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Back on Earth (not back home, not anymore, not for a very long time) I think I remember there being some kind of rule against teachers having their own kids in their classes.
It was never relevant to me, what with my somewhat impressive lack of Earthly connections. But I have almost an entire memory of a whole drama around the English teacher’s son winding up in her class. Everyone was so concerned about favoritism and preferential treatment, but since the school was so small and she was the only English teacher for grade six, I think the administration just stuck a bored teacher’s aid in her class to monitor and called it good.
It’s a hazy memory, like many still are, but I think that’s less to do with my chemically induced amnesia and more to do with the imperfections of the Human brain. Plus, it’s been well over a decade (well, a conscious decade, since I rarely mentally count the years spent in a coma) since I was the kind of teacher that has to follow a list of state board-issued regulations and rules and endless professional guidelines for appropriate conduct.
Eridians do have something similar, since the education of their young is pretty important, but it’s nothing like the state board I used to be licensed through that liked to add increasingly arbitrary updates to their professional guidelines. No yearly professional reviews, no continuing education requirements, no legally required certificate to prove I was fit to shape the young minds in charge of tomorrow.
Instead, they hold annual (per the Eridian calendar) thrums to review if their education system needs updating. There is apparently a loose expectation for what young Eridians should probably know, but it’s far more localized, and it’s not required for Eridian kids (or pebbles as I was delighted to learn) to be fully enrolled in school in one way or another. For the most part, parents teach their pebbles for their first few years, until they’re old enough to join increasingly more complex lessons as they age. When Rocky and I returned all those years ago, I’m pretty sure the entire planet had to redo its education system to include all the new scientific discoveries we brought back with us.
The point of my runaway train of thought is favoritism and the legality of teaching your own family. I’d never be able to get away with it on Earth, but I also know it’s not something I ever would have faced. With no siblings and no real hope (or desire, for that matter) of some kind of long-term partner to raise kids with, it just never would have been relevant.
It’s relevant now. Very relevant. Relevant in a way I expected and prepared for, yet feel totally stressed out about in a way I really should have seen coming.
Because now here I am, pacing back and forth, running my hand through my hair and trying not to trip over three grapefruit sized (at least, what my sometimes-still-hazy memory conjured up as a grapefruit) extremely eager Eridians doing their very best to trip me.
“Big Grace is nervous,” trills a small, musical voice somewhere behind me. “Nervous, nervous, nervous!”
A second voice joins the first, shrill and just as excited, just as juvenile and just a little off-key. “Big Grace should not be nervous, had months to prepare!”
“Big Grace pacing making nervous emotions worse, worse, worse,” chimes the third voice, the softest of the three, yet just as snarky as their dad, curse him.
“Big Grace needs all students on the Eridian side of the barrier,” I say, awkwardly stepping over one of the pebbles as they bump into my shins and clamber over my ever-decaying chucks. “Also, Big Grace is Teacher Grace here, remember?”
All three pebbles fill the air with chittering laughter, sounding not unlike a collection of small wooden chimes caught in a whirlwind.
“Class not for many, many, many seconds!” the first of my three tormentors reminds me. “Lots of time for Little Grace-Mary-Terra to help calm Big Grace!” They’re right, unfortunately, like they usually are; a trait all three pebbles inherited from their parents.
Because for some reason, I came to class a full hour ahead of my usual arrival time, which is already a few minutes before class is scheduled to start. I meant to take a relaxing stroll along the beach before class to calm my own worries, only to have all three pebbles dumped extremely unceremoniously on me before I’d even finished my lunch.
Well, not dumped. But Rocky hadn’t given me any kind of heads up I’d get my three new students in my kitchen instead of my classroom on the big day. One second I’d been slurping down the equivalent of a smoothie (although this one was savory and warm, something I’d long ago adjusted to). And then the next, I had my three favorite pebbles clambering over my feet and yammering on and on about how excited they were to finally be old enough to attend my classes as official students, and not as the very special guests that sometimes snuck into my classes when Rocky or Adrian arrived a few minutes before a class ended.
One tiny, blue and brown claw tugs insistantly at the leg of my pants. “Big Grace not paying attention.” The helpful comment comes from Terra, their quiet voice picking up in volume at the laughter of their siblings. Sure, they’re objectively the most soft-spoken of the three, but that doesn’t translate to anything resembling shyness or reserved tendencies when around their family. And while they’re not quite as all over the place as their siblings, their carapace, all round and patchy, wiggled back and forth with excitement.
“Big Grace should get head in the game, statement!”
I whip around to where Mary is staring up at me from where they clambered up onto the stool I use when I don’t have to be up doing a full song and dance for my eager audience. “You need to stop using Human slang,” I say, pointing a very insistent finger at the little pebble.
Unfortunately, my words mean nothing, and they shake their little carapace with glee. Mary might look the most like Adrian, pointy and mottled with cool greens and greys, but has more attitude than even Rocky, which is saying a lot. Sometimes I even catch my poor best friend muttering regrets over his own behavior when faced with the sheer chaos of his middle child.
“Little Grace-Mary-Terra like Human slang.” Gracie (or Little Grace as they and their siblings often used) chortles, wobbling a little as they unnecessarily hop over my foot. I’ve given up my anxious pacing, but that doesn’t stop the pebbles from finding new ways to wind up underfoot. “Little Grace-Mary-Terra wish Big Grace would let us learn all Human slang!” Bossy, they are. Bossy as their dad, possibly even more so. I’d kind of expected that, at least, since they are almost a clone of Rocky, aside from their longer legs and more prominent green patches all over their little body.
With a sigh, I give up any attempt to plan for the lesson ahead, and instead carefully lower myself to the ground, cross-legged. Immediately, my lap is full of pebbles, and I thank my lucky stars they are still small enough that having all three together didn’t immediately shatter my poor bones where they perch on my legs. “Human slang is for advanced English lessons only,” I explain, even if the trio knew and had heard me say it about a million times. “Human slang is not for baby Eridians who haven’t even taken an advanced linguistics seminar.”
“Not babies!” The protest comes from all three, but Mary is the loudest, scrambling up to poke me with one xenonite-encased claw.
“Mary-Little Grace-Terra already advanced at English language,” they say, poking me again with each word. “Don’t need fancy class, have learned every day since hatch-day!”
As pushy as they can be, I had years with no one to talk to but their dad, and even if they sometimes give Rocky a run for his money, they’ll never reach the specific brand of pushy annoyance my best friend in the known Universe was able to achieve on our longest, slowest days drifting through empty space. “I dunno…” I trail off, raising one hand in a dramatized gesture of very important thinking. “You guys did mix up similes and metaphors last week…”
Just as I expected, all three pebbles let out very shrill, very annoyed chattering babble.
“Is the same, same, same!” whines Mary, rocking back and forth where they are hooked over my left knee.
Perched on my right thigh, Terra sways back and forth in agreement. “Rocky say similes and metaphors are stupid, stupid, stupid,” they trill, soft voice going sharp with their annoyance. “Adrian say similes and metaphors used by Big-Grace to confuse.”
That makes me laugh, the movement jostling the pebbles in my lap and the glasses slowly sliding down the bridge of my nose. “Adrian might be right,” I say, still laughing, “Because Adrian is very smart. Smartest Eridian I know, with the best understanding of English, too. And you know why, question?” While we don’t really need tone indicators, not anymore, not when it’s just me and my five favorite Eridians, they’re a difficult habit to break and a great tool for emphasis.
All three pebbles go motionless, turning to best catch my voice in their receptor points.
“Because Adrian completed all their English lessons in the correct order!”
Immediately, the trio of pebbles burst into more annoyed chatter. I can understand most of it, but a lot is nothing but sounds, wordless babble they’ll grow out of in just a few more years, according to all the stuff I’ve read and learned about Eridian young.
And I have read and listened to a lot of information about the developmental stages of Eridian young. Sure, I’d already had a pretty good understanding on the biology of it all thanks to my four and a half year crash course in all things Eridian from Rocky. Plus, during my many months of boredom spent recovering from every possible malnutrition-induced illness Humans could possibly experience, I’d had nothing to do but pester my care team until they gave me something to read while I was on forced bed-rest. And even after, in the few months where I was perfectly hale and hearty but my full biodome wasn’t ready for permanent habitation, I’d spent a lot of time doing nothing but studying the planet and its people that were my new home.
But despite all that education and investigation, the second Rocky and Adrian showed me the six little eggs that would eventually become three, I got so into researching baby Eridian development that Rocky thought I was possibly cracking. I wasn’t, thank you very much.
Even after a couple years of teaching my young Eridian students, I’ve never put significant effort into understanding how to raise them. My job for my students is to teach, to inspire. I am their teacher, not family, and that gives me a certain level of distance.
And now that distance has shattered, because starting today, the three pebbles babbling away in my lap are officially part of my class.
When Adrian pointed out the pebbles would soon be old enough to be my actual students, I kind of panicked. It was bad enough Rocky went from laughing to actually concerned in that way only Rocky could be when it came to my wellbeing. Thankfully, he was able to talk me off my metaphorical cliff.
Technically, I have been the pebbles’ teacher since the moment they chipped their way out of their eggs. But this is different. I am their teacher because I help them learn, but it isn’t my sole role in their life. I am their teacher because Eridians are like sponges when it comes to learning anything. I am their teacher the same way Rocky and Adrian are, in charge of teaching the pebbles how to be, not just how to understand an alien language and memorize scientific formulas.
It might’ve taken some strongly worded explanations from Rocky, and again from Adrian, but by the time the pebbles hatched, I’d managed to accept what my place in their life would be; maybe not a parent, not in the traditional Earth sense, but… not not a parent. They don’t live with me, but I am the go-to caretaker when Rocky and Adrian are busy with their respective jobs. I had no part in their creation, but I was there when they hatched. Eridians have a word for parent, but not for mom or dad, what with the whole lack of gendered language, and usually just refer to their parents by name. Instead of a specific word, the distinction comes from tone, as so many grammatical structures do. And while my Human ears and brain still can’t quite identify every indication tone and melodic inflection, I know for a fact the warbling sounds the pebbles use when they say my name are the some sounds that accompany Rocky and Adrian’s names.
“Big Grace not paying attention to Terra-Little Grace-Mary.” Terra’s soft voice breaks through my distracted thoughts, their claw prodding at my side. While there might be a barrier of xenonite between us, the latest suits are so form-fitting and thin that sometimes I forget they’re even there. And while that is great for things like hugs and cuddling baby Eridians while they sleep, it also means their sharp little baby claws are the perfect weapon to poke between my poor, fragile ribs.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I apologize, shaking my thoughts away and refocusing on the pebbles all focused very intently on me. “Big Grace is distracted. Today is a big day, and so I have lots of big thoughts in my head.”
All three do the Eridian equivalent of a blank stare: they shift back and forth, emitting small, quiet clicks, but don’t say a single word as they wait for me to say something they deem deserves a response. They might all be pushy and bossy and snarky like Rocky, and they’re too young to have any real patience, but they all inherited Adrian’s shockingly skilled ability to wait me out when they know I’ll cave in only a few seconds.
“Hey,” I say, more than a little desperate to get out of my own head. “Want to help me set up the classroom for today’s lesson?”
Three eager trills fill the air, and we set to work preparing for the day.
To nobody’s surprise except my own, having my own family as my students isn’t the huge deal I worried it would be.
Every single student already knows who they are, and probably knew they’d be joining the class today, too. They’re the kids of the savior of the entire planet, after all. Rocky is, quite literally, the most well-known and famous Eridian in all of Erid’s history. I’m pretty sure Gracie-Mary-Terra were already recorded in the historical logs before they even had their official names.
But despite their dad’s hero status, they’re also just the pebbles that sometimes break into the class or are seen waiting with Rocky and/or Adrian for me to wrap up my lessons to go have clutch-time, as Rocky calls it. Plus, they’re old enough to already have friends in my class.
And so everyone knew they would be joining the students on the other side of the xenonite barrier. Everyone was prepared. And honestly, the day goes as smoothly as any of my classes do. Sure, the little trio takes a few minutes to settle down with the rest of the class, and they keep calling me Big Grace with that specific signifier tone, but by the time my students are clattering down from their rocky perches and waving goodbye, all three have managed to call me Teacher Grace instead of their usual term for me.
I think they actually had an easier time than I did, because I spent the entire lesson hyper aware of the fact my first instinct will always be to respond to those three voices I can pick out of any crowd. I probably leaned a little too far away from my fear of favoritism seeing as I only called on each of them once to give me the answers, but it could have been a lot worse.
While the last of my students linger and I answer their straggler questions, which is actually one of my favorite parts of every scheduled class, the trio disappear through the small tunnel that connects their enclosed environment to mine. Just as the final student trills their thanks to me and turns to leave and I’ve barely managed to stand back up, I feel small claws tugging at my pants. When I look down, Terra and Gracie are already doing their best to climb straight up my leg while Mary inspects the experiment of the day from up close, or what’s left of it. Elephant toothpaste, it turns out, is just as popular with Eridian kids as it is with Earthling kids. It’s nothing but a bucket of very slowly rising foam now, and Mary already has one arm stuck inside the off-white mixture.
“So what’d you guys think?” Even if they are technically capable of climbing me like their own personal jungle gym, I have no interest in the bruises they tend to accidentally give me now that they’re officially in their second stage of growth and rapidly gaining mass. Since Mary is busy playing with the bucket of foam, I reach down and scoop Gracie and Terra each up in my arms, resting them against my hips as best I can. Thankfully, five arms are very handy when it comes to clinging.
“Have seen Big Grace be Teacher Grace before,” says Gracie, wiggling a little. “Nothing new.”
“Okay, and?” I hike them up a bit, shooting them a look. While they can’t see me, and they’re all young enough their echolocation skills are less precise than physically matured Eridians, they’ve also been exposed to my Humany quirks their whole lives.
“Little Grace thinks Big Grace fishing for compliments,” they say, way too smug. Beside them, Terra wiggles in agreement.
Unfortunately, before I can bemoan their continued use of Human slang, I hear a very distinctive plop behind me. And instead of continuing to seek the approval I don’t need but definitely want from my favorite pebbles, I have to drop them to the ground and turn and frantically pull their sibling out of the still slowly expanding bucket of hydrogen peroxide, active yeast, and my own precious synthesized soap straight from my own house.
That is, of course, exactly when footsteps I recognize instinctually come tip-tapping up behind me. Gracie and Terra skitter around me to clamber atop Rocky’s carapace, trilling and whistling their greetings, already chattering on and on about how the class went, voices overlapping. In my arms Mary squirms, thick foam still clinging to her xenonite suit and smearing over my poor, poor, poor cardigan and t-shirt.
“Did not know experiment included pebble participation,” says Rocky, voice going all lilting as he laughs at the sorry sight. “Grace knows bubble baths do not work with xenonite suits, question?”
“Hilarious,” I grumble, finally letting Mary down so they can skitter over and join their siblings perched on top of Rocky. “Rocky knows he is not a comedian, question?” And because I can be just as annoying to Rocky as he can to me, I add a little stomp-stomp of one foot for dramatic emphasis that we absolutely do not need to understand each other, not anymore.
That earns laughter from the pebbles and an answering stomp from Rocky, complete with one raised fist shaken in a very Human gesture of faux-rage. Unfortunately for him, the pebbles’ attention is quite suddenly drawn elsewhere down the beach, and after a second of squinting (if I lose my farsight vision as well as my nearsight, that might be my breaking point) I catch sight of another familiar figure trundling along the shoreline.
All three little terrors jump straight off Rocky to the ground, fifteen tiny feet and claws kicking off him like their own personal launch pad, which sends him staggering as he tries to maintain his balance as the pebbles disappear in a mad dash.
After I’ve wiped as much foam as I can off my clothes, I give up and turn to Rocky. “I thought you said you’d be busy until dinner later?” I glance at the traitorous bucket of foam as I speak, and since I don’t think it’ll overflow, decide I’ll deal with it tomorrow.
Carapace shaking, Rocky shuffles around a little. “Thrum did not need Rocky,” he says, evasive. “Said it would be best if I return to my family.”
I eye him for a second, then realize what he means. “You were totally being annoying about the kids’ first day of school, weren’t you?”
When he hums low and sharp and bumps into my leg, I know I’ve hit the nail on the head. “Gracie-Mary-Terra have already attended many lessons,” he huffs, turning away from me even though we both know full well it does nothing, since he can sense me from all sides. “Mission team simply did not need my expertise anymore.”
“Yeah, okay,” I say, even if it’s through laughter as I nudge him back with my knee, which in turn makes Rocky nudge me again, until we wind up just leaning against each other. “Pretty sure they’ve needed your expertise every single day for the past six months, but sure. Today just happened to be the day they didn’t need you.”
That earns me a very long, very dramatic sigh. It’s not actually a sigh, as in it’s not a long, audible exhale from his vents; it is instead his mimicry of what I sound like when I sigh. In the plethora of years spent mostly glued to each others’ sides, the sheer amount of sounds, mannerisms, and habits we’ve picked up from each other could probably make up our very own dictionary of pure gibberish.
While we watch Adrian try their best to walk down the beach with three rowdy pebbles clambering all over their tall carapace, I give in to the creeping exhaustion I usually feel after a full lesson and drop to the ground beside Rocky. “Are they still trying to convince you to join the mission?”
As soon as I settle on the ground, Rocky moves in, tucking his legs under his body and pressing up so close I have to lift an arm to rest on top of him. “Is not just Rocky they want,” he mutters, the vibrations traveling through the thin suit and up through my arm. “Eridian Aeronautic Division still wants Grace to serve as ambassador.”
This time it’s my turn to sigh, slumping a little as the warmth from Rocky’s body filters through his suit. The pebbles are just too small for their body heat to penetrate the xenonite very well, even with the latest upgraded suits. Rocky’s old ball had some slight warmth to it, but the flexible, shifting suit he wears now? The warmth I feel through the xenonite is the perfect temperature to soothe the aches I can feel growing stronger each day. Years and years of double the gravity my body is built for will take their toll; years and years of space travel and malnutrition, even if mostly healed, also leave their mark. Even with all the treatments that keep me far more limber and spry than I probably should be at my age, my body can only remain fit for so long.
“I already told them no,” I say, leaning even more heavily against Rocky until I give in further and slump my head down, pillowed on my own arm propped on top of him. “I’m way too old for space. And a possible one-way trip?” I shudder. “I’ve had my fill of those for a lifetime.”
Beneath my arm, Rocky shifts a little, a comforting hum echoing low around us. “Rocky feels the same,” he says. “Last time, was still very young. Knew Adrian would be okay, would wait and still have time left to be together when mission was over. Is different now. Rocky would miss the pebbles growing up. Would miss… too much.”
Technically speaking, Rocky is still pretty young. Well, not young, not exactly, but young enough to easily have time to make the proposed journey to Earth, stay for however many years it took to prepare a return mission, and come back to Erid. The pebbles wouldn’t even be fully grown, since Eridians’ growth slows pretty dramatically in their second and third stages. Gracie, Mary, and Terra would be teenagers right at the cusp of maturity by the time the delegation returned from their official first contact mission; still young, still childish, but already finding their own preferred specialty fields.
I could point this little fact out, but I know it’s not just the kids we won’t leave. The projected mission length to Earth is a little under seven years each way, thanks to the leaps and bounds made in the field of astrophage as propulsion and fuel. But that travel time is if everything goes according to plan, and doesn’t include whatever will happen when the Eridians reach Earth. That is, at a minimum, almost a decade and a half. And while the Eridian scientists are pretty confident I have plenty of life left in me, it’s all extremely theoretical.
When they requested I join the mission, it was an easy no. Sometimes, I wonder if Rocky would have agreed if I did first.
But we’ve had this discussion plenty of times. We don’t need to have it again, especially not when Adrian has almost made it to us.
“Guess we’ll have to leave the spacing to the young, single, and free,” I say, tapping my fingertips against Rocky’s suit.
“Grace should not use words incorrectly, is terrible influence on the pebbles,” he trills back, leaning more into me despite his disapproving tone.
That makes me chuckle, easy and light. “If anyone is a terrible influence on the pebbles, it’s you.” Adrian and aforementioned pebbles are only a dozen or so meters away now, close enough they can easily hear us, but I stay where I am, too comfortable to move. “I am nothing but an educational leader of scientific excellence and inter-species harmony.”
The sound Rocky lets out is somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, a little less musical than his usual voice in his indignance. “If Grace is such a perfect example of inter-species harmony, Grace can handle bedtime.” And because Rocky is a pest, he adds a slightly haughty, “Statement.”
Groaning, I say, “Oh come on! They never listen to me at bedtime!”
Rocky’s laughter fills the air as Adrian finally reaches us. To my sheer shock, all three pebbles are completely motionless, all tucked into their favorite spots to nap on Adrian’s carapace.
“Are they asleep?” I say, even if I haven’t even greeted Adrian yet. Barely a minute ago the pebbles were moving so quickly and so enthusiastically they could probably power a small planet, and now they’re all sleeping soundly, perfectly tranquil.
Adrian hums low, amused. “Gracie-Mary-Terra say they need to save their energy for later,” they explain, carefully settling on the ground with Rocky and me, sandwiching Rocky between us. Like this, I can stretch out my hand and press my fingertips to the edge of one of Adrian’s shoulder in a silent greeting.
“I’m almost afraid to ask what’s happening later,” I mutter, tone less to do with my mood and more to do with the relaxation slowly overtaking me now that the family is all together.
“The pebbles wish to recount your entire lesson,” Adrian explains. “They wish to explain everything they have learned from Teacher Grace.”
That sounds like them, and sounds like a very long, very noisy evening for us adults. “They do realize it’s stuff you guys know, right? It’s not like I’m hiding scientific secrets only pebbles get to know.”
Rocky and Adrian both trill with mild amusement.
“Perhaps the pebbles simply wish to copy Grace,” Adrian says, their voice as soothing as ever. Eridians as a whole have some pretty pleasant vocalizations and voices, but Adrian’s is a cut above the rest. “Perhaps pebbles wish to emulate Teacher Grace and follow in your footsteps.” Along with their ridiculously pleasant voice, and to Rocky’s genuine dismay, Adrian also has a far better grasp on English vocabulary and sentence structure, which definitely adds to their whole calming vibe.
Rocky claims it’s because they are smarter than him, what with Adrian being a highly respected scientist and all that, but personally, I think he likes sticking to the imperfect speech patterns we cobbled together in our first years together. Rocky’s genius might be most obvious with his creations, but I know he is just as smart as Adrian and far smarter than me, and could definitely learn perfect English grammar if he really wanted to.
But Adrian’s words catch something in me, and I glance up at them, only to look away again. “They’re just excited about their first day of class with me,” I say. “Pretty sure they’re a little young to be choosing their fields.”
Beside me, Rocky shifts, but Adrian beats him to whatever he might say.
“Yes,” they say, shifting towards where my fingertips fell away to lay flat against Rocky. “But excitement is not their only reason. Gracie-Mary-Terra always enjoy mimicking Grace.” It’s hard to argue with Adrian because nine times out of ten, they’re right. And this is one of those nine times. The pebbles do like mimicking me, always have.
“Well,” I say, swallowing down the initial instinct to deny it or worse, imply they shouldn’t mimic me. Instead, I swallow down my own words and say, “I guess we better prepare for a very enthusiastic lesson on chemical reactions.”
Beside me, Rocky wiggles a little, and Adrian hums so as not to dislodge any of the sleeping pebbles. They wouldn’t wake up, but once dislodged from their chosen napping spots, they’re a lot harder to reattach to Adrian’s (albeit expansive) carapace.
“Enthusiasm means day went well?” The question comes from Rocky, and honestly I’m surprised it took him this long to ask.
I nod, unable to stop my own grin. And even if I could, why would I? “You can gloat all you want,” I say. “As it turns out, having my own family as my students isn’t as big a deal as all my teacher training seminars back in the day made it out to be.”
I expected Rocky’s satisfied purring trill, which he pairs with a single leg extended to tap against my foot. Sandwiched as he is between Adrian and me, he can’t really move much, but he manages to get one front leg out. “Grace worried, worried, worried,” he says, shaking his carapace as much as he can. “Rocky and Adrian say over and over is fine, is fine, and yet Grace still worried! And all for nothing.”
“Grace’s worry is strange,” Adrian adds, which makes me turn with a curious look. “You had no pebbles of your own on Earth, yet these rules left such a strong impression they followed you all the way here even after so many years.” They pause, clicking quietly; getting a gauge of my reaction, probably, before they continue. “Earth’s rules are far away,” they say. “Grace is no longer an Earth teacher. Only Eridian now, statement.”
When I first met Adrian, they kind of intimidated me. They’re not chattery like Rocky, not as flighty, and while Rocky is plenty direct, he’s also pretty defensive and hot-headed. Adrian doesn’t need the dramatics and tends to stick to nothing but simple facts. And at first, that threw me off. But now, after so many years of exposure to Rocky’s beloved mate, I hear the affection in between the speculation and simply stated fact.
“Only Eridian is right,” I say, surprised when my voice feels a little scratchy. One day, I’ll be able to handle the specific brand of affection that comes with Eridian interpersonal bonds without immediately having some kind of physical response, but today is not that day. However, as much as I appreciate the fuzzy feelings, it’s been a bit of an emotionally taxing day. “You guys ready to head home?” I don’t specify which on purpose, shooting a look at Rocky and Adrian with a raised eyebrow.
“Hmm, yes, home now,” Rocky replies, shifting a little. “Grace come to ours.” It’s not a question or even a suggestion, which is fine by me. It’s easier for everyone to have dinner at Rocky and Adrian’s house, especially since the kids will probably get pretty tired pretty quickly even with their late afternoon nap.
Despite some mild protests, Rocky lets me use him to stand up, one hand lingering against him to steady myself. Unfortunately, in the day’s excitement I must have left my cane at home seeing as I was too busy with three unexpected pebbles dragging me out the door. But that’s fine, because Rocky is all too familiar with my need for some additional support when exhaustion starts to take over. And with one claw raised to the perfect height for me to hold onto, he’s honestly far better than a static cane when it comes to the sandy shoreline.
The tunnel to Rocky and Adrian’s house is pretty close to my own, and my suit usually hangs out in the airlock anyway, so we don’t even have to make a detour for it. My shirt and cardigan still have some foam residue, but I know there’s soft things stowed away in my own personal bubble built into the traditional Eridian structure they live in.
While the day started with a busy mind and more than a few nerves, I realize I am surprisingly relaxed as we make our way down the shoreline. After weeks of worrying over having the pebbles (our pebbles, some musical voice in the back of my mind reminds me) as my students, all it took was one lesson and a throw-away moment with Rocky and Adrian to lay those worries to rest.
I know, logically, that the rules of Earth will never truly leave me. I spent all my formative years there, learned how to be by following Human society rules.
But Adrian is right in more ways than one. I’m not an Earth teacher. Briefly, I wonder if I’m even legally an Earth citizen anymore. But even if I was, Erid is home. Erid has my students, my personalized weather, the beach built grain of sand by grain of sand just so I could have somewhere enjoyable to live. Erid has Adrian and Gracie and Mary and Terra, and I’d rather live the rest of my life in a manufactured bubble than ever leave their sides. I might’ve never considered having kids of my own on Earth, but I would do quite literally anything for the little trio that brings constant chaos to my door.
Erid has Rocky, and honestly, I don’t think I know how to exist without Rocky any more. It freaked me out when I first realized how dependent on him I was. It happened during the first time we were separated upon returning to Erid, but when I realized it was entirely mutual, it was pretty hard to cling to that fear of my own attachment.
“Grace is thinking very loudly.” Rocky’s voice breaks me out of my own head, the claw that’s holding me up as we make our way along the sandy shore tightening slightly around my fingers.
“Sorry, pal,” I say, squeezing his claw back. The Eridians managed to add two-way tactility to the xenonite suits three models back, but it still amazes me every time. “It’s been a long day.”
“Long day, yes,” he agrees. We’re a little slower than Adrian even with the pebbles asleep on top of them, and lagging a few steps behind. Rocky trills, curious. “Long day… but good day, question?”
Before replying, I glance out at the waves to our right, to the reflection of the crystalline dome just visible through the simulated fog that always lingers, then to Adrian in front of us, to all three sleeping pebbles in their shiny little suits, all tuckered out from the excitement. Finally, I glance down at Rocky, and I know my smile is probably more than a little goofy.
“Every day is a good day,” I say, and I mean it.
“Good, good, good,” he hums, his pleased tone obvious and warm and one of my favorite sounds of all time.
A little tired but more than a little happy, I let myself focus on nothing but the sound of the waves, the softness of the sand beneath my feet, and the overwhelming affection I feel for my family.
Tomorrow will probably be just as hectic, and I’ll probably still worry about teaching students who are also kind of my kids.
Tomorrow, we’ll do it all over again, and I honestly can’t wait.