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Tammy loved Cal. She knew she did. Ever since childhood, when Cal would bake with her and show her little critters he’d find around the colony. She knew when he smiled and it felt like sunshine, and he played dolls with her, not caring that others called it childish. She knew when he asked to be her best friend forever and ever, and when he read her stories, putting on voices to match the characters. She knew when she would look outside and see him on his hoverboard, doing trips and whooping at the top of his lungs, and the sight brought warmth in the pit of her stomach.
Tammy loved Cal. She dreamed of a future with him. They’d have kids– of course they would, half a dozen of them, running around, blazing sparks for the future. They’d raise them together, a loving mother and a loving father, a perfect family of eight. He would bake them cookies with her and tell them stories, and tell them all about the mud and the plants of their planet. He would make an amazing father. He was all warmth and sunshine and plants, he always smelled earthy and muddy, and he was so soft with the animals. She dreamed of a future where they’d keep pets; Socks, Cal’s current one, and a bunch of other wonderful alien creatures.
Tammy loved Cal. Sometimes the adults would tell her not to say it too early. Not to call it something it isn’t, not to make a fuss for herself later down the line.
‘ Call it love now, ’ said her father, ‘ but only if you’re sure.’ She always thought that didn’t make any sense. Yes, she understood the principle of it; mistaking a crush for a lover had its consequences when she actually fell in love one day, but wasn’t it wonderful to feel it in the moment? To believe it was love? To daydream in class, watching the back of his head, and just taking in the sight? The adults tell her not to say it too early, not to feel it too early. She didn’t listen to them.
Tammy loved Cal. They’d been best friends forever, basically since birth, and ever since it felt like they were destined to be together. It didn’t matter that Sol befriended him at ten, and it didn’t matter that Sol wore their friendship bracelet. They could be a trio. They could be best friends, and then Sol could go on and find someone to love him too. It didn’t matter that Sol befriended her at eleven, because she would only ever have eyes for Cal. Sweet, summery Cal, who looked at her like she hung the stars and gifted her little yellow flowers. She smiled and kept a hand between Sol and her heart, even when he volunteered to help her in the kitchen and babysat with her. She smiled and kept her distance, even when Sol brought her little trinkets and doo-dads from his expeditions.
Tammy loved Cal. It’s why she noticed the way he flushed whenever Sol would give him a gift, something small and insignificant, something with so much meaning. It’s why she noticed the way he brightened whenever Sol was around, the way he looked anxiously between her and him, wanting them to get along. It’s why she noticed him slipping away from her, spending more and more time in Geoponics with him. Him, Sol, who wore their friendship bracelet like it was a badge of honour and not a sign of heartbreak. Him, Sol, who hung out with them so much that the colony considered them a trio. A trio. When did they become a trio? Hadn’t it always been just her and Cal? Her and her Prince Charming?
Tammy loved Cal. And it was the reason why she could never blame Sol. Sol was sweet, always checking up on both of them, always giving them gifts and offering comfort, always standing up for them and being unafraid to put himself between them and a threat. Sol tended to animals in the same way Cal did, getting his hands dirty and rolling in the mud, laughing at all of Cal’s jokes and learning how to do tricks on his hoverboard. She could never be mad at Sol for loving Cal. She could never be mad at anyone for loving Cal; and yet, she was mad anyway. She was mad at the world, and sometimes she felt like she could scream.
Tammy loved Cal. Of course she noticed when he pulled away from her. It started at fifteen, when the Heliopause landed and she turned to him, her eyes shining.
‘ Isn’t this wonderful? ’ She said, ‘ the colony’s going to survive, Cal, and it’ll be- ’ Cal wasn’t listening. Cal wasn’t listening because his eyes were downturned, his posture glum, his fists clenched and shaking. He eyed their guns and he took a subconscious step in front of Geoponics and the animals within it, like he was their last defence. Sol came up beside him, equally tense, and they made eye contact for a moment; and in that moment, Tammy felt like an outsider. Isn’t that funny? An outsider. Excluded. From her Cal.
People had told her a million times not to dream. People had told her a million times not to love. People had told her over and over again not to put all her hope on one future. She’d ignored them. People had told her not to be possessive over a life she couldn’t guarantee.
‘ A life I can’t guarantee? ’ She’d wondered, ‘ why can’t I guarantee it? I love Cal, I already do, I’ve loved him since I was little, people said he’d be my Prince Charming, so why can’t I guarantee it? We’re best friends, surely we’ll become lovers, surely we’ll live the life we’ve always dreamed of, how could we not? We’re Tammy and Cal.' Her answer comes in the form of the boy from Geoponics, the same one who studied biology so thoroughly he stopped the colonies famine, the same one who researched fungus extensively until a cure for the Shimmer was found, the same one who baked and babysat and gifted and gifted and gifted, until everybody looked at him and thought ‘ that’s our future. ’ Sol. Sol was the future, and Tammy was the past. Sol was a pioneer and Tammy clung on to fairytales. People always told her that she daydreamed too much, that she needed to wake up and see reality. She closed the princess tale, and tried to forget every story with a princess and her prince.
Tammy loved Cal. It’s why she let him go. They were sixteen. It was Glow Season. Everyone was on high alert, watching their surroundings obsessively, waiting for the next attack. Governor Lum said to let them come; the colony wasn’t so weak anymore, not now with the Heliopause here. It was safer than it’d been in years. When the alarms finally went off, she found herself with Cal, stuck in the barn where he kept Socks. She could feel the fear tear through her, shivers, just like she could feel Cal’s hand on her own. Keeping her safe. Her prince. For a moment, she let herself dream. Hope is fickle. Dreams are fleeting. Cal looked at her, and an emotion she couldn’t place shined in his eyes.
‘ When did I lose you? ’ She thought, trying to analyze it, ‘ don’t I know you anymore? ’ But she wasn’t perceptive, and she couldn’t figure it out. She wasn’t exactly known for her smarts.
“Tammy,” he said, his voice even despite the shouting outside, “I need to talk to you.” They’re never fun words to hear, those ones, and being on the other end of them was like waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Tammy loved Cal. It’s why she let him go. She gasped when she heard the words, overwhelmed with happiness, the dread she’d been feeling vanishing from her in a wave. Her face broke out in the widest smile, and she repeated the words to herself in her head, over and over. Her life wasn’t going to end. Not without her Prince Charming.
“ Do you want to go on a date with me? ’ Cal had said. Her heart sang a response, yes , her soul hummed happily, yes , her thoughts buzzed excitedly in her head, yes, yes, yes. She opened her mouth to say as much, but just as she did, she understood that look in his eye.
Tammy loved Cal. Their life was mapped out from the very beginning, their parents sharing knowing looks, their friends gagging whenever the two of them smiled at each other. Lovers, lovers, lovers, sat on the tips of their tongues, accompanied by rolling eyes and smiles, and at the same time the adults would tell her not to say it too early. Lovers, lovers, lovers, and then there was Sol, wonderful Sol, and Tammy understood. She denied it, oh how she denied it, but deep down, she knew. She always knew. Lovers, lovers, lovers, she thought, but it wasn’t about her and Cal anymore. It was about Sol and Cal, Cal and his Prince Charming.
Tammy loved Cal. That look in his eyes meant that he did not love her back. No , her heart slowed to a stop, no, her soul began to cry, no, no, no, she felt like glass, primed to shatter. ‘ Do not love too early,’ the adults had said, and then pushed them together. ‘ You’ll make a fuss for yourself later on, ’ they’d advised, and then told her how wonderful life with him would be. And now Tammy found that they were right. They were right, but they were wrong, and they messed up her life forever.
.
.
.
“I’m sorry,” she says, fighting to keep her broken heart off her sleeve, “I don’t feel the same.” Her spirit sighs. ‘ You don’t love me, ’ she thinks, ‘ I don’t feel the same. ’ Cal’s face breaks, and she almost takes it back. But she doesn’t, and she won’t. Her dream, the one with kids and pets and cookies and wonderful Cal, shatters in a million pieces.
When the attack is over and she’s in her room, looking out the window, she sees Sol comforting Cal. She sees him rub gentle circles into his back as he cries, cries for a love he doesn’t feel, and she meets his eyes from over Cal’s shoulder. She expects anger. She expects hatred. She expects something . Instead, all she gets is understanding. A nod of sorrow for her, a smile full of mourning, a spare thought for the life he stole from her. She understands. She doesn’t blame him. She never could, and she never will. Why would she blame the flower for loving the sun? Why would she curse the fish for needing the water? She looks away from brown eyes, ones that make her vulnerable, and she looks to the ground.
Discarded pieces of her own fantasy lay at her feet. Fragments of hopes, slivers of dreams, suggestions of love. She blinks, and a tear slips out, and she wonders what she did. Did she not love him enough? Should she have told him? Said something? Complimented him more? Spent more time with him? Made him more jewelry? More cakes? Cookies? She thinks of Valentine’s day, back when they were kids, of Sol bashfully asking if he could be Cal’s best friend too. She thinks back to when she said yes, hastily making and giving him the third friendship bracelet, when she made a place for him in their life and– oh.
Tammy loves Cal. Cal loves Sol. She pretends not to love him, but she does. She does and she always will. It breaks her heart every day, but eventually she returns to her room, shards of her life on the floor, and she picks them up. And one day, years later, she puts it back together again, new and different and exciting. The pieces don’t fit the same way they had years ago, but she thinks that the blank spaces are a good thing. She remembers something her dad told her before he passed, and wonders why she didn’t heed his words sooner.
‘ Life is unpredictable, Tammy. Leave space in your heart for its every twist and turn. ’
She looks out the window and meets Sol’s eyes from where he stands, hand in hand with Cal, and she smiles. She waves. Sol waves back, nudging Cal until he sees her and waves too. She smiles at him, still waving, and it feels a little like freedom. She greets him through her bedroom window, and in her mind, a princess waves goodbye to her Prince Charming.