Wednesday 26 July 2017
‘You are to go. None of this nonsense.’ Dolores’s voice was firm.
‘But, Dolores—’
‘Don’t you “But, Dolores” me. It’s ridiculous that they’re keeping me in this long as it is. I feel perfectly fine. I’m not having you miss your holiday on my account.’
‘It’s only Toronto. I can rebook. I can go any time.’
‘Yes, you can. But do you?’ Dolores arched an eyebrow. ‘When was the last time you left the state?’
Meg opened her mouth to reply, but as she realized the answer, closed it again.
‘And besides, you know perfectly well your sister probably won’t take another break until the next leap year. She is to rest what you are to travel.’ Dolores chuckled, shaking her head from side to side in amusement. ‘Honestly, what a pair you are.’
Meg sighed, her coffee cup now cooling in her hands. ‘Dolores, you were attacked by a bear.’
‘Oh, trust me, I remember.’
Meg smiled, the smile turning into a giggle. ‘I can’t believe you were actually drawing it towards you. I mean, are you insane? “Here, bear, chase me, chase me!”’
‘Says the girl who walked straight towards it.’ Dolores shrugged. ‘Anyway, better me dead than you girls. I’ve had my time.’
‘No, you haven’t!’ Meg cried. ‘You’d told Barbara only that morning that you had no plans to shuffle off this mortal coil just yet.’
‘And I don’t, but if it’s an either/or situation . . .’ Her eyes softened as she looked at Meg. ‘You haven’t got started yet. Your whole life is ahead of you. You need to start living it.’
‘I am.’
‘I mean properly.’ She smiled but her eyes were sad. ‘You’re just sleepwalking at the moment, Meg. It’s time to wake up and see the world. Really see it.’
Meg didn’t reply. She didn’t want to argue – Dolores was nowhere near as strong as she’d like to pretend – but why did everyone insist on making out as though she was only living half a life? Dolores, Ronnie . . . ? Her fiancé was dead. The life she was supposed to be living had been snatched away at the eleventh hour. Was it really so surprising if she didn’t quite know her next step?
Dolores closed her eyes, looking tired again. It had been three days since the accident and although the wound was healing nicely, the doctors still weren’t happy with her stats, her blood pressure erratically peaking at dangerously high levels. ‘Promise me you’ll go.’
Meg stayed silent.
Dolores opened one eye. ‘Promise me. Or I’ll die here just to spite you.’
‘Fine,’ Meg replied with a groan. ‘But I’m going to be calling daily and if they say you’ve so much as sneezed, I’ll be on the first plane back.’
Dolores chuckled. ‘You’re stubborn, you know that?’
‘Ha! Pot. Kettle. Black!’ Meg laughed, holding her hand and squeezing it tightly.
Dolores sank her head back into the pillow. ‘How’s Jonas?’
Meg smiled. Jonas appeared to be Dolores’s new favourite topic. ‘He’s fine.’
‘Heard from him?’
‘Yes, he emailed last night.’
‘And what’s he got to say for himself this time? You know, for a man stuck on a spaceship, he sure is talkative.’
‘Shall I read it to you?’
‘Well, there’s nothing better to do in this godforsaken place . . . A postcard from space will have to do.’
Meg chuckled, pulling out her smartphone and finding the message. Dolores loved Jonas’s galactic perspective almost as much as Meg.
‘Hi Dog-Dog-Ellie.’ Meg paused, eyebrows cocked. ‘He’s taken to greeting me like this now. He thinks it’s hilarious that I don’t know the proper thingies for call signs.’
‘So do I,’ Dolores grinned. ‘I shall have to teach you. Go on.’
‘Sorry I haven’t been able to write before now. Things are mad here with getting ready for our return on Friday. I feel more like a cleaner than an astronaut, wrapping and packing away all the waste that we need to bring with us back to Earth. We’ve even had to stop playing our bubble-wrap game because it’s all stowed now—’ Meg looked back at Dolores. ‘Did I tell you about that? The bubble wrap’s stored in the Japanese module, out of the way, and they have timed races after dinner for who can take a piece there and get back in the shortest amount of time?’
‘Such children,’ Dolores groaned, clearly loving the sound of it.
Meg went back to reading again. ‘Although Sergei still plays his guitar any chance he gets and most of us just go to the cupola every time we’ve got a few minutes, to take more pictures. It’s hard to believe that after six months, we’ve now got less than two days left to enjoy this view. I’m not sure any of the pictures I’ve taken will ever convey what it actually feels like to be up here; words aren’t enough either. I think it’s because space is so beyond the human experience, we just aren’t equipped to convey it. We talk about the physicality of it – weightlessness, lack of oxygen . . . but every time I look out and see the huge curve of the Earth, that thin disc of gold as another dawn breaks just over the horizon, it’s my spirit that is stirred. I think it’s not just scientists they should bring up here but priests and rabbis and imams, philosophers, politicians, world leaders . . . The world is ruled by money and divided by religion but when you see the planet from out here, you understand there’s more to humanity than “just” physics and the physical.
‘Hey, listen to me! Quite the philosopher, huh?
‘But as much as I’ll be sad to leave, I can’t wait to get back. Fresh fruit and vegetables! Running water! The thought of a shower is almost more than I can handle—’
Meg looked at Dolores again. ‘Because remember, water just floats up there. It doesn’t hit your skin,’ she explained.
Dolores gave a look of distaste. ‘Ghastly.’
‘The wind, trees, flowers, grass. The weather – rain, snow, sunshine. And smells! Colours. Noise. Even taste. Everything tastes bland up here. I can’t wait to have some pickled mackerels. I can’t wait to see my dog Yuri and go for a run with him on the beach and go out sailing. Before I came up, I was most excited about floating all the time but now my feet miss contact with the Earth. It’s going to be good to be grounded again.
‘How are things with you? Did you go on the walk to the hot springs in the end? I hope Lucy got on OK, it sounds like she’s having a tough time—’
‘Didn’t you tell him about the bear attack?’ Dolores interrupted.
Meg shook her head. ‘No. I wrote before it happened.’
‘And not since?’
‘Well someone’s got to sit with you – to stop you from snoring if nothing else.’
Dolores cracked a smile – laughing wasn’t allowed yet. ‘He’ll be wondering where you’ve gone.’
‘I’m not the one on a galactic walkabout. It’s pretty obvious I don’t go anywhere.’
‘And are you going to tell him about this?’
‘No!’ Meg protested, wrinkling her nose.
‘But why not?’
‘He’ll think I’m a walking disaster.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, you know – first Mitch, now . . .’ Her voice trailed off.
‘Oh, I see. Calamity is your middle name.’ Dolores arched an eyebrow. ‘But did you bait the bear? Did you run off with its cubs? Did you drizzle yourself in honey?’
Meg laughed. ‘No!’
‘Exactly. It just happened. Shit happens – isn’t that the phrase?’
‘I know, but this isn’t something I just want to . . . gossip about. It’s not some story to bandy about in an email as entertainment.’
‘Why not? Everyone’s OK,’ Dolores scoffed.
‘You could have died, Dolores.’
‘But I didn’t. Listen to me, I’m seventy-three years old and I survived a bear attack! I intend to tell anyone who’ll listen! Maybe it’s different for you – you’re still young – but once you get to my age, people spend their time looking back and telling their old stories.’ She shook her head. ‘No. This is the best thing to happen to me in years. I’ve got a new story to tell! This will liven up my craps nights no end.’
Meg chuckled, squeezing Dolores’s hand again. ‘Fine. I’ll tell him about it then.’ She looked back at the email, trying to pick up her place again. ‘Ummm . . . Oh, yeah. Lucy. It sounds like she’s having a tough time. Tell her she’s like me – on a countdown too! It won’t last for ever. As a clever man once said, “This too shall pass.”
‘Enjoy Toronto. Go to Soho House for cocktails if you get a chance. I went last year when I was visiting for an International Astronautical Conference – yes, it really was as fascinating as it sounds! – and loved the place.
‘You’ll have a great time. I know you’re nervous about leaving home but if nothing else, one of the best things about travelling is getting to go home again. You have to leave in order to be able to come back, right?’
‘He’s wise. I like him,’ Dolores muttered. ‘How old did you say he is again?’
‘Going by his photo, I’m guessing mid-thirties. Could be wrong though.’
Dolores tutted, at her evasiveness, Meg knew.
‘I won’t be able to write now till after we land and things are going to get pretty crazy for the next few days, so don’t worry if I’m radio silent for a few days – assuming I don’t get turned into a crisp, of course.
‘In the event that I am frazzled – and that really would suck – I want you to know I’ve loved our talks. Our friendship has become one of the defining experiences of this expedition, which isn’t something I anticipated when we blasted off in February. The rest of the crew have been jealous as hell of my bad-joke-telling, airwaves-hijacking pen pal in the Canadian Rockies. You’re a really great girl, Meg Saunders.
‘Over, but not out (I hope),
‘Jonas x
‘PS. Assuming you’re going to try to tune in and have a laugh at my best Kazakh impression, I will try to wave if I can lift my arms.
‘PPS Heard the one about the Englishman and the Irishman in Vegas sitting on a bench? The Englishman turns to the Irishman and asks, “Which do you think is further? Florida or the moon?”
‘The Irishman turns to his friend and says, “Hello? Can you see Florida from here?”’
‘On behalf of my Irish grandmother, that’s a terrible joke,’ Dolores muttered.
‘I know. He’s full of them,’ Meg said, giving a careless shrug as she closed the email, but her heart was pounding again from the emotions it had stirred – every time she read it (and she’d read it a lot, whilst Dolores slept) she felt profound shock that he thought she was a great girl, surprise that he’d signed off with a kiss, but mainly fear.
Fear that he was going to die.
Fear that he was going to land.