chapter 19
IT HURTS OR IT SCARES YOU OR IT’S INCONVENIENT
Jess turned to walk back to where she’d left her family’s get-about. In its place, she spied an MCC-marked vehicle. Rolling her eyes
heavenward, she muttered a mild curse. She had a driver waiting for her, thanks to her status as planetary treasure. But she
recognized what she’d done to her parents, and her shoulders sagged forward. She’d run off with their sole form of transportation
and then forgotten about it the entire day. The get-about wasn’t here anymore because they’d needed it. And retrieving the vehicle
had doubtless been highly inconvenient.
She climbed into the sleek MCC vehicle, greeted her driver, and then rode in silence. In her belly, guilt began to build a cozy nest
cobbled together from scraps of what she’d done and shreds of what she intended.
Jessamyn agonized over what she might say to her parents. She couldn’t exactly tell them the truth, but she wanted to ease the
shock when they discovered what she’d done. They would see it as betrayal or insanity. Jess wasn’t sure which would hurt them
more.
From inside the airlock where she shed her suit, Jess saw her father holding her mother tenderly. Another bad day, then.
“I’m back,” she said as she entered her home.
Her parents pulled apart.
“Your mother’s off to consult with Planetary Ag,” said Jess’s father.
“Now?” Jess asked. Her voice had a forlorn sound to it.
“What with the planetary holiday tomorrow, they decided to discuss the algae inoculation idea now,” replied her father. “I’m afraid we
had to eat rations without you.”
“Oh,” said Jessamyn, shifting gears to adjust to the alteration in her evening. “So, were Crusty’s ideas any good?”
Her mother’s face formed a look Jess recognized—it was her problem-solving face. “I don’t know,” said Lillian. “That’s why I need to
speak with my colleagues.”
As her mom brushed past her to the airlock, Jess felt a sudden need for a hug, for confirmation that her mom still loved her. Would
always love her. It was foolish. It was powerful.
“Mom?”
Lillian turned.
“It’s just …” Jess paused.
“Make it fast,” said her mother. “People are staying late for this meeting.”
“I might be leaving,” said Jessamyn. “The day after tomorrow. For a new assignment. I won’t be able to live here.”
A look of anguish crossed her mother’s face and Jess walked closer for a hug.
“Can we discuss this later?” Lillian asked quietly, one hand on the airlock door. “Your father and I would like you to … that is, we
were hoping … Hades and Aphrodite, Jess. Why do you always have to make things so difficult?”
The switch from sorrow to anger was swift and cut at Jess like broken glass.
“We’ll talk about it tonight,” said her father.
“Mom, I’m sorry,” said Jessamyn, her voice unsteady.
“Yes, Jessamyn. You’re always sorry. But it never stops you from doing whatever you want to do, does it?”
Her mother slammed the airlock door behind her.
“Your mother didn’t mean that,” said Jess’s father.
Jess sank into her father’s reading chair. They both knew her mom had meant every word.
Jessamyn’s father continued. “I want you to know that you have my blessing, whatever decision you make about your new job.”
Jess looked at her feet. She’d forgotten to take off her walk-out boots. She’d tracked a trail of cinnamon-colored dirt across the
floor. “I don’t have Mom’s blessing.”
“She’ll take it hard,” admitted her father. “But Jessie, you can’t bear her grief. You’re not meant to do that. No child is. You have to
live the life you were meant to live.”
In a quick flash, Jess saw herself at Pavel’s side, laughing as she pointed to the star-scattered sky dark above them. She pushed
her bangs to once side, frowning.
“Doing what is right is never the same as doing what is easy, in my experience,” said her father. “If you think it’s the right thing to do,
and it hurts or it scares you or it’s inconvenient, that’s a pretty good sign it is the right thing to do.”
Jess took her father’s hand and squeezed it tight.
He laughed softly. “I could be wrong about that, of course. I keep waiting for the day to come when what’s right lines up with what’s
easy.”
Bringing her father’s Mars-roughened hand to her cheek, Jess sighed. “Let me know how that works for you.”
“I was going to ride in with your mom. Will you be okay here by yourself?” asked her father.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, the truth and the lie of her words mixing uneasily.
He offered her a quick squeeze around the shoulders and dashed out to join her mother.
Jess stood in the silent, empty house, watching as her parents drove off. She could make things better tomorrow. Somehow.
Shrugging off her boots, she grabbed the old-fashioned vac-hose from the wall and pointed it at the lines of red dirt, erasing a
problem she could fix.
Then she sat down to write the one person in the universe she thought would understand her at this moment. She was not
comfortable thinking about how deeply she yearned for the Terran boy, but when her truest thoughts needed expression, she
continued to turn to Pavel.
Dear Pavel,
I have decided to embark upon a desperate voyage. I know that sounds dramatic. It feels dramatic, let me tell you. I just don’t see
any other way to keep my world free from the influence (or safe from the destruction) of people like your aunt.
I’m going to find you and my brother. Together, somehow, we’ll find a way to protect Mars. Right now, we are sitting rocks. Maybe
you don’t have that expression. It means something that is easy to target. We have a lot of rocks on Mars and the figurative
language to reflect it.
So I guess this means you’ll be seeing me soon. I don’t know half the things Crusty has done to get the ship ready in time, but I’m
glad to have him on my side. You didn’t get the chance to meet him before. I’m sure you’ll like him. And his colorful expressions,
which are anything but rock-based.
I have two last nights at home. Tomorrow, I will play the part of hero for another day. After that, I suppose they will call me a villain. Or
traitor. Something horrible. But I’m doing this because I want Mars to have a fighting chance. Flying is the one gift I have to offer to
my people.
See you soon.
Your friend,
Jessamyn Jaarda
Jess waited and waited for her parents to return. When bedtime rolled around and they still weren’t back, she slunk back to her
room. But her bed felt all the wrong size and her room was too warm and she rose at last, drifting from room to room, trying to find a
way to say goodbye.
She settled in her brother’s room, lying upon the floor to watch the satellites roll past. The sleep mat felt better than her own bed and
soon her eyes began to feel heavy.
An hour later Jessamyn awoke to a bright light. She grunted and blinked and remembered where she was. Her brother’s
chronometer reported it was just after midnight. Why had the room illumined?
And then, her eyes adjusting, Jessamyn made out the shape of her mother in the doorway. Lillian’s face was crumpled, a sad
arrangement of her features that distorted the familiar, favored the strange.
“Mom?” Jess croaked.
But her mother had already turned back down the hall, shaking with the effort of not wasting water.
Jess arose. “Mom?” She stumbled into the hall, where she saw her father shambling toward her mother.
“Go back to bed, Jess,” said her father, his own face lined with care and fatigue.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked, even though she knew the answer.
Her father shook his head. Her mother murmured something to him—something Jess couldn’t make out.
“Your mother would prefer—” Jess’s father let out a long sigh. “It would be better if you stayed in your own room instead of your
brother’s.”
Jessamyn watched helplessly as her parents walked away from her, her father sliding the door behind them. She stood for a
moment before returning to her room. It was cold and dark and smelled stale. She sank onto her bed, too awake for sleep. She
turned on a reading lamp and gazed about the room that had witnessed all her childhood.
Now seemed as good a time as any to gather the few things she wanted to take on her journey. She wouldn’t be limited by MCC’s
regulations governing weight this time—they were flying with an empty hold. Still, it seemed foolish to take things she could live
without. In the end, she settled upon packing only her brother’s wafer-computer, the small plastic card enclosing a hair from the
planetary dog (also from her brother), and an old wafer with a collection of books she’d loved as a child. Something to pass the
time, she told herself.
Still feeling wide awake, she forced herself to settle back on her bed and take slow, calming breaths. Now that she was no longer
moving things around in her room, she could hear the murmur of her parents’ voices beyond the wall that separated them. Her
mother’s voice rose in pitch, followed by her father’s gentle tones, forming for Jessamyn a sort of symphony that vibrated through
bone and viscera and made her want to go to them and tell them how much she loved them, how sorry she was to be doing
something they wouldn’t understand.
But she couldn’t.
Jess sat up. She wasn’t going to get any sleep here. She would fix everything tomorrow with her parents, after the celebration. She
stepped into the front airlock, slipped on her suit, shouldered her packed items, and left her dwelling.