Glass and Gardens Read online

  When I reached the canoe again, everyone was there.

  “Gorgeous falls!” said Kojo brightly, her eyes darting from me to Rich, standing stiffly to the side. “Can we have a snack here?”

  I nodded. “Have you brought the food yet, Rich?” I gave him a fake smile. “I left it halfway up the trail for you.” As he turned to go, I couldn’t resist adding, “Careful. It’s heavy.”

  I took another long swim. You know, Makemba, I told myself, you just have to get through this trip civilly. Then the two of you could see a counsellor. I’d kicked him right in his pride, and that wasn’t nice. He started it, another voice said. Well, true, but what are we learning here? I am a volcano (news to him), not always so quiet, and he is not the minor god he’d seemed to be in the city.

  I took another swim.

  ***

  I studied the plasmap. Perhaps I’d booked too grueling a trip. I’d been so keen to show them the “Crystal Cave” (as Nana had named it) but, on second thought, did I want to have him even crankier? He’d been patient and kind in Toronto, showing me around, escorting me back to my aunt’s when I grew weary of his busy social life. He once left a dance bar before his time because I was falling asleep at his table of friends. I could show the same generosity here.

  That night I confided to Kojo that I was shortening the days and route. She agreed.

  I asked Rich to help set up the tent when we arrived but he seemed not to hear me. I waffled, then did it myself. He was busy schmoozing with Laxy, recalling past glories in fiscus games. Laxy was rapt, slapping his knee at all the right places. Rich drew the guy out too, getting Laxy to tell some of his own stories, high school days, for gods’ sake! I rolled my eyes at Kojo, but she didn’t catch it. Just as well.

  Watching the men out of the corner of my eye, I recalled that Rich had worked on the Greyson Chai political campaign. When I’d asked him about it, he’d flapped a hand and said simply that it was fun, but his eyes had lit up. (I, personally, shuddered at the thought of large crowds, non-stop enthusiasm and a smile painted on.) I looked over at his smile. There it was.

  I went to bed and slept.

  The next day we had a truce, unspoken. I was polite and friendly as to a paid client, and stopped offering him any guidance. He lily dipped. I cooked for everyone, assisted by Kojo. I took down the tent, our gear, the stove, etc. and packed it all efficiently. I only allowed myself pretty sunflower thoughts.

  On the following day, it poured. We made it a layover. The sky was charcoal, the wind gusting full showers over us in waves. It was as though the river and sky had reversed themselves.

  I read in the tent for two hours, then, in rain gear, walked the shore and drew possible greywater systems in the sand. I’d been thinking that the flattened copper wrapped around our building’s hot water pipes wasn’t absorbing enough heat for stored water. What about different metal? Wrapping the exit pipes too? I wished I’d taken more practical Earth courses rather than astro physics and astro geometry. Was it too late?

  The next day it rained again.

  That day I began to mess around with ideas Gramps and I’d talked about for capturing the field energy surrounding all the electrical wires through the building. I know other systems have been tried, but none have been truly successful. Perhaps a more sensitive receptor?

  Laxy threw up in the party tent that night. Kojo was livid but I, removed from them more each passing hour, administered the remedy from the kit, gave cleaning supplies to Rich and dragged Kojo outside for a refreshing walk. I wanted to fly my ideas to someone and Kojo was a ChemEng with a sharp mind. Outside of her boyfriend choices.

  “What does La—Luiz do for a living?” I asked mildly as our discussion wound down.

  She grinned with only one side of her face. “Paramedic. In the HamBurlOakton tricity. Met him online.”

  I shrugged. “Gramps and Nana met that way.” I bit my tongue from asking if she thought he was a potential mate for life. I couldn’t see it, personally, but people are different.

  “He’s great with my Hiro,” she said, wiping out our drawings with her foot. “Not everyone is good with a four year-old girl.”

  I laughed. “A four-year-old genius! Hiro practically beat me in double-level chess last time.” I paused and squeezed her shoulder. “She’s a gem. Extremely lovable, like you. Anyone would be lucky to pair with you.”

  Rich kindly threw up outside of our tent before he stumbled in and fell onto his windbed. He was snoring loudly so I pressed a snore patch to his sinus, shoved him over, then slept myself.

  ***

  We turned back the next day despite the off and on drizzle through a hypocritical sky—first cheery and blue, then, in a minute, puffy grey clouds soaking us for half an hour. Unpredictable.

  Rich and Laxy had been no help taking down the soaking camp, griping loudly about the weather and famous storms they’d seen on screen. I kept pace with Kojo to let the men schmooze. I was beginning to worry more about Kojo and Hiro’s future than my own. It turned out that taking a partner camping was a swift personality test. It ought to be in Astro 101. You were away from your work, family, friends, your screens, and spending hour after hour together. As well, you faced mosquitoes, deer flies, ticks, rain, storms, cold nights or sweltering days. It gave you both a chance to see how you dealt with adversity.

  Inside my head, a door closed gently.

  We had to portage around the waterfalls again and both men spent so much time shouting insults at it that I wanted to toss Kojo in my canoe and let them find their own way back.

  “I’ll take the canoe, but can you take the gear pack this time, Rich?” I asked politely.

  “I’m the food pack guy.”

  I hesitated. “We’ve nearly emptied the food pack, so I was going to wear it with the canoe. But you could take both if you like.”

  He paused, his eyes snaking from pack to pack, clearly aware of listeners. “Sure. No problem. This place is shit. Let’s get out of here!”

  Laxy grunted approval. I loaded up and left, waiting for no one.

  After two more portages, and one good soaking, we rafted up and I handed out food. “So what do you all want to do? Our campsite is around the corner, but if you want to get home a day early, we could go another hour. There’s a site further on.”

  “What happened to those big caves of yours, eh?” demanded Laxy.

  I felt my nostrils flare and tried to school my face into zen. “Well, the weather turned pretty challenging, wouldn’t you say? So, we decided to turn back.”

  “I don’t remember anyone asking me,” he demanded, suddenly aggressive. “Anyone ask you, Rich?”

  “Makemba thinks she’s the Prime Minister,” snarled Rich.

  Kojo jumped in. “We discussed it the evening you both threw up. We voted. You two were pretty sick of the rain, I remember.”

  Laxy backed down.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” announced Rich. “I need civilization. Soon.”

  Everyone agreed, for different reasons.

  ***

  We all paddled hard for another two hours and made significant progress. It was sunset before we pulled over to a free site. It meant we could be back in a city tomorrow.

  When have I ever thought that?

  I took a deep breath and wondered how and when was the appropriate time and way to break up with Rich. Would he be upset? He’d pushed for the Exclusive patch and hinted lately at more. And his friends seemed to really like me. But there were many attractive men and women who’d cast admiring glances at him, even with me there, and some obvious flirting. It had, I admitted, made me feel a secret thrill that he’d chosen me. It had made me feel special.

  I wanted to gag. How pathetic was that?

  Back to the problem at hand. I handed out skeeter pills before we landed, then asked everyone to set up camp quickly, before bugfall. That scared the men enough to make them actually help. I unfolded the stove and
got working. Might as well eat heartily, I thought, since it was our last. Thus, I had both stoves and three meals going for a smorgasbord. At least they couldn’t accuse me later of starving them.

  I met an unexpected roadblock when I called them out to eat. Rich ordered me to bring the meal into the party tent.

  First of all, I was cooking out of the kindness of my heart. For the last time. But no one barks orders at me.

  “We don’t eat inside a tent.” My voice was brisk and no-nonsense.

  “Get over it. We’re not eating out there with the skeeters!”

  I set the small picnic table, laid out all the dishes and helped myself. “We can’t eat in the tent unless you want predators larger than you in there. Food’s out! Dig in!”

  There was a muttered argument in the tent, Kojo’s voice soothing, then more grumbling. It helped me, I think, mentally. I had time to picture a balloon full of pretty images of Rich and me with kids in those Skycity parks. Beautiful, floating nearby, such a pretty future. Then I raised my fork and popped it.

  I turned a broad smile to Rich, who emerged first, and waved my fork at the spread. “Hope you’re hungry!”

  He looked at me strangely.

  Over dinner, which was pretty darn tasty, I felt myself growing unnaturally ebullient. I told a funny story about leading a camping trip with adolescent social climbers, each trying to outdo the others. Laxy laughed. When Rich waxed nostalgic about the technolight shows back home, I compared him to a buffoon robot in a recent 5-sense film who misses everything because he’s busy complaining. Both Laxy and Koji exploded in laughter, then quickly muffled it. I winked at them. What did I care? I no longer had to struggle to fit in with his sycophantic crowd, nor to unruffle him when he was bad-tempered.

  “Well,” I concluded. “I know it didn’t turn out to be your kind of vacation, you two.” I nodded at each man, “But you weathered it pretty well. It’ll be a good tale back in the city, right? Feel free to embellish it.”

  Kojo giggled. “Perhaps we met a rogue bear? Came between her and her cub?”

  I shuddered. “A polar bear!” I stood to clear dishes and stretched out both arms and growled.

  Laxy added, “A grizzly bear!”

  This made both Kojo and I laugh and his face reddened. He demanded to know what was funny.

  I stacked a few plates. “Grizzlies are out west, in the Rockies. But throw in a grizzly if you want. Why not? It’s your story.”

  Humming, I brought the dishes to a flat rock and went to get water to heat for washing up.

  Rich appeared by my side while I was adding soap. “What the hell are you playing at?” he hissed.

  I blinked and took two cups from him. “Huh?”

  “Since when does a backwoods hick make fun of me? In the city you’d be nothing. Less than a skeeter.”

  I frowned at my hands, working. “A skeeter? Do you have them in the city?”

  “Don’t deliberately misunderstand me. You—you,” he stuttered, “You’ve changed.”

  I thought about it, then nodded. “Maybe so. Or, I’ve changed back.” I turned to look at his artificially coloured irises. “I’ve come back to who I am. This,” I pointed a soapy finger at my chest, “is me.”

  “Well, you might have let me know a little while ago. Before I got the damn patch. Do you know how many offers I’ve turned down because of you?”

  I was overwhelmed with questions. Why me? Why did you do this? Why are you such a spoiled jerk? Since when do you treat your partner as a slave? All that emerged was a strangled, “Why?”

  He misunderstood me. Ooh—I had an epiphany—that was the core of our relationship! He. Misunderstood. Me!

  Meanwhile, Rich was lecturing me sotto voce on the New Sun party and the usefulness of a wife who would be a public darling, like a minor astronaut, someone of average attractiveness, shy, or…

  “A virgin blueblood for the prince?” I blurted.

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” Clearly I’d read too many fairy tales. I paused. “What made you think I was going to be an astronaut?”

  “Your mother is one. High ranking, though you don’t even realize it. Well respected. Conservative. And your sister told—”

  “—so you sussed me out for my suitability for your career?” I started to giggle. Breaking up had been something I’d been dreading! I’d worried about how upset he might be. How I’d disappoint my mother, who’d approved of him, and his friends, who seemed fond of me. I laughed harder then and had to wipe my eyes on my sleeve.

  As if my mother would have approved if she’d known of this. Hah! He didn’t know my mother at all. She was a General, 2 star, and did have connections, it was true. (I wondered if this was going to backfire for him.) My mother loved the skies, loved adventures, diplomatic challenges, but had hated leaving her daughters behind. She’d wept the first two weeks of each mission, called us several times a day for a month until she’d adjusted. Lorid and I had always adjusted a lot faster. After all, we had Nana Mpenzi and Gramps, school, friends, camping trips, and our own adventures. Mom was always coming back to us. We knew it, deep down. And she had, every time.

  I set the last plate aside and walked down to the river edge to wash my face with clean water. My thoughts had raced along so fast, I’d simply forgotten Rich was still there.

  He followed me, livid, and pushed me in.

  I floundered, swallowed a bit of water and stood up, dripping and seriously pissed. “These are my Warm Clothes,” I said, in an excellent imitation of a 3 star General sounding off at troops. “My boots, warm socks, leggings, my only long sleeved top and jacket.” I deepened my voice. “You. Have. Crossed. The. Line.”

  The other two appeared on the small ledge behind Rich, both nervous.

  I shoved Rich back roughly and strode up to the others. “I’ve had it with prissy boy. It turns out he only dates people who might further his career. He thought I was going to follow my mother.” I peeled off my boots, socks, and leggings right there. You’re supposed to have the patch softened with a special cream then gently removed by a medico. Screw that. I ripped it off and tossed it at Rich, now a shadow on the beach.

  Drunk with righteousness and giddy relief, I dug in the bag for his Moscovian knit leggings and his New Zealand wool slant-top (with the finicky opening under the left ear). I pulled them on. I liked anything from New Zealand and these were extremely expensive. I packed all my gear, set his outside in a small bundle, then stuffed the tent back into its tiny sack. I’d have to airwash it later.

  Laxy was talking with Rich in a low voice inside his tent. Kojo was at the shoreline, setting the stove and food bag neatly inside my canoe, which was already back in the water. I looked around, discombobulated. Everything had been cleared up. All that was left was their tent and their canoe, which could hold three.

  Kojo was looking at me from the shore, her head tilted patiently.

  Right, I thought. I gave her a warm hug and kissed her cheek. “I owe you a week of babysitting.”

  “And don’t think I won’t take it. Because I need to get out there more.”

  I grinned. “Me too.” I handed her Rich’s safevest and paddle.

  “Dating,” she said, giving my stern a nice shove homeward, “can be difficult.”

  I laughed.

  The stars were beautiful tonight. I thought I’d give my folks a 4-star hug when I reached home.

  ***

  Jerri Jerreat’s fiction has appeared in The New Quarterly, The Antigonish Review, The Dalhousie Review, and Room, among others. Another science fiction story appeared in an anthology Nevertheless: Tesseracts Twenty-One by Edge Publishing. Jerri is an Ontario paddler who has lived in Vancouver, Ottawa, St. Catharines, and in Tübingen, Germany. She now lives under a roof of solar panels on an ancient limestone seabed near Kingston, Ontario. Visit her website at JerriJerreat.com.

  A Field of Sapphires and Sunshine

  by Jaymee
Goh

  When Nurul Alina binti Safia Shamsia boarded the Trans-Pacific Sunship of Borneo Airways, she was still thinking of her boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. She dragged her trunk behind her, its wheels making a soft clunking sound, marking overuse and replacement time. Though she wouldn’t have minded economy seats, so long as she had somewhere to prop her feet up, all Trans-Pacific ships were kitted out with small cabins for long-haul flights. She set her trunk in the corner, pushed it onto its end, opened it, and locked it into place.

  The frosted acrylic glass trunk had followed her for six years, seven moves, two continents, and many more long-haul airship flights. Her mother had joked that it would last longer than marriage. It had definitely been there before and after Jason, Alina thought wryly. When standing, Alina could unlatch it and spread it open, displaying the drawers of clothing and other essentials one needed: for Alina, that would be stationery, toiletries, travel records, and electronics. Built for the single, or single again, traveler who didn’t need much, didn’t accumulate a lot, and was constantly on the go, the trunk was perfectly suited for airship travel. Once standing, Alina could pull out corner braces to keep it steady even on the most turbulent of flights—not that air travel was that turbulent anymore.

  The trans-Pacific flight would take a week, so Alina decided to wander the airship and get to know her neighbors. Most of them would be retirees, using the airship as a second retirement home. Some would be fellow international students, done with their cheap American degrees and going home, like her, maybe even leaving American sweethearts behind, too. And a few would be jetsetters, businesspeople with skills and projects that could not be done electronically.

  She adjusted her tudung before she went out, humming as she re-pinned it into place. This was a new class of Sunship, rolled out with a special surau for its Muslim passengers. The surau was a half-spherical room with glass walls. On its ceiling floated two arrows, one pointing towards Mecca, and other towards the north. The airship also had its own food farm on the topmost floor, under the solar panels that fed energy to the ship.

  Perpetual flight had long been a dream for engineers. Nurul Alina didn’t pretend to understand it, but it did strike her as quite nifty, a ship that never had to touch the ground. She was more interested in the agricultural techniques they were using. Did they automate the farms? She had spoken to Jason about digitally-driven agriculture once, back when they could talk to each other about such things.