Tessa sat down, the back of her neck tingling, her stomach uneasy. She’d been holding the conversation with George in her stomach the whole way home, and the added uncertainty of wherever this conversation was going made her . . . not scared, exactly. But time had slowed, and she felt awake. Present. There was gravity centred around the table. Real gravity, not the conjured stuff in the floor. ‘I remember the label,’ she said. An old memory came back to life. ‘You kept a few bottles on the shelf, over there.’ She pointed. There weren’t bottles there now, but tins of seeds and tech bits.
Pop nodded. ‘For fun and company,’ he said, pouring two generous fingers into the glasses. ‘That’s how your mother always put it. And you two weren’t supposed to touch that shelf. You did once, though.’
‘Oh, stars.’ Tessa laughed. ‘Oh, no. I forgot about that.’
‘When your mother and I were going on a market trip—’
‘The shuttle broke down half a day out, and you had to come home early.’
‘Yeah, we came home to you two dipshits, puking your guts into a blanket.’
‘Hey, that was Ashby, not me. I found a sink.’
Her father gave her a look that told her how little that distinction mattered. ‘Couple of dumb teenagers who couldn’t handle themselves.’
‘I maintain that playing charthump all the next day was an asshole move.’ Full volume drums, for hours and hours. She felt an echo of nausea from memory alone.
Pop laughed heartily. ‘That was your mother’s doing, and you deserved every second of it. Here.’ He handed her a glass. ‘For grown-ups.’
They clinked glasses and sipped. The kick was rough, but once she got past the edges, it warmed her all the way through. She didn’t remember the taste – she didn’t remember much of that adolescent night, honestly – and yet, somehow, it made her feel at home.
‘Ahhhhh,’ Pop said. ‘Stars, that’s fun.’ He took another sip. ‘Do you like it?’
‘I do,’ Tessa said honestly. She eyed the bottle. ‘It’s half empty,’ she said.
‘That it is.’
‘I’ve never seen you drink this.’
‘I’ve been saving it. Wasn’t sure if I’d ever get to have any again.’
Tessa waited patiently. Pop didn’t always make sense on the first go.
‘I first opened this bottle,’ he said, ‘when your brother told me there was something he needed to talk about.’ He briefly met her eyes over the rim of his glass. ‘Would’ve been a good number of years ago now.’
Nobody said anything for a moment. ‘You kept the other half for me,’ Tessa said quietly.
‘Yep,’ Pop said. He drained his glass and exhaled appreciatively. ‘Just in case. I didn’t think I’d bring it out again, but – well, kids have a way of surprising you.’
Tessa stared into her glass, held with both hands low in her lap. She watched sediment drift and swirl in the decades-old kick. She raised the glass and tossed it back in one smooth swallow. ‘We haven’t made a decision yet.’
He refilled both their glasses. ‘Uh huh,’ he said. He left the bottle uncorked. ‘Is George with his folks right now?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘So, you’ve decided between yourselves, then.’
Tessa shook her head. She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. She couldn’t believe anything about this at all. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know . . . what? Where you two left things?’
‘No, I – I don’t know. I don’t know how to have this conversation.’
Pop sipped and exhaled, same as he had every sip before. ‘One word in front of the other is how I do it.’
‘Me and him and the kids . . . that’s not our only family.’
‘Obviously.’
‘And we can’t do this without talking to everyone else.’
‘Define “this”. Tessa, if you can’t say it, you’ve got no business doing it.’
She shoved the words out. ‘We’re thinking about going planetside.’ There. They were out now, out in the open, somewhere between treachery and relief.
Pop did nothing but nod. ‘Colonies?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Good. It’s hard work out there, and hard work keeps you honest. Keeps your head on straight.’
She waited for him to say more than that. She waited for him to get mad, to scoff, to tell her every reason why this was stupid, to be the outward confirmation of all the guilt and fear she felt within.
He did not.
‘Is that all you have to say?’ Tessa said incredulously.
‘What do you want me to say? That I don’t care? Of course I care. I’ll miss you and the kids like hell. Or do you want me to get pissed and tell you no way, no how are you leaving home? That kind of thing didn’t work when you were a teenager, and it sure as shit won’t fly now.’ He laughed. ‘You’re an adult. You know what you’re about. Whatever you decide, I’m not gonna tell you otherwise. I’m too old for making big decisions. Had my fill of those.’
‘But—’ She scrambled, trying to find the trigger for the reaction she’d expected. ‘But what about—’
‘You know I’m not going, girl. I’ll visit. But I’m not going anywhere.’ He reached across the table and patted her hand. ‘You don’t have to worry about me. I got a good hex and the best friends a person could ask for.’ His face scrunched into a worryingly pleased grin. ‘Y’know Lupe from neighbourhood four?’
An image appeared in Tessa’s mind: a tiny, white-haired old woman, arguing with her son behind the seed shop counter. One of Pop’s lunchtime cronies. ‘Yeah.’
Pop replied with a waggle of his eyebrows.
The other shoe dropped, and Tessa recoiled. ‘Ugh, Pop, I don’t need to know.’
‘It’s nothing serious,’ he said, relishing her discomfort. ‘Just some casual fun—’
‘Pop. I don’t. Need. To know.’
Her father laughed and poured them both another drink. ‘Here, I have something else to show you.’ He unholstered his scrib, gestured at the screen, and slid it across the table.
M Santoso,
This is a confirmation for your ocular implant installation this upcoming second day.
Please arrive at the clinic at 10:00.
On a personal note, I’m very happy you’ve made this decision. I think you’re going to be pleased with the results.
Dr Koraltan
‘See,’ Pop said, bringing his glass to his mouth. ‘You don’t need to worry about me.’ He sipped and exhaled loudly. ‘Though you are gonna have to send me those creds.’
Tessa truly, genuinely didn’t know what to say.
Pop’s gaze lingered on the wall of painted hands, reaching from floor to ceiling. ‘Y’know, my great-granddad – we called him Great-pa, he thought that was funny – I didn’t know him long, but I knew him.’
Tessa knew this much already, but she didn’t interrupt.