Melissa Cuevas

         The two girls stood, shoulder to shoulder, fingers twisted together.  Jointly, they presented the perfect picture of wealthy indulgence, scrubbed, pampered, dressed in the pinnacle of preteen fashion.  Joanie, the redhead, wore green.  Evie, the blonde, wore blue.  Each had started the day with a becoming mass of corkscrew curls captured in a delicate clasp, Joanie's remained that way, but Evie's had long since gone flat. 

         "Ah.  Lady Evalan."  The liner's captain greeted me, his eyes sliding over the pair as they stood gripping each other and their travel cases.  "These must be the girls." 

         Of course they were, I thought, but didn't say.  I sensed that he was about to patronize himself into a corner... he had Evie's unblinking attention now, and I knew that look.  Joanie was still oblivious, slower to react than her companion was. 

         "Of course." he answered himself.  "The shorter one has your look about her."

         Evie's look went from unblinking attention to raptor fascination.  She was "the shorter one," a designation she despised.  I chose to ignore the statement... Evie was not above including me in any planned retribution for her bruised ego, the child was devious verging on evil.  Her antics were not exactly something I wanted to deal with on this trip.  I was already tired enough, and it was only going to get worse. 

         "Evie."  I motioned towards her, "And Joanie." 

         Joanie grinned goofily at the introduction; Evie merely nodded when her name fell. 

         "You'll be in the forward cabin."  The liner captain stated.  "I'll show you the way, if you follow me." 

         The hard soles of the girls' flat shoes clicked in harmony as they fell into step behind me, Joanie's steps softer and longer immediately to my back, Evie's louder, shorter, sharper, as she took up the rear.   I knew exactly how they looked without needing to see them... both would toddle primly along in my wake, heads bowed, gloved hands gripping the handle of their travel cases... the picture of good behavior.  I felt sorry for any one who was sucked in by such a blatant act. 

         "You're traveling alone, Lady Evalan?"  The captain asked dubiously, leading the way through the liner's bowels. 

         "No.  I have the girls with me."  I answered, noting the obvious.  That wasn't what he meant; he was hoping for some sort of private security, or, in the very least, my own doctor. 

         "I... see."  He breathed, stopping at the forward cabin door.  "Should I inform the ship's doctor..." He swallowed the remainder of the sentence off as Evie broke from her rear guard position and came up beside me.  Her fingers gripped mine, as she fixated the poor man with that stare again. 

         "That won't be necessary."  I sighed, giving her gloved hand a squeeze.  "I have no intention of dying on your ship, good sir."

         And that was exactly what he was worried about.  That, or even worse, a medical emergency involving me that his medical crew and facilities were ill equipped to handle, a situation that would bring his liner into the news for all the wrong reasons.

         I don't know which is worse, being terminally ill, or being openly terminally ill.  I knew if I died on his ship, nothing would come of it, but there was nothing I could to convince him of that.  He smelled bad press, he smelled lawsuit, both things he'd like to avoid.  How many zeros would be tacked onto the end of a settlement that involved the wrongful death of Lady Evalan Kendall?  Seven?  Eight?  Nine?  Forget that Lady Evalan Kendall had been terminally ill for twelve years now, a well known and publicized fact.

         "Of course, milady."  He sighed, his eyes dropping to Evie, who stood motionless at my side.  He didn't want to talk about this in front of the girls, although both of them had grown up in the specter of my illness.  Both of them had grown up understanding that they could become orphans at any moment, not that I was in any hurry to let that happen. 

         I woke eight hours later, enough sleep to keep me going for another day.  I could hear the girls whispering to each other, but I was unable to decide whether they were plotting, or just trying to keep from waking me up.  I'd bet on both. 

         I stood, pulling on my robe.  I could feel the liner's powerful engines through my bare feet, and a quick glance at the jump lights arrayed over each door in the cabin confirmed that we were still in slowspace. 

         "Mama!"  Joanie crowed, sprinting across the cabin.  She broke speed at the last possible moment, enveloping me in a careful hug.  Mama was too fragile to get the sort of hugs she specialized in.  Evie paddled in behind her, carrying a tray with my pills deliberately arranged on it. 

         "You nearly overslept," she noted.  "I was just about to come in and wake you."

         "Can we go down to breakfast now?"  Joanie demanded.  "We've read and reread the layout sheets.  We know where the restaurant is.  We'll be good!"

         I didn't doubt that, my two regular little angels.  The best camouflage of all. 

         Evie screwed up her face, elbowing Joanie, who fell immediately silent.  Joanie had jumped the idea too quickly... Evie hadn't had enough of a chance to okay me for a public appearance.  I was awake on my own... that was good, but did I feel good enough to go down for breakfast?  She wasn't sure yet, and wouldn't be sure until after I took my medications.  Evie was a solid, methodical sort, contentiously checking things off of her internal list before straying to the next task.  

         I swallowed my handful of jewel colored pills, taking a swig of the water that Evie offered to wash their rainbow trails off of my tongue.  "I don't see why not," I said.  "You two get dressed while I get ready." 

         "Yes!"  Joanie hissed in triumph, spinning in a flurry to choose her outfit du jour.  Evie measured me with another long stare before finally nodding acquiescence.  I had passed muster, I would be allowed to venture forth in public.  

         We hit the liner's sumptuous restaurant in a classic wedge formation; I took the front, Evie on my left, Joanie on my right.   Other passengers stared, but I had lived the past twelve years of my life being watched.  This was nothing new.  I was Evalan Kendall, after all.  I was Stephen Menard's widow.  Even if I were not recognized, my unrelieved black clothing grabbed attention... and the fact that I was outnumbered by the children, two girls who both bore a strong familial resemblance to me.  Two girls, too close in ages, the smaller of whom was obviously not genengineered, the taller one questionable in that respect.  We would seem like unengineered riffraff, except that both of the girls were impeccably turned out, graciously well mannered.

         "Ah.  Lady Evalan."  The steward greeted, "Girls.  I'm glad to see all of you.  I have a table, this way."  

         Breakfast was nice, Evie and Joanie packing down a small fortune's worth of real, good food, the only kind they'd ever had.  My own appetite failed half way through the meal, but I'd eaten enough to appease Evie, and Joanie took the opportunity to filch the strawberries remaining on my plate.  "Ummmmmmmmmm." she grinned, an impish look handed down in unadulterated purity from her father, Stephen.  My stomach clenched down in response, and it was all I could do to summon an appropriate smile for her.  Joanie had never known Stephen, and could never know what a blessing, and a curse, that her resemblance to him was for me. 

         "The observation deck!" she announced imperiously, understanding only that I was smiling... smiling that smile that guaranteed indulgence.    This was Joanie's and Evie's second space voyage, a sparkling new and fascinating adventure.  I didn't want to be the one to spoil that. 

         Evie, my little worrier, frowned.  "Mom might be tired," she noted slowly. 

         She was, but not too tired to escort them down to the observation deck.  Once there, I would need to sit for awhile, but I felt pretty good right then.  "Not too tired," I said, repaid for my fortitude by the incandescent light in Joanie's eyes.   She crowed in delight, hopping to her feet and zooming towards the observation deck.  Evie stayed with me, eyeing Joanie's hyperkinetic progress through disapproving eyes.  "Lighten up, kid," I instructed.  "Let her be."

         "She's left us behind." 

         "I know."  Joanie left me behind with increasing regularity.  It was a good thing, but I didn't want to try to explain that belief to Evie.  I had known I was going to die before Joanie was born.  My job had been to prepare both of the children for the day when I wouldn't be around anymore.  I had pushed the envelope much longer than anyone had expected me to, still alive twelve years after the accident that had claimed Stephen Menard's life.  Still alive to squeeze out as much time as I could, to be the mother his daughter needed.  But I wasn't going to be around forever, not even close.  Joanie needed to create space between us now, while she still had the chance. 

         "Go.  Catch up with her."  I chuckled.  Joanie was growing away from me, but I worried about Evie.  She snorted, but obligingly broke into a run, trailing after Joanie's laughter.  She didn't have a chance in hell to catch Joanie, short and sturdy, Evie was a sprinter and Joanie had too much of a head start.   Evie's endurance would fail and her natural laziness would take over, I doubted if she'd last all of the way to the observation deck. 

         I wasn't sure if she'd lasted, but she was just inside of the observation deck when I arrived at my own speed.  "Couldn't catch her," she announced with no little amount of disgust, plopping down beside me as I sat down on one of the plush trestles that paralleled the liner's viewing plates.  

         "Where is she?"  I demanded, scanning the slowly moving masses of humanity in the large room.  Slowly moving tended to discount the presence of Siobhan "Joanie" Menard in their midst.

         "Over there."  Evie jerked her blunt chin.  "With the genen boojie." 

         So she was, huddled in like aged fascination with a child that distressingly matched Evie's scathing two word description.  Genen boojie... Genengineered bourgeoisie.  "Snob," I accused.

         "I come by it honestly," she replied, sending me a telling glance.  Yeah.  So she did.  "Won't last long," She continued.  "Stoned little boojie isn't going to be nearly fast enough to keep up with Joanie.  In legs or mind.  Joanie'll be right back."

         Stoned?  I glanced back at the huddled pair of feminine preteen angles.  It was common enough to sedate small children traveling midstars, the claustrophobic surroundings and high risk of even the most luxurious liners didn't mix well with destructive toddlers and children who didn't answer to the most important commands... being come to their own name, no!, stop!, stay in the cabin, and don't touch anything red.   That one looked a little old for the baby treatment, easily as old as Joanie, but either Evie was correct, or this was the most placid looking beautiful child in existence. 

         "Ugh," I murmured.  "How... precious." 

         She was precious, but I'd swap her spun sugar looks for one of Evie's glares, one of Joanie's impish smiles, any day of the week.  She looked perfectly lovely, perfectly vacant, fully formed in spite of her probable age.  Joanie was all knees and arms beside her, but when Joanie slowed the chatter enough to realize who was doing all the talking, she'd be back.  Evie was correct in that. 

         "Humph."  Evie snorted, pressing her blunt, freckled nose against the viewplate to stare morosely out.  She hated being left behind, something guaranteed anytime Joanie clapped eyes on another girl of an appropriate age.  Evie was the junior by a year, both girls still young enough to where that small amount of time made a vast difference in their relationship.  Evie was all too familiar, and familiarity bred... not contempt, but restlessness, for Joanie. 

         I slung an arm around her, and she leaned into me.  Joanie moved too much to snuggle, and I was once again relieved that I had gone ahead with the decision to have Evie.  My brother and his wife, slated to inherit the girls after the inevitable, had howled bloody murder.  Not because I seemed determined to leave them with another child, but because of the demands I was willing to place on my failing body.  I didn't see what it mattered then, given three years to live; I wanted to leave Joanie with something tangible, someone who would be there after I couldn't... Evie. 

         "Here she comes.  We'll go look at the simucourse," Evie crowed, pushing away from me as children of her age did, without thought or care.  She reunited with Joanie, and the pair surged off, the boojie forgotten. 

         I sighed, exhausted.  This trip had worn on me as none of the others had.  My brother had been against it, but then, my brother was against anything I did that might make it seem like I wasn't dying.  If he'd had his way, I would have taken to my sick bed a dozen years ago, and never shifted from it again.  I would take my carefully planned meals three times a day, my carefully planned and supervised walk once a day.  He and Grace would dote on me, dote on Joanie, and I would pass quietly on into death.  Blech.  I had been only twenty three when I had been exposed in the incident that had claimed Stephen's life and left him the perfect posthumous hero... Handsome, brave, dead, with a young wife clinging to life and a baby on the way.  I had been an adult for two years, a mere fraction of the life I was slated to have.  I was glad I never listened; glad I had reached out to have as normal a life as I could.  If I had listened, I would have spent twelve years waiting to die, most of my adult life watching it all slip away from me.  But maybe I could use that rest now... we would be home tonight.  I would let Ian and Grace take the girls for awhile, giving me time to think.  My doctors urged surgery, to remove the largest of the masses flourishing in my abdomen.  I had always gone along with my doctors' urgings, and I credited them with a lot.  Joanie, healthy and whole, despite everything.  Evie, likewise.  A full dozen years when the greatest optimists had me dead in less than five.  A fairly normal existence, not pain free, but I had usually been well enough to get around. 

         But now... the prospect of another surgery daunted me, exhausted me.  I didn't want it; each was worse than the last had been. 

         I stood slowly.  What reprieve I'd had for the day was failing, I felt washed out and shaky.  The kids knew where to find me, and they were smart enough to stay out of the liner crew's way.  They'd be back when Evie's fascination with the simucourse wore out.

         They were back in an hour.  Both took one look at me and retreated to the couch to play quietly with their portapads.  I expected that from Evie, but for Joanie to do it without Evie's prodding meant I must look nearly as bad as I felt. 

         I dozed until Evie delicately shifted me awake, pulling from vaguely frantic dreams I didn't remember, and was happy to lose.  "Mom," she said in that half strident, half maternal voice she had when she felt I was getting bad.  "Mom.  We're here.  Joanie and I packed."

         Oh, God.  I must be bad.  Joanie had packed.  Her stuff.  My stuff.  She stood anxiously by the cabin door, her attention focused on me. 

         "I'm awake."  I sighed, wishing I could erase both of their expressions.  "Go on down and meet Ian and Grace at the lobby while I get ready."  They both nodded and disappeared out of the door, leaving me alone. 

         I stumbled to my feet, happy that I had not bothered to undress from breakfast.  I was wrinkled and rumpled, but I didn't have to put forth enough effort to dress.  Right now, that seemed too much to ask for. 

         My heart went into a freefall in my chest, and I sighed.  I was expecting that.  Time for the little green pills with the tasty lime coating.  One of them if my heart was minorly disobedient... two if it was majorly bad.  I considered, then shook two of them into my palm and swallowed. 

         I must be getting a cold on top of everything else, I felt feverish and my chest was full.  Great.  Another stay in a hospital... one that had nothing to do with my quasi planned surgery.  I plucked a handful of tissues from the box beside the bed and tried to hawk the rumbly fullness from my lungs. 

         "No," I breathed, staring at the crimson smear on the tissue.  I hurried over to the mirror to look.  Odd how it is, my eyes saw the blood, but I needed to see.  To see me.  To see how bad it was.  When I saw, I understood the girls' barely restrained concern.

         "Lani."  It was barely a whisper, not a true voice.  I looked up, and I was not alone. 

         It wasn't the first time that I'd seen Stephen since his death.  It was so regular an occurrence that my brother asked if I'd done so every time that Ian planned on accompanying me anywhere... because I only saw Stephen right before I crashed.  Ian had brushed it off, until the doctors gave it a nice medical reason... Hallucinations caused by declining oxygen levels in my brain... by shock.   Then Ian bought it, believed it, at least that my hallucinations were a precursor to problems. 

         Every time before, I'd seen Stephen when I was in a hospital, when immediate medical intervention was close at hand.  Each time, I had nearly died in spite of that.  I saw Stephen now. 

         The liner was at dock, in orbit.  At the absolute best, I was a good hour away from the caliber of medical treatment I knew I needed.  Ian was down with the girls... there would be all the necessary greetings, hugs, kisses.  Ian was a Kendall, he moved at his own speed, slow.  There was always the cabin phone, but it seemed so far away. 

         Stephen, reflected in the mirror, only shrugged, as if he heard my thoughts.  "But, Stephen.... I promised the man I wouldn't die on his ship."  It was an asinine thing to say, but it was the only thing that occurred to me.  Thank God Ian was here, with the girls.  He hated that I took them away, alone.  Now, I understood his misgivings. 

         Stephen shrugged again.  My promise, one I had no right to guarantee.  I had been living on stolen time for years, I knew that.  I bypassed the cabin phone, moving to the bed and lying down again.  I was too tired to call.  I just needed to rest a second, and Ian would be up any moment.  He could make the call.  He could do all the necessary panicking. 

         I closed my eyes, feeling Stephen sit beside me.  His touch was gentle, but real, as he smoothed my hair back.  "Lani," he breathed, and my world was filled with his presence.

         Ian Kendall moved down the liner's hall at an unaccustomed speed.  Evie's voice had been full of worry when she had met him at the dock, but more than that, Joanie's eyes had been frantic.  Hard to wake up, feverish, seemed fine at breakfast but had faded quickly... Evie's words were a litany in his head.  Not here.  Not now.  Nothing could be done...

         The cabin door was unlocked when he reached it, but that in itself was not frightening.  After Evalan had accepted that she was going to die, she stopped worrying about the minutiae.  What was frightening was the absolute silence in the room when he entered.  Evalan did not sleep quietly anymore, every noisy breath an affirmation that she lived. 

         "Lani?" he called, his voice obscenely loud. 

         Evalan laid on her back, on the bed, head half turned away from the door, one hand flung out over the pillow next to her, the other, still ornamented with Stephen's wedding band, clasped into a loose fist on her chest.  A thin crimson line had trailed from the corner of her mouth, staining her shoulder.  Ian touched her cautiously, she was still very warm, but he knew she was gone. 

          He sighed.  No surprise, of course, but some part of him had thought Evalan would live forever, in spite of what the doctors said.  He stood, moving to the vanity.  Resting on its polished surface were Lani and the kids' identification pamphlets.  Grace would need Joanie and Evie's to get them off of the liner and home.  He would be required to stay, to handle the paperwork.  Evalan had planned her death carefully, there shouldn't be much, but he was not foolish enough to believe there would be no bureaucracy involved. 

         He left the worn blue pamphlet on the vanity.... that one was Evalan's... it would be required for the upcoming paperwork.  The crisp new blue one was Joanie's, Siobhan Menard.  The crisp new burgundy one was Evie's.  He opened it slowly.

         Kendall, Evalan Zabeth.  It was the law that every independent clone bore the same name as their biological donor.  Lani could have used her cloning privileges to extend her life, extend it perhaps as far as ten years after her fatal exposure.  She had opted instead to bear Evie as a fully sentient child, an independent clone of herself.  Ian had argued, but she had remained resolute.  Yes, she knew Evie wouldn't be her, but it was the best she could do.  Some part of her would stay with Joanie, a companion, a shoulder to cry on, someone who could be around as long as Evalan herself couldn't.

 

 

Copyright 2007, Melissa Cuevas

Melissa Cuevas is a stay at home mom living in the wilds of SW Wisconsin.  She is a military brat and World of Warcraft enthusiast, as well as an aspiring author and general, all around geek. 

  

 

 

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