Chapter Text
“Teacher-Grace-Mercy! Glimmer is here, it apologizes most sincerely for the inconvenience.”
The Eridian I’ve taken to calling Glimmer warbles in distress, shifting from foot to foot. Glimmer’s pebble, Shimmer, happily rolls its xenonite ball around the sand of my biodome, chirping in delight when the ball shifts in a way it’s not expecting. Both of them have shiny flecks in their carapaces that catch the biodome’s light, the type of lovely feature you’d only notice if you had eyes.
“It wasn’t an inconvenience. Shimmer’s a charm.”
“Glimmer lost track of time.” The again is not spoken, but understood. “Thanks to Grace-Mercy for watching Shimmer in Glimmer’s absence.”
Glimmer… often struggles. Its mate works some very busy job I don’t know much about, which leaves Glimmer largely to care for Shimmer alone. And Glimmer is the sibling of one of Rocky’s crewmates. It tries not to let its feelings show, but even I can tell the grief is eating it alive.
A lot of things fall through the cracks. I try to make sure Shimmer isn’t one of them.
“Hey, it’s okay. Other pebbles stay after sometimes, too,” I say in a tone I hope comes off as soothing. “I don’t mind.”
“But it’s not Grace’s job,” Glimmer intones mournfully. “Caring for Shimmer is Glimmer’s job, and…”
It taps the ground, leaning ever so slightly toward where Shimmer plays. It doesn’t finish the sentence, but I can guess.
“You’re not doing a bad job, Glimmer. Besides, I’m happy to help care for it when you need help. That’s what being in a community is, right?”
I’ve heard that phrase somewhere before, I know it. I grasp for the memory, and it comes.
“Rybaby, you busy?”
My mom knocked on my door and peeked her head in. I was a little busy, but I set my book aside, and my mom sat beside me on the bed.
“What’s up?” I asked.
She took a deep breath before answering. Uh-oh. Maybe she heard about the screaming match Vonte and I got into at lunch. But she wasn’t wearing her you’re in trouble face.
“Wanted to tell you ‘fore it happened. Jeremiah gon’ come stay with us for a little while.”
“What?”
That was even worse than being in trouble. Not because I didn’t like Jeremiah. He went to our church, sometimes we kicked a ball around at recess. But the idea of him staying with us still left a pit in my stomach.
“I know, baby. But… his mama needs the help.” When she was real upset, my mom worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “She ain’t doing too well… not after the accident.”
The car accident, the one that’d killed Jeremiah’s daddy. I glared down at my star-printed sheets. It was sad, but it wasn’t my fault.
“But why here? Can’t he go somewhere else?” I demanded.
My mom clicked her tongue.
“Now, Ryland…”
Full name. I should’ve pulled back, but I barreled ahead.
“It’s not fair. Home’s supposed to be just us.”
My mom sighed, massaging her temples.
“It ain’t forever, baby. But it is for now. His mama ain’t got nobody else now, just like you and me.”
I huffed and looked at the wall. There was a long beat of mutually irritated silence before my mom broke it.
“If something happened to me, I’d want someone to take care of you,” she said quietly, so quiet I almost didn’t hear. “I’m real scared that someday you’ll be all alone. Ain’t about to… to let that happen to someone else’s baby.”
Her voice wobbled like she might cry at the end, and I felt like a real asshole.
“…Okay. Fine. But Ion wanna share my room.”
“I know, I know. He gon’ sleep in the living room. Got an air mattress and everything.”
My mom wiped her eyes when she thought I wasn’t looking. I scooted over to rest my head on her shoulder. It wasn’t quite an apology, but it was the best I had to give.
“Thanks for coming around, baby. I know it’s hard. But this is what being in a community is. We gotta look out for each other.”
“I guess…” I mumbled.
She scratched my scalp gently, the same way she used to when I was real little. Not really an apology either, but probably the best she had to give too.
“Ain’t nobody else my baby. I promise. Couple weeks of a sleepover ain’t gonna change that. Then it’ll be just you and me again.”
“…Okay.”
There was another question eating at me, one I’d been holding but never had the courage to ask.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” my mom said gently, her hand stilling in anticipation on my head. I turned the question over in my mind, trying to decide if now really was the time. But I had to know.
“S’just you and me. …Did my daddy die too?”
My mom’s breath caught.
When she said, “No, baby, he didn’t,” she sounded so sad, so hurt, that the follow-up questions died in my throat.
I wrapped my arms around her, and she held me for a long, long time.
“Grace-Mercy? Grace-Mercy?” Glimmer whistles, voice high with panic. I snap back to the present with tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Teacher-Grace is leaky sometimes,” Shimmer explains, rolling over to me. It bonks the xenonite ball against my legs gently, and I kneel down to hold it close. “It’s okay, Teacher. It’s okay.”
“I’m okay,” I choke out. “Don’t worry, baby. I just… Um. I gotta go. But I really don’t mind, okay? You’re welcome anytime.”
I wipe my face on my sweater sleeve and give Shimmer’s ball a gentle pat before releasing it.
“I mean it. You’re welcome too, Glimmer. Even if you just… want to talk at me, or something. I’m around. I don’t have good advice, but…”
“No. Grace-Mercy is wise. Glimmer has not… allowed itself to rely on its community. Glimmer should try to ask for help.” It tilts its carapace in what might be a smile. “Thank you. We will leave you to your leaking.”
Shimmer bounds off energetically after its parent, not shaken in the slightest by my meltdown. But I collapse into tears as soon as they’re out of hearing range, wishing desperately that my mom was here to hold me.