Bird on a Wire (An Enterprise novel coming in September 2003)
I almost overlooked a flower today, creeping solitary on a planet of dark
dust and black stone. A daisy
-- or at least, a sort-of daisy.
The sort one
would find a dozen light years from Earth, and home.
All the same, I thought of you.
Bright white petals, surrounding a red eye. Familiar, yet unknown. The
blooms were fresh, crisp, like the ones in your hands when I saw you at
first, before. The ones you laid at Zephram's stone, next to those faded and
limp from three weeks prior. When I saw you for the first time, the last
time.
The passage of time reflected in you had startled me. A girl, a child I
remembered -- you had been fourteen.
Twelve, you corrected, smiling.
You were definitely a woman, now.
The memorial service was nice, I'd heard.
I suppose. Twenty-five years is time enough to make peace with the missing. Despite the span involved for a man you never knew, your eyes
still showed a trace of red.
I felt awkward, guilty I couldn't have been there.
We went for coffee, talking past dark into wee hours. My adventures, your
career, our lives. The years between. Your granddad. My dad.
You were quieter after that; so was I.
I took you home, praying for courage to ask for more of your time.
You hesitated. I...have a policy about seeing Spacers.
My boot traced in the sand.
But still....I'd like to see how you've turned out.
It was my turn to smile.
You paused again. Reassignment in...?
...three weeks, I finished.
You were quieter then, too.
We spent time together, too much time, but never enough. Supper, ice cream,
movies, walks, music, all the usual trappings when things get started. It
even felt normal, for a while.
But Spacer...what? A beau? A friend? Too much military family?
You never answered, not directly. I chided, teased, made it a game. You kept
it private.
A warm-breezed evening down a carnival row, I won flowers for you. You took
my hand, and finally teased back.
Daddy told me not to.
I playfully asked if you always followed orders.
Don't you? Didn't you? you continued. Always follow your dad's advice?
For the most part it was true.
Name me once, just one time you didn't, you taunted.
I paused, savoring. He had told me to leave you alone....
Even after you punched me in the arm I was grinning.
Daddy told me not to. Now a new mantra to ponder, without much
help.
But you wouldn't elaborate. Just smile.
And that kiss...oh man. That Kiss. Hesitant, soft as petals, warm, warmer
than most I'd known. Your arms around me felt like safe harbor. Urgency in
the whisper escaping your throat but not my notice. No, I noticed, alright.
So did you.
Waking beside you the first time, pre-dawn pale revealing your face on the
pillow, I still wondered. You slept holding the secret deep inside. Your
breath was shallow, steady. I wondered, but didn't ask. Afraid, I suppose.
Yes, big bad fly boy spacer, searching for answers, afraid of one. I stared
at the ceiling. Then I watched you sleep. I always thought you knew after
that.
We paid homage at his black stone, faded flowers at its foot, and I lingered
in your safe harbor as my ship waited. Your lips brushed mine, still warm,
still urgent. I still noticed.
I struggled inside but asked again what your dad had told you. You never
waivered.
They always leave.
My eyes dropped. I whispered that you should have listened.
I did.
I was quiet.
Grampa Zeph had also told him, 'If that Archer boy ever knocks on your
door, you give him a chance, he's going places.'
You smiled as a tear brushed your face. I had no choice, just the same.
I left.
So now, I see red-eyed daisies on a planet of dust and stone.
And think of you.