“It’ll never last.”
II
The city was finally shaking off a lengthy heat wave, and consequently a welcome breeze was wafting through and taking much of the humidity with it. The smart fabric that composed the curved walls of the apartment was allowing the evening breeze to flow through it while keeping out the humidity. The apartment itself was sparsely furnished, the living room decorated with simple, curved chairs and a round table in the kitchen area. Daniel was looking in the other direction, gazing out through a window at the glowing residences of Nova Prime City that studded the landscape, a glittering testament to the resilience of humanity.
Across the room, Ronna was sitting at the table, picking at the remains of the dinner she’d prepared. She was quiet this evening, which was rather unusual for her. Normally, she was the chattiest person Daniel had ever known.
Finally, she broke the silence. Sounding as indifferent as someone could when they were relaying information, she said, “Someone called and left a message for you.”
“Oh, yes? Who?”
“A guy named Ryerson.”
Daniel thought about it a moment. He wasn’t familiar with anyone named Ryerson. Except…
“Not Sigmund Ryerson.”
“That’s it. You know him?”
“I know of him. He’s some well-to-do eccentric guy. Why would he be calling me?”
“He said he heard you were one of the best trackers in the city. He wants to go on an expedition.”
“What kind?”
She looked at him levelly. “He said he wants to track down and kill an Ursa. Be the oldest non-Ranger on record to kill an Ursa.”
Daniel was having trouble believing what she was saying. “Go out of his way to push his luck with an Ursa? That’s nuts.”
“You did say eccentric. Besides, you’re a good shot.”
“Yeah, but it’s like what Tucker was saying earlier today: Blowing apart an Ursa in the privacy of a shooting gallery is one thing. Going in and maybe getting yourself killed… who needs that?”
“Okay, well, I told you that he contacted you, or tried to. The rest is up to you.”
“That’s fine, but I really don’t have any plans to get myself killed, so…” He shrugged.
She returned to picking at the remains of her food as if the preceding discussion had never happened.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Every day that he was with her was a blessing.
“I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have you in my life,” he said, giving voice to his thoughts.
Ronna smiled, but it looked strained. She patted the table across from her. “Could you sit down, Daniel?”
“Sure can. My knees bend and everything.” He did so eagerly, sitting with his fingers interlaced. “Actually, there’s something I want to talk to you about. I’ve been thinking a lot about our relationship.”
“Have you?”
“Yeah. Do you ever think about the night we met? At the bar?”
“Occasionally.”
“There was that guy who was bothering you, and I was the bouncer and told him to knock it off. And he beat the crap out of me, which got me fired, and then you took me back here to take care of me…”
“Yes, Daniel, yes,” she said with vague impatience. “I remember. I was there. Is there a point to this?”
“The point is that even if it hadn’t been my job, I’d still have jumped in to help you.”
“That’s…” She closed her eyes for a moment, looking pained. “That’s nice to know.” He should have noticed it, should have realized that her mind was in a totally different place from his. But he didn’t.
“But here’s the thing…”
“There’s a thing?”
“You’re not happy.”
She actually seemed surprised to hear him say it. “You know?”
“Sure I know. And I know why. It’s because I haven’t been willing to commit to you. And it’s crazy of me not to, because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“No, I’m not,” she said, shaking her head vigorously. “I’m really not.”
“Yes, you are.” He slid the chair back, came around the table, and, to her confusion, dropped to one knee. He took her hand and, with as much reverence as he could muster, said, “I can’t afford a ring right now, but listen to me…”
“Daniel…”
“Ronna, for as long as I’ve—”
“Daniel, I need you to leave.”
He remained exactly where he was, his brain trying to wrap itself around what she had just said. He didn’t let go of her hand initially. “You mean… you need me to go out and pick up something for you? Because if that’s it then, sweetie, you know… not the best time because I was kind of in the middle of something here. So if you could just wait—”
“This can’t wait, and I know what you’re in the middle of. And yes, you’re right, I’ve been unhappy, but it’s not why you think.” She’d tried to pull her hand away moments earlier but hadn’t managed it. This time she did so with much greater force and freed her hand. He didn’t lower his; instead it just remained there in the air, as if he was trying to grasp something that wasn’t there.
“Daniel, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and we need to stop seeing each other.”
He still hadn’t fully processed it. “For how long?”
“For good. I need you to move out.”
“But why? I mean, I knew you were distant… I knew you were unhappy… but I figured you were waiting for me to propose or something!”
“If that’s what I was waiting for, I would have been dropping hints. I haven’t been doing that.”
“Okay, but… you haven’t been dropping hints about anything. How was I supposed to know—?”
“You weren’t. It’s not you, Daniel. I swear it’s not you. It’s me.”
“I’m not stupid, Ronna. Saying it’s you is really code for saying it’s me.”
“Daniel, listen: You’re nice. You’re sweet…”
“Both good reasons to dump me.”
“… but you have no direction! I mean, God, you can’t even stick with a hobby!”
He was about to protest that characterization, but in looking around the apartment, he realized he couldn’t. There was the half-finished sculpture of Ronna, thick with dust, from the time he was going to be an artist. Also dusty was the violin in the corner, a reminder of his broken resolve to become a musician. These and a dozen or so other unfinished, abortive projects that he’d never seen to fruition.
He gestured helplessly. “To hell with the hobbies. I want to stick with you!”
“So that I can keep enabling you! So I can keep making you feel better about going nowhere. You keep telling me how your parents said that you had no direction, no plan for your life.”
“Right! And you said they were being needlessly cruel.”
“No. They were trying to help. I see that now.”
“Ronna,” he said in frustration, “I can change—”
“Don’t start, Daniel, because we both know you can’t. Or won’t. We’ve had variations of this conversation at least three times in the past year alone, and you nod and smile and say you’ll change, and you never do. And you’ve managed to convince me that you never can.”
His eyes narrowed. “Is there someone else? Are you dumping me for someone else?”
“No. But what I’m convinced of, Daniel, is that there’s someone else out there for me that I won’t have to push into making something of himself, because he’ll have the drive to do it on his own.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re always going to mean a great deal to me, Daniel, but I can’t be your support system anymore. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me. You can send for your stuff once you’ve settled wherever you’re going to be, but I need you to leave. Now.”