T plus one year, two weeks, one day

Hey.
Hey.
Still mad at me?
You were mad, not me.
You were mad that I was mad.
Was I?
Yeah.
Oh.
So.
Yeah.
I’ll see you around, maybe we can be friends again at some point.
Yeah. Right.
OK. See you. Oh, wait. Here. Bye.

Jim absently turned the small package over in his hands, again and again, watching as Lucy walked away down the corridor, obviously tense. When she turned the corner out of sight, he looked down, really taking in for the first time what he held. It was a cuboid, neatly wrapped in plain dark green paper, with a gift-tag that read, in tiny precise letters, “I got you this a while back, didn’t have an excuse, then I remembered your birthday was round about now, but then shit happened, so call it a peace-offering if you like.” He sighed, and turned the parcel over again to pick at the tape holding it together. Pushing the door shut with his foot and turning to lean on it didn’t take his attention away from the delicate job of unpeeling the gift. After a minute or so, the wrappings came off easily to reveal an engraved wooden box with a dark lacquered finish. Jim took a moment to admire the box itself, but he could feel that there was something inside, and so he opened it. It held a compass, large and beautifully engraved and utterly useless. He lifted it out delicately, pondering the reason behind it for long moments before smiling at himself and replacing it, setting the box down gently on his desk. He could ask her whenever he decided he needed to know.

T plus one year, four months

From: M. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Sally and Michael are pleased to announce the healthy arrival of their second child, Campbell John.

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

From: L. Lockridge
To: M. Zeer
Hello Michael,
You don’t know me, but I’m a good friend of your brother, and I wanted to add my congratulations on your recent bundle of joy.
As I would like some day to have children of my own, I want to ask you a question or two. I was wondering how you’re going to deal with him and his sister when they find out they have an extra uncle. I’m sure they’ll be fascinated by the fact that he’s in space – who wouldn’t be? – but it’ll be a disappointment for sure when they find out why there are never any letters from him.
Oh well, just my two-penn’orth.
Yours,
L. Lockridge

T plus one year, nine months, two days

From: F. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Getting married to Seonaid. Thought you might like to know. How’s your hellcat doing? Man, Michael was pretty pissed about that…
Frank

“Lucy, love?” Jim asked, not looking up from the print-out he held. “Yeah?” she replied, not moving from her study of one of his poetry books. “You wouldn’t happen,” he said in a mild voice, “to be the hellcat that pissed Michael off?” She gasped, quietly, then snickered in confirmation. “Lucy…” he warned. She kept laughing.

T plus two years, three months, one week, one day

Lucy?
Yeah?
Marry me?

T plus three years, four days

From: M. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Mom died. Liver failure.
Michael

Lucy walked into their small apartment to see Jim sitting on the floor with a bottle in his hand. She settled herself next to him, and knocked against his arm companionably. He gazed at her for a brief, bleak moment before handing over the piece of paper, unsurprised when, taking in the contents at a glance, she pulled his head to her shoulder and wrapped her arms around his reluctant body. He would have pulled away, but that would only have led to conversation, and he didn’t think he could deal with that. Eventually, his back started to protest, and he stretched out, starting to talk as he did so to prevent her questions – while he appreciated her concern, it wasn’t always something he could deal with. “It must have been, what, six months ago now? Eight? Ten? I can’t keep track of it. I think only the folks actually in Nav can.” He noticed a slight flinch from Lucy at the last comment, and before he knew it he was shouting at her. “What the hell is your problem? Yes, I fucked Dan! It happened! Jesus, she’s not even here! I don’t even write to her any more! Do you see me getting worked up over your ex-es? I think not! Jesus!” His fiancee simply raised an eyebrow and leaned back a little, the better to look at him. “That help?” she asked. “Not really,” he told her, and sank back down to the floor.

T plus three years, four months, two days

Not going to carry me over the threshold? Shit, Jim! Jim, I didn’t… You’re a nutcase, you know that?
Well you married me. Who’s crazier?
God, I love you.
I’d noticed.

“What bothers me,” Jim mused later, “is that we don’t have anywhere to go on honeymoon.” Lucy laughed, incredulous, and replied, “You really are a girl, aren’t you?” He smacked her playfully on the shoulder, and she shrieked with laughter. “But seriously,” she continued when she got her breath back, “why does it bother you? It’s not like people actually do anything on honeymoon.” He slanted a sardonic look in her direction, and she giggled again. “Yes, well, we can do that perfectly well right here. And we have the numbers for all the delivery companies so we don’t have to cook, and if we want to do some sight-seeing there are always the viewing galleries, and I still haven’t been to the art gallery, and…” Jim leaned down and kissed her just to shut her up, but soon she was arching up into his touch and the discussion was postponed.

I just want to have something to look back on. Something special.
I hear you. How about Thailand?
Use that as… hmm. Still, we weren’t together then. Not really.
How about we go snog in a gallery? And we could get a room in the hotel in four-nine, maybe. Just for a night or two.
And just pretend… Sounds good.
Hey, anything to save on housework.

T plus four years, one month

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
All right, you son-of-a-bitch! I guess by the time you get this you’ll be married – you might be by the time I’m writing this – but still. Nice one, man.
I’m still happy. I’m glad you are.
Oh, shit, man, you’ll never guess! Casey and I talked about it, and we’re going up for adoption. It’s going to be so good, we’ll be the best damn parents on the island…
Seriously, Jim. I’m good. You’re good. Life is good.
Life is good.
Love, Sam

T plus four years, four months, two days

Lucy-love? What was the compass for?
Um… it…
I just wasn’t sure what you meant by it.
Well, neither am I.
Try?
It was… beautiful, all the engraving and stuff, and it just looked right, and I thought you would like it, and your room needed something without purpose, and… it just felt right to give it to you.
It’s wonderful, Lucy. It’s very you.
Maybe.
C’mere. Love you.
I noticed.

T plus five years, seven months

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Sally just left Michael. He’s pretty broken up about it.
She took the kids.
I wanted him to come stay with me for a while, get his head sorted out, but we have Shana and it would just hurt him. Damn it.
Why did this have to happen?
Oh, shit, do you know about Frank? He’s getting divorced too, but it’s not like he ever really cared in the first place. So, whatever.
Right. Happy things. Sitting on the beach with Casey, watching Shana building sand-castles. The kid is just beautiful, you know that? Six years old, inquisitive, friendly, curly brown hair and blue, blue eyes…
Family dinner. It’s weird being the father of the family but it’s so damn good at the same time. Are you doing the children thing? I assume you are, since they’ll need to keep the population stable… though it’ll be skewed to certain age groups, I suppose… huh. Seriously, man, it’s a gorgeous thing.
The sun rising over the sea on a clear, clear blue morning. The purity of the light and the freshness of the air. The peace of solitude and the feeling of connection with the ineffable. The way that first ray of light bursts above the horizon and you can’t look at it, but you don’t want to look away until the full disc is showing, and you just know you’re going to be half-blind for hours but you don’t care because it’s so unutterably beautiful. Walking out into the sea to greet the light, pay obeisiance to the great god Ra…
OK, I’m done now. Sorry about that.
Love,
Sam
P.S. Casey and Shana pay their regards too, of course. I wish you could… yeah. Miss you, still. S.

T plus six years, one week, five days

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
I’m a father.
Oh. My. Lord.
I don’t think there’s any way I could have been prepared for this.
I did have a minor freak-out a few months back involving the bastard and my unfortunate resemblance of him, but Lucy talked me down from it.
Did I tell you she’s started specialising in psychiatric cases? I was slightly offended by that, assuming it was my fault, but really… she can do anything she wants. And she is still the main wage-earner.
I might be earning a bit more on the side sometime soon, though. A group of us got together to do some writing – Sonya’s a journalist but most of us are just amateurs. Which is way cool, but some of us are better than others. So I’m in the elite group, and we’ve been talking about setting up a little press. Not that we’re short on books, or anything, the library’s astounding and there are a fair few shops too, but it’s not the same when you know there will never be anything new. So we might try that.
I’m a father. Oh god.
They’re both sleeping right now, and I’m nowhere near daft enough to wake them up, so I’m just sitting here trying to make sense of it all.
Didn’t even tell you, did I? A healthy girl and we’re calling her Rebecca.
She’s just so fucking tiny… It’s totally unreal. Wow.
OK, I’m just full of awe right now so I’ll sign off and go watch my daughter sleep.
My daughter Rebecca.
I’m a father.
Jim

T plus six years, ten months, three weeks

From: D. Lau
To: J. Zeer
Hey, Jim.
How you doing?
I heard about you and Lucy – Sam’s kept in touch, more or less.
Congratulations. I hope you two are happy together.
There’s no real reason for me to be writing this.
I’ve stopped, I think. Though I did think that last time. But I think, this time, I’ve stopped. I threw all the blades away. Well, I ritually killed them with a flame before I did that, but… yeah, sorry.
Anyway… I dunno, just felt like writing to you.
Oh, I got a good job – I’m helping develop new Nav-com systems. It’s damn annoying sometimes, though, they keep telling you that safety is prime, safety is key, safety is your number one priority, safety and reliability, these are our watchwords… then they show up and tell you the interface doesn’t allow for operator intuition. Honestly…
I’m still single, since you’ll probably want to know, and at the moment I’m still happy that way. I don’t have to worry about anyone else getting fucked up.
So, I’m all right, Jim. It’s all right.
Dan

T plus eight years, two months, one week

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Frank’s getting married again. To Seonaid’s ex-best-friend. Idiot man.
Shana is growing at a scary rate – when did I end up with a nine-year-old child? Pretty soon Casey and I will have a teenager on our hands, and isn’t that just going to be a whole pile of fun?
Would you believe there are still gay-bashers out there? What the fuck is with that? Oh, no, we’re all right, we’re fine, it was just a bit of vandalism, but still… However, wonderful Shana got a few comments in school about her two fathers, told us who said it, told the teachers who said it, and proceeded to inform us that two of the children who had been talking had, at other times, boasted about their elder siblings being the sort to take action over their beliefs. They got arrested, confessed, cleaned it up, paid the fine… there were a few dirty looks, but I think they learned their lesson.
Nobody fucks with this family.
Nobody fucks with my family. Not any more.
I love you.
Sam

T plus eight years, six months, three weeks, one day

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
Sam,
Lucy’s done it again. Another girl, and we’ve called her Jessica. She was bigger than ‘becca, but since it’s the second time the labour wasn’t as bad.
Still, Lucy claims to hate me, and told me immediately after delivery that there is no fucking way we are having a third. Ever.
I don’t really want any more, because I have this theory that the third child is the most fucked-up in any family – I know, I’m just talking from me, really, but look at Alan’s lot and tell me that isn’t true. Who else… there aren’t many, are there, really? Not many families with that many kids.
We were better off as a single woman with two children, weren’t we? We so were.
Oh, ‘becca was so sweet, going in to see the new baby. She wasn’t particularly enthused, to start with, but then she held out a finger and Jess just latched on. This is going to be so great.
I have to say, I’m not looking forward to the hormone bombs they will undoubtedly someday become, but… I hope that’s working out for you, Shana-wise. Though by the time you get this and reply to it, the kid will be on the way out of those years.
Jeez. I keep forgetting how far away I am already.
Anyway.
Love them so much.
Love you too.
Jim

T plus ten years, eight months, two weeks, one day

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Frank’s getting divorced again, but Michael’s found someone he seems fairly serious about. And of course my family is going strong.
Casey and I had a bit of a rough patch last year, but we’re over it and we’re better than ever.
You are better off out there, you know. Since Mom died, I’ve been the contact point for those two – a fair few of the cousins as well, come to think of it – I never realised how much the woman did to keep us all together. And I can’t bring myself to care deeply enough about the extended family to actually bother being active in bringing us together. Oh well. It happens. Anyway, I’m the contact point for Frank and Michael and they keep… they keep treating me like a kid one minute and asking my advice on relationships the next. Michael was asking me about his kids, for Christ’s sake! He has limited access, but on this particular occasion he had them for three weeks all to himself, and he didn’t know what the hell to do with them. “What should I feed them? Should I discipline them? Should I this, should I that, what if they…” so on, so forth… because I know so much about being an absentee father. Honestly, with him, the rules are different, and I can’t help but feel sorry for him losing out on their lives, and it’s not his fault, but… I don’t know! I can’t help him!
Sorry. But it’s not like you can nark at me for taking it out on you.
I’m so glad Shana’s not a problem child.
I’m glad you have a family too.
Sam

T plus eleven years, four months, two days

“I didn’t even think about school,” Jim said, bewildered. “How could I not have thought about it?” Rebecca looked down at him buckling her shoe, and said, “because you’re silly, Dad.” He looked back at her, then reached out and pinched her cheek. “I’m not silly,” he said, “you are.” She shrieked denial as he swung her up off the chair and held her out to her mother for a goodbye kiss, then started laughing happily as he carried her out of the apartment.

T plus thirteen years, four months, two days

Jim chuckled slightly as they booked into the hotel, and explained, at Lucy’s quizzical expression, that he had been thinking of “Sonya, trapped with the brats.” Lucy automatically smacked him on the shoulder for referring to her daughters that way, then rubbed it in apology, acknowledging that the children weren’t all sweetness and light. He managed to take her by surprise as they reached the room, hoisting her into his arms and carrying her in to deposit her on the bed. “No kids,” he said, shucking his jacket, “no interruptions, no rush, no worry about noise…” She stretched, lazily, arching her back and pointing her toes. He stood casually, looking down at her, and said in a conversational tone, “I’m going to make you scream.”

T plus fourteen years, six months, one week, three days

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
Hi, Sam
No reason for it this time, just wanted to write some stuff out, so here we are.
First off – our father. The bastard’s dead already, right? Of course he is. So why the fuck does it matter? It doesn’t. So we just let it go.
Next – actually, that was about all that mattered. Oh well.
Wait. The boys. Frankie and Mikey. I’m glad you’re still in touch with them (assuming you still are, now) and you should keep that way but, y’know, don’t worry about them. They’re big boys.
I have a beautiful family. You have a beautiful family. They’re never going to meet. But they know about each other, and that’s worth something, right?
I miss you still, man. Our time in Iceland is a treasure in my heart, one of the happy places I think of when life gets too much.
Thank you for that.
Thank you for being you.
Thank you for loving me.
Jim

T plus sixteen years, two months, four days

From: A. Jeffers
To: J. Zeer
Hey, man.
Thought I ought to get in touch at some point.
Where to start? I’m married now, to Tegan, who is a nice girl whom my mother introduced to me, surprisingly enough. We’re content. No children and no plans for them – we neither of us have particularly good experiences in that department, and the population growth is still a problem.
There are another five colony ships planned already. You may be the first, but pretty soon everybody’s going to know someone who’s skipped out on Gaia.
Lord, the woman’s a bad influence. That was totally unintentional, I’m sorry. I’m working well and living well and I just wanted to let you know I’m OK, in case you ever wondered. You don’t need to reply – I ran into Sam a while back.
Congratulations on the good stuff, commiserations on the bad.
Alan

T plus nineteen years, one month, five days

Jim surveyed his three girls as they sat at the dinner table, and felt profoundly grateful for his good fortune. It wasn’t exactly easy coping with their mood swings, and every single one of them seemed to have him wrapped around their little finger, but still. It was wonderful. He didn’t notice his vision greying out until it was too late, and he collapsed onto the table.

“Mamma?” Jess asked quietly, “is Dad going to be all right?” Lucy closed her eyes for a long moment, steeling herself against the hope in her younger daughter’s voice. “I don’t know,” she said softly, squeezing her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “I hope so.” On her other side, Rebecca leaned into her, seeming much younger than her pubescent years, and carefully saying nothing. They waited.

From: L. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
Sam,
He’s dead.
I’m sorry.
Lucy