That word came brightly, an unbroken beam of light that traveled all the way from a brilliant star to illuminate my face, never once deflected or interrupted. There’s no word in English remotely like that. I wish there were. «No one can be true shorms without shest valeet. It is the light of true knowledge that lets us see what is in each other’s hearts.»
I wanted to hide my face in my wing. Ax makes it look so easy, saying things like that. Telling me that we were shorms, talking about our love for each other. I don’t know how to talk about love at all, much less for a specific person. Even if I love that person as much as I love Ax. So I changed the subject. «Gafinilan and Mertil called each other shorms, and their love is different from ours. I mean, that was the romantic kind. “Te amo.” And they…» This was the hard part. «They can, like, feel each other, telepathically, even when they’re not on the same planet. And I – I can’t feel you at all, not like that.» Or Rachel, I thought.
Ax’s stalk eyes and the bend of his tail softened. «Is that why you are asking me about Andalite love? Because you are afraid ours is not enough?» I shifted uncomfortably on my perch and rearranged my wings. «Tobias. The bond Gafinilan and Mertil have is one they developed over many years. It is an accomplishment to be proud of, one that requires effort and dedication on the part of both Andalites. We have only known each other for two Earth years. Our shest valeet is not inadequate or broken. It is only new.»
That eased a knot inside of me. «Okay. Okay, so they spent a lot of time creating that bond. But even if we have it – I mean, if we had it, too – their relationship would still be different from ours.»
«Yes. Gafinilan and Mertil have shest valeet, like us,» Ax said, «but they also have shest dath.» That word burned, a lightning strike on a dry prairie lighting all the grass afire from horizon to horizon. Passion, I thought. How I feel when I come to Rachel’s house and she already has the window open, and I can hear her breathing pick up when she sees me.
«That’s the difference,» I realized. «We think that married couples should have all three of those kinds of love. But shest dath is the most important.»
Ax’s stalk eyes stood straight up in surprise. «All three of those? From one person? That is an entirely unreasonable expectation! It is very rare for partners to feel all three. No wonder humans drive themselves to such extreme lengths over marriage, trying to make themselves feel so many different things about one person!» He muttered, mostly to himself, «This is even more bizarre than rock music and clothing.»
«So… you have different people in your life for the different kinds of love?»
«Well, yes,» Ax said. «We will always be shorms, Tobias, but I hope one day to marry someone for whom I feel shest orf. And take mates, too, when I feel shest dath. And I would never begrudge you your shest dath for Rachel.»
That sounded nice. But I didn’t know how to tell Ax that I couldn’t imagine having that many people in my life who I loved, and who loved me right back. A bond between us like Gafinilan and Mertil’s, one that could reach through outer space. A whole network of people, all with different kinds of love. It was beautiful, but impossible, like the sky used to look from my bedroom window. «Do you guys have any other kinds of love?»
Ax’s face went crinkly and gentle around his main eyes. «Yes,» he said quietly. «There is shest kala, the love between parents and children.» I could feel it from him so clearly: the soft easy step on grass well-tended just for you, the proud curve of a tail lifted in protection. He knew that feeling so well.
«I felt that,» I whispered. «During the hirac utzum.» Maybe it had been there at the construction site, too, but I’d had no idea what to look for, and all those feelings and images from my father had faded like a dream. I got one cool, sweet sip of shest kala, to get me through the other side of torture, and not one drop more, for the rest of my life.
«Shest kala is the nourishing grass that grows from the good soil of shest orf. It is barbaric for any child to grow without it. Like raising a child on liquid grass rations, and expecting that to be true nourishment.» Ax’s tail twitched. «Do not ever tell me the names of the humans you called your guardians, Tobias, or I may do something rash.»
It filled my eyes, right then, that long beam of unending light, finding me across the huge black of space from the farthest, brightest star. Maybe I could live without shest kala, when I had so much shest valeet. I wanted to reflect it back at Ax, to let him see that same light in the hard yellow of my eyes. But I didn’t know how.
«Ax,» I said. «Do you think we could have that one day? What Gafinilan and Mertil have? The long-distance thought-speech and all that? What would we have to do to make that happen?» I wanted it so much I felt thirsty for it. It would be proof that I knew how to love someone, at least, the right way. I would feel Ax from far away and I would finally know for sure.
«Yes, we could, if you would like.» Somehow, Ax sounded surprised that I did want it. Maybe he thought I didn’t like the Andalite ways of doing things. A lot of the time, I don’t. But this time, when it meant a connection to Ax, I did. «It would take practice, for both of us. We need to spend more time focusing on each other’s thought-speech patterns. Learning it so well that even a fraction of an image is clearly from me and no one else.»
«I think I’m halfway there already,» I admitted. I’d always know Ax's thought-speech, I was sure.
Ax looked pensive. «Interesting. Perhaps we are.»
«Hey, Ax,» I said, remembering. «I just thought of something. Another human word for love. Not in English. In Hebrew. Jake talked about it at his Bar Mitzvah.» It was after Jake saved me from those bullies. I’d been so surprised to get an invitation. I didn’t have a suit or anything, so I wore the nicest shirt I had, and the one pair of jeans that fit. It was the first time I ever talked to Rachel, just a short conversation. I don’t even remember it. But I do remember the little speech Jake read off a sheet of notebook paper after he read his Torah portion.
«What is a Bar Mitzvah?» Ax said, snapping me out of the memory.
«Oh, yeah, sorry,» I said. «It’s a coming of age ritual for Jewish people. That’s Jake and Rachel’s religion. At Jake’s Bar Mitzvah, he talked about chesed. The love of the covenant. It’s like – all the promises that hold a community together, and doing things that honor those promises, not just because you have to, but because you care about your community, and you want to.» That’s why I remembered the speech. Anybody could give a speech like that, but Jake had lived it, when he’d rescued me from the bullies.
«You speak of the Animorphs,» Ax said. «Of the ways we honor our covenant with each other.»
«Yeah, something like that,» I said. «I’m surprised Andalites don’t have a word for that.»
«I have never met a group of Andalites who were like us,» Ax said. «Perhaps the bond among a group of mostly humans needs a human word. Shest chesed.»
«Shest chesed,» I echoed, and I tried my best to add an image-feeling to it, though I’d never really tried that before. It was the feeling of going into DeGroot’s office, or any other battle where I’d been alone, but not really: Rachel was hidden behind a wall, Jake was circling overhead, Marco was outside incognito, and they’d put their lives on the line to come in and fight behind me. I didn’t have to sense them. There didn’t have to be words. We acted. We kept on keeping our promises, and that’s what made them strong.
Ax’s eyes curved in a smile, and I thought maybe, just maybe, I did know something about love after all.