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I do the only thing I can, I pull her into the tightest hug I can and hold her until the tears pass.
3
MARGARET
Saying goodbye was harder than it had any right to be. That’s not really true I guess. I knew it would be difficult but even so, that doesn’t make it any easier. My heart is heavy as I heft my small pack over my shoulder and walk to the airlock.
I hate to admit it even to myself but I didn’t really think this part through. It doesn’t change my decision or the fact that I still think what I’m doing is the right thing to do, but it does make it harder.
I turn the corner expecting to see the airlock and probably Mohlad, but not what I saw. My family, all of them. They’re crowded into the hall standing shoulder to shoulder. As I step into view their conversation stops and they all look at me.
I stumble to an involuntary stop, my heart struggling between elation and the sinking sadness of knowing this may very well be the last time I see them. My love for them is so much it makes my chest ache and tears press hard against my eyes but I can’t let them see that. I put on a strong front.
“Mom,” Andrea says, her little ones tight to her sides. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears and I’m sure she’s organized this to talk me out of my decision. She raises her hands then drops them to her sides and shakes her head. “We all wanted to say goodbye. We love you, Mom.”
A single tear slides down her cheek. The rest of my children, grandchildren, and even the newest addition, born after the crash lying in her mother's arms, reaches her tiny hands towards me and grasps the air.
My heart is in my throat and my breath catches in my chest. It takes every bit of will I have to not break down and bawl. The love they flow towards me is palpable. I swallow, trying to buy myself a minute to compose myself. Before I can get it together I feel someone come up behind me.
“Beautiful,” Mohlad murmurs.
There’s no mistaking the rumble of his bass voice. Or the way it makes a chill race down my spine where it incongruously ignites a fire in the depths of my core. I turn my head in what feels like slow motion until I see him in my peripheral. At the same time, I see the looks on my kids' faces. Shock, disbelief, but on Andrea’s and my oldest boy, Paxton, I see understanding. Paxton has a knowing grin that spreads all over his face and Andrea’s mouth drops into an o of surprise.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment. This was a silly notion to begin with, but having him see my family, like this, unexpectedly and unplanned, makes it feel even more ridiculous. I don’t know what to say or do as my thoughts race in circles.
“Mom?” Paxton says in his calm, encouraging voice. “Care to introduce your… friend?”
His pause before his final word choice is so blatantly obvious that it adds fuel to the fire burning in my cheeks. Mohlad steps up to stand by my side. He has a wide smile and he is looking at each of my kids, grandkids, and great grandkid with what I can only consider to be strong interest.
“Yes, uhm, this is, uh, Mohlad,” I stumble through an introduction motioning to him then pointing at the kids. “These are my children. Andrea, Juniper, and Paxton.”
“Me!” Mikel yells jumping up and down excitedly while thrusting his hand up into the air repeatedly.
I smile at him. He’s always been the most rambunctious of the kids.
“And that is one of my grandchildren,” I point to him then each one in turn. “Mikel, Kyle, and Beatrice, Andrea’s children. That’s Emerson and Colt, Jun’s kids,” they nod each in their turn and smile. “And this is Paxton’s child Ellis and his wife Chloe. In her arms is my great-grandchild Remi, and last but not by any means least is Leia, Paxton’s daughter.”
“Family,” Mohlad murmurs, but it comes out a rumble. “Important. Very.”
I smile as he accepts them all. The younger grandkids rush forward and surround him. He kneels in the middle of the group and gives each of them his attention in turn. My kids and the older grandchildren remain huddled and Andrea arches her eyebrow in that way she has of being disapproving and disappointed at the same time. I step around Mohlad’s huddle and join my kids.
“Mom, are you serious?” Andrea says, in a soft, tight voice.
“I think it’s great,” Paxton says.
“No, it’s not!” Andrea says, her voice cracking on the last word. “At her age?”
“Ands,” Juniper says. “Seriously. After all we’ve been through, who cares?”
“He’s an…” she pauses and glances over at Mohlad. “He’s not… gah, you know.”
“Ands,” I say, taking her hands in mine. “Everything is fine.”
“No, it’s not,” she says, trembling before me. “You’re going out there. In the desert and you know as well as I do how incredibly dangerous and stupid that is! You have no business out there. Much less with…” she trails off with a pointed look at Mohlad.
“We discussed this,” I say.
“And I didn’t agree,” she says, another tear streaming down her face.
