by Dan Moren
Ho passed her a tissue and she nodded thanks, blotted her eyes, blew her nose. “You don’t want a leader, you want a therapist.”
“We want the whole package, Jane,” Elias said. “That’s why it has to be you.”
She tried to answer, but the tears were back. She waved a weak hand at him. “Message received, captain. Just… just give me some time to think it over, OK?”
Elias stood, tucking his cover under his arm. The gold oak leaves on the brim reflected against the glass surface of the desk. “Take as long as you need, so long as that isn’t more than three days. I look forward to making your transport arrangements, Jane. And I look forward to saluting you as a rear admiral.”
She signaled Ho for another tissue as Elias left, closing the door behind him. She kept her eyes tightly shut, but she could hear him make his way to the credenza, take out a bottle of the bourbon she’d kept there ever since Tom had died. She finally opened her eyes and saw the label as Ho sloshed the brown liquid into two glasses. In a turn of gallows humor that surprised even her, the brand he’d chosen was Widow Jane.
He passed her a glass. “You OK?”
She stared into the liquor. “You know when they promoted me to captain and parked me out here, I figured it was because after what happened, they… didn’t trust me to lead, but they felt bad about Tom, so they wanted me to retire on captain’s pay.”
Ho took a swallow and crossed his arms, swirling his drink and looking at her. “I’d say that’s exactly what they did.”
“So, why the fuck is this happening?”
Ho laughed. “You’re good at stuff. They parked you here to grieve and wash out. And you went ahead and produced the best and brightest crop of boarding team members the guard has ever seen.”
She finally took a sip, closing her eyes and relishing the burning as the liquid slid down her throat. “You are such a fucking suck-up that I can’t stand it sometimes.”
“You don’t want compliments,” Ho said, “stop being good at shit.”
“It’s just… I’m not just good at stuff. I’m good at taking care of people. I took care of the kids, and after Adam moved out I took care of Alice. Then I had to take care of her again when she left Matt. I guess I’m still taking care of her now, only it’s over the phone. Then I was taking care of Tom.”
“Tom didn’t need taking care of.”
“No, he didn’t, and that was why I was so happy to do it. And now that he’s gone, all I have to take care of,” she waved a hand to the school outside her door, “are these people.”
“Well, you’re doing one hell of a job.”
“Christ, Wen.”
“It’ll get you to Alice,” Ho looked at her from under his eyebrows. “You said she still needs taking care of.”
“Good luck getting her to admit that. She went to the Moon to get away from…”
“She went to the Moon to get away from the memory of Matt, and the embarrassment that she’d made a hash of her marriage, and for the illusion of a new start.”
“She told you this?”
Ho shook his head. “You know I’m not wrong.”
“No, you’re not.” She pounded the desk at the memory of Alice handing her the phone with the email announcing her selection for the space elevator’s next open running. “I still can’t believe she won that fucking lottery. I still can’t believe she left.”
“Well, you do this thing, boss, you’ll get to be up there with her. That’s not nothing.”
“No,” Oliver admitted. “It’s not.”
They drank in companionable silence for a while, and when Ho was done, he turned to put the bottle back, but Oliver held out her glass for a refill. “Think this one’s a two-banger.”
Ho cocked an eyebrow. The Widow Jane was not known for having more than just one. “Wow,” was all he said.
She waved her glass, sloshing a little over the side. “Man, I was really looking forward to retirement.”
Ho laughed out loud. “Like hell you were. I’ve never seen anyone more frightened of anything in my entire life.”
She downed the second drink in a single swallow, set the glass down with a click, met her XO’s eyes. “So, what do I do?”
Ho leaned forward, and the intensity in his gaze reminded her so much of her husband that it frightened her. “Your job.”