Page 17 of Between Earth and Eternity
Questions? Too many.
“As you are aware, in thirteen days, a crew member of Zenith will come to collect you and escort you to a Mannox Industries housing facility near the launch site. These temporary living quarters are where you will then undergo the five-dayquarantine period, followed by an orientation of what to expect on your exciting trip aboard Zenith.”
Quarantine. Lovely. Though it makes sense, since thousands of us are going to be stuck on a ship in outer space with nowhere to go.
Trapped.
My stomach goes queasy at the thought.
“Attached to this message, you will find more detailed information on your departure, a list of what you are allowed to bring aboard, a health assessment that you will need to fill out beforehand, as well your departure time. It is Mannox Industries’s pleasure to offer this exciting opportunity, and we hope your thirteen-month journey to Eden will be enjoyable.”
The message ends, and I let out an exasperated breath.
Thirteen days before Earth is in my past.
Thirteen months trapped on a ship, speeding through space.
I’m trying to find the positives: that I have time to say goodbye to my family, to this world. Life has a cruel way of never preparing you for your worst-case scenario, and I’m being forced to face mine. I still can’t deny that in my heart, I know I belong here. I belong to Earth, and I don’t know how I am going to say goodbye to it all.
Taking it slow, but it all goes quickly
The time that it takes is all I’ll take with me
So, I’m saving it up just to go out and spend it
Gonna fly through my life ’til I crash into the ending
“What Does It Mean,” Lord Huron
Time does not play fair. Not only does it have no rules, it cheats. Somehow, thirteen days turn into seven, then two. I do my best to soak up every moment, drinking in every singledetail of the life I will leave behind, of the people I love and the places I will never see again, tracing them over and over in my mind.
El and I sit for hours making playlists for every mood and situation we can come up with. Songs for the tough days, when I need a mood boost or a good cry. However, we agree he can’t touch my running playlists, those stay as is. My particular favorite is the string of songs that pay homage to every sad ballad from the 1980s. It’s one of our best-loved musical eras, and according to my father, it’s been iconic ever since the era was in its prime.
My best friend, of course, takes it upon himself to prevent me from tailspinning by researching every method of meditation, breathing technique, and mental exercise he can find. According to mental health experts dating from thousands of years ago to the present, you can train your mind like a muscle, but I don’t have time to master any of the techniques. We do some of them together, which usually turn into us laughing hysterically. The laughter is what helps the most. Joy chases away dread every time. If only there were a way to bottle that feeling and keep it with me, especially for when those hard days come, and I know they will.
Gran is always offering an encouraging word, while my father is there to share more advice and wisdom. We talk late into the night, discussing historical events and wondering what our ancestors would have thought about all of this. It reminds me of the recordings I’ve seen of him giving lectures back in the days when he was just a young professor, passionate and excited to teach. I save a few of them on my device for safekeeping, for the days when I’m desperate for home and hearing his voice will help me get through. He’s carefully planned out movie marathons, a list of all our favorites to watch together as we shout out the memorable quotes and laugh at the same thingswe have a hundred times before. It’s the only time I forget about what is really happening.
My mother is a different story. She is quiet for the most part, but when she does speak, it ends with her drowning in tears and holding me in a death grip that a bear trap would find impressive. She put together a little photo album for me, pictures ranging from me as a baby to now. One of my favorites is me wearing the baseball cap, but it tilts over my eyes, too big for my head. I’m no more than six in the photo. Most of the photos have Elliot in them because he has always been there, a part of our family. I want to sit in those pockets of time with them for as long as I can.
If I could take one aspect from each of them with me, one thing that would help me keep them with me longer, I would. With Gran, it would be her calm energy that I feel when I hold her hand, her skin soft and her presence a beautiful grace that only age can bring. My father’s steady and strong confidence. And with my mother, it would be the love that is so pure that it can’t be contained in a single emotion.
A few nights ago, when I passed by my parents’ door to go downstairs for a glass of water, I paused for a moment when I thought I heard arguing.
“How can I be so relieved and devastated all at once?” My mother’s voice was troubled.
“I know. I am too,” Father responded with care.
“I’m so worried about her, Harrison.”
They were quiet for several seconds, and I imagined him holding my mother in his arms while she cried silent tears. Just as I was about to walk away, my dad began to speak again.
“Skyler needs this. She needs to face her fears . . . grow up a little bit. She’s always had us and Elliot to rely on, and you and I both know she is capable of so much more.”
My mom hummed in agreement, then added, “I don’t want her to end up like me—stuck in her head and scared to live.” My father’s words, while harsh, instilled some confidence deep in me, but my mother’s broke my heart.
Day Thirteen.
I let the evergreen tree needles prick my hands as I sprint past, trace my fingertips on the tall grass that remains along the trail, and when I reach the top, I rest my bleeding palms against the rocky ground like I’m searching for a heartbeat. Earth may be dying, but I still cherish it. It may be a sphere of rock, but it’s my birthplace—our birthplace. I can’t say for sure if there was more that could have been done to save this world, no one can, but I want this planet to know that I wanted to remain here, because if there’s a chance that it has a soul like me, I want it to know that at least one of us would have gladly died beside it.
