by Mike Chen
“They’re not coming. End of story. Now, do you need a drink before I serve?” Before she let her brother answer, Penny spun on her heel and headed to the drink table.
Markus let out a heavy sigh before turning to Kin. “And how are you holding up?”
“Just watching Penny,” Kin said, observing Penny command the growing guests and her kitchen, floating between both while never losing a step. “She’s in her element.”
“See?” Markus gave him a light punch in the shoulder. “That’s what I keep telling her. She never listens to me.”
“What’s that?”
“That this is her thing. Why try to open a restaurant? The instability, it’s absurd. She just got promoted, she gets to plan the menu for the catering gigs, and she can come home and throw her dinner parties. This is her element, not taking risks. Restaurants all seem to close in six months, anyway. I don’t know why she doesn’t listen to me, I’m trying to save her grief. And you, for that matter.” As Markus spoke, his tone shifted, a strange brew of both protection and condescension fighting for space in his words. “You know I’m right.”
Kin’s instinct to defend Penny landed, despite his conflict within. “She’s the best cook I know. Better than me.”
“Yeah, but to have a successful restaurant? Mum and Dad didn’t win all those awards simply because they were good. You can’t just be good. It’s like the bank people said—you need something unique. Something no one else can do. Let me guess—she still hasn’t made a new business plan because she hasn’t figured that part out yet.” Markus shook his head. “My sister. Always got her head a few feet from reality.” Applause echoed from the kitchen, and from their vantage point, Kin could see Penny’s arms moving as she explained the recipe. A year or so ago, she’d grabbed everyone’s attention with “we have an announcement to make.” Now, she simply gestured to the stay-warm containers on the counter as he made his way to her side.
Their eyes met, and though he felt the pull of her look, nothing stirred in him like in his dream, and the disappointment of that caused his mind to wander toward his daughter. Thinking about Miranda was the only way to put aside his problems with Penny.
Perhaps that was the right choice for him. Kin’s thoughts dwelled on the past—and Miranda’s future-past—while Penny served her dish.
* * *
An hour later, Kin stood at the eye of a hurricane of people, each wanting to know how he was for a brief moment before going on about their own lives.
Patrick, the professional musician with two different bartending jobs.
Coriander, the serial dater who complained about being single at forty-two despite fifty being the average age of marriage.
Oswin, who decided to veer off into a political rant about how everything was corrupt.
Padma and Devin gushing about Penny’s recipe. Zoe passive-aggressively reminding people that she was the youngest—but brightest—biochemist in her lab. Sophie spinning a long story about why Ace was her childhood nickname. Fareeha griping about her trouble with new hair-length freezing technology.
Noise upon noise.
“So glad you’re feeling better. Have you heard our new drummer play yet? She’s fantastic. Like Mozart and Bowie and a marching band rolled into one. We’ll put you on the guest list.”
“The length freezing worked but they cut it too short. Now I have this hair for the next year until it wears off.”
“Joseph Marleau. Clearly the best all-around player in the league. His shot accuracy is unmatched. Did you see the match last night?”
More silverware banging against glasses. More yelling fueled by alcohol. More random clapping and random laughter.
More smiling and nodding on his part.
“And really, what do people expect these days?”
“I swear, some people never learn.”
“Have you seen it? It is crown!”
The onslaught of people who should have made him feel welcome, comfortable, even happy all caused his inner barriers to build higher and stronger. He closed his eyes as Oswin said something about needing another drink before wandering off.
Kin saw nothing, the beautiful void of shut eyes. But his mind continued churning, processing every little thing picked by his ears.
The complaints. The stress. The emotion. It burned against his sensibilities, so much so that all Kin wanted to do was say that life had more important things to complain about, sparking a memory, one that prompted both nostalgia and a sinking realization.
Autumn 1998. The deck at Heather’s family home in San Diego. A few months before their wedding. Invitations sat on the table in front of them, every card in the stack featuring a misprint that swapped two vowels in the hotel’s name. The brick-sized phone handset, metal antenna fully extended, burned off battery heat after an hour back and forth with the printing company, a conversation that ultimately led nowhere except a vigorous bitching session over a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Heather’s father, Don, walked by, his arms crossed in frank gruffness—a family trait that served his daughter’s career well. His presence paused things, and as he pushed up his glasses, his salt-and-pepper eyebrows rose, and he said in a dry tone, “Before long, you’ll be married. And you’ll find that you’ve outgrown the concerns of your old life. Like wedding planning.”
Back then, Heather told him to ignore her dad, that he probably just wanted them off the phone so he could go online and check his email. But the line always stuck with him, even years on and a century later.
Life with Heather and Miranda was simple, beautifully routine. They went to work. Miranda went to school. Their excitement started and ended with themselves—because it was family. Because that was what mattered. But now, standing among people that he’d once called peers, friends, colleagues, the people he’d shared triumphs and failures with before life with Heather, reality looked him square in the face.
Maybe it wasn’t age. Or being a parent. Or traveling through time and dealing with criminals. Maybe Don was right.
Maybe he’d just finally outgrown his old life.
And maybe that included Penny. It made the next choice easy.
The most important role in his life right now was being a father. The thought repeated itself, tugging at him and urging him to leave the party right now and go check in on Miranda. He caught Penny by the arm, blurted that he had to go to the office, and headed to the door before she could reply, before Markus could stop him.
The elevator beeped with a single push and a verbal command for the ground floor, and, with that, tension melted off his shoulders.
The things that preoccupied the rest of the world in 2142 simply didn’t matter to him anymore. He passed the drenched flower stand on his way to the adjacent parking garage, rain blending into his eyes with the stew of emotions inside him. He entered his skycar and navigated through the launch pipe, escaping into the air, the heavy winds tilting him left and right. Inside, raindrops still dripped off his nose and ears while maneuvering to the TCB parking level on the seventy-fourth floor immersed in Scarlatti’s Sonata in B Minor.
Log in. Activate DTP. Run the scripts. Contact Miranda—even if it broke his new once-a-week real-time pattern.
From: Miranda Stewart ([email protected])
To: Kin Stewart ([email protected])
Subject: So many tests
It’s finally done. So many standardized tests for college, I can’t even think straight anymore. But it’s weird, doing tests and essays that, like, determine where I go to school, what I’ll do. Sometimes I wonder if all of those hours of studying even mean anything in the long run.
Now that that’s over with, Grandma said we should maybe tour a few colleges soon. Tanya’s mom has her reading up on majors and minors. Seems like so much to deal with already.
Better than taking tests, though, right? :)
&nb
sp; Miranda—looking at colleges already? It made sense, given her age and everything, yet a giant weight bore down on Kin’s chest, causing viselike tightness. Was Heather’s mom going through catalogs with her, looking at websites and videos of campuses? Or did she do that with Tanya and her other friends? Either way, it wouldn’t be him.
Kin settled in, thoughts of Penny and the party dissolving away. He typed out a reply, trying to remember whatever he could pull from countless web articles he and Heather had bookmarked for this very thing, from eating healthy in dorms to applying for sports scholarships. Anything and everything he could recall with a metabolizer-enhanced memory wound up there, all accompanied by a constant nagging voice reminding him that he wouldn’t be there to advise her in person.
The message fired off, and the impulse to read the response overwhelmed all of his senses. The need to parent her became as vital as the oxygen in the air.
From: Miranda Stewart ([email protected])
To: Kin Stewart ([email protected])
Subject: RE: So many tests
You’re too funny. Are you copying and pasting articles from a college prep guide? Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m deciding tomorrow. Grandpa has his opinions, of course. “I went to Berkeley, your mom went to Berkeley, you should, too.” Guess I’m gonna hear that for a year, huh?
Halfway through his reply, his wrist vibrated with Penny on the line. “Everything okay there?” she asked. “We’re almost ready for dessert.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry about that. Work stuff. I, um, only have a few more things to take care of.”
“Okay. Well, don’t work too hard, okay?” In the background, noise from the party filtered through the line. “I used those spices from the Mars colony. I got it right. I think you’ll really like it.”
The Mars spices. She’d been researching her dessert recipe for weeks. Too much, and it made you drowsy for days. Too little, and it created flu-like symptoms. Just right, though, was the latest culinary trend without the nasty side effects. He’d been quite curious about how their blend of sweet and savory might work like salted chocolate, like the best chocolate chip cookies, though he couldn’t tell Penny that.
He glanced down at his half-written message to Miranda. Dessert. The party was almost over. He could still go back for the end.
Despite what he felt—or didn’t feel—he owed it to Penny on her big night.
“Be done soon,” he said. “I’ll finish up.”
The line beeped off, and with it, the guests and music and desserts disappeared, his focus back on his daughter. He finished replying, then initiated the shutdown process, all while telling himself—forcing himself—not to look at the reloaded screen.
Except one quick peek couldn’t hurt, could it?
From: Miranda Stewart ([email protected])
To: Kin Stewart ([email protected])
Subject: Brace Yourself
I have news for you, and I’ve been avoiding saying it for a few weeks. But, it’s like one of those things that you can’t avoid anymore. So, assuming you are you and I haven’t been writing to a robot this whole time, I’ll just say it. Okay? Here goes.
I have a boyfriend. I guess. We never, like, set official terms. But we like each other. Before you jump on a plane and kill him, let me tell you about him, okay?
His name is Alister, he’s one year older than me, and I met him at our school’s anime club. We’re going to go to the big sci-fi convention this Saturday. His mom is helping us make costumes for it. We’re doing this instead of going to the school dance.
That doesn’t sound too bad, right? I know you warned me about boys and staying out and stuff, so I’ll just say that Grandma met him and she approves. I already gave her the answers to the four questions, but here they are again for your sake.
Where am I going? Bay Area Space Con in San Francisco.
Who’s going to be there? About 2,000 fellow geeks. Tanya is going to the dance instead. I can’t believe her.
When will I be home? Convention closes at 9. We will probably get a bite after and that’s it, I promise.
In case of emergency: I’ll have my phone with me. And it’s a very public, very crowded place.
So, are you all right? Please don’t freak out. Because I’m a little freaked out about how I feel, too.
Good question. Was he all right? A number of thoughts pummeled through his mind, but not the ones he expected. Rather than obsessing about Miranda’s security and safety, all he could think about was Heather.
She should have been around for this. They should have been freaking out together, as a family unit: Kin with his overthinking, Heather with her enthusiastic practicality, and Miranda with all of the emotions that stemmed from being sixteen and discovering her feelings. That was taken from them and so much more: Miranda’s final high school soccer game, her graduation, moving to her college dorm. They wouldn’t be together when Miranda got married. Or when she had her first child. Other people would take their place.
Was this how it was always going to be, projecting a life that never was wrapped in a gnawing, deafening guilt?
Kin typed his reply, the words chosen with a care that made every letter seem like fine craftsmanship.
From: Kin Stewart ([email protected])
To: Miranda Stewart ([email protected])
Subject: RE: Brace Yourself
You sound excited. I hope you two have fun together and remember to just be safe. If you say he’s nice and he treats you well and Grandma approves, who am I to judge?
Kin hesitated, wondering if the next thing would be okay to say. But in the end, he knew it to be true, which made it worth mentioning.
* * *
I know if Mom were still with us, she’d be excited for you, too. So enjoy it.
In this case, email turned out to be a fortunate twist since he probably couldn’t have managed to speak those words aloud without breaking down. Miranda’s reply, though, came with a steady thoughtfulness that seemed impossible when he first discovered Heather’s passing all those weeks ago.
From: Miranda Stewart ([email protected])
To: Kin Stewart ([email protected])
Subject: RE: Brace Yourself
I miss Mom. I wish she was here to meet him. They could argue about sci-fi together. It’s not fair, you know? Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy with what we have but nothing is the same without her.
Sometimes I feel like I can’t move forward with things. Because it’s not right that life is happening without her. But I keep telling myself that she would want us to change and move forward. She’d say an awesome quote and it’d make it all right.
So I’m nervous because of how I feel. But I’m also nervous because it’s like this big life thing without Mom and I wonder how can it really be me without her. But then I remember that we’re all different people all through our lives, but that’s okay, as long as you remember all the people you used to be.
The maturity in Miranda’s message felt impossible for her age, so much so that Kin checked the time stamps to make sure he didn’t mistakenly email a much older, much wiser version of his daughter. Yet it came from her teenage brain, and a surge of pride radiated through his chest. That’s a really good attitude, he wrote, and I think if you can keep up that kind of approach, you’re pretty much set for the rest of your life. I’m so proud of you. Mom is, too, I know it.
Her reply came back in an instant.
From: Miranda Stewart ([email protected])
To: Kin Stewart ([email protected])
Subject: RE: Brace Yourself
I wish I could tell you that I was some, like, brilliant Zen master or that it was something my counselor told me but I actually just borrowed that from a Doctor Who episode. See, I really am my mother’s daughter.
Kin thought back to that afternoon months ago when Miranda tried to convince him that he might like Doctor Who because of the supposedly fake world he’d crafted in his journal. He dodged the question then, shutting it down as quickly as possible. But maybe she knew him better than he knew himself. Well, then, he wrote, maybe you were right when you said I might like it. I already have a list of quotes like that from your mom. So in a way, she’s still with us.
Her next message appeared within seconds of sending.
From: Miranda Stewart ([email protected])
To: Kin Stewart ([email protected])
Subject: RE: Brace Yourself
Geez, Dad, you’re avoiding the obvious here: have you met someone you like? Because I’m pretty sure Mom would want that for you, too.
Kin scrolled back to reread Miranda’s messages, burning the text into his mind until its simple logic became an instinct, an extension of his thought process.
Different people all through our lives. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to conjure up the feeling of that dream, that party from a year ago. But all that came up was the Penny of today—the one who waited patiently for him as he recovered, the one who put her restaurant plans on hold for him, the one who told him not to worry about his radiation rehab and gray hair and wrinkles around his eyes. The one who accepted him—and their new life—for what they were, not what they had been.
He couldn’t ever recover the life that would have been with Heather and Miranda, and he couldn’t return to the same exact thing he had with Penny before. But thanks to wisdom from a TV show, Kin realized that he didn’t always have to put up such a fight against his circumstances. He might even come to like life in 2142 if he just gave things a chance. He felt different because he was different. Penny was on board with that. Maybe it wasn’t about trying to recreate his feelings for Penny. Maybe it was about discovering how he felt for Penny now.
And maybe that was okay. Different, but okay.
Her name is Penny, he wrote, I’ll fill you in next time. Gotta run.
