by Lydia Kang
“You need to get more sleep, Marka. I’m fine.”
She lets go and sighs, stroking my hair. “I don’t know how you do it. How you keep it together.”
I put my arm around her waist and we walk back to the group. I worry about Marka too. About how alone she is, and how her fierce protectiveness constantly injures her, microscopically tearing at her generous heart. I’m not sure which part of mothering surprises me more these days. The pain, or the wealth of love.
We reach the chairs, where Vera and Dyl are discussing the intricacies of photosynthesis. It’s part of her schooling now. Each of us plans to teach Ana and Dyl one high school class every few months instead of relying on the holoprofs. Vera’s been relentless with paleobotany. I never thought the evolution of sunseeds would be so fascinating to my sister. Then again, I’m learning a lot more about Dyl than I ever cared to before, and I love it.
“Don’t stop, I’ll be back,” I say, and they return to their discussion. I head for the rows of new crops. The spiked blood-orange leaves contrast with the plasma fence glowing against the horizon.
I push up my sleeves and carefully touch a different type of scar. After we came back to Carus, I’d gone straight to Cy’s room to find a single image up on his screen by the tattoo machine. A couple in silhouette, staring down a radiant, infinite tunnel filled with light and angels. Paradiso: Canto XXXI was written underneath. After I read the translation, I had the image and part of the verse tattooed onto my right arm.
It hurt when the multiple needles struck my skin, but the pain made me feel close to Cy, who had done this every day. Marka wisely dismantled the machine after the tattoo was complete, or I’d have kept going.
I turn on my holo and see a Ted Kooser poem that Dyl has sent me. Since Wilbert left us, all the holos work in Carus again. Even with the artificial interference gone, we can’t contact anyone outside, though.
The lines of poetry make me smile. It’s been a strange education, relearning how to immerse myself in words that don’t always make sense in my head, but strike a resonance in my heart. Dyl has been paving that road for me, and I’ve been a willing student. I’m getting used to not having a working formula for everything.
I switch the holo to my daily tracking work. Much of my time is occupied by following shipments from a few small companies marketing a state-of-the-art skin renewal serum. I’ve tracked down enough of a money trail to know that Aureus has moved. Argent has closed, which is no surprise. Aureus may always be a step ahead of me, but I’m never far behind.
Marka and Dyl worry about me, spending so much time up here with my tracking. They are afraid I am wasting my energy on nothing but heartbreak.
But I know there are truths out there, as sure as there is sky above and earth far below. I believe in them more than the quiet, firm laws of the universe. Cy is out there, and he’s with me at the same time. We are closer than ever. Even when I call out to the void and receive no answer, I am not swayed.
Because I know another truth. I will find him someday.
When I do, I’ll say, “Hi, love.”
He’ll reply, “You know, you drive me crazy sometimes.”
And the lost time between us will vanish, like a candle flame blown out with one precious breath.
APPENDIX
DAD’S POEM
Prayer for My Child
The chill heralds rain.
Replete with tears and wrongs,
The storm blurs in the distance
As I watch my child,
Asleep in the crib.
Fear is imperfect; it is weaker than hope.
Yet even under precious, solar warmth
And sweet grass, I still feel its cold grasp.
Nothing lovely hides the inevitable.
It is coming, little one.
Remember to be strong.
The trees do their duty—
Tho’ bound to the earth
They are nothing without light,
Invisible gasps, the weeping sky.
Even they must rest.
Remember to be beautiful.
The flesh is a sad reflection.
Do not be tempted by
Worth in symmetry, in shades of clay,
In carmine lips.
Look, without looking, for beauty.
Remember kindness.
Warmth should be shared,
For a hoard does not make a home.
Life without kindness
Is darkness itself.
Remember the mind.
Let it shift and move like water,
First to understand
Then to turn with ease
The boulders of the earth.
Remember love.
It hides beneath simple things.
Its absence injures,
A terminal sting.
Wipe away the dust of grievances,
And polish this, the most precious of jewels.
I give to you these shards,
My handful of knowings.
Gathered and scraped from each scar,
I’ve held them dear—
Almost as dear as you.
The Divine Comedy
DANTE ALIGHIERI
PARADISO: CANTO XXXI
O Lady, thou in whom my hope is strong,
And who for my salvation didst endure
In Hell to leave the imprint of thy feet,
Of whatsoever things I have beheld,
As coming from thy power and from thy goodness
I recognize the virtue and the grace.
Thou from a slave hast brought me unto freedom,
By all those ways, by all the expedients,
Whereby thou hadst the power of doing it.
Preserve towards me thy magnificence,
So that this soul of mine, which thou hast healed,
When set loose from my body, be a soul welcomed.
A Note on Ondine’s Curse
Ondine’s curse, or Congenital Central Hypoventilation Syndrome (CCHS), is real. Zelia, however, is a figment of my imagination and details of her condition have been fictionalized. However, there are very real, very courageous people who live with CCHS. If you would like to learn more, here are some links with information.
CCHS FAMILY NETWORK: http://www.cchsnetwork.org/
NIH GENETICS HOME REFERENCE ON CCHS:
http://ghr.nlm.nih.gov/condition/congenital-central -hypoventilation-syndrome
Acknowledgements
MY ENDLESS THANKS TO:
Bernie, my best friend for always. I am so grateful for your infinite love and support.
Ben, Maia, and Phoebe, my first and best creations.
Mom, Dad, Ah-Ma, Ah-Gong, Alice and OhSang, Rich and Dana, Jenny and Aaron, Samantha, Natalie, Samuel, Elliot, Owen, Ethan, Lauren, and Garrett. I love you to bits.
Dushana Yoganathan-Triola, my soul sister and cheerleader. You are awesomeness, in concentrated form.
My excellent crit partners full of tough love (but mostly just love)—Lynette Moey, Laura Diamond, Julie Fedderson, and Sarah Fine. Also, my wonderful betas who told me that CONTROL was worth reading—Samuel Kwon, Jennifer Peterson, Claire Davis, Becky Anderson, and Gale Etherton.
My friends and those who keep my world perpetually spinning. You know who you are. I am eternally grateful.
The incredible blogging and online community—thank you for the virtual hugs.
John Sellers. I dreamed of thanking you back in my own book someday. Hauw!
The Lucky13s, for your friendship and general kickassedness, and the Querytracker community, for teaching me so much.
The staff and colleagues who help me care for patients; and my patients, who continually inspire me with their courage.
Shelley and Zoe Colquitt, who put a face to CCHS/Ondine’s curse and generously acted as my consultants.
The Seven Doctors Project—Todd Robinson, Lindsey Baker, Phil Smith, Bud Shaw, Rebecca Rotert, and Steve Langan. Thank you for lighting the fire
.
My agent, Eric Myers, for your wonderful guidance and for plucking CONTROL from the slush pile.
And finally, the amazing Kathy Dawson, Claire Evans, Regina Castillo, Danielle Calotta, Greg Stadnyk, Jenny Kelly, and the entire Dial team for making CONTROL a living thing.