T minus one year, nine months

From: L. Lockridge
To: J. Zeer
Jim,
That was totally unnecessary.
It did get two clear words from Gran, though, directed at me: “lover’s tiff?”
Congratulations.
L.L.

Jim threw the note to the floor, disgusted with himself and the entire situation. He hadn’t intended to hurt Lucy, or Gran, or make it so obvious that he was getting back at her for her little comments… He had, of course, and that was why he had done it, but he still felt guilty about it. It wasn’t the sort of thing he was supposed to do. It wasn’t the sort of person he wanted to be. And yet he wrote hurtful things, and instead of erasing them like he ought to, he sent them. And he hurt people. He never wanted to be that man. But he was.

From: J. Zeer
To: A. Jeffers
Seriously now, Alan, go to hell.
Oh, how’s the girlfriend situation? Last time I got any was Dan, and we know how that turned out. Not worth the mental anguish.
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
Shit. I just wish I could help. But it’s not like I could do anything if I was there, either. Want me to write to him, maybe?
I love you, man.
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: D. Lau
Can we not? I’m already down to a few lines with my brother and my best friend from home, and I’d really like to keep up with you properly. J.

T minus one year, eight months, two weeks, five days

From: L. Lockridge
To: J. Zeer
Jim,
What is going on with you? Fine, be pissed off at me, but don’t stop writing to Gran, for goodness’ sake! It’s been over a fortnight. She’s old. She loves getting your letters. You could make an effort for her, at least, especially given the way you wrote, the way your happy place seems to consist of being with her…
Is this because I said “keep writing?” Are you really that childish?
Lucy

From: A. Jeffers
To: J. Zeer
Girlfriend is lovely and nice and pretty and still with me for some incomprehensible reason. And why would I go to hell when you’ll be there? A.

T minus one year, eight months, two weeks, two days

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Jim, you’re right, there’s nothing you can do, and the only thing I could do would be end it which I obviously don’t want to, so it’s all in Casey’s hands. But he’s been so distant lately. I don’t know what he’s thinking.
Don’t write to him. It won’t help.
Love you too
Sam

T minus one year, eight months, two weeks

From: J. Zeer
To: A. Jeffers
C’mon, we can be sex slaves together… J.

From: J. Zeer
To: Mrs R.A. Keller
Gran,
I guess I have to apologise for that last letter, too? I was just so very stressed out at the time, and I can’t stand people carping on at me about stuff… Sigh. Big sigh.
Got an assignment handed in, so I’m a little calmer right at the moment, but generally I’m still stressed, wired and tired, flipping from exhausted to hyper, from depressed to manic, from one extreme to the other but somehow none of them are good…
See? This is not the sort of thing I’m meant to write to you.
Hung out in the library as often as I could, didn’t hear a repeat of the performance, unfortunately. Going now. Sleep is kind of necessary, once in a while.
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
My life is shit too, you know… I guess at least it’s just me that’s fucking me up.
God. I like Casey, from what I know of him, but really… doesn’t he realise what this is doing to you?
All right. Imagine me there with you. I walk up behind you and wrap one arm around your chest, the other around your waist, and rest my chin on your shoulder, and just hold you for a minute. Feel better?
Hey, I do! Cool!
Jim

Jim sat staring at the paper, amazed at the peace that had stolen through him just imagining being close to his little brother. They had always been connected, a pair opposed to the older two, and of all the people he was leaving behind, it was Sam that he regretted the most. No matter that they barely saw each other any more, and leaving for the rest of their lives probably only meant missing out on twenty or so visits. It was still Sam, his confidant, his confessor, his penitent, his port in the storm and most beloved brother. Jim’s arms wrapped as tightly as they could around his own body, and in his mind they were more tanned, more toned, the hands better cared-for and the watch more expensive. He sighed a little, wishing for the actual presence of his brother, then let go. He still had to sleep.

T minus one year, eight months, one week, three days

From: D. Lau
To: J. Zeer
You can write as much as you like, but my life is boring as hell and I don’t have anything to say. D.

T minus one year, eight months, one week

From: L. Lockridge
To: J. Zeer
Gran agreed that you needed to apologise, but she was so excited by the fact you wrote at all that you’re basically forgiven. We’re both sorry you’re having a hard time of it, and wish there was something we could do to help. Just remember, we’re here if you need us.
Lucy

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
I’m so glad I have you for a brother.
I’m so going to miss you.
Hey, in case you’re interested: Frank’s still with what’sherface and Mikey is outwardly proud but quietly panicking about his impending doom. Just… yeah. Hug you back, man.
Sam

T minus one year, eight months, four days

From: Mrs M. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
I believe I indicated my interest in your well-being? Perhaps you misunderstood.
Tell me how you’re doing, son, because like it or not I am your mother.
I don’t understand you, Jimmy. You have a normal life here, and it’s not enough for you, so you go and get into this fantastic adventure and you hate it there. What the hell is going on in your head?
What did I do to deserve a son like you?
I should have sent the other two to live with your grandmother. You were younger, more impressionable – you and Sam were just totally skewed by those years. But I was so busy, and I couldn’t give you as much time as you demanded… I suppose it’s my fault. But Michael and Frank turned out all right. How the hell did I go so wrong with you and Sam?
Your mother,
Mary K. Zeer

From: J. Zeer
To: D. Lau
Well, I feel awkward telling you about colony stuff and that’s really all I have to talk about, so I was hoping more you would tell me stuff. But, whatever.
Hate my family sometimes, so glad I’m not going to see them – semi-nasty letter from Mom. Sigh. Don’t care.
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: Mrs R.A. Keller
Gran (and Lucy),
Thank you for your support, but there’s not really much you can do for me, except keep on forgiving me for being the neglectful bastard I am. And maybe kill Mom for me. If you wouldn’t mind too terribly.
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: Mrs M. Zeer
You’re disappointed in me. Fine. I truly do not need that right now. So, as you used to tell us all, if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything.
Jim

T minus one year, eight months

From: A. Jeffers
To: J. Zeer
You worry me, my friend. You really, truly do. A.

From: M. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Michael and Sally are pleased to announce the birth of their first child, Donata May.

From: J. Zeer
To: M. Zeer
Congratulations. J.

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
The announcement just came through to me – Donata May? Not bad, I suppose, but really… Well, at least I got the family version, I guess that’s something. Do you think they realised what the acronym is?
My God. We’re uncles. How fucked is that?
Think Mikey will let me see the kid before I’m on my way?
Jim

T minus one year, seven months, three weeks, one day

From: L. Lockridge
To: J. Zeer
I can’t believe I’m writing this, but…
After talking it over with Gran – several times – we’ve decided that whatever’s going on with you won’t be helped by our correspondence. And we can do without you. We’d rather not – but we can. So you can write to us, and we’ll reply, but we won’t pressure you with letters.
I’m really not happy about this, Jim, but Gran’s word is law.
Lucy

From: J. Zeer
To: A. Jeffers
I can’t be bothered with this, man. You got something to say, say it. Say as much as you like. But this back-and-forth is fucking boring. Jim

T minus one year, seven months, two weeks, four days

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Uncle-hood is extraordinarily fucked. As to seeing the kid, well, I haven’t yet – timed my visit badly I guess, but I needed out, but I can’t just take off again so soon. But… if I haven’t before – though I’ll likely make it back there in a couple of months – I’ll go with you to stop off there during your three months. That cool with you?
Hey, speaking of your holiday – planning it yet? And just how deep into debt are you willing to go?
Sam

T minus one year, seven months, two weeks

From: D. Lau
To: J. Zeer
So, what, we both have such boring lives that we can’t even manage to keep a fairly sporadic correspondence going? Now that’s just sad.
Dan

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
Not planning yet, but need to stop off at each family point, if only for a couple of days. Iceland, Tokyo, whatever… I don’t know. It’s ages off yet. It is a good opportunity to blow my nest-egg, though, isn’t it?
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: Mrs R.A. Keller
My life is extraordinarily boring.
I have chocolate. It seems of enormous import that I am sitting writing with a block of chocolate slowly melting in my mouth. What, exactly, the import is, I cannot be sure. But I know it is there.
I am slowly losing my mind.
Please don’t reply to this – either of you.
I love you.
Jim

T minus one year, seven months

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Such an opportunity, my friend…
If you like, though, I could look into getting early deals on a few flights and what-not – you could come out and have an entire itinerary planned for you if you play your cards right. Just if you like.
Sam

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
You can plan my way round the family (make sure there’s enough time at home to see our niece and visit Gran quite a few times – in fact, I’ll probably make plural stops at home just for Gran) but don’t take up more than half the time.
There you are, nice little project.
How are things for you, by the way?
Oh, and “friend”?
Jim

T minus one year, six months, two weeks

From: J. Zeer
To: Mrs R.A. Keller
I’m still alive. You’d hear if I wasn’t.
So tired. So very tired.
Don’t reply. Not that there’s much to reply to. Sorry.
Jim

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Would you call the other two friends? Blood may be thicker than water, but it’s love that matters.
Things are… OK, here, I guess. I’m getting used to him being a bit mysterious, now. That’s probably a sad thing, but… I don’t know.
I’ll plan. Oh boy, will I plan…
Sam

T minus one year, six months, one week

From: D. Lau
To: J. Zeer
What, it got lost in the post? D.

T minus one year, six months, two days

From: J. Zeer
To: D. Lau
You’re right, it’s incredibly sad, and I was waiting so I would actually have something to tell you. And I don’t. J.

T minus one year, five months, three weeks, two days

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Oh my God oh my God oh my God…
He proposed. He fucking proposed.
The bastard!
I’m so happy I could cry.
Sammity-Sam-Sam-Sam

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
Wow.
All that to keep his surname?
Jim – truly happy for you

Jim sat in the bar, and called for a whiskey. Maggie gave him a double and an appraising look. “Family?” she asked. He nodded grimly. “Problem?” she continued. He shook his head. “Gonna tell me?” she tried again. He shook his head again. She shrugged and turned to the back of the bar, getting on with the scut-work.
When Maggie brought along the fourth drink that Jim had signalled for, he looked her in the eye. “My brother’s getting married,” he said. She looked back at him for a moment, assessing his drunken state in the light of this new revelation. “You don’t like her, then?” she asked. Jim stared at her, uncomprehending, the statement taking a few long moments to work it’s way through his alcohol-soaked brain. “Ah,” he said, “it’s a him. He’s… OK, I guess. He refused, you know.” Maggie blinked at him a few times, then turned around to grab a stool for herself. She set it opposite him, and sat. “Explain,” she demanded. “Sam – that’s my brother – did you know that?” Jim started. “Anyway…” he paused for a moment, then took a deep breath and started again. “Sam proposed but Casey said no but then Casey proposed and Sam said yes and in the meantime Sam was all depressed and I couldn’t fucking do anything about it. But now he’s happy.” “That’s good, right?” Maggie asked. “That he’s happy?” Jim loked at her with scorn and replied, “well, yeah. Of course it is. It’s just…” he trailed off again, and slammed back the remnants of his drink. He signalled for another drink, and Maggie went back to work.

T minus one year, five months, three weeks

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
I haven’t given you time to reply yet, but…
Oh my God, it was so perfect. We went out for dinner, and it was just a touch awkward, like it has been all the time – which was bad, I guess, but it was normal, and then he suggested we walk home the beach way, which, slightly unusual but not that much, and then the moon was rising over the water and there was this ice-bucket buried in the sand and he just dropped to one knee beside it…
And I accepted, of course, and he apologised for being such a prick lately, and I sprayed him with champagne, and we made love right there.
Sand = not good.
He said some stuff about not wanting to be passive, and being a little worried about committing, but realising while I was away how committed he already was and that nothing mattered but being together, and he was just waiting for me to propose again but then he realised how badly I’d been hurt by his rejection and… yadda. Who gives? He loves me. We’re getting married.
Stand up with me, when the day comes?
Sam

T minus one year, five months, two weeks, six days

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
I would be truly honoured.
Hey, you’re going to have to plan this, aren’t you? You don’t need to worry about my travel, then, if it’s going to take too much time. I can sort it.
God. My little brother’s getting married.
How incredibly fucking scary.
Jim

T minus one year, five months, one week, four days

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
We’re each keeping our own surname. And the ceremony’s basically planned already – real simple – out on the beach, trunks and tails, friends and family, pastor friend of his in charge… Reception will be more of a bitch to manage, of course, but we’re thinking just a big party – bonfire and booze.
As to the honeymoon… well, we’ll see. Maybe New Zealand.
Iceland is you and me, boy, don’t you forget it.
And I love being able to freak you out.
Sam

T minus one year, five months, one week

From: D. Lau
To: J. Zeer
I was getting at me more than at you. My brother fell off a building and cracked his spine. Woo-hoo. Less attention for me.
Dan

T minus one year, five months, four days

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
Trunks and tails? I have to stand up front in fucking swim-trunks? (mental note – go to gym more often) You realise, of course, you’ll have to let me get in a week or so with you beforehand so I’m not milk-bottle white? And I don’t think I have a proper dinner jacket any more. Hmm. Might. You’re checking out rental companies etc, though, right?
You can never freak me out, boy. Not nearly good enough.
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: D. Lau
He all right? You all right?
I guess we should stop complaining that stuff never happens – could be one of us next time. Which would be bad.
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: Mrs R.A. Keller
Just checking in again. Getting towards the end of the first year – exams coming up – working harder than ever – severely unhappy with the whole situation.
Oh, you know about Sam? Casey proposed, he’s incredibly happy, and I’m one of the witnesses. They’re putting off having it until my shore leave.
Lucy, I’m not twenty-five, I’m twenty-six, I forgot about my birthday because of the whole load of stuff that happened at the two-year pre-anniversary, and nobody else remembered either.
Gran… I missed yours too, didn’t I? I’m such a little idiot…
I know, I’ve been a bastard but I’ll try harder, really, I will.
Love, Jim

T minus one year, four months, three weeks, two days

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
I’m a devious little bastard, aren’t I?
I get more time with you here, and I get an excuse for ducking out of all the last-minute shit, and I get to show off my gorgeously toned body all in one blow.
Um. Not blow. You know what I mean.
We’ll look into rentals and all that stuff, but seriously, Jim. It’s over a year away. We have plenty of time.
Sam

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
Some days, I really hate you.
Joking.
Jim

T minus one year, four months, three weeks, one day

From: L. Lockridge
To: J. Zeer
Jim,
You sound a little better – I’m glad. We both are.
Gran is getting sicker, I’m afraid, she’s very quiet now and even more lethargic than before. She’s not even all that old, really, but… yeah.
She’ll be around for a while yet, though, don’t you worry.
Lucy

From: J. Zeer
To: L. Lockridge
Don’t worry? Don’t worry?! What the hell kind of thing is that to say?!
Well, fine, I won’t. Goodbye. Jim

Jim knew that he was worse than anti-social while he was this angry, and so he stayed in his room with the door firmly locked. It wasn’t Lucy’s fault, of course, and he had started feeling bad about taking it out on her almost as soon as he had sent the letter, but a letter once sent could not be unsent, and that wasn’t a philosophical statement, that was simple fact, and was there nothing he did that Gran couldn’t argue about? Sometimes he felt her influence far too profoundly. He pulled out the bottle of whiskey from his cupboard, and took a long decadent swallow straight from the neck, enjoying the warmth as it spread through his gullet. It was hardly the best method of coping with stress, but it was one he could indulge in every once in a while, and this was certainly an excuse. He had always known that one day his grandmother would fail still further, but to have it confirmed in writing by a person he didn’t even know, on a day that was bad to begin with, then top that off with being nasty and feeling the self-hate… he was allowed a drink or five.

T minus one year, four months, one week, six days

From: L. Lockridge
To: J. Zeer
Don’t be mad. You don’t get to be mad. I’m here, Jim, and you’re there, and I can worry enough for four of you so just… don’t. Lucy

T minus one year, four months, three days

From: D. Lau
To: J. Zeer
He’s fine, I’m… not, though not because of him, because I left my shitty job but didn’t get another, and I’m such a fucking screw-up, but who the hell cares?
Dan (and it’s not short for anything)

T minus one year, three months, three weeks, two days

From: L. Lockridge
To: J. Zeer
Ignoring us again? L.

From: J. Zeer
To: D. Lau
Really? I would have thought it was for Danielle, or Dannika or something else like that. Oh well…
Don’t know if you’d noticed, but we’re coming up on halfway through the life of the ground colony – which means I’m in the middle of Nav exams, for one thing, but a big party for another. It’s just a bit weird for me. Sorry, didn’t mean to bring stuff up… wait, yeah, I did.
Cutting? Not? What?
Jim

T minus one year, three months, one week

From: D. Lau
To: J. Zeer
Wasn’t for a bit, am again now, but don’t worry, not too badly, and you’re not allowed to, and you can’t do anything about it anyway.
God, I wish I’d been a little more careful that night. Or, y’know, had the fucking sense to, like, not let my bastard cunt of a responsible neighbour take me to the hospital so I could get found (and kicked) out.
Oh my God! More than three lines! Noooooooo!!!
Dan

Jim chuckled, and set the letter down on his desk. Whatever else there was to say about Dan, at least she had a sense of humour. Of course, that last line had followed confessions of psychological damage, so it probably wasn’t a letter he ought to be laughing at. He tried another chuckle to see how it felt, and it felt bad, so he stopped. He stared at the desk again, crossing his arms and leaning them on the edge, then slowly lowered his head to rest on them and allowed himself to let go. He wept, gently.

T minus one year, three months, five days

Jim stormed into his room, slamming the door behind him. He sat on his bed, then stood again. He kicked the wall, and cursed loudly. His neighbour banged the wall in protest and Jim replied with a rock riff across three surfaces before collapsing on the floor laughing hysterically. “Cunts,” he said calmly, then went into giggles again. Eventually, he found his paper and started to write.

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
Just got told, in Morale class, that we have to rely on each other not outside sources, and hence our letters are being cut off except for one day a month. And outgoing is word-limited.
How joyous is that?
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: Mrs M. Zeer
Dear Mom,
As part of the Morale class, our access to mail is being limited to one day a month. But it’s not like we’re regular correspondents.
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: D. Lau
Did you know what Morale does? How is that supposed to help?!
Write to you in a month. Be safe.
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: Mrs R.A. Keller
I saved most of my words for you, Gran, and Lucy, because I knew you’d appreciate them most.
I’m sorry I’ve been such a bastard.
I’m now learning how to be a Morale officer, which seems like a horrendous waste of time and energy. The course itself seems somewhat suspect – for example, in an effort to bond us well with our fellow colonists, we are being more highly separated from the world outside. They’re only letting us see or send mail one day a month; and other less personal things.
I hope you both are well.
Love, Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: A. Jeffers
Going incommunicado – bastards giving me one day of letters a month. Write!
Jim