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I’m sitting on the beach in my biodome. Rocky is sitting next to me in his xenonite suit, one extremely heavy arm draped across my lap. He seems to have internalized that humans like to be touched. He was afraid of hurting me when we first started taking these walks, but I’ve gotten stronger over the last couple of months, and it’s nice.
We’ve done some catching up about tweaks the engineering team is making to the biodome, as well as a trip Rocky took to meet his sibling’s mate, new to their family since he left. Now we’re just sitting in companionable silence, watching the waves wash over the shoreline and then recede, over and over. At least I am. Rocky has gone quiet and still, like he sometimes does when he thinks very hard, and now I’m curious. I lean back onto my hands and he sings a soft little chord of contentment. “Whatcha thinking about, Rock?”
He waits a beat before answering, “Talk to Grace biologist today.” Oh, yeah. I had my weekly medical interview this morning. I’m being looked after by a team of about eight people, an interdisciplinary hodgepodge of Eridian medical doctors, animal biologists, a psychologist, and a pharmacist, with others occasionally consulting. They’ve had to learn a lot of human physiology very quickly in order to treat the scurvy and other nutrient deficiencies I had when I arrived, and figure out how to help me adapt to life on a planet with synthetic food and too much gravity. I trust them by now, they’ve done a good job. “Medical team say Grace health improve. Recover from long illness. Happy happy happy.” There’s a buzzing high note in his voice that says he really is happy.
“Yeah! I was telling them I’ve been feeling a lot better lately. I think the nutrient shakes they’ve designed for me are pretty much spot-on.”
“Good! I notice change. Grace gain weight, move easier, sleep better, mood better. Health improving. Happy happy happy.”
“Wow Rock, I didn’t know you cared so much!”
I’m just teasing, trying to make light of how closely he seems to observe me. But the mood of the conversation swings and when he speaks it’s louder, frustrated, almost offended. “Of course care! Of course! Rocky love Grace. Obvious care about Grace health.”
I sit up to look at him and gesture apologetically. “Woah, I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry. I know you care. Grace love Rocky too.”
He seems to relax a little bit, lowering his carapace back onto the sand from where he picked it up to yell at me. I settle too, resting my elbows on Rocky’s arm in my lap and leaning forward, towards the waves. I’m just starting to think the moment of whatever-that-was-about has passed when I hear him hum to himself, so quiet I can barely catch it, “Grace love Rocky too.”
It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before. I feel like I’ve missed something, like when a staircase has one less step than you thought and you trip at the bottom. “Did…did you not know that?”
He startles a little bit, having underestimated my hearing. “No, no. Rocky know. Just repeating to self. Reassurance.” He’s tapping his arms against the sand a little bit, restless.
“Why—did I do something wrong, Rock? I don’t understand what’s going on.”
He hesitates and fidgets for a moment. Tap tap tap. “I can be ♩𝆕𝅘𝅥𝅝𝅘𝅥𝅮, question?”
“What was that last word? I don’t know that one yet.”
“Question?” he repeats with a whistle note of incredulity.
“No! The word before that.”
“♩𝆕𝅘𝅥𝅝𝅘𝅥𝅮. Is like…when share big feeling. Private feeling. Keep to self because not know how other person will react.”
“Oh. Vulnerable.”
To my surprise he grumbles a bit. “No, is wrong. That Grace word for when in potential physical danger. Predators. Top of big tall thing.”
“Yeah. It’s the same word. The idea is that…talking about the feeling is hard because it feels dangerous, emotionally. You could get hurt.”
“Eridian language make distinction.”
We’re getting off track here. Linguistics, cultural anthropology, that’s more comfortable territory for both of us than feelings. He would rather debate semantics than get whatever this is off his chest. But it feels important. “Rocky, what was the feeling? I can handle it.”
He pulls his arm away and retreats a few small steps down the beach, going to sit next to my knees instead of right beside me. I think he’s just trying to get a better angle on my face, to gauge my expression. “For long time…worry Grace angry with Rocky.”
“What? Why would you think that?” Though actually after a beat I can think of a few reasons he might think that. I was pretty moody for the last couple of months aboard the Hail Mary and my first few months here. I was starving hungry and exhausted and in pain all the time. I was basically dying but very slowly and I didn’t have the energy for high spirits or…much of anything really. I tried my best not to direct my frustration at him, but maybe he took it personally anyway. I guess it would be hard not to. Rats.
“Understand feeling is irrational.” Oh, or maybe he didn’t. He’s speaking slower, apparently choosing his words carefully. “When Grace run out of food, eat Taumoeba…I could tell Grace miserable. Hungry hungry hungry. Get sick. No sleep well. Hurt, frustrate, sad, cry cry cry.” That about sums it up. I open my mouth to speak but he waves me off. “Understand. Understand why. But…hard hard hard to watch. Wanted to fix, share food. Could not. And ship going to planet with food for Rocky but no food for Grace.” There’s an underlying low drone to his voice that I’ve come to recognize as sadness, the Eridian equivalent of getting choked up.
“Rocky, none of that was your fault.”
He bristles, pulling his carapace up high between his legs. “Was little bit my fault.”
“How? Our ships had the same problem, I just got lucky mine’s not made of xenonite. I chose to go back for you, to go to Erid. And I would have gotten sick at the end there no matter which planet I was going to.”
“Had not thought of that.” Tap tap tap. “But if going to Earth, have Earth food and doctors to help. Grace sick for long time on Erid because we not have. I wanted to fix. Want want want. Promised Grace that Erid fix but really had no control.”
“You felt helpless.” Dutifully, mournfully, Rocky chimes the Eridian word. “It’s okay Rocky, really. I never expected you to fix it. I thought I was going to die at Tau Ceti, and you gave me a second chance, and it’s not your fault Earth didn’t pack me enough food to begin with—” I’m crying now, hot tears running down my cheeks even though I thought I worked through my feelings about this ages ago. “I know that if you could have helped me any more, then you would have. I know you. Humans get really pissy when they’re hungry or hurt and I’m sorry that I was like that for so long. But you don’t have to worry that I’m angry at you for what happened because I’m not.” Say it, Ryland. “You’re my best friend and I’m grateful for you and I love you.”
The tension bleeds out of Rocky’s posture. “Rocky love Grace too.” He shuffles back to sit beside me on the sand. I throw one arm over him, and he throws an arm back over my legs, and I use my other hand to wipe at my eyes.
“Grace okay, question?” I sniffle. He always checks on me when I cry. I think it can mean so many different emotions that he’s still working out how to interpret it. Then again, he still asked even when he knew the answer was going to be that I was hungry or that my joints, head, et cetera hurt for the millionth time. The tears well anew. God, why would I ever tease him about being uncaring? “Yeah, I’m okay. Just…felt vulnerable. And I was thinking about how nice you were to me when I was sick. Sorry I said you didn’t care. I know that’s not true.”
“Not true.”
“I know. You care a lot or we wouldn’t be sitting on this beach.”
Tap tap tap. A wave washes in and out, and I take the opportunity to steady my breathing. Fwoooshh-shhhhhh. Fwooooshh-shhhhhhh. Tap tap tap. “Glad Grace not angry.”
“Course not, Rock.”
His voice sounds very small. “When Grace sick, was small fear. Big fear was for Grace. Worry worry worry. Now Grace better, was bigger fear.”
“Yeah, I understand.”
Fwoooshhhh-shhhh. Fwooooshh-shhhhhhh. The new soundtrack to my life.
“Happy Grace is better. Safe now.”
“I’m happy too, Rock.” The words echo in my head, words I thought I would never hear, much less believe, again, rhythmic, like waves: Safe now. Safe now. Safe now.