Page 19 of Homebound
Blurry lines swirled artfully on the screen and coalesced into a crisp projection of Meeus as seen from space. Further on, Gemma watched the camera zoom in on the planet’s lush green landscapes. Crystal clear droplets of rain were dewy and plump on glossy green leaves. Beyond the bountiful forest, a soaring city became visible, and like a bird flying by, Gemma observed skyscrapers made out of smoky glass, and bridges connecting two banks of a flowing river. Bright, beautifully appointed personal vehicles glided over the tabletop-smooth roads and hovered in mid-air. Plump, dimple-cheeked children were laughing, swinging on swings at a park drowned in flowers.
The tantalizing imaging over with, the paradise winked out, and a message link appeared. Gemma opened the letter, and words from Zeke poured out.
My dearest Gemma,
Words cannot say how long I've been meaning to write this letter to you. I lost track of time. My life is not my own at a busy place where I landed a job. I am a doctor here on Meeus, just like you probably guessed. What else? You know I can't do much of anything except fix broken bodies.
Meeus is wonderful. It is all it's portrayed to be on Earth, and so much more. Life was hard at first because the residents are suspicious of newcomers, but now it's rewarding. I've learned a lot. I've grown as a physician and as a man.
I hope life has treated you kindly. Are you still teaching dance at the school? I remember you as a very resourceful girl, with a kind heart and a quick mind. I don’t have a right to ask, but I hope there is a man in your life who is making you happy. Six months ago I married a wonderful woman, and we are expecting our first child - a son - this spring. We are truly blessed, but I haven’t forgotten my promise to you. Miriam, my wife, and I have had many a conversation about you, and we feel that we will not be able to forgive ourselves if we don’t do everything we can to affordyou the same opportunity that brought me to her due to, partly, the money you earned for my freight passage.
Our city opened a new theater, and all the shows have been a huge success. Through a former patient of mine, a place on their dance troupe is already arranged for you, and they are anticipating your arrival with great excitement. I admit, I've been effusive in my praise of your grace and your training. The paperwork will be expedited and a passage booked as soon as I hear back from you. I, too, look forward to seeing you again. You were, and I hope still are, my dearest friend, Gemma.
With best regards,
Zeke.
Gemma sat back, suddenly drained of all energy.
The fee she had paid for the message included a print out option and a reply back.
She needed neither.
Calmly, she erased the missive and logged off, and then gave a small self-deprecating laugh. Was life unfair or what?
She exited the Comm Center before tears came, and when they came, cold wind blasted them off her face. Gemma walked slowly in the dark, her right ankle giving in with each step.
Strangely enough, Zeke’s marriage and personal happiness didn’t affect her too deeply, and Gemma chose not to analyze that fact just yet.
But his invitation to dance on Meeus really hurt.
She would never dance again. Earth, Meeus, asteroid belt - the location didn’t matter. Her injury had brought her stellar prima ballerina career to a grinding halt. Worse, Zeke knew it, he had been there when it happened. He had tried to set her bones, for God’s sake! There wasn’t much he was able to do without surgery, and the bones mended as they mended. Even teaching dance was a tentative option. Yes, she’d taught dance at a school here in the City before the class got canceled, but the level of agility required to teach ten-year-old girls how to do arabesque was nothing compared to the demands the Meeus dance troupe would place on her body.
She exhaled and told herself not to blame Zeke too harshly. Dancing was the only qualification Gemma could offer - or had been able to offer - in life. Maybe Zeke assumed that she’d gotten the much-needed surgery, and even though Gemma might not be great anymore, she could pass muster for being good enough.
She couldn't. She could barely walk without limping.
At home, the entire McKinley family was waiting for her with impatience.
“I will not be going to Meeus,” Gemma announced from the threshold.
Uncle Drexel opened his mouth to say something, but Aunt Herise elbowed him into silence. Gemma was grateful for her aunt’s unexpected display of tact. A fresh wave of tears flooded her eyes as this paradigm shift of her life rocked her anew.
She dashed into her room, or more like stumbled drunkenly on unsteady feet, and shut the door. She let the tears fall in silence, her emotions a tangle of pain, disappointment, and crushed hopes. And loneliness. She hadn’t realized before what a huge amount of comfort thoughts about Zeke were giving her. Just the notion that she mattered to at least one person in the Universe had made her life in the City tolerable.
Now she was truly alone.
Miserably dejected, she took her calendar off the wall and flipped through it with hateful nostalgia thinking of ways to dispose of it. She could tear it in a million tiny pieces, each for the piece of her broken heart. She could burn it in the woodstove, like she burned two years of her life nurturing hopes, waiting for Zeke’s promises to come true. Or she could open the window and simply throw the calendar out to the cold like Zeke had thrown out their love.
The calendar’s grid of tight little squares, one for each date that she had meticulously outlined and filled with numbers, jumped at her from the pages. Each square represented a day of her life. Each day had been a struggle. And she survived all 782.
She flipped to the new page and outlined tomorrow’s date.
Day One.
???
“Gemma McKinley, a third floor helper. Here to receive a set of clean scrubs for an inmate in cell 35. Underwear, socks, shoes. Bed linens.”
