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Ryland Grace is about to turn 58 years old.
His joints aren't what they used to be anymore, his skin is more fragile now, his hair is greying, his eyesight has gotten worse. He can’t run or skip around or jump like he used to. He can’t bend over to pick something up below knee height without needing a hand on something steady to assist himself back upright.
It’s just part of life, nothing he can really lament over, it happens to every human eventually. Shriveling up with age and misuse. But it’s hard, when his body acts more like he’s about to turn eighty instead, but his mind still feels like he’s just turned thirty.
When he first got to Erid, and the Eridians built his enclosure faster than anything constructed on their planet, life was new and exciting. The water was adjusted to near perfect 13 C, the sunlight and fog ratios and day cycles tweaked just how he liked them. His own wonderful slice of the bay area just without the marine smell and hustle-bustle of people and animals.
Rocky visited him often, kept him company, and eventually Adrian became a friendly visitor too. And then Grace began to pick up teaching again, keeping his mind sharp and busy. Fulfilling himself again with a purpose of bettering the youth, expanding their darling little minds to be greater than the adults around them one day.
Once upon a time, Grace’s stride meant Rocky naturally had to skip along side him just to keep up on the beach. Now, Rocky has to slow himself down just to stay by Grace’s side.
Grace has developed a tremor in his hands, weak bones, weak muscle, despite his daily routine of working out and taking many walks to try and keep his body in good shape. Humans just weren’t meant for this type of gravity and strain. And even though the Eridian scientists have found a way, just last week actually, to mimic Earth’s softer gravity in his bio-sphere, it’s come too late.
The damage has already been done, but it’s not all too bad.
Ryland Grace has lived a good life, if he thinks back on it. An exciting life.
So. He’s about to turn 58, and Rocky has hinted at throwing him a birthday party, despite Grace insisting he just wants to enjoy the beach together like usual.
“But we should do something special.” Rocky says.
“Being on the beach with you is special.” Grace counters.
And he thinks that’s it, maybe the topic is dropped.
But then Grace wakes up the morning of his birthday (kept track of timing with his Earth-programmed clock) with Armando making him coffee, and Rocky banging on his door. Another day, nothing special aside from the fact he’s older, and starting to feel it.
The door opens to Rocky waiting for him at the bottom of his home’s steps, further than he normally stands. Rocky’s legs tap into the beach where he waits.
“Grace! Come come come! It is time for the special celebration of your birth! But not special, just like you asked.”
He snorts, an amused huff as he shuts the door behind him, and begins his slow journey down the stairs with his cane. He can’t even get out of bed without it. His lungs feel small by the time he’s reached his friend, but it’s nothing out of the usual for him.
“Alright, where to?”
The biosphere has been adjusted to a slightly sunnier day. Pretty rays that break through the thinning fog. A mimic of summer. By midday the fog might even burn off entirely just from the way it’s looking. Maybe Rocky had a decision in this.
As they walk down closer to the water, Grace watches as Rocky suddenly balls himself up and rolls straight into the crashing waves. It goes just about as one would expect from a boulder dropping into the ocean, a spray of water, a crash, but then Rocky pops up with an excited squeal that is cut off as he’s promptly bowled over by another wave from behind.
Grace can’t help but laugh at him. Silly, silly, silly.
“Grace come in too!” Rocky sings, standing tall and bracing back against the waves now so they don’t shove him over.
“Aw, man, I’m too old to be getting in the water, pal. And I’ve got all my clothes on.”
“Rocky made today safe for Grace. Old does not matter. Grace come in too.”
Grace wants to ask what that even means, but if he focuses, the air does feel warmer today. There’s no brisk breeze, and the sunlight that comes through feels glowy warm on his skin.
It’s a whole process, for Grace to take his shoes and socks off. But if he sits down it will take him a minute to get back up again. His cane gives him better balance as he hobbles back and forth. Rocky patiently waits for him in the waves. When Grace rolls his pants up to his knees, Rocky makes a trilling noise.
“Grace going to get pants wet. Take them off. Rocky not mean just get feet in waves. Grace come in the water.”
…
A stray wave creeps up higher than the rest on the shore, and pushes at Grace’s bare feet. The water is warmer than he’s used to. Waaay way warmer.
“Rocky ask to make environment warm for one day. Grace can play and not get sick from cold. And swimming allow gravity to not be so burdensome on human joints.”
Play. Rocky wants to play with him for his birthday.
Okay, that’s… kind of sweet.
When he was younger, and stronger, Grace could spend time jumping into the ocean and swimming out to the foggy border of his biosphere, tap the xenonite, and then swim back before running back onto shore and drying off before the cold water seeped to his bones. He’s not done that in years.
“Okay,” he relents, feeling a squeeze in his chest.
He kicks his pants off and shirt off, leaves himself with just a worn pair of boxers, and finally, lets his cane drop into the sand.
Rocky is by his side immediately, bumping into him gently, and wordlessly allowing Grace to place a hand on top of him as they wander into the ocean. Ankles first, then up to his knees.
The water is warmer. Enough that he wouldn’t have to worry about hypothermia at all. Growing up, swimming required a wetsuit unless he went to the Y. And even then, the public pools were kept chilly in the summer.
This is almost like dipping into a lukewarm bath. It’s kind of nice, especially when Grace gets to his waist, and Rocky leaves him to stand in the waves to not be completely submerged.
Grace looks out across the water, farther out to the billowy fog reflected on the xenonite. It’s mostly blurry, thanks to his poor eyesight now but, he can see it out that way. Calling to him to swim out, tap it, and swim back.
The water laps at his chest now, and when he gets to his shoulders, the relief of being almost weightless as a stray wave comes back and gently rises him off his feet for a few seconds is indescribable.
He’s a little nervous about trying to swim. He knows his body, understands his own frailty and weakness despite the way his mind doesn’t feel old in the slightest. He knows his physical limits. But he treads water for a few seconds, relieved that he’s not so much of an old man now that he can’t even do that.
It takes him quickly, an urge, a burst of energy. He tips forward, and starts to swim out further. It’s odd, that he’s spent years not swimming, and yet it comes back to him like he just did it yesterday. His body feels light, and the water isn’t uncomfortable. He makes it to the edge of xenonite, bumps it with his hand, and then turns around.
He can see Rocky on the shoreline. When it’s obvious Grace has turned around and is beginning to swim back, Rocky raises a leg and waves it.
He swims all the way back to his friend, smiles, splashing water at him, and then goes back out for another lap. Chuckling to himself as Rocky’s whistling and chirping curses follow the back of his head.
The next time he laps back to shore, Rocky is prepared for him. He’s halfway into the surf and when Grace gets close, Rocky uses three arms to splash and throw water at him like a torrential downpour.
Grace has to swim away to not get choked by the onslaught of water spraying him in the face. He might have swallowed a bunch when he was laughing and Rocky wasn’t letting up. And of course Grace’s poor attempts of splashing back were easily overpowered.
So he retreated, took another lap out into the ocean, tried out diving down a bit to submerge himself entirely, swim back up, float on his back, try all four swimming strokes to make sure he could still do them.
They spend the entire day out in the ocean. Swimming, playing, splashing each other.
It’s nice. It's the most free he’s felt in a long long time. Not that he feels very restricted here. The Eridians pamper him like royalty, every whim and need Grace wants is catered to him quickly.
But this is…
Grace’s next swim up to the shoreline meets him with Rocky standing in the water again, shuffling in the sand.
“Rocky will make device next time for floating. Can swim together.”
He stops where the water reaches him at the hips, kneeling there in the sand and enjoying the water lightening his body and smiles.
“That would be nice. But hey, you lied, earlier.”
“What? Rocky not lie! What about? Accusations!”
“This is kind of really special. To me.”
“Minor adjustments in temperature for Grace environment to allow play. Not very special.”
“No. It’s very special. Thank you. I’m having a lot of fun! I haven’t felt this good in a while.” Smiling, Grace splashes water at Rocky gently, playfully to bring up the mood.
His Eridian companion is speaking weirdly. Voice low in a way that might be pouting… or…
“Grace slowing down. Stiff. More pain every day.”
Oh, now Grace understands his tone now. Sadness. Grief.
“Watching Grace in biosphere growing slower and weaker is scary. Grace say humans live more years but get slow when close to death. Grace now slower than Rocky.”
“Oh… Hey. It’s okay. I’m just…” growing old. He is. It’s undeniable, but he didn’t think Rocky was thinking about it so much.
“Grace sleep longer and longer now. Rocky have to be louder at door for Grace to hear. Sometimes Grace take too long to make it to door. Rocky afraid one day I come to door and it not open.”
The Eridian hunches in the sand, claws picking at the pebbles and scratching lines in the sediment. He speaks again, so softly it’s almost drowned out by the crash of the waves.
“Scared that one day Rocky come and Grace not wake up, no matter how loud I be.”
Grace comes out of the water, so that he can reach Rocky at the shoreline. He immediately leans into him, wrapping his arms around Rocky tightly.
Rocky’s entire carapace is buzzing slightly and when Grace’s head is close to him like this, he can hear the sad, low-pitched purring. Eridians don’t have tears, but they do cry.
Grace has been witness to one too many meltdowns by his students, young Eridians that haven't controlled their emotions yet. Crying and upset over anything that bothered them. Just like human children, in that regard.
But he’s never seen Rocky cry before. Almost twenty years together.
Not until now.
Rocky’s voice wavers with emotion, “Scared. Very very very scared, but cannot heal Grace. And cannot extend Grace lifespan. Scientists continue to research and research and research but human existence still so new and–”
“Rocky. Hey hey hey. It’s okay. It's just. How it is. I’m very happy here, and me being all slow and old doesn’t hurt as bad as you think it does. I’m okay.”
Rocky buzzes, a short, tinny flute sound of grief as he digs down into the sand and leans heavier into Grace’s arms.
“Not enough time. Rocky want more time with best friend Grace.”
Foolishly, Grace wants that too. He sniffles, unsure if the water dripping off his cheeks are tears or the water falling from his hair. But he knows better than to want for something he can’t have. And thinking about it, about leaving Rocky behind makes his chest hurt so bad.
Grace has certainly thought about dying. On the Hail Mary multiple times, so many times, and then even here on Erid. It’s inevitable, it’s only a shame that he cannot see Rocky to the end of his lifespan. To grow old together.
Thinking about the very possible and likely reality that Rocky will be the one to find Grace dead first makes him want to throw up. Rocky has watched or found too many of his companions dead in his long, Eridian lifetime. Grace mourns that he will, one day, contribute to that.
The hug tightens and the points of Rocky’s xenonite suit poke him, but he doesn’t stop trying to put all of his heart into the strength he uses.
“Well I’m not dying today. And I’m not dying tomorrow, or even this week, or the next one. So. No more tears on my birthday.”
Rocky hums, all full of sorrow and wavering tones. Grace feels two of his arms moving sideways to wrap around Grace’s torso gently. Returning the hug.
“Okay. Apology. No sadness on birthdays.”
“That’s right. And I gotta say this was a pretty great one. I’m looking forward to the next, this will be pretty hard to beat.” Grace leans, a slight nudge against Rocky.
“Yes. Next birthday. Next year. Grace will celebrate another in 365 Earth days, and Rocky will make it another fun birthday, like today.”
“Next year can be chill, really. It’s the year after that we have to be worried about,” Grace sighs dramatically. Rocky tilts, confused, and hums in wordless questioning.
“Sixty is kind of a big deal for humans. Big age. I’m not ready to be an adult, much less an old one,” Grace sighs, big and melodramatic.
“Grace already adult. Grace adult even on Earth before mission.”
“Yeah but sixty is when people start talking about wrinkles and retirement and social security and stuff.”
“Mmmm no understand.”
Smiling, Grace wiggles his feet into the sand as the waves softly come up on the shore. He can’t deny that it is quite nice to enjoy the warm water and warm sun. He releases himself from the hug that has gone on for far longer than it needed to (but he and Rocky always hug for a long time), and flops onto his back.
“It’s gonna take me a loooong time to explain the whole retirement thing to you. And social security checks. And aging out but taking them out early and… man I’m actually glad I’m not on Earth anymore, haha.”
Rocky’s limbs fold under himself, settling in, relaxed, and tips towards Grace in a way that means he’s the center of his attention right now.
“Rocky can listen long time. We have two years before you turn sixty, anyway.”
“Alright. Buckle in. We can start with the wrinkles thing first. Humans have this whole complex about aesthetics and aging and looking younger…”
They’re out until the night cycle of his biosphere activates. The water is still warm as it laps at his feet, and they’ve been out here laying around for so long his hair has dried. But they stay, talking about anything and everything, comfortable. And more importantly, no longer talking about Grace dying.
So yes, Ryland Grace turns 58, talks about turning sixty, feels like he’s turned eighty, and dreams about reaching one hundred.