by Thomas Locke
“What will you do?”
Sean was already reaching for his backpack. “See if the professor minds some company.”
John Havilland seemed to find nothing strange in having Sean take over half the dining room table. Night sounds of crickets and dripping rain filtered through the screened patio doors. John made them coffee, and within minutes both of them were surrounded by papers. Sean looked up from time to time, watching the professor write in longhand before entering whatever he worked on into his laptop. They sat at opposite ends of the long table like two friends. Adult friends.
At one point Sean glanced through the screen and across the patio, up to where light shone from the loft’s balcony. He had the impression that this was where he and Dillon had been headed for years. Struggling to fashion a new relationship around changing worlds. The gift of transit and Carey only sped things up. And Elenya. Thinking of her caused his breath to catch in his throat. He hoped with a desperate longing that she was okay, that they were still . . .
Sean forced his mind back to the work at hand. He reviewed all the items he had developed over that long, frustrating day, and everything he had jotted down before. His notes were written on everything from the blank front page of a book he’d never finish to a scrap of grocery store checkout tape to today’s lined notepaper. He laid it all out with the precision of a Vegas dealer. Studying each in turn. Switching them around. Trying to make the puzzle fit together.
This time the answer did not come in some sudden burst of insight. He did not find his mind threatened by an explosion of blistering impact. There was no lightning bolt. Instead, it grew from a conversation he’d never actually had.
What he did was start talking in his mind to the man at the other end of the table. Trying to make things clear by explaining each fragment, describing why he felt it could be important. Asking if John thought it might fit together this way, then that.
When suddenly he saw the scraps and splinters coalesce.
He pushed back his chair and took his idea out on the patio. Stared up at the stars. Wondered if one of those blinking silver lights might contain another outpost world like his own, waiting for some kid to wake up and realize he could move between planets.
Sean stayed where he was for almost an hour, giving the new idea space to grow and congeal and take hold. When it was time, he went back inside, but he did not sit down. He stood over the table and stared at the papers as they swirled and re-formed.
Then he looked up and saw that the professor was watching him. He said, “It all comes down to asking the right question.”
John nodded approval. “It usually does.”
“I need to go now.” Sean gathered up his papers. “And thanks for this.”
“This has been one of the nicest evenings I’ve had since . . .” John smiled sadly. “Take care, son.”
It was only when he was midway across the lawn that Sean realized what John had said. But when he turned back, the professor was once more intent upon his work.
Sean stopped beneath the balcony and called up, “Yo, Dillon. It’s time.”
There was a moment’s silence, then Dillon appeared. “You got it?”
“Yes.”
“No ‘I guess.’ No ‘I think.’” Dillon grinned down at him. “My brother the sage. Give me two minutes, then let’s go save the world.”
40
The school operated on a twenty-four-hour clock. Or rather, the Lothian equivalent of one. The transit room and lockers were normally filled with people coming and going. But when the twins arrived, the place held the stillness of a disused tomb. Sheets of paper attached to the transit room’s side wall stated in several languages that the school had been temporarily closed. Students were urged to study on their own. Officials would be in contact shortly.
Sean stood in front of the wall, inspecting the sheets with the hope that some clue, some hint of a next step, might suddenly arrive. He could only think of one thing. “We’ve got to wait.”
Dillon glanced through the open portal, down the empty hall. “Wait.”
“Yes.”
They headed for the lounge, their footsteps shuffling along the carpeted expanse. The rear wall was a meal repository, offering a constant variety of food. Most of it was Lothian in origin, with a single section for special requirements and noted only in the language of the recipient. Most of the stuff tasted as bland as the school. They ate whenever possible in the loft. But there was one dessert they had both come to love, layers of something that resembled cake alternating with a toffee-like substance that tasted like dark chocolate. They carried two plates to their customary table, which was weird, since they had the entire place to themselves.
Dillon took a bite, inspected the next one, and said, “I wonder where this stuff comes from.”
“Best not to ask.”
“Yeah. Droppings of flesh-eating glowworms, probably.” He took another bite. “Still tastes great. Even at midnight and counting. Which brings us to the question, what are we doing here?”
“I told you. Waiting.”
“Which explains absolutely nothing.” He scraped up the last slivers of the goo. “Sure would like to know why I’m missing sleep.”
“We need Elenya.”
“So we’re just going to sit here until she decides to check in?”
“There’s some kind of alert system you can sign up for. It lets you know when the other person shows up. She went to Josef and he put it in place.”
Dillon grinned. “Elenya went to Josef and asked him to set up a galactic alert whenever you came to school.”
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, bro. Not a single solitary thing. Just admiring your way with the ladies, is all.” Dillon easily avoided Sean’s swipe across the table. “I’m asking again. Why are we here?”
“This whole plan revolves around us going back to the train station.”
Dillon’s good humor vanished. “Back to where we’ve been ordered never to set foot in, ever again.”
“That place. Yeah.”
Dillon gave that a beat. “You want to explain why you think going to the train station is worth risking a mind-wipe?”
Sean told him. Or tried to. But part of his mind and most of his heart remained caught by the woman who was not there. Added to this was all the pressure and the fear of having gotten things terribly wrong. It was a poor way to relate an unfinished idea, stumbling over all the things he had not yet worked out. But Dillon didn’t seem to care. In fact, long before Sean arrived at what he thought was the conclusion, his brother announced, “Okay, I got it.”
“I’m not done.”
“It doesn’t matter. I know enough to know you’re handling this.”
Sean let his uncertainty show. “Glad you think so.”
“What . . .” Dillon stopped because Elenya appeared in the doorway, and Sean’s chair held nothing but an empty space.
“Elenya, I’m so sorry.” The words were totally inadequate, especially as he saw the shadows in her eyes. But Sean could think of nothing else to say.
“It’s not your fault.”
“In a way it is. You changed clothes before our dinner because . . .” Then he realized what she carried.
A pair of cases. One in each hand.
Sean watched her settle them by her feet and felt his heart do a swooping dive. “What’s going on, Elenya?”
“Can we sit down, please?” There was a new quality to her calm, a gravity he had never seen before. She seated herself, greeted Dillon, and announced, “My mother has forbidden me from ever seeing you again.”
The soaring and swooping grew sharper, like his heart and gut were riding a roller coaster, one that did not care at all how the rest of Sean’s body remained perfectly still. Frozen, in fact. A rigid human post, squeezed by all the things that could not wait. The conflict and the burden left him incapable of drawing a single decent breath.
She went on, “I tried to convince her that I
am not too young, that this is not a whim . . . My mother was not interested in being convinced. She was not interested in listening. Her mind is made up. She claims to know what is best for me. I am the youngest of five daughters. My middle sister has just gone through a terrible breakup. My mother despised the man. I told you of this, yes? And before that my oldest sister also went through a bad end to a bad relationship. My mother assumes I am making the same mistake. It is all she can see, how she will be forced to watch another daughter be crushed by giving her heart to the wrong man.”
Sean tried to follow what she was saying. But his brain kept getting snagged by the two cases waiting there by the door. And everything they signified.
Elenya regarded him with an ancient’s solemn gaze. “My mother’s outrage grew steadily worse. She refused to hear anything I tried to tell her. The day after our dinner, it became evident that I had no choice. As soon as the Examiners and Counselor Tatyana and Carver finally finished with me, I started making plans. I was so glad when your alert arrived. I’d been hoping that you would come to school looking for me.”
“So . . . you’ve left home.”
“Yes. But there is a problem. I have nowhere to stay.” She motioned to the empty school. “All the boarders have been sent away.”
Dillon offered, “Stay with Carey and her dad.”
She offered him a solemn inspection. “Will they agree?”
He was already up and moving. “One way to find out.” To Sean, “Don’t start with the fireworks until I get back.”
When he was gone, Elenya asked, “Fireworks?”
“We need your help with something.”
“Is it important?”
“Very. And urgent.” Sean knew he should be offering comfort. He knew there were a dozen things a better man would be saying just then. But all he could think of was the ticking clock. How a man’s life hung in the balance. How they did not have time for this. Any of it. How what he felt at that very moment, the one thing that was squeezed from his frantically swooping brain was . . .
Helplessness.
She continued to watch him, waiting. When he did not speak, she said, “I need to know this is not a whim, Sean. I need to know you are . . .”
The word sprang to mind. He said it because she waited. “Committed.”
“I know it is too early. I wish we had more time. But my mother is very determined. She will find a way to drive a barrier between us. I can’t let that happen. Not if you are truly . . .”
He nodded slowly. The only word his mind could shape rang through the empty room. Committed.
“I know that we are very young. I know that we may change. But I want to take this risk. If you are . . .”
He had no idea how he felt. But he could not say that. To even think this was awful. But it was the truth, and he would not lie to her. Not ever. So he remained there. Nailed to his chair. Squeezed from every side. While his heart and his gut kept up their crazy ride.
Her voice became more solemn still. “By my leaving home, I hope she will understand that I am as determined as she. That she is no longer in a position to dictate my life’s course. But this is a very big step, Sean. I do this for you. But only if this is truly what you want. Only if you . . .”
He had to breathe. But unlocking his rigid frame was such a struggle that what he did was shudder. His words emerged in a terribly shaken state. Exactly how he felt. “I can’t think about this now.”
She did not change one iota. And he sensed that part of her had expected this very response. It was her turn to freeze to her chair.
He pushed out, “Tirian’s life depends on my getting this right. It’s all I can think of, all I have room . . . They’ve arrested the Examiner.”
She tasted the air, tried to shape some word. But it did not emerge.
“I need your help, Elenya. Desperately. If we have to do this without you, Dillon and I, we . . .”
She trembled, almost like she was trapped and fighting the same forces as him now. “Desperate.”
“Tatyana said we could be arrested. Carver threatened us with a mind-wipe. But we have to do this. If I’m right, and the Examiner is punished, and we didn’t do anything—”
“Tell me what you want me to do,” she whispered.
Dillon chose that moment to come racing into the lounge. He announced triumphantly, “It’s all taken care of. The professor and Carey say, ‘Welcome home.’”
Elenya shuddered. She tried to smile at Dillon, then she turned back to Sean. And waited. Already convicted by what he could not give her.
He said, “I’ve got this plan, really just half a—”
“No, Sean. No.” Her voice was little more than a broken whisper. “Just tell me what to do.”
So he did, though each word he spoke seemed to stab her, causing her to wince with a pain she did not fully suppress. So he kept it as short as possible. Three sentences. No more. When he was done she forced in another shuddering breath, then said, “I will do this.”
“That’s great, Elenya, I can’t thank—”
He stopped. Not because she rose from the table and excused herself, but because she was crying. And the sight was the worst thing he had ever seen. Just totally, wrenchingly awful.
When she was gone, Dillon leaned across the table and savaged him further by asking, “Bro, what have you gone and done?”
41
Since Elenya had no idea where she was headed, Sean transited with her. He was concerned about her on many levels. Her hand had the limpness of wax. Her eyes were not blank, just hollow. Like she had lost some ability to hide the void she now carried inside.
And it was all his fault.
As soon as they arrived, Elenya took a long look around and declared, “This is the central station on Cyrius.”
“You’ve been here?”
“Never. But the station is famous.” Her tone was as hollow as her gaze. “They use it as a selling point for their gravity modulators.”
“The doctor’s name is Sandrine. Tell her as little or—”
“I know what to do.” She started away.
Sean watched as the crowd swallowed her, until not even the white-blonde hair was visible. Then he transited back to the loft.
Sean spent the next hour and a half pacing. Dillon’s company was about as welcoming as a Taser. He sat at the dining room table. Every time Sean came into view, Dillon zapped him again. Doing what Elenya wouldn’t.
Sean wanted to be there when she returned. But if he stayed around, he and his brother risked another battle, only this time they’d tear apart their only home. So he tumbled down the stairs and out the door and onto the front lawn.
The day was summertime close, hot and so humid the temperature was just a theoretical number. Clouds blanketed the sky and pressed down hard. Thunder rumbled off in the distance, a deeply discontented growl. Even the weather was angry with him.
He came around the edge of the garage, then drew back before he was spotted. John Havilland sat alone at the patio table. Which probably meant it was either Saturday or Sunday, Sean had no idea. He risked another glance. The professor’s face was creased with such agony, the sight reached across the distance and squeezed Sean’s heart. Carey was nowhere to be seen. John clearly thought he was alone and could release his sorrow, just for an instant. Breathe the loss in and out. The professor’s gaze came to rest on one of the cast-iron pots that anchored the patio’s corners and held miniature fruit trees. His gasping, shuddering breath was audible across the distance.
Sean did not need to dialogue with the older man. He knew exactly what he was seeing.
Here before him was the price of love.
The risk of getting it wrong was so huge. Sean was definitely too young. The timing was just awful. Events and risks crowded in from every side. He had every reason to do as he had and put her off.
Sean turned and looked down the drive, out to where it connected with the road. And the road to the highway that would take him
to the alternative.
His parents moving into separate apartments had not really changed anything. They had been alone for years. That was what scared him the most. How he had been surrounded all his life by wrong moves.
Sean started back up the stairs. He was pressured on all sides by a thousand choices.
But only one of them was right.
As soon as he came into view, Dillon seemed unable to hold it in any longer. He lashed out, “You’re crazy. She’s beautiful. She’s smarter than you, and you’re the smartest guy I’ve ever known. How could you be such an idiot?”
Sean shuddered his own way through a hard breath. Nodded to the floor at his feet.
“How could . . . You let her down! I don’t know what you said and I don’t want to know.”
Sean just stood and nodded. Took it because he deserved it.
Dillon sent his chair crashing back. “Are you so desperate you can’t wait to wind up like Mom and Dad?”
Sean shook his head. No.
“She’s come into your life now. You need to act now.”
Sean remained as he was. Beaten into submission by the truth.
The absence of a foe must have defeated Dillon. He headed for the stairs, knocking Sean hard with his shoulder as he passed. He was midway down the stairs when he stopped and said, “You make it up to her. I mean it, Sean. Either you square it with Elenya or . . .”
The truth in his words lingered long after Dillon left. Smoldering hot as guilt.
An hour later, Elenya appeared in silence. Her emotions formed a luminescence around her. Perhaps it was just his own internal response, Sean seeing her through the lens of an open heart. But he didn’t think so. The aura was too powerful for that. This was part of her, a hint of the same strength that granted her the ability to tell her family no. To declare her affections and intentions. Even when it cost her . . .
Everything.
He stepped in front of her and stood without reaching, though he wanted to. He felt his tone was as formal as a courtier’s bow. It was what she deserved. “I was wrong, Elenya. I should have said what you needed to hear. I should have done it without hesitation. I’m sorry.”