They ordered non-alcoholic drinks, a charcuterie board, and a spread of fresh fruit.
They snacked their fill and then Archie said, “Here’s the best part.”
He pressed a button on the loveseat arm and his half changed into a lounger. Meret squealed and did the same to her side. Lying back, he turned his head to her, and she caught a glint of metal caught in his sweater collar.
She gestured. “You have something snagged. A necklace?”
His mouth became firm, suppressing a smile or a frown, she wasn’t sure. But he reached under his neckline, found the catch and carefully freed the chain. He handed the charm at the end over to her. She had to lean close to touch it, but she recognized it immediately. The chain was an improvement over the frazzled yarn it dangled from years ago.
Meret gasped. “You still have it?”
The coin had smoothed out with age and wear, the man’s profile on one side now only an outline. It was a silver 1965 dime from the United States. She remembered how Bakari would rub his thumb over the surface whenever he spoke of his father.
“He would bring me any foreign coins he found. This was the last one he gave me. Fitting it’s a fucking American one.” As always, he spat out the word “American,” like it left a nasty taste in his mouth. She never doubted it did.
He kept it in his pocket, always. One day, it wasn’t there, and he’d almost cried. She’d never seen him in such a panic. After a frantic search, it was finally found between his pallet bed and the wall. They’d paid a jeweler to punch a hole in it, and she’d swiped a length of yarn so he could wear it close to his heart.
As special as the token was, she was surprised he still wore it. But considering he had been out for vengeance for his father and his most recent realization, it was fitting.
“I’m glad you still have it,” she whispered, passing the necklace back to him.
He didn’t reply, simply attached the clasp behind his neck and tucked it back under his sweater. Meret took the hint. No bringing up his parents right now.
“I wish I had a token for my grandfather,” she said. “But I do have this.”
She pulled the loafer off her right foot and contorted so he could see the tattoo running across the outside of her foot: hakbang na may layunin.
“Damn.” Archie shook his head. “I thought I knew languages, but I don’t recognize any of those words.”
She grinned. “I picked Filipino because it would be difficult for an average person to translate. It means ‘step with purpose.’ My Jaddi’s favorite saying.”
“Good one,” he agreed with a subdued smile. “Very unlike you as a child.”
She laughed. “Exactly. It’s there to remind me. Although, I think I’ve been too cautious for the past few years. I need to find a happy medium. Thanks for helping me reclaim some of my courage,” she finished with a pat on his arm.
His blush was so charming, she waited until finally giving him an out. “I can’t believe we did it. We freed everyone.”
“Yeah.” The ghost smile was back.

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