T minus two years, one month

#Announcement: Mail blackout is now over. We thank you for your patience.#

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
It still counts.
“She sounds nice.” Trying to set me up, man? I think not! Casey, remember?
I’m thinking about marrying him. If I do – and, y’know, far from certain here – you think I could arrange it for two years time? So you could make it? I’d want you there, you know, even if it causes trouble with Mike. Not that it should, since he’s all perfect-family-togetherness in front of other people.
My “clean-living spiel” is not crap, by the way. It’s so totally not. You need to get behind it more, bro. Trust me.
Sam

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Shit, man, I can’t believe Frank did that! I’d kill him for you, really, I would.
Of course I’m your favourite.
Sam

From: L. Lockridge
To: J. Zeer
Hi,
I was just wondering if things are all right? Since you haven’t written to your grandmother recently. I’ve been talking to her – she’s really astute sometimes, if you can work out what she’s talking about – but what am I saying, of course you know that. So I’ll just go now.
Lucy L.

From: Mrs M. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Please don’t split up my family. I know you don’t all like each other particularly well, but could you at least try not to hate each other?
I’m sending this to your brothers as well. I’m not victimising you.
Mary K. Zeer

From: Mrs R.A. Keller
To: J. Zeer
24/03/14
R.A.

Five shorts in a fortnight, Jim-bob? You’re slipping…
Drawing attention to it, Carl? Not your style at all.
So who were they from?
None of your business. Yours?
Family and friends.
Shit. Alan.
Hmm?
Nothing.
Really?
Really. I have to go write replies.
Of course. I’ll be doing mine for the next few days.
Go to hell.

From: J. Zeer
To: A. Jeffers
Nothing from you yet? I’m disappointed.
C’mon, man, tell me something, anything…
We had a mail blackout here and it was fucking annoying, and that’s all there is to tell, so I’m sorry but this is me signing off.
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
Arrogant little fucker…
If you want to commit to Casey, I’d be totally honoured to be there. You don’t have to put it off for me, but… thanks, man.
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: Mrs M. Zeer
Mom,
I’m sorry, but it’s not me doing this. Really. How could it be? I’m locked up in a colony, for christ’s sake! They don’t approve of me and what I’m doing, but really, the rift was formed when Sam and I went to live with Gran those three years. And that just can’t be helped.
I really am sorry.
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: L. Lockridge
Hi Lucy,
We were under a mail blackout, nothing I wrote would have been sent, so I didn’t write, not that there was anything to write about in the first place…
I got a note from Gran that just had a date – I wonder if you could look out her diary for March of 2014? She has them all filed and indexed, so it shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes… I’m not above begging here, I really want to know what was so important it got her into the mail system.
I wonder how it feels for her to be referred to as “Gran” and “Mrs Keller” when she told me she sometimes forgets she isn’t nineteen any more.
Man. Stop me writing for a fortnight and somehow I have to tell everybody something, and yet… yeah.
Thanking you in advance (please, Lucy, please…)
Jim

Hey, Dan.
Jim! Not busy writing letters, then?
Done already. You?
Putting them off. It’s not like I have anything to say.
Shitty, isn’t it?
You could say that.
You’re not uptight about bad language, are you?
No. I just…
C’mon, you can tell me.
I’m scared I’m going to get so homesick I drop out of the program.
Better to do it now than later.
But I don’t want to do it at all. Not at all.
But surely…
I’m staying in the program, Jim. Come hell or high water, I’m staying in.
OK. Good for you.
Are you staying?
Yeah.
Then we can have this conversation again in a decade.
Yeah.
I have to go do a lesson plan.
OK. I’ll see you tomorrow.

T minus two years, three weeks, one day

From: L. Lockridge
To: J. Zeer
Hi Jim,
I found it for you.
There’s quite a lot that month, though, so if you’ve got a more specific date maybe you could send it?
I told her about it – I thought she should know – and she didn’t seem to object.
It feels a little unethical, I have to say, but you are morally the closest thing to a next-of-kin, and any court would declare her incompetent (though she’s so obviously not, if you take the time just to look) so I guess it’s OK. I’ll tell myself that, at least.
Lucy

From: J. Zeer
To: L. Lockridge
I didn’t realise I’d put you in messy ground ethically – really, if you can’t, I’ll survive without it. But her date was 24/03/14, if you can.
Jim

T minus two years, two weeks, five days

From: J. Zeer
To: A. Jeffers
I can’t believe they’re giving us homework! And the shit we have to do for Nav, you would not believe… mutant trig that I couldn’t have done on my best days in school, and I’m sitting here tearing my hair out over it and I can’t even have coffee because fucking company went and got itself bought out and… if it wasn’t girly, I would be screaming right now.
So how are you doing, pet? Haven’t heard from you lately.
Jim

Jim cursed in frustration, sending his pen spinning across the desk and onto the floor. He cursed again, and bent to pick it up. “How the hell…” he muttered, staring at the page. “This makes no sense. This is supposed to make sense,” he said, his voice getting progressively louder. “I should be able to do this!” he shouted. He set down his pen, and snorted derisively at his own behaviour. “Give it up, Jim,” he said. “You can’t do it. It doesn’t matter. So fuck it. Just fuck it.” He gathered the paper scattered across the desk into a pile, and added it to the heap on the floor, frowning deeply. “Fuck it,” he repeated in a defeated tone. “I don’t care.”

T minus two years, two weeks, two days

From: A Jeffers
To: J. Zeer
You have homework? I have a job. Like, a career. Is that not horrendously scary?
I’m sorry I haven’t replied to your last couple of letters, but… well, the drunk didn’t go nearly as well as it could have and I kind of ended up in hospital. Got into a fight. Yeah. I know. You miss out on all the fun. Though honestly, one time getting beaten up is much like another, so it’s not like you’re missing out.
The “mutant trig” sounds vaguely interesting, though.
Did they give you a reason for the blackout, or were they just fucking with your heads?
You haven’t answered me on the physicality, by the way, and I know I asked.
Shit, I should have said about your brothers, man. That just sucks. But if you want to vent, it’s not like I have conflicted loyalties here – I’m on your side all the way.
I told Kathy you said congratulations – that’s what you meant, right?
The world is moving on without you, my friend – how does it feel?
And… coffee? what the hell?
Alan
P.S. You’re allowed to scream – you just have to bring it down two octaves and call it manly yelling. [wink] A.

T minus two years, one week, six days

From: L. Lockridge
To: J. Zeer
Hi Jim,
I can cope with one or two grey areas, but thanks for caring.
There are three entries for 24/03/14, so I uploaded them all – they’re attached.
Keep writing. She likes hearing from you.
Lucy

Jim set down the note, and picked up the sheets of paper to which it was attached, looking at them with trepidation. He studied them warily, looking for all the world as though he expected them to bite him. He didn’t know what was in them, or why his grandmother had picked these specific pages as an object lesson for him in regard to her personality, but he was, irrationally enough, beginning to regret asking. He took his courage in his hands, and opened the diary.

24/03/14 – 2:03 a.m.
I ought to be resting – preparing for the day ahead – but I don’t want to go to bed. I keep reaching out for him to warm me up. Of course, he isn’t there. He’s decaying in his coffin as I write.
God.
It took hours to calm Mary down. She kept calling for Daddy, and I kept reminding her that he wasn’t coming back, until eventually she screamed, “I hate you! It’s all your fault!”, turned her face to the wall and pretended to go to sleep. I was so worn out by her noise that I simply let her pretend.
I guess that makes me a bad mother.
I can’t really bring myself to care.
We had an agreement, the bastard. I would bear the children and look after them during the day and pay for all the essentials for our family, and he would pay for the luxuries and actually care for the kids when he was home from work. It was a plan. It was a fucking good plan! So then, of course, he gets ill on me, and he can’t do anything, and he dies, and yeah, sure, it’s given me material to write on for the rest of my natural life but unfortunately I don’t have time right now because I have to deal with a cranky pre-school brat of an only daughter!
I didn’t even want a daughter! He was the one that wanted girls! I could have told him, I could have said, “Honey, I grew up with girls. Girls are bitches. Boys.” But no, I had to be all sweet and accommodating and “why don’t we just see what comes naturally?”
I’m such an idiot. I’m an idiot for letting my guard down. I’m an idiot for trusting him. I’m an idiot for loving him.
I should have known.

24/03/14 – 1:16 p.m.
I snuck out of the… what is it? A wake? I should know this. Oh Christ, my vocabulary’s shot to shit now… How am I supposed to make a living if I can’t even remember the right word for this that isn’t quite a wake because there isn’t enough booze and isn’t…
It doesn’t matter.
What matters is the host of family in the reception room and me hiding in the last stall of the ladies’ with a pen and a pad of paper. At least I left the razor blades in my teens. Mary, contrarily enough, is loving the hell out of it – all these relatives patting her on the head and telling her what a brave little smart little pretty little girl she is.
I will not be envious of my own daughter.
I, of course, from these same elderly relatives, have to put up with sympathetic faces and crooning voices and sickeningly-perfumed hugs and the occasional aside to the effect that I’m only thirty – can that be true? really? – and so many women haven’t even settled their career by my age, let alone found themselves a husband.
I don’t want another husband. It was hassle enough finding the first one. I can’t be arsed trying for a second.
I only ever wanted him.
Shit. I don’t have time for this.
Oh well. Time to artfully damage the make-up to make it look like an ever-so-slightly botched repair job. I love my family so.

24/03/14 – 10:48 p.m.
Well, that was a day I long to forget…
I’m a widow. Officially. I have been since the day he died, but it’s only just hitting me. Widow. That’s me. And I’m “only thirty”.
Thirty. What the fuck does that mean? Nothing, is what it means. It’s hardly a landmark any more. Used to be, maybe, thirty you were past marrying age. But now I’m “only thirty”.
I’m sorry. That phrase is in my head and I can’t for the life of me work out the significance.
“For the life of me” – that didn’t mean anything. That was just a phrase.
I’m sure Mary would be better off with someone else. Anyone else, just about. One of my sisters would take her. Or maybe they’d alternate. Terms with you and holidays with me, like a child of divorce, and she’d go to school and pretend that she had two mommies but they split up and it’s just like a divorce, really, except one of her mommies has a long-term boyfriend and the other has a succession of men and women that she wouldn’t even try to explain, if she even noticed, if she was allowed to see that all is not perfect and all does not work out…
Is she young enough that she wouldn’t remember me? That she won’t remember him? I don’t remember much of anything from before the age of… Christ. Thirteen? It’s blurry even then. I’m lying, of course. I remember things. It’s just not as clear as I think it ought to be.
Nothing ever is.

From: J. Zeer
To: L. Lockridge
Thank you so much.
I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t cope, just that I would rather you didn’t have to, on my account at least.
Did you read them? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you getting to know her a little better.
It’s odd for me to see my mother mentioned as a toddler, my grandmother as a woman only a few years older than I am now… It makes me feel like I don’t know her at all, but like I know her a lot better than I used to, but at the same time… Huh.
I’m composing a letter to her, but it might take me a little while to write. I wonder what she wanted me to learn, from this specific day?
Oh, yeah, it was my grandfather’s funeral. In case you wondered.
Jim

T minus two years, one week, five days

From: J. Zeer
To: A. Jeffers
You ever feel like… um. Never mind.
Career? You? Unbelievable terrifying.
On the physicality, you’re right, just about everyone’s A1, and those that aren’t quite are fifteen kinds of smart to make up for it.
As far as I know, the blackout was psychological – hey, look who’s learning tact…
Coffee. Sam told me the company I buy from got taken over, and you know how a lot of people boycott one or the other, and I never do things by halves? Remember?
Gah. Gah. Gah.
Mutant trig is not interesting, mutant trig is hell. Hell, I tell you.
And I have a whole sheet of it waiting for me.
And yet I’m sitting here writing to you. What does that say?
No, wait, I know the answer to that one… that I’m a lazy procrastinating bastard and this letter is a diversion from what I’m actually supposed to be doing. And I’ll still have to do the sheet after I stop writing but it’ll be later and I’ll be more tired and I’ll make even more of a hash of it than I would have.
I want to spew profanity right now, but it doesn’t help.
About my brothers, if I can still call them that… I would love to vent but all I have there is another stream of curses that I’m sure you can fill in for yourself. It just… it hurts that they do this for something that I’m proud of. If it was because I’d been caught doing something wrong, if it was because I’m a feckless bastard with no ambition, if it was because I’m a lazy procrastinating idiot, if it was because of that time I tried it on with Sally, if it was because of that time I tried it on with Frank, if it was anything, anything at all that I’d done that I hated myself for as well… But it’s for this. Well, it’s not, it’s for being me, which I can understand, but the catalyst of the action was this. Was me being a part of this. Was me being a part of something historic, something meaningful for once in my life.
Was me getting the hell out.
You think they’re jealous? Is that what it is? That I get out of here?
In a way, I hope that’s it. I hope it’s because they feel bad. But I can’t believe it.
They just hate me. That’s what siblings are for.
OK, looks like I had something to vent after all…
Yes, I did mean congrats to Kathy, it feels really fucking weird that the world is moving on, the problem with yelling is that it generally involves words, and are you really OK about the beating?
I think that’s it.
The mutant trig is calling, it really fucking hates me…
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
I hate my brain. Actually, I hate brains in general, all pink and squishy and…
This would be me procrastinating, by the way. Avoiding doing work at all.
Gran wrote to me – sent me a date. I asked the nurse to send me her diary entries from then. Turns out it was the day of her husband’s funeral. She describes Mom as “a cranky pre-school brat of an only daughter” and claims she never wanted a girl. She must have loved getting us, if only for a little while.
She was about the same age as Frank is now, back when she wrote that. Isn’t that odd? She was married when she was my age.
Though so will you be, near enough.
Is it just me that feels in no way old enough for what it says on my forms?
Shit! My birthday’s barely a month off! I’d forgotten!
Oh well, not like I have… oh shit! I didn’t send Mom anything! That’s why she was so snippy with me oh fucking hell I’m such a screw-up but I just don’t fucking need this, all right? I can’t do this right now…
I have to go now.
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: Mrs M. Zeer
I’m so, so, so sorry I forgot.
I’m so sorry.
But then, you always knew I was a fuck-up.
Jim

T minus two years, one week, four days

From: J. Zeer
To: Mrs. R.A. Keller
Dear Gran,
I hope you are well.
And if that isn’t the lamest opening line I’ve ever written…
I’ve been trying to write to you for a few days, but I always feel as though I ought to be writing my best to you – it’s probably a little like writing to an old English teacher. I’m sitting here, deliberating over word choice and grammar and expression and content and… yeah.
Lucy sent me your diary entries from the day you mentioned, and to be honest I’m still processing. I’m concentrated still on the cognitive dissonance of you being, well, young, but at the same time still recognisably you. And, of course, Mom as a “pre-school brat”.
I’m not sure what you wanted me to get from it, actually. If anything.
It has given me stuff to write to Sam about, though, so thanks for that. I don’t want to lose him as well.
Ah. Right. I didn’t tell you about that, did I?
Um. Well. Michael and Frank have decided that I am no longer worthy of their affections. Or acknowledgement, even. So.
Hey, Gran, you want to disown me as well? Might get you in good with the all-wonderful married successful expectant Michael.
I think he still has issues from way back when. I’m glad I’ve grown past them. You, me and Sam. Who else do we really need, huh, Gran?
I meant to ask – do you mind being called that? I can use your name if you want. But, y’know, it’s familiar.
Oh, you’re so going to kill me for my abuse of the language…
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: L. Lockridge
Hey, Lucy,
Just a quick note to tell you I finally got round to writing to Gran, though I’m sure you know that already. And I’m about to ask S. Tellegrin to dispense with the reports, since you’re doing such a good job of keeping me informed. I hope that’s OK.
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Tellegrin
Dear Sir or Madam:
Thank you kindly for your reports on my grandmother. However, having struck up a correspondence with the nurse on her case, an L. Lockridge, I feel these reports are perhaps no longer necessary. I am sure you have many more pressing tasks, and I would like to thank you again for taking the time to reassure me.
Yours sincerely,
James Zeer

T minus two years, one week, two days

Hey, Dan. What’s up?
This.
Ah. That sheet.
Yeah. That sheet.
I know I wrote a lot of shit…
You really did.
But it’s hard!
Yeah. I know. I had to do this too, you know.
Yeah, but you’re smart.
So are you, Jim. Do I need to remind you how high your aptitude was for this?
No, but aptitude’s only part of it. The rest of it is work. Which just isn’t happening.
Huh. Yeah. Well, you’re not the only struggling, so I’m dropping round a couple of reading recs – stapled to the back.
Right. Cool. Thanks.
No worries.

T minus two years, one week, one day

Hey, Dan. What is it this time?
You going to the party next week?
The big “T minus two”?
Yes, that. It just happens to be the only party happening at all next week – except of course for the pre- and post-party parties at various residences.
Uh-huh. Of course I’m going.
Cool. Was thinking of getting my groups together, near the start of the night at least.
That’s not a bad idea. Hang on… groups? We’re not your only?
I’m a lucky child – only two sets of amateurs. You should hear what some of the elder officers say.
I guess we’re lucky to have you, then.
Darn tootin’.
What?
Uh, yeah. So, see you there, nine-ish, meeting place three alpha?
Sounds OK to me.
Right. I’ll have to put it up on the board. Right. Great. See you.
Bye, Dan.

T minus two years, six days

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Well, aren’t you a fuckwit? You remember when mine is, right? Right?
Do you think you could send me Gran’s diary, too? I’ll not pass it on to anyone else, and I’d like to see what she was like – how she coped with losing… god, what was his name anyway? But from what I remember, whenever she talked about – call him Keller – it was always as if he was so damn special, but that got on her nerves, so she yelled at him too, or… I’m making no sense whatsoever here, am I?
Uh, yeah, nervous – trying to decide when would be the best time to propose, if I do it at all. Aargh. Why do I bother?
‘Cause it’s Casey. Dumb question.
Uh, there was something I had to tell you…
Man, I’m jittering again. You’re not supposed to get cold feet till the goddamn wedding, and that’s more than two years off, if he even says yes! Oh God! He might say no! Oh shit! What am I gonna do?
Chill, Sam. That’s what.
Don’t mind me. Without you around, I am becoming the stress-puppy of the family.
Bastard.
Sam

From: A. Jeffers
To: J. Zeer
Jim, pal.
Thought you needed to vent.
I really am OK.
I keep feeling slightly hopeless at work, though, and I hate that so much. I’m still finding my feet. It’s awkward.
It’s a real fucking job.
Paying real fucking money.
Why the hell did they give it to me?
Alan

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
If I’m a bastard, what does that make you, brat?
Diary entries attached.
And if you’re this nervous about it, you should either propose as soon as possible or forget the whole deal and keep living in sin.
Jim

T minus two years, three days

From: Mrs M. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Please don’t swear on paper.
It’s perfectly all right, son, I understand you have other things on your mind. I had a nice civilised little celebration with a few of the neighbours. It was quite genteel.
I hope you are getting along well.
Your mother,
Mary K. Zeer

From: L. Lockridge
To: J. Zeer
Hi, Jim
Got your note – so did your Gran.
She wasn’t in too good a mood, so all the response she gave was a couple of smiles, a frown at Michael and a definite nod when you suggested no-one else was necessary. I’m fairly sure she likes being called Gran – I’ll check again some other time.
About S.W.T. – yeah, makes sense. I’m guessing he has form responses? I’ll keep you informed, don’t worry.
As to Mrs Keller’s diary – I would be quite interested, but I’ll have to ask her about it, and like I already said she’s not too happy right now, so I’ll just have to wait.
It’s nearly the… pre-anniversary? I don’t know what to call it… but, two years before the launch of the Santa Maria, right? So cool that you’re on it…
Envy. Much envy. But in a nice way.
Lucy L.

From: J. Zeer
To: Mrs M. Zeer
I’m sure you’ll be glad to know I’m doing some socialising, too.
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: A. Jeffers
Big fucking party three days off. Two years to lift-off. Have meet-up arranged with group. Got invited to pre-party next door, so I guess I’ll do that.
Aren’t I the popular guy?
Actually, it occurred to me that in the past, I’d have been hosting – I’m kind of glad to shed the responsibility. I get the feeling I’m seen as fairly quiet, fairly responsible, maybe a little withdrawn, a little aloof, a little lonely… I don’t know, I haven’t asked, I probably will once I get a few drinks in me. Oh, they all know about my “hostility” and I think while they admire me for it, they’re also a little scared of me for it, and I don’t like that doing the right thing can land me in the category of people to be avoided for the sake of your health. Um. Yeah.
I’m sure there was a point to this…
Ah, fuck it. If there was, I’ll remember, and I’ll write again later.
Gonna miss you at the drinkin’, man.
Jim

T minus two years less one day

From: J. Zeer
To: A. Jeffers
Had sex with Dan.
Dan slit wrists.
Confused.