Ame
INTERLUDE: Ame
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She would have throttled you if she could have. Her fins wouldn’t serve her the way she wanted, and for the first time in her life—truly, she wished she was something else, something other then tulkun. Ame desperately wanted to shrink down and become small. She wanted to be small enough to hug you, to wrap her arms around you and squeeze you so tightly you couldn’t breathe. Then she wanted to wring your neck and lecture you about being a silly little fool who would do stupid things like get caught in an explosion.
Ame did not want to imagine a life without you. She’d lived one, a great life—a beautiful life before she’d met you. And she never wanted to experience it again. You’d swooped in, a flailing, drowning mess and completely turned her life on its head.
She had known, of course, on some level that the bond between tulkun and Na’vi was a profound, spiritual connection. Ame had never met anyone she wanted to know that way. And then there was you. You were ridiculous—you were stubborn and brave, loyal and you went into every situation with the best of intentions.
Your hands glided through the water, your face serious even with your family there. Ame wanted to cry. You could hear her, you explained—you could, but it was hard. You were positive about it, making jokes about it, and smiling.
You couldn’t lie to her. You, the silly little human girl—you were the other half of her. Ame had listened to you wax poetry to Felix and Ava about your connection, and felt the simple explanation of soulmates was a little flat. Ame wasn’t your soulmate. You weren’t hers—you weren’t twin flames or whatever else you tried to explain it as.
To Ame, it was very, very simple. You were Hana, and she was Ame. The connection between you was eternal. Ame would never bond with another Na’vi, nor you another tulkun. She would love you for the rest of her life, the rest of her existence. She loved you as if you were the air in her lungs, the blood in her heart.
What were lungs without the air they breathed? A heart without the blood? What was Ame without you?
I wish you would not put yourself in danger, she settled on. It didn’t encapsulate everything. Nothing could. The way she was furious at you—the way she wanted to become a vengeful monster at the very thought of losing you. She’d haunt you forever.
You looked at her, apology on your face. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want her to grow up in a world where she was afraid.
Ko’oä. Ame loved her too. She understood. Still. I am not ready for a life without you.
You looked stricken, the look on your face stark and overwhelming. I won’t leave you.
Ame said, We do not get to choose always.