“Can we talk?” I gesture to the couches that I managed to make into a U shape while fiddling with the controls Khur showed me. Now it’s like a sectional you step down into, much easier for humans with relatively short legs to access. He doesn’t respond, but I don’t expect him to. I just walk over and sit down, patting the cushion next to me.
“Destiny, I’m tired. I don’t feel much like talking.” He turns to go back down the hallway but I’m determined to do this now.
“Dad, it wasn’t a request. Come sit down and talk to me or I’m reporting you for rehab. You remember what I told you about that, right? From the orientation videos?”
He eyes me with distrust and disdain, but makes his way over, sitting as far from me as possible. I feel like a parent with an unruly teenager and it fills me with resentment towards this man who has not been fatherly in a very long time, but I do my best to tamp that feeling down. I want to help here, not hurt.
“So you’d send your father to do hard labor and intensive therapy?” he says the last word like it’s a filthy one and I know I have my work cut out for me. “Just for not talking to you whenever you feel like it?”
“I don’t want to, but I will if things don’t change,” I take a breath then start the spiel I have been going over in my head since Furga and I spoke earlier today.
“Dad, I love you. It’s been the two of us against the world, hell against the universe, for a very long time. But the universe is on our side now. It’s time to heal from our old wounds so we can grow and finally live again. I know it’s been really hard on you. I tried to respect your need for space, but I think it’s time you rip the bandage off and start to clean the wounds. They’re festering, Dad, and if you don’t start fixing them, they’re going to kill you." I take a deep breath, "and I won’t let you take me down with you.”
“Now wait just a minute. Who do you think you are, telling me—”
“No. You’re not going to get defensive or insulting. You’re not going to act all indignant. You’re going to start making an effort. I found a therapist for you who’s taking human patients. You have anappointment tomorrow. You’re going to go every other day. If you can’t comply with these rules or simply don’t want to, you can speak to the Originem about being relocated off Sanctuary," I tell him, keeping my hands fisted in my lap.
“And let me guess, if I refuse both you’ll report me for rehabilitation?” he sneers at me, hate filling his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Simple as that, huh? Just report your own father, after everything I’ve done for you? Do you think I wanted to work at that factory? Do you think I wanted to spend every minute of my day working? I was sixteen when your mom got pregnant. I was a child, Destiny. If I’d known running away was an option, I’d have done it years before your mother had the chance.”
His words hit me with enough force to knock me over if I weren’t already seated. I’m shocked by the vitriol that is so clear to me. He looks at me with such disdain it makes it hard to breathe. I almost don’t recognize the man in front of me, only seeing the shadow of what he once was behind the twisted thing he’s becoming.
“It… it really hurts me to hear that, Dad. I had hoped this conversation would go differently,” I finally manage to choke out.
“Oh, I’m sure you did. You’ve gotten good and cozy with all the aliens here, haven’t you? You just wanna play pretend and forget everything that’s happened to us. Well, I won’t just sit around and force a smile while you’re in the other room whoring yourself out to the locals,” he jumps up from the couch, marching himself back over to the hallways with more gusto than I’ve seen from him in years. “I know when I’m not wanted.”
I watch from the couch as he disappears into his room, only to appear a few minutes later, minus the robe, wearing his holey sneakers and carrying his duffel bag. When I see the bag, I realize how serious he is and tears start leaking down my face. I won’t beg him to stay, though. I won’t apologize. I have to start living for myself. When he gets to the door leading out of our apartment, I suck in a breath, sure he’ll leave without saying another word. He stops, though, at the last second, and turns around.
Staring at the floor between us, he says, “Destiny, I—I shouldn't have said that. I love you. You’re my daughter and you always will be. But I’ve been living for you for a long time, and I can’t do it anymore. I’m going to catch the next flight off station.” He clears his throat, looks up at me with sad eyes. “You haven’t needed me for a long time, and you know it. I’m just dragging you down, muffin.”
Hearing my childhood nickname sends my tears into overdrive, but I don’t move towards him. “I love you, Dad. Good luck.”
He nods before hiking his satchel onto his shoulder and leaving without a backwards glance.
“Honestly, Khur, it’s easier than I thought it would be. I didn’t realize how tense it had gotten between us. We were both miserable and just trying to make the other person happy. It wasn’t healthy anymore.” We’re walking to the elevator on our way to our second date as I recount the events of the previous night. “Maybe one day when he’s ina better place, he’ll reach out to me. For now, I am just trying to look on the bright side. He never wanted to move to Sanctuary Station, but I did. And now that I’m here, I’m going to enjoy it.”
If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s compartmentalizing, so I focus firmly on the present. Khur says our second date is dancing, and I am curious and excited to see how that translates across species. I’m not a very good dancer myself, but seeing as how my boyfriend is about two feet taller than me and twice my weight, we were never gonna be the perfect dance couple. I find that I don’t mind that one bit.
“Well, you know I’m here if you ever have a hard time finding your bright side,” he says.
I just squeeze his arm, where my hand pretty much lives when we’re together, and flash him a smile. My big softie. We finally get to the elevator and this time Khur puts in the floor number and leans back against the wall opposite the door, the bottle of ice wine he’s holding dangling from his free hand.
“It will take a while to get to Division 39.”
“39? How many levels are there on this station?”
“Forty-three, technically, but a few are inaccessible to you and I. Most races have adapted to similar living conditions, but not all." He explains, "Zards need a high concentration of methane in their breathing air, for example.”
I’m stunned for a moment, to realize there are species here I may never meet, because we don’t breathe the same air.
“Breathing masks?”
“Not widely available, and honestly from what I hear you don’t want to visit the Zards. They came from a planet that rained volcanic glass and they like to recreate their storms sometimes. Even theOriginem mostly leave them alone. I think Shemo is inviting one of their mechanics to our conference, though, if you’d like to meet one.”
I am so proud and a bit in awe of my boyfriend for how quickly and confidently he has implemented the ideas we spoke about on our last date. A station wide conference is exactly what this place needs to start really cooking with heat. I can’t imagine all the amazing things that will come from all these brilliant minds meeting.
