Chapter Text
“Shattering: The painful tear in your attachment, stab-wound to the heart. The sudden disconnection sends you into panic, devastation, shock, and bewilderment. … You feel the disconnection as a painful jolt, instantly catapulting you out of the positive sense of future that that connection had given you, and sending you back to the beginning where you were abjectly alone. In a long term relationship, you feel symbiotically attached to your lost love –as if you can’t survive without him or her – which throws you into an intense emotional crisis – a true trauma. You’ve been severed from your Siamese twin and you’re in the recovery room, alone, crying out in pain. Where is your other half? You try to keep remnants of your fractured self together, but your whole sense of reality feels destroyed. One minute you succumb to the overwhelming despair, suicidal feelings, and sorrow. The next, you see glimmers of hope, only to be dashed again on the shores of despair.”
"The 5 Phases of Abandonment and Recovery: The Path of Healing" by Susan Anderson: Shattering
Rekha learned that her science teacher was not coming back late at night, when she should have been sleeping. She’d tried to -- she really had -- but like all of the other nights of the unexplained, week-long leave her school was on, she couldn’t calm her mind. After tossing and turning for hours, she’d gotten up to get water, socked feet padding lightly down the hall, when she’d overheard her parents arguing in the living room. It wasn’t the first time they’d fought, sometimes even in front of her, but the sound of her name grabbed her like a fish on a hook and grounded her feet into place before she could sneak by the entrance.
“--is going to find out eventually.” Her dad’s voice was tight with what sounded like desperation. A pit formed in Rekha’s stomach so fast that she felt nauseous. What were they hiding?
“Rishi.” Her mom returned, equally pleading. “Just a few more days--”
“There’s no time, Kalpana!” Her dad snapped, and Rekha’s hands curled into tense fists. “She only has a few days left until she goes back to school. It’s outrageous that she hasn’t found out from her phone yet. Don’t you want it to come from us?”
“Of course I do!” Anger was seeping into her mom’s tone. “Forgive me for not knowing what to say yet.”
“Nobody has a script for this, Kalpana.” His voice was weary now, low enough that Rekha inched closer to the opening to hear him clearly. “We just have to choose how we’re going to approach it, but we do have to.”
“Well,” came her mother’s teary voice, “forgive me for not knowing how to decide on how to explain to our 12 year old daughter that her favorite teacher fucked off on a suicide mission so the sun doesn’t go out!”
Rekha stumbled back a step, a small, sharp gasp escaping before she could clamp her mouth shut. It wasn’t her mother’s raised voice or rude language that spun her head, though.
Mr. Grace… left?
Mr. Grace left.
Mr. Grace left… to save the sun.
She slipped back to her room with trembling legs, not caring that her mouth was still dry as she fumbled for her phone and opened Incognito mode on Google.
Don’t panic. She thought desperately. Don’t panic until you know what it means. Maybe it’s a unit of time. Or a kind of spaceship. Or something I can’t even understand yet.
She took a single, deep breath and clicked ‘enter’.
Suicide, adjective: being or performing a deliberate act resulting in the voluntary death of the person who does it.
“So, Rekha, how are you doing?”
The school counselor’s smile was soft, but you could tell she was exhausted from the day. It had been a week since they’d all returned to class, and all of Rekha’s classmates had been slowly cycled through this office, one after the other.
“Pretty good.” Rekha said with a smile of her own. Her hands were folded politely on her lap, feet planted firmly on the ground like she’d been taught to, hair pulled back neatly from her face. The counselor hummed neutrally for a moment, glancing at her like she was seeing something that wasn’t there before looking down at her notes.
“Well, Rekha, that’s nice. Specifically, though, I’d like to know how you’re feeling about Dr. Grace’s absence.” The woman -- Ms. Barnett, if Rekha wasn’t mistaken -- lifted her gaze until it was boring into Rekha’s. Rekha nodded politely, giving a small hum as if considering the answer, before she gave the speech that she’d been giving to everyone over the last week and a half.
“I’m very excited.” She said, forcing her smile even wider as she continued. “I mean, I got to learn from Mr. Grace, and he’s literally saving all of humankind! Did you know that he taught me what the Petrova Line is himself, just before he left? I’m so honored. I do wish that he could teach us and be up there at the same time, though. I really miss his lessons.”
Ms. Barnett stayed silent for a long moment after the monologue, staring with an unreadable expression at Rekha’s joyous face.
“You know, Rekha, that you’ve said those same words in almost exactly the same order to everyone who I asked?” She finally said. Rekha’s heart started pounding, and she felt her face warm with embarrassment and panic that was quickly dashed by hot anger, seeping up from deep inside of her and lashing out before she could stop it.
“Well, I’m just telling the truth!” She yelled, pushing her seat back to stand and glare down at Ms. Barnett. “Why do people expect me to come up with some beautiful Shakespeare quote every time the exact same question is asked?! I’m sorry that all of you can’t understand me, but stop making it my problem!” She whirled around, furious, and ripped open the door, slamming it behind her before Ms. Barnett could respond.
Her cookie-cutter answer continued to do just fine until she ran out of people to tell it to.
“Kiki! Let me in!”
Rekha’s fist pounded against her friend’s apartment door, arm aching from the supplies she’d brought over. She’d gotten the call an hour ago, laying in bed and determined to enjoy her first day of spring break, but tossed those plans right out her alley-view window when she’d heard Kirsten sobbing on the other end.
“He just left.” She’d gasped, and Rekha had felt her heart rip in two. “And I c-couldn’t see it coming, and I just came home and he was gone and I- and I-”
“I’ll be there soon with stuff, okay?” She’d replied, relieved at the worn-out “okay” she’d gotten in response. Fuck Jason. He had always seemed nice enough, even starting to be initiated into the friend circle, polite and heart-eyed whenever Kirsten would so much as look his way. Rekha had thought that maybe he would be the one for her friend, and she thinks Kirsten did too. Enough that Rekha knew Kirsten had told him about her… issues with abandonment.
They were the only two in their friend group who had been in Mr. Grace’s classroom the year he flew away. They’d kept in contact with a few of them at first, but the size of the local high school spread everybody out, and now all they were left with were Facebook updates on a handful of their old peers.
Well, that wasn’t all, Rekha thought grimly as she waited for Kirsten to open up. They’d all gotten a healthy dose of trauma injected straight into their developing brains, and Kirsten had developed pretty severe abandonment issues because of it. She knocked again, catching the tattoo on her inner wrist, the thin red line that arced with the curve of her hand. Mr. Grace had left them with that, too, even if he’d never know it.
The door opened under her fist, and her friend’s head peeked out from the blanket that was swallowing the rest of her body.
“Hey, Rekha.” Kirsten mumbled, reaching up to push her blond hair out of her face. Rekha’s eyes fell to the long tattoo of Laika chasing the Earth that danced on her forearm and felt her stomach twist slightly before she looked back up at her friend’s face.
“Hey, Kiki.” She replied with a frown. “I brought some ice cream and chips.” Her friend nodded solemnly and gestured for her to enter her apartment, closing the door and locking it behind her.
For the next few hours, they did it all; Kirsten cried, then yelled, went from almost throwing up to trying to convince Rekha to let her call Jason. By the 5th hour, Kirsten had tired herself out, but Rekha was still buzzing with energy.
“Do you need to take a shower?” She asked, and Kirsten blinked at her slowly before shaking her head.
“No, I managed to take one before you came over somehow.” She muttered. “I think I just need to pass out for a bit.”
“Alright, let’s get you to bed.” Rekha said with determination, about to clap her hands together before she saw Kirsten laughing softly. “What?”
“I’m just going to sleep here for a bit. I’d love for you to stay over if you can, but if you don’t that’s fine. You can stay here or sleep on the couch with me, I don’t care.” Kirsten said, looking already half asleep. Rekha froze for a moment before shaking her head wildly, realizing with morbid curiosity that her hands were trembling.
“No, no.” She said, voice slowly inching higher as the air started to feel thinner. “No, you have to go to bed. I’ll clean up, and get ready, and I’ll stay next to you if you’d like -- in the bed or on a chair -- or I can stay awake if you want -- I don’t-”
“Rekha,” Kirsten said, sitting up straighter. She still looked exhausted, but her brow was furrowed and she seemed much more aware than she had a few seconds ago. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to make you stay awake all night.”
“Right.” Rekha said, but she could feel her breathing still speeding up despite herself, “No, of course, I didn’t mean that you would -- like, tell me to do that, I just mean, like, I just want you to know that I’m here for you, and I’d do whatever to make you feel better -- I mean probably not kill someone but -- not that I wouldn’t -- um-” She didn’t realize that her gaze had unfocused until Kirsten’s arm on her shoulder snapped her back to reality. Her friend looked concerned, all sleepiness gone as the blond scooted closer and laid a hand on Rekha’s forehead.
“Are you okay?” She said, and Rekha felt her eyes burn with tears as she realized that she’d upset her. She’d upset her, again, when she was supposed to be helping her, when she’d- she’d-
“Yep! I’m just, um, upset?” She tried, heart flipping in terror when Kirsten’s hand dropped and a frown crossed her face. “Not upset at you. Just upset that I’m clearly not doing a good job at helping you with this.”
“Rekha.” Kirsten said gently, taking the woman’s shaky hands in her own. Their heat, usually so grounding, only added to the burn of shame flooding through Rekha’s body. “You have been so helpful to me today. Okay? I really appreciate it. I think you’re having a panic attack right now. Does that sound right?”
“No.” Rekha managed to squeak out, but her heart was pounding and she was alternating between holding her breath and panting like she had just run a mile. “I’m not making this about me.”
“It can be about both of us.” Kirsten reassured, voice soft and sweet. Her school counselor voice, Rekha thought, and even in her panic felt a dash of pride. Man, those kids were so lucky. Nothing like…
“Both of us, okay?” Her friend continued, locking her blue eyes on Rekha’s wide brown ones. “Take a big breath for me, okay?” Despite herself, Rekha listened, dragging a shaky breath in and exhaling in a rush when prompted to. Kirsten’s smile was as blinding as the sun as she murmured praise and led them in the breath again.
Instead of the gradual comedown Rekha had expected, her mind cleared sickeningly fast, throwing her into a freefall as what happened caught up to her. She’d had a panic attack because her friend had wanted to sleep on the couch. If the embarrassment had been only slightly less thick, she would have laughed. As it was, a deep groan ripped its way out of her, and she pulled her hands away to bury her face in them.
“M’ so sorry, Kiki.” She muttered, and heard her friend make a small click of disapproval.
“None of that.” She said, and her warm hands were back, this time wrapped around Rekha’s wrists and tugging them gently away so that the friends could look at each other properly. “None of that, okay? Things happen. I’m happy to be here for you.”
“But I was supposed to be here for you.” Rekha whined, knowing she sounded like a stubborn child but not having the energy to care. She pulled her hands away again with a grumpy huff and crossed her arms. “And you were having a normal reaction. A very normal reaction, by the way, considering that your 6th-grade science teacher fucked off on a space suicide mission halfway through the year, so…”
Kirsten’s brow furrowed as she studied Rekha, head tilting slightly like a puppy.
“You know,” she said slowly, “you were abandoned too, Rekha. And it didn’t just hurt us that we were abandoned, it hurt seeing our friends be left behind too. So it makes a lot of sense that this could be a trigger for you.”
Rekha knew, all right. She’d known that night in the darkness of her bedroom, blanket just heating up again from her small body, phone grasped tightly in her hand as her eyes and brain strained alike to understand the words on her screen. She’d known the morning after, when her parents had calmly sat her down and told her that “Mr. Grace made a really hard and really, really brave decision. It means he’s not coming back to teach you.” She’d known by the way the model of the Petrova Line hung silently in their classroom the first morning back, untouched by anyone as if its creator itself would reappear to take it down eventually. She’d known in Ms. Barnett’s office with its brown walls and too-clean furniture, when she opened her mouth and told her what she’d been saying all week. She’d known every other time she’d given that speech until no stone had been left unturned. Everybody who had been in that class knew that Rekha had made Mr. Grace run away, but nobody knew it more than she did.
“Yeah, well.” She said, the words easy out of her mouth from years of repetition inside her head. “It’s not like I can really be too upset about that.”
Kirsten froze mid-reach, hand lifted almost to Rekha’s face. Her eyes darted all over Rekha’s body for a moment before settling back on her face, licking her lips and swallowing hard. Her mouth opened again, and Rekha waited with bated breath for the condemnation; the realization that while Rekha had no right to be upset, she had every right to feel ashamed.
“Rekha.” Kirsten said instead, eyes shining. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”
It was Rekha’s turn to freeze now, blood running cold. Out of all of Kirsten’s responses, this was the one she had expected the least, largely because, well, she knew that her friend was smart. Kirsten was kind, and caring, and far too sharp to have never figured this out before. Carefully, with the tenderness of the executioner leading a cow into the kill pen, Rekha laid it out for her.
“I asked him. I asked him about the Petrova Line. He didn’t want to talk about it, but I made him, and then I got freaked out and he had to reassure us, and then he said not to worry because all the smart people were fixing it, but he realized he was smart, too, so he should probably go help them. I mean, you were there, Kirsten, you saw his face. He thought of it because of me. Because I didn’t know when to let it go. Because I messed it up.”
Tears spilled over Kirsten’s eyelashes, so many that the tracks crisscrossed over her face at alarming speed, racing after each other as if they were hounds on the scent of a particularly good fox.
“You were twelve.” She whispered, horror thick in her voice. “Oh my God. You were a child. Have you-” her voice caught in a sob that she swallowed quickly, “have you been carrying this since you were twelve?” Rekha didn’t know what to say -- whether to start laughing or crying -- so she just nodded. Before her head could even raise Kirsten’s arms were around her, pulling her tightly into her warmth, uncaring of their awkward tangle of legs and blankets even as it caused them to fall, Rekha’s back landing on the couch while Kirsten’s solid heat pressed up against her whole body.
“You were twelve.” Kirsten muttered fiercely into Rekha’s neck, shaking her head angrily. “That was not your fault. Never your fault. Oh, baby.” She crooned as Rekha’s body started wracking with sobs, held back behind walls of guilt a decade high. “I got you. You’ve got me, and I’ve got you. Forever, okay? Forever.”
And unlike so many other ‘forever’s, whispered fearfully by people all over the world, they knew it didn’t mean ‘for the next 20 years, until the sun goes out’. Because they knew as they lay there on the couch that their science teacher was sleeping in the stars, and they knew that with him on the case, they had a long time left in ‘forever’ yet.