Tessa froze, mid-stride. There, on a bench, with his back toward her, was George. George. Her husband, George.
His head turned slightly at the sound of her, just a touch, no eye contact needed. ‘There’s room for two,’ he said.
She walked up and faced him. ‘What—’ Her mouth could form no other words, and her brain was stuck on one thought and one thought alone. George. George was here. ‘What—’
George looked around. ‘Well, this is a canteen,’ he said, lifting the container resting beside him. He patted the space to his left. ‘And this is a bench.’
Tessa rolled her eyes. ‘What are you doing here?’ He wasn’t supposed to be back for another three tendays, at least.
George took the lid off the canteen. A ribbon of steam unfolded as if it were alive. He filled the lid with tea and gestured for Tessa to sit. ‘I got your letters.’
Tessa sighed and sat. ‘Stars, George. I’m fine.’
‘You didn’t sound fine.’
‘All right, fine, I’m not fine, but I’ve been not fine before without you – you running back home. You could’ve got on the sib.’
He handed her the cup. ‘This seemed like it should be a faceto-face conversation.’ He reached into his pocket, produced a flat packet of throw-cloth, and unwrapped two big spice cookies.
Tessa accepted both cookie and tea, but consumed nothing yet. She leaned back against the bench, a hand’s-width apart from George, not ready to be closer until she’d processed the full scope of things here. He smelled great, though. He always smelled great. ‘I don’t know if I meant any of it,’ she said. ‘I was just . . . y’know. Mad. I don’t know why you took it so seriously.’
‘The way I read it, Tessa Santoso is considering the mere possibility of leaving the Fleet. That seems pretty damn serious to me.’
Thick steam drifted from the cup, but she braved a sip anyway. ‘Is this your dad’s blend? He added something.’
‘Don’t change the subject.’
‘What is that? Cinnamon?’
‘Don’t—’ He frowned and took the cup, taking a timid sip of his own. ‘Huh. Yeah, I think that is cinnamon. Where’d he get cinnamon?’
‘See,’ she said. ‘That’s why I don’t mean what I said.’
‘I’m not following.’
‘Why I don’t mean what I said about leaving.’ Tessa looked at the tea and shook her head. ‘Your dad, your mom, my dad. Your brother—’
‘You’ve got a brother, too. He left, and it was fine.’
‘Yeah, and that’s why I can’t. One of us needs to be here.’
‘Why?’
She looked him in the eye, disbelieving. ‘Are you seriously saying I should?’
‘No,’ he said, taking a large bite of his cookie. ‘I’m just asking questions.’ He swallowed, sipped the tea, and handed the cup back. ‘I don’t believe for a minute that the sole reason you’re here is because Ashby left and you feel obligated. That’s never been the case.’
‘I’m not saying it is. I’m just . . . I’m just saying. With the exception of Ashby, our family is here. Aya and Ky’s family is here.’
‘So then explain the letters you wrote me. Explain why you’re entertaining this.’
‘I already told you.’
He waved his hand. ‘Tell me again. Tell me so I can hear how you sound when you say it. Come on, I’m missing out on cleaning drill bits for this.’
She snorted. ‘You’re having tea and cookies.’
‘I’ve got both tea and cookies back on my ship. And honestly, scrubbing off ore bits is easier than getting anything out of you sometimes.’
Tessa ignored the comment and drank the tea. The added cinnamon was growing on her. She sat, thinking. She wasn’t sure what to say.
A moment passed. George leaned forward and folded his hands together. Tessa knew that pose, the George Is Being Serious pose. ‘How much of this is about the job?’ he asked.
She relented. ‘I was thinking about it – about leaving – before that. The job was just . . . I don’t know, the last fucking straw, I guess.’
‘So, this isn’t solely because you don’t want to learn a new job.’
‘No. Well—’ She sighed impatiently. ‘There’s a part of me that’s scared about learning something new. Not because I don’t think I can do it, but because this has been my job for twenty years. I hadn’t ever pictured doing anything else. Not because it’s my favourite thing in the world, but because I’m good at it, and because it’s got things that are weirdly satisfying, and because I know – I knew what every day was going to look like. At least, as far as work went.’
‘You liked the stability.’
‘Yeah.’
‘And now you’re staring down a whole mess of instability and you’re like, eh, fuck it, let’s see how much of that I’m comfortable with.’
Tessa laughed. ‘I guess.’ Her face fell. ‘It’s the kids, mostly. I . . . I don’t know. This doesn’t feel like the same Fleet you and I grew up in.’
‘That’s been true with every generation.’
‘I know, but . . . this is different. In my gut, this is different. We’ve had six break-ins in my bay in the past standard. Six. And that’s just my bay. Then that whole business with that grounder – stars, nothing like that ever happened when we were kids.’
George flexed his eyebrows in acknowledgement. ‘Break-ins, sure—’
‘Not this many.’
‘True.’
‘And nobody died.’
‘Also true. But bad shit happens everywhere.’
‘That’s what I told Aya, and she turned it around on me.’ A weight pressed against Tessa’s chest. ‘She’s not doing any better. She’s getting worse, if anything. Those little bastards at school—’
‘Have they kept at it?’
‘No, but she’s playing by herself.’
George frowned. ‘That’s not like her.’
‘She’s scared of them, George. She’s scared of them, and she’s scared of our home. And I don’t know how to help her. I know we thought she’d grow out of it, and she’s had counselling, but . . .’ Tessa felt her eyes well up, and given the company, she didn’t feel the need to hide it. ‘She doesn’t feel safe here. Do you know how awful that must be, to be a kid and not feel safe at home?’
George slid closer to her and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Almost as awful as being the parent who can’t make that kid feel safe, huh?’
‘Stars,’ Tessa said, taking a shaky breath. ‘I’m such a shit mom.’
‘Oh, come on. You are not.’
‘My mom – she always knew what to do. Whenever I got scared, all she had to do was be there and I knew I’d be okay.’