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“I told you, Dad. I’m not going.” Lolo stands in the living room with his arms crossed, the picture of adolescent defiance. His hair, which he wears long, has been reddened by the sun and is almost approaching his mother’s auburn; his shorts are the kind of torn cutoffs we used to wear on Dorvan because we knew our parents hated them. His eyes are not as determined as his voice.
“This is not a request, Lolo. Tonight is very important to your mother and I need you to be ready in under five minutes.”
“Yeah, well, it’s important to me not to go.”
I wonder briefly if I was ever this bad — then realize that I was probably worse. It’s not the first time I’ve wished I could apologize to my father. It’s also not the first time I’ve wished Lolo could meet his grandfather. Either grandfather. It’s why I’m writing about them right now — a memoir of the older Admiral Janeway, and of Kolopak, for my kids.
“Okay, then,” I say with practiced patience, “why is it important to you to stay home?”
He thinks for a minute, and I can tell he’s measuring his words. I suspect there aren’t enough in the dictionary for what he’s really feeling. “Because Mikki and Dan are going to finish Captain Proton tonight and I can’t miss the last chapter.”
Captain Proton? How in the galaxy did they get their hands on that old thing? Screaming blondes, manly men saving the day. I only hope his mother is not in this version. I’ll have to have a talk with Tom Paris tonight.
“Are you sure that’s why?” I ask. “Because I kind of think it’s something else.”
He kicks at the floor tiles. “I just don’t want to go.”
Kathryn appears at the foot of the stairs, in full grey dress uniform and five very new pips. She had her hair cut this afternoon; it’s a style I told her looked beautiful on her years ago. Decades ago. She’s finally letting it go a little white. She’s stunning. “What’s this?” she asks Lolo. “You don’t want to go to another boring Starfleet reception?”
Lolo frowns at the sympathy in her voice. Me he knows how to deal with. His mother the newly minted admiral he’s not so sure of. Kathryn crosses to him and puts a conspiratorial arm on his shoulders. He’s almost as tall as she is. “No?” he says finally.
“Well, it’s a special occasion and I’m feeling magnanimous. I think we can get by without you, just this once.”
He grins and looks to me for permission. “Go ahead,” I say. “Go.”
And he takes off out the front door without so much as a thank you. Kathryn shakes her head, laughing.
“You and I need to have a little talk,” I tell her. “About that united parenting front. Remember?”
“Oh, Chakotay, I’m sorry. It’s just that I remember how much I hated these things at his age.”
“And I hated being dragged to South America at his age. But it was the right thing to do, Kathryn.”
“And I just made you play security officer. I’m sorry,” she says again.
“You’re forgiven.” I wrap my arms around her from behind and breathe in her perfume — roses and patchouli. “What did you hate about ‘these things’ when you were a kid?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I hated dressing up, and remembering to say ’sir’ and ‘ma’am,’ and having no one to talk to but Phoebe. And I guess maybe I was a little resentful that my father seemed to have more time to spend with bureaucrats than with — ” She stops. “Ah. I should have thought of that.” She twists her neck so she can see me. “I guess I’m a little out of practice.”
“A little.”
“But you don’t have to rub it in.”
“No, actually, I think I do. Ow!” She’s brought her heel down, hard, on top of my toes. “Keep that up and I won’t be at that reception, either.”
“Oh, yes, you will. I need someone to rescue me from Admiral Braard’s husband when he tries to tell me, for the millionth time, about the two weeks he spent in the delta quadrant before Topali was born.”
“What makes you think I won’t run in the other direction out of self-preservation?”
“Because you always rescue me from the Admiral Braard’s husbands of the universe. Why do you think I married you?”
It’s nothing. Nonsense. The marital equivalent of small talk. She’s only been home for a week, and most of our communication, when she’s had a few minutes away from her new office, has been of a more physical form. It’s always that way when we see each other again, like we have to convince ourselves that this is the same person we’ve been seeing over the viewscreen. She’s been stationed as an ambassador at DS16 for more than four years. And for eight years before that she commanded starships from here all the way back to the delta quadrant.
DS16 is a long, long way from Tsaile, Arizona.
I know there are stories about why she finally accepted the admiralty and agreed to take a desk job. They say I gave her an ultimatum, or Starfleet did. They say she failed as an ambassador. They say she ran out of excuses to stay away from earth.
The truth is much simpler. The truth is that we both realized that our marriage wouldn’t survive too many more years of this — and that our younger child thinks of his mother as little more than an occasional visitor.
She closes her eyes and sinks into me, her head dropping to my shoulder. We rock a little, standing there.
Our transport is right on time, of course. The pilot dips in over Canyon del Muerto, for the view. The sun is just starting to set and there’s a trickle of water in the wash. We had rain yesterday. The cliffs glow red, the long-abandoned homes carved into the rock casting shadows far below.
I didn’t grow up here, but it’s home now.
“I haven’t even had time for a walk in the canyon yet,” Kathryn says, looking out the window.
“There are plenty of days ahead,” I say, though I always head straight for the rocks when I return from a trip. Even after all these years I don’t really understand how she can stay away.
“Excuse me, Admiral?” the pilot asks. She’s a very young ensign, not six months out of the Academy, I think. “I’d just like to say that it’s an honor flying with you. Both of you.”
We thank her and share a secret smile. Fame may be fleeting, but in Starfleet it doesn’t have very far to go.
***
Kathryn’s new aide, Lieutenant Paramisavan, greets us at the door of the reception hall. He’s young and he’s eager and he already has four messages for Kathryn. “Good evening, Admiral, Mr. Chakotay. Admiral de Roche asked me to tell you he plans to toast you at 2100, Captain Hazuka would like a few minutes of your time tonight, your daughter arrived ten minutes ago and is by the terrace doors with Captain Emery, and I sent the coffee back because it was too weak.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Kathryn says easily. “I’ll thank Admiral de Roche after the toast and I trust your judgment on the coffee. Please tell Hazuka that she’ll have a better chance tomorrow at the office. Have you met my husband?”
“No, ma’am.” He shakes my hand. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Chakotay. I watched the Voyager holovids in school. I was thrilled when I was offered the position with the admiral.”
“So was I, Lieutenant.”
The poor boy doesn’t know whether to laugh or not. He watches Kathryn’s lead and smiles when she does.
“Takes a good sense of humor to survive a long-distance marriage,” Kathryn says. “Keep that in mind, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, ma’am. I will.”
Apparently she no longer objects to the ma’am. Or maybe she’s going easy on him.
“Now if you’ll excuse us, Lieutenant,” Kathryn says, “I haven’t seen my daughter in a year.”
“Of course, Admiral.” He backs away and practically bows.
“I’m impressed,” I tell Kathryn as we walk.
“Huh?”
“Did he come that way or did you whip him into shape in a week?”
“Oh, he came that way. Eventually I’ll tell him to calm down.”
“Nothing like a little hero worship, eh, Kath?”
“You’re lucky I like you or I wouldn’t put up with that kind of insubordination.”
The hall isn’t full yet, and Topali stands with Declan Emery by the open glass doors. We can hear Topa’s high, clear laugh when we’re still five or six meters away. Declan used to read her stories when she was a little girl, many years ago now.
Declan was the helmsman on the Ecuador, Kathryn’s first command after Voyager. Topa and I were with her there, for nearly five years. But Topa gets spacesick — seasick, sometimes transporter beam sick — and we got tired of pumping our daughter full of hyposprays every day. The medicines made it difficult for her to concentrate when she started school, too. So Kathryn took a position at the Academy and Lolo, like his sister, was born on earth. But when Kathryn was offered command of the Pax, a galaxy-class diplomatic ship, we agreed that she had to take it. Topali was eight. Lolo was barely one and hadn’t said “mama” yet.
Declan spots us first. “Will you look at her, Admiral? Blink and they grow up, eh?”
Topali turns to us, smiling. Declan shakes my hand and Kathryn’s and then excuses himself, to give us a few minutes alone. I’ve always liked Declan.
“You look beautiful, Topa,” I say. “We’re glad you could come.”
“Hi, Daddy.” She stands on her toes to kiss me. “Hi, Admiral.”
“That’s Admiral Mom to you.” Kathryn holds out her arms for our daughter.
Topali looks nothing like her mother, except for the eyes. She doesn’t look quite like me, either, though. Black hair, blue eyes, long limbs, and dimples. She’s wearing a short, simple white dress and her hair is in hundreds of tiny braids that fall halfway down her back. One has silver beads in it.
“I love the hair, Topa,” Kathryn says, pulling away but still fiddling with the braids. “This new?”
“Grace did it. Isn’t it prime?”
Kathryn looks up at me over Topali’s shoulder. I mouth the word “roommate” to her.
“Tell Grace she did a beautiful job. You going to keep it?”
Topali shrugs. “For now. Did you have a good trip back?”
“Completely uneventful.”
“Aw, too bad. Hey. Where’s Lolo?”
“I gave him the night off,” Kathryn says.
Topali turns to me, one eyebrow raised, and then back to her mother. “You mean you let him go to the holo arcade. You spoil that kid, you know.”
“And we were so tough on you,” I say, reaching for her hand and swinging it between us.
“That’s right. You were such a taskmaster, Dad.”
I see it coming before Kathryn does: Admiral de Roche, walking up behind her. “I think you’re about to be summoned, Kath.”
“Hmm?” She turns slowly and puts on her Starfleet face. “Admiral de Roche. So good to see you. Thank you for coming.”
“My pleasure, Admiral Janeway. And congratulations to you and your family.” He nods at me. “Chakotay. Topali. My, you’re getting to be such a big girl.”
“Thank you, sir.” It’s been years since Topali was at a formal Starfleet function, but she learned her lessons young. I squeeze her hand.
“Hardly a girl anymore, Admiral,” Kathryn says, with her most official laugh. “She’s at university now.”
“Are you? And what are you studying?”
“Pre-Columbian archaeology, sir.”
“Trying to interpret those ruins on your doorstep, are you?”
She isn’t, but she smiles politely anyway. She’s more interested in the Mississippian mound-builders and their ancestors. Canyon del Muerto and Canyon de Chelly are a little too close to home, literally.
De Roche turns to Kathryn. “I’m sorry to tear you away, Admiral, but I’d like to introduce you to the Bolian ambassador. If you don’t mind.”
“Of course.” To Topali and me she says, “Talk to you later?”
I nod, and we both watch them walk away.
“Do you like my hair, Dad?”
“I love it. It’s you.”
“It was Mom who let Lolo get away with it, wasn’t it?”
“Why, because I’m a taskmaster?”
“You don’t fall so easily to his dubious charms.”
“Your mother lived through plenty of Starfleet receptions as a kid. She understood where Lolo was coming from. So do you, I think.”
“Exactly why he should be here.”
“Suffer and suffer alike?”
She shrugs.
“You didn’t mind coming tonight, did you, Topa?”
“Nah. I’m too old to worry about that sort of thing.” She flashes me the same smile she used to use when she was plotting no good. Kathryn always said Topali learned it from me, but Kathryn’s not exactly an innocent, either. I can’t help but return the smile.
“Really. Then what are you old enough to worry about?”
“Finals. An 8,000-word essay on Hopewellian trade routes and the transmission of pottery styles, another on comparative Algonkian linguistics, a model of Janacek’s 2309 dig on Bora Prime, and two exams.”
“And Jael?”
She blushes. “Well, her I’m not too worried about.”
“Good. I’m glad, Topa.”
“You just like her because she made you dinner.”
“No, I like her because she makes you happy.”
Her face gets serious. “She’s nervous about meeting Mom. I don’t think she believes it yet, that I’m really a Starfleet brat after all. Daughter of the famous Captain Janeway.”
“Mom will love her.”
“Daddy? Does Mom make you happy?”
Well. I didn’t really expect that tonight.
“Does Mom make me happy?” I say, stalling. “Yes. She does. But not in the way I expected when we were younger. And being far away from her has never made me happy.”
“Me, neither.” She spins one of her rings on her finger. I almost think she’s hypnotized herself with it. The other conversations in the reception hall seem to have blended into white noise, leaving the two of us in our own containment field.
Once, when Topali was younger and angrier and wanted to hurt me, she said I was a fool if I thought Kathryn was faithful. It was the first and only time I ever wanted to hit one of my children. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember how my eyes stung and that we both ended up in tears. That night, after I’d put Lolo to bed, Topa came outside and sat next to me in the desert, begging me to tell her stories about Kathryn — all the stories I could remember about Kathryn. Her parents, and Phoebe. Justin and Mark. The Cardassian camps. How we met, how we fell in and out and back in love, our first, brief attempt to make a life together, the many days when we were sure we’d never survive the delta quadrant. Our return to earth, and a shy, hopeful Kathryn at the end of a deserted pier, asking me if it was too late. I’d thought it was, until she asked.
Topa’s been angry with me since, furious even, but she’s never lashed out like that. I think she learned that I wasn’t invincible, that words could break bones after all. And I learned that sometimes children need to hear truths you don’t want to say.
Right now, I can tell that one of those questions is about to come out of her mouth.
“Are you guys going to be okay now that Mom’s home?”
I take a deep breath and touch her hair. The braids are so thin they slip through my fingers. “I don’t know, Topa. I hope so. Your mother and I love each other very much.”
“I know. But that’s not always enough, though, is it?” She cocks her head in a way that reminds me of Kathryn, of a much different Kathryn in a much different place.
“No,” I say. “No, it’s not always enough. But it’s a good place to start.”
Across the room, Kathryn laughs at one of the Bolian ambassador’s jokes, and Paramisavan waves at us.
***
Topali and I both turn when we hear a familiar voice. “Hello, old man.”
“B’Elanna B’Elanna B’Elanna,” Topali says, throwing her arms around the petite half-Klingon and nearly spilling the two glasses B’Elanna is holding. “Am I glad to see you. How long are you on earth for?”
B’Elanna eyes her, mock-warily, and hands her a glass of synthehol wine. She and Tom spend most of their time at Utopia Planitia. They quit Starfleet almost immediately after we got back to earth, but even the admirals had enough sense to retain them as consultants. “A week or so,” B’Elanna says. “Why?”
“You have to help me with temporal physics. My exam is in three weeks and I don’t understand anything. Please?”
“What, your dad can’t explain it?”
“Very funny, B’Elanna.”
Topali grins. “You know, you’d think, for a former Starfleet Academy instructor …”
“Stow it, Janeway.”
We all four share an easy laugh. I check B’Elanna’s hand, an old joke — still no wedding ring.
“Of course I’ll help you,” B’Elanna says, swatting my hand away. “Tomorrow night? You come over for dinner and then we’ll hit the books.”
“Thank you thank you. You’re the best. Free food, even.”
“No way,” Tom says. “You have to work for that.”
“I’ll scrub the kitchen floor with a toothbrush, I promise.”
“That’s more like it. Where’s your kid brother?”
Topali shrugs. “He’d rather be in the holo arcade with his little friends.”
“Can’t say as I blame him,” Tom says, with a good impression of his old smirk. B’Elanna shakes her head, but she’s smiling, too. “Hey! We admirals’ kids have to stick together, you know. Right, Topali?”
“Yeah, whatever,” Topa says dubiously. He tugs at one of her braids.
“Speaking of admirals’ kids,” I say, “would you have any idea how my son and his friends found a holonovel called ‘Captain Proton’?”
Tom laughs. “Are you serious? Where did they get that?”
I take a sip from the glass of water Tom handed me a few minutes ago. “I think that’s what I just asked you. I thought you deleted it from Voyager’s database.”
“Uh, well, no, not exactly. I gave a copy to George Kim years ago, as a joke. Harry thought it was funny, anyway. It must have gone underground. I’m sure it hasn’t been published.”
“Just tell me it’s not the version with Arachnia,” I say.
B’Elanna rolls her eyes. “Oh, Tom, you never programmed her in, did you?”
He holds up his hands in self-defense. “I didn’t, I didn’t. It’s Janeway-safe, I promise.”
Topali slips away from us; she has an instinct for when the Voyager nostalgia is going to start flying.
The three of us recall old friends, far away.
***
Hours later, B’Elanna finds me outside on the terrace. I’ve successfully rescued my wife from Admiral Braard’s husband — without lying, even — and my daughter from a junior grade lieutenant stationed by an entrance. I’ve talked to Captain Hazuka about the matter she wanted to discuss with Kathryn; I haven’t been in Starfleet for twenty years, but I still get asked for advice. I’ve met four ambassadors, two admirals, and seven captains now in Kathryn’s chain of command. I’ve been recognized by three people who know my books — and not only the first one, which was about Voyager.
All in all, not a bad evening, as Starfleet receptions go.
B’Elanna stations herself in front of me, smiling gently. Her face has softened a little over the years; her eyes are a little wider, a little less tight. She grew her hair out a while back, and tonight she’s wearing it in a loose twist at the back of her head. I asked her about it once and she said Tom had been begging her for long hair for years. “Men,” she said at the time, teasing me. “You’re all alike.”
“How are you doing, Chakotay?” she asks.
“I can’t keep up so well with you young folks anymore.”
“Poor thing. That’s not what I meant.”
“I know it’s not. We’re okay, B’Elanna. We’re all okay.”
“Good,” she says. “That’s … good.”
I don’t intend to say anything else, but as she watches me, words materialize on my lips. B’Elanna and I have been each other’s confessors since the early, awful days on Voyager.
“I’ve waited for years to have her home again,” I say.
“I know. Is it what you expected?”
“Too early to tell. But it’s certainly nice to wake up next to her. I’d forgotten.”
“You were just on DS16 a few months ago.”
“It’s not the same.”
“No. I guess not.”
We fall silent. I hear Topa’s laugh, very faint, from inside. It’s a sound I can recognize in any cacophony. B’Elanna hears it too, and smiles.
“And the kids?” she asks finally.
I sigh. This is a familiar conversation. “She’s trying, B’Elanna. She’s here, isn’t she?”
“Here, in San Francisco, and Lolo’s 1,200 kilometers away.” Her voice is calm but, as usual, she’s managed to strike right at all my own doubts. Sometimes she knows me far too well. Sometimes she knows me better than Kathryn does.
I can feel defensive anger pushing into my words. “She was trying to find a way to connect with him. Not a decision I would have made, but she’s trying. We never thought it would be easy.”
“And Topa,” she says, still quietly. “How can an admiral’s daughter have no understanding of temporal physics? Or particle physics, or quantum physics, or — ”
I cut her off. “I get the irony.”
She sighs, exasperated. “It’s just that I love those kids of yours.”
“So does Kathryn, B’Elanna. She’s their mother. You try having some kids of your own, and then you can tell us how to raise ours.”
She pulls back. Not many people could see the hurt in her eyes. She’s still very good at covering it up with anger. “If you don’t want my advice, then why the hell do you ask for it?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, more annoyed with myself than with her. “Damn. I don’t think this is a good time for this conversation, B’Elanna.”
“What conversation is that?” The voice is Kathryn’s, soft and low, from the doorway behind us. B’Elanna and I both spin around to face her. It’s a strange dynamic between them, it always has been: B’Elanna frowns, straightens her back. She reminds me of Lolo when I catch him in a lie. I look from my wife to my oldest friend, knowing I should be the one to make a joke that will clear the way for pleasant small talk. But no words present themselves.
Kathryn takes a few steps toward us. “What conversation is that?” she repeats, and I can see, though I’m sure B’Elanna can’t, the beginning of a smile at the corners of her mouth. I can also feel B’Elanna tensing beside me, ready for battle, still, after all these years. I touch her arm to tell her it’s okay, but she doesn’t need my reassurance. I know before she opens her mouth that it’s too late to stop what’s coming.
B’Elanna crosses her arms and tilts up her chin. For a moment I think we’re all twenty-five years younger, or more. “The conversation where I tell Chakotay that he deserves better.” She hesitates before adding, “Admiral.”
“Better than me? I could have told you that. I’ve been telling him that for years.”
Kathryn’s light-hearted reaction surprises B’Elanna, but she’s had enough Janeway practice to recover quickly. She lets out a small, quick laugh, and lets herself breathe. “Shit,” she says.
I put an arm around her shoulders, silently thanking Kathryn. “It’s okay, Bella.” I haven’t used the old nickname in ages. She sighs when she hears it. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s just been a long night.”
“That’s for sure.” She squeezes my hand. “You know, I think I’m going to go find Tom. Have to be awake tomorrow to make sure Topali doesn’t fail temporal physics. Goodnight, Chakotay, Admiral. And congratulations again.” She slips through the door.
Kathryn’s eyes narrow as she walks towards me. “What was that about?”
“My fault. I lost my temper with her and she didn’t deserve it.”
She nods. She’s always respected my friendship with B’Elanna, and I suspect she knows exactly what we were talking about, anyway.
She winces a little. “Is Topali really failing temporal physics?”
“She’s not failing, Kathryn. She’s not doing very well, but she gets near-perfect scores in everything else. B’Elanna will set her straight.” I turn around and rest my elbows on the old-fashioned marble rail. Kathryn joins me, and we stare out into the night, shoulder to shoulder. Bach floats through the air. Why does it always have to be Bach at these things?
“Chakotay?”
“Hmm?”
“How long has Topa been having trouble with physics?”
I shrug. “It’s never been her strong suit. She’s a born historian.”
“That long, huh?”
An owl calls, somewhere off to the north.
“I don’t know how Lolo is doing in school, either. I don’t know any of the names of the friends he’s out with tonight. I couldn’t tell you who Topa’s first date was.”
“Paul. Paul Ghebremicael.”
“Paul Ghebremicael,” she repeats. “Nice name. Was he good for her?”
“They were kids. They had fun. He made her laugh. What more can you ask for at that age?”
“I’m not sure how much more you can ask for at our age.”
“That’s true.”
“The one she’s seeing now — is it Jael?”
“Jael, yes.” I look at her sideways. “I told Topa you’d love her. Don’t let me down.”
“Well. I see my mind is already made up, then.”
We laugh together, and it feels good. Better than any of the sex we’ve had in the last week.
“And what about you, Chakotay?”
I turn to her. “What about me? You know who my first date was.”
She nudges me with her shoulder. The wind off the bay draws her hair back from her face. I’d never thought of a woman Kathryn’s age as attractive, but god, she’s so beautiful. More so every year.
“Topa worships you, you know, Kath.”
Kathryn’s surprise is genuine, the kind of naked emotion I know she never shows to anyone else — even if I don’t see it much anymore. “She does?”
“She does. And she’s very aware that she didn’t inherit all your science genes.”
“She doesn’t have to live up to me. She has talents I’ve never had.”
“You know how it is, Kathryn. You worshipped your father. I worshipped mine, when I wasn’t furious with him.”
“I guess I just assumed you’d be a more appropriate object of awe.”
“Maybe.”
“But you’re the one who’s always been here.”
“Maybe.”
“You’ve done an amazing job with her, you know, Chakotay. Lolo too … though I know he’s more of a work in progress.”
“They’re good kids,” I agree, pulling her close at my side.
She puts one arm around my waist and leans her head on my shoulder. The usual San Francisco fog is rolling in over the bridge, obscuring the highest lights. The air is damp on my skin.
“Chakotay? Do you think I should offer to help Topa?”
Her uncertainty could break my heart.
When Topa was tiny and we were on the Ecuador, she’d run into her mother’s arms every evening, and her baths would take an hour because that was Mommy time. I’d be working at my desk and I’d hear the laughter and the splashes and the storybooks through the door.
“You know what I think she’d like more, Kath? Ask her to take you to the Serpent Mound.” It’s been Topali’s obsession since she was twelve, and Kathryn has never been there. I think she was in the gamma quadrant the first time we went. She didn’t get to see Lolo spinning, with his hands stretched up to the sun high overhead. She didn’t see Topa running from one end of the serpent to the other, six times in a row until she got dizzy and had to sit down. She didn’t hear Topa calling out to me and to the sky, “We belong here, Dad.”
Kathryn thinks about my suggestion for a few seconds, and nods in the same way she does when she makes a command decision. “Okay. I will. Crazy that I’ve never been, isn’t it? You’d think I’d have wanted to get out of Indiana, even if it was only to Ohio.”
“It’ll be better with Topa anyway. She’ll give you quite a tour.”
“I’m sure she will.”
I watch the fog and I feel the weight of her at my side, and I try to remember the days when all I had to reach through to touch her was a few centimeters of air.
***
In the morning I’m awakened by Kathryn, under the covers, swallowing me whole. I lay a hand on her hair in greeting, and her response is to do something incredible with her tongue that sets me on fire.
I recognize this for what it is — an apology for not spending more time with me last night, the last four years, the last twenty-one, maybe even the seven before that — but I also know the sentiment is very truly felt. Sex has always been our substitute for intimacy, but that doesn’t make it meaningless.
It doesn’t take her long to finish me off. When she surfaces, she’s wearing a wicked grin. “Good morning,” she says, stretching out on her side.
“Morning. I don’t want to know where you’ve been learning new sex tricks, do I?”
“I read a lot.”
“Victorian romances or Risan erotica?”
“Well, you know, it’s not easy living half a galaxy away from your husband.”
I roll to face her, and our foreheads tilt together on the pillow. “I can imagine.”
Her hand lands on my hip, and I draw circles on her breast with my thumb. For a few minutes we’re happy to lie here together, light years away from every problem in the universe.
Kathryn breaks the silence, her breath warm on my face. “We don’t know each other very well anymore, do we?”
“Half a galaxy’s a long way. We both did what we had to do.” Her eyes make me dizzy. All those years when I saw them in my dreams, and all those years when I saw them only through a comm console. “I need things to be different now that you’re home, Kath. So do the kids.”
“I know. I’m not sure I know how to change it, though.”
“Do you want to?”
“Yes. I hope you know that.”
“Then we’ll find a way. Nothing’s ever been able to beat us when we work together, Kathryn.” I give her a lazy smile, and touch my lips to hers. She tastes like me.
“Do you really believe that?”
“I have to believe it. Don’t I?”
The alarm interrupts us. “Damn,” Kathryn says. “That thing has rotten timing.”
“Go. I’ve got work to do too, you know.”
She sits up, sliding out from under the covers. “I owe you one good, long conversation. As soon as I get home.” Her smile is soft as velvet.
“Yes, ma’am.” She leans over to swat my head before disappearing into the bath. I hear her start the shower, then shut it off again. The door opens, and she’s standing there, still naked and still beautiful.
“Chakotay?”
“Kathryn?”
“Next weekend, after I’ve finished up some things at the office — I’ll clear my calendar, and the three of us can just practice being a family again. Topali too, if she can come home. Okay?”
“This weekend.”
“What?”
“This weekend. No putting it off, Kath.”
She smiles, chagrined. “This weekend, then.”
“And next week, how about you take Lo into the office for a day?”
“Oh, Chakotay, it’s so crazy there still, I haven’t even unpacked, there’s just no — ” She stops suddenly, watching me. “That wasn’t a request, was it?”
I say nothing.
“Right. I’ll ask him as soon as I get dressed.”
“Thank you.”
She shuts the door, and I get up to find some clothes. I think my meditation this morning will take a while.
And god, I hope I wasn’t lying when I said we could make this work.
The door opens again. Kathryn peeks out from behind it and I can’t help but laugh at her. “What is it now, Kath?”
She bites her lip. “I love you. You know?”
“I love you too. And yes, I know.”
“It’s good to be home, Chakotay.”
That may be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard her say. I look away, then back. “You’d better hurry up before I get any ideas about making you late.”
She notices the medicine bag in my hand. “You going out?”
“Yes. You going to ask Lolo?”
“Yes. I’ll see you tonight.”
On the way downstairs I knock on Lolo’s door. He used to come with me every morning, but he’s decided in the last year or so that he’d rather sleep. He doesn’t need parental supervision to meditate anymore. His akoonah is on his nightstand; he usually uses it before bed. It’s next to a model of Voyager he’s had since before he learned to walk. He’s got models of Kathryn’s other ships, and even one of Crazy Horse that we built together, but they’re all in a box somewhere. I realize I haven’t seen them in a year or more.
On the top of his dresser is a sand painting he did a few months ago, a very good sand painting. He could sell it to a white man, if he wanted to; an Indian wouldn’t buy one. Lolo said his spirit guide showed him what to paint, but old Jake Begay, the medicine man, showed him how.
There are some days when you know they’ve heard your parental ramblings, and there are others when you wonder if you still have a voice. The first are far more rare, but they make up for the second.
Lolo squints at me. “Dad? What time is it?”
“Time for you to get up. School today.” I sit on the edge of his bed and he rubs the sleep out of his eyes, to look at the clock.
“Not for two hours, geez. Can I go back to sleep now?”
“Not yet. I’m going out to the canyon but I want to talk to you first. Did you finish Captain Proton?”
His face lights up. “Oh yeah. It was the greatest, Dad.” He bites his lip, like Kathryn just did. He has her mouth, but my eyes. “Thanks for letting me go.”
“You’re welcome. One time only, though.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“And it’s your mother you really have to thank.”
He gives me a crooked smile. “I know.”
“Listen. No plans for this weekend, okay? Just us.”
“Aw, Dad — ”
“I mean it, Lolo. We’ve got to get used to being a two-parent family again.”
He sighs in resignation, not daring to push his luck. I’m reminded of the little boy who hated coming inside to sleep; he had a tent by the house and he would lie with his head out, watching the stars. I’d have to sneak out later and close the tent, to make sure he had no poisonous visitors in the night.
I feel like I watched Topali grow up, but Lolo somehow took me by surprise. From aiming pretend guns at coyotes to painting visions in sand, overnight. And he’s still only thirteen.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” I ask.
“What’s weird?”
“Having another person in the house.”
He shrugs. “Other kids have two parents.”
Other kids do, but Lolo never has. “It’ll take some time, Lolo. Mom and I both know that. It’s okay if you’re uncomfortable.”
“I’m not.”
I just smile and ruffle his hair. Topali broadcasts every emotion to the world, like me, but Lolo would rather convince the world that he’s unbreakable. I imagine he’s a lot like Kathryn was at his age.
He pushes my hand away and straightens his hair.
“You know,” I say, getting up to leave, “your mother played Captain Proton once.”
“She what? Mom?”
“Ask her about the bride of Chaotica.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. Ask her.” I grin as I shut the door, imagining Lolo’s question and Kathryn’s response. She’s going to kill me, but sometimes the ends do justify the means.
I slip out of the house into the morning. It’s three kilometers to the canyon’s rim, and the air is cool and dry.
“Aren’t lovers always arriving at each other’s boundaries? — although they promised vastness, hunting, home.” ~ Rainer Maria Rilke
Story Links: On nandamai.net