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This beach was the most wonderful place on earth to him. The only place where he felt safe, and the only one where he didn’t have to run. Out there, in the world, everything was constantly running somewhere, and in order not to be left behind, he had to chase after it. Coughing, stumbling, frantically trying not to end up completely alone in the rear. It was hard. Especially for such a small boy, with long, strange legs, perpetually tousled hair (he tried to comb it, honestly, honestly), and big glasses that seemed so large they were forever trying to slide off his face. His whole being seemed to want to curl in on itself and shrink, just so no one would notice how hard his heart was beating in exhaustion.
“Ry, come on, straighten up,” his grandmother’s voice was not angry. It never was angry. Ryland turned to her. She was sitting a little behind him on a small bench, and the sea wind was blowing her gray hair and her beautiful floral skirt. There were so many wrinkles on her face, as if the rivers of life, filled with endless smiles, had carved canyons into it. Her eyes weren’t looking at him, but it was as if she could sense that he had started thinking too loudly again.
Ryland didn’t straighten up, but he went over to her and sat down beside her. Then she turned toward him, leaned over, and adjusted his glasses. He hadn’t even noticed they had slipped off one of his ears again.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, under his breath.
His grandmother’s warm, rough hand stroked his hair, and together they sat in silence, watching the waves and the fog that veiled the horizon.
“Grandma?”
“Yes, Ryland?”
“How does fog come to be?” Grandmother’s house stood alone on the shore. Every time Ryland visited her, it was as if he found himself on a small island where there was only them, the waves, and the ever-present fog.
Grandma was the smartest person on earth. Well… maybe not on the whole entire planet, but in the small world of an eight-year-old boy, she was the smartest in the world. Grandma was a scientist, and so from an early age Grace wasn’t afraid to ask her all sorts of questions. Grandma was an astrophysicist, which was why Ryland was always fascinated by the stars.
“Grandma?”
“Yes, Ryland?” Outside it was foggy again, thicker than usual. But inside the house it was warm. In Grandma’s hands the knitting needles were hopping very, very fast, and Ryland couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“Grandma, what was it like, working on launching rockets into space?”
Grandma shifted her gaze to him, her hands still continuing their work.
“Very interesting, Ryland. And very hard,” she answered and lowered her eyes again.
“Even for you?”
She chuckled quietly to herself.
“Of course it was for me too,” she answered, her voice softer now. When she thought about those times, a fog would appear in her eyes as well, and she seemed to dissolve into the past. Ryland was frightened when Grandma went away but stayed right there in front of him. He was terribly afraid that the rockets would one day take her away from him for good. He rose up and grabbed his grandmother by the knee.
“Grandma, would you have wanted to fly to the stars yourself?” the boy asked to bring her back.
She gave a slight start, and a note of surprise appeared on her face. Whether from the question or from being brought forty years forward again, it was impossible to say.
“Me? Ry-Ry, who would ever let someone like me into space?” She even stopped knitting, so amused she was by all this.
“Fine, but what if they said they could take you there and back? Would you have agreed?”
“Who would let a simple scientist like me go, Ry?” She gently laid her hand on his head. “I’ve never even been in a centrifuge, and I never swam in the pool!”
After those words, Grandma’s laughter was warm, even if Ryland started blushing because of them. Those people would have been lucky if his grandmother had agreed to fly on their rocket! She was a doctor, a professor, a winner of so many conferences—without her their rocket wouldn’t even have existed!
After that, a short, silent pause fell. Ryland had almost opened his mouth to express his indignation, but then Grandma suddenly spoke again.
“But you know, Ryland, who among us wouldn’t want to fly into space? To look at the stars,” she gazed out the window. It was night but even so sky couldn’t be seen because of the fog, but it was as if Grandma could see space anyway. “Wouldn’t you want to see the Moon up close, eh?”
At that, all the fervor left Ryland, and he slumped back onto his knees and began fiddling with his fingers.
“I wouldn’t want to…” he whispered under his breath.
“Wouldn’t want to? Why, Ry?” Grandma turned her gaze back to him and lifted his chin. He hadn’t even noticed his head had drooped.
“It’s scary.”
“So you don’t want to be an astronaut at all?”
“Nooo, it’s all scary, Grandma, I’d rather be a scientist, like you!”
Grandma took him by both cheeks and leaned toward him.
“What if a kind alien is waiting for you out there? Wouldn’t you fly for him?”
Ryland's face scrunched. "What alien grandma?"
She was laughing and pulling him up towards herself and he climbed on her legs. No, but really, what alien?
"A nice one! Who wouldn't want to be friends with you, huh?"
That did sadden him a bit. Not many people wanted to be friends with him. He was weird and out of place. "I don't know...what if the alien is scary? Like a spider?"
She left a soft kiss on his forehead before going on the attack.
“Eight legs and all fluffy, and all he wants is to eat my Ryland! Oh, what a nasty spider!” Ryland let out a series of giggles when his grandma tickled his sides.
“Yes! And he crawls all over the ceiling!” They rocked in the armchair, and more and more ideas about alien spiders were born into the world. Bad feelings forgotten.
“What a little scaredy-cat you are, eh, Ry-Ry? But what if the spider wants to be your friend?”
“A spider-friend? But how…?”
And yet the idea of being friends with a huge spider on sixteen alien legs (the longer they talked the more legs appeared) just wouldn’t fit in his head.
“Well, what if he sings to you?”
“Sing? A spider?”
“He’s an alien, after all, Ryland. And if you want to be a scientist, the most important thing is being able to find a common language.”
“Hmm…” Ryland leaned against his grandmother and listened to the slow beating of her heart. “What kind of songs will he sing to me?”
“Warm ones. Those songs will be like a whole story. In them he’ll sing to you about his planet, about the sun and the stars, about what good friends you are. He’ll sing to you every day, and then you’ll sing together with him. It’s always nicer to sing with a friend. And who knows, eh, Ryland? Maybe you’ll sing about all your adventures, whole lifetime of them?”
“And will he sing me lullabies, like you do?” Ryland pressed himself against his grandmother even harder, hugging her impossibly close.
“Of course he will, Ryland,” she wrapped both arms around him. The IV line stretching from one of her arms pulled tighter than before.
“I want you to sing me lullabies. Always,” Ryland’s voice was weak, quieter because he was pressed into his grandmother’s sweater.
“We all leave sooner or later, Ryland, but I will always be with you. I'll be there, among the stars and every time you remember me, I’ll come visit, even if only for a little while.”
It was still sad. And not fair. Ryland wanted to tear out that liquid that was dripping into his grandmother. To smash the car that would take her from him in the morning, away to a far-off, cold hospital where there was no beach and no fog.
And so they sat, it seemed for an eternity, in each other’s arms.
“Ryland?”
“Hmm?” the boy asked, already a little sleepy.
“Let me sing you your favorite lullaby, and you try to remember it, and when you meet your alien friend, you can teach it to him, so you can both remember me and I can get to know him.”
“Okay, Grandma, we will sing about you together, I'm sure he will love you.” Everything was quiet, and Grandma’s voice was no louder than the fire in the fireplace, but it left the warmest of imprints on his heart.
“Grace?”
Ha… how strange, so many years later, you’d think he’d have remembered everything he forgot after the coma. And yet the brain is a thing with a sense of humor—it had to bring back the memory of his grandmother right when he could understand her better than ever before.
“Grace? Are you okay, Grace?”
“Yeah, buddy, of course.”
Rocky was sitting near him, messing around with sand under his claws. A nervous tic he developed overtime, the one Grace observed every single day lately. Ryland took a deep breath and relaxed further in his chair. Not as hard as his furniture was all those years ago. When he started to complain about his back hurting from harsh xenonite it took Rocky only 3 days to develop a softer mesh. His poor quilt, as frayed and old as he was, both softened it further and provided warmth.
“Rock? Can you come closer?” his, now perpetually trembling, hand reached out and stroked the carapace that appeared even before he finished speaking. Rocky really was a genius, especially when it came to those he loved. His last suit? A marvel. Protective yet so thin, and Grace was eternally grateful for having the ability to touch and see his friend that way, his eyesight went away 2 years ago.
"What…ah, what did Grace remember?" and several seconds later a quiet, "Question?"
They didn't need such rudimentary speech anymore, they both understood each other freely, but with Grace's hearing it was easier to understand the easy sentences. It also was so painfully nostalgic of their early days of running around each other and saving the stars.
"I remembered something that happened a long long time ago, Rocky, from when I was still a child."
"A Grace-pebble?"
Ryland let out a short huff of a laugh. "Sure. Although I wasn't very graceful."
"Still not graceful. Now even more not graceful. Should use the moving chair more. Rocky made - should use." Last words were a little grumble and Grace couldn't help the smile on his face. Leave it to him to attempt walking even when he couldn't see where he was going.
"Well, maybe I just like holding your hand."
There was a moment of silence, during which Grace felt a warm claw take his withered palm. His fingers were unruly now, but he held on back as hard as he could.
"Rocky likes too. Likes much much much."
They just sat like this for a bit. Doing nothing but feeling the world and each other.
"You know, Rocky, I remembered that I have always known I will meet you."
His dear tilted his carapace up and made several inquisitive clicks. No need to translate the curiosity.
"I'm telling the truth! My grandmother told me long ago of an alien waiting for me in space."
"What?! Cannot be! How your great mother know Rocky was waiting?! Even Rocky not know Grace come!"
"Well, she was the smartest human in the world, Rocky, maybe that's why."
Rocky's carapace stilled in awe. And then he let out several soft giggling thrills and lifted one of his claws up. "Must run in the family. Statement."
"You flatterer, have some shame!"
"No shame when truth truth truth!"
Grace so wished he could still easily bend down and press a kiss to Rocky's suit. Sometimes he wagered this was the biggest thing age stole from him — his closeness with Rocky.
As if he felt it, which maybe he did, everything considered, Rocky lifted himself up and gingerly put himself above Grace's knees. And then Rocky was the one who 'kissed' him first with a soft bonk to the lips.
"Grace smart. And sweet sweet sweet." Rocky stated.
"Not disgust?"
"Mmm. No. Not anymore. No disgust. Never disgust…. Maybe a little bit…sometimes."
Grace rested his forehead against Rocky. His unseeing eyes pointed down, but he did not need them to see his one, not anymore.
"My grandmother said that the alien who waited for me was smart. That he was kind and that he would sing me most beautiful songs."
"Mmm. But how did she know that? Still not understand. Grace never did something like that."
"Well, she was very old when she told me this. Maybe that is why?"
"Old like Grace?"
Ryland laughed a bit. "No, younger than me actually. I, my dear, lived even longer."
"Still live." Grace felt a tiny claw poke at his side.
"Yes. Still live, sorry, Rocky." an uncomfortable silence settled over them both. Still live indeed, and god but it was getting harder each day lately to make this statement true. Grace felt, profoundly felt, how his time was running out. And despite Rocky's tendency to avoid this topic, he knew — his Rocky saw it too. It was painfully obvious that he did. Obvious in how he visited every day for the past week. How he slept with him almost every night. Obvious too in how when Adrian visited they just laid on the beach for the whole day, not a word uttered between them. His whole family knew. Just as he did all those years ago. He can't see anymore, but he remembers the images of his grandmother from all those years past. Her patchy skin, bruises that seemed to appear out of nowhere, her thinned hair and laboured breath. But also how she looked at him. She knew he was sad and didn't want to let go, and so she held him tight and told him stories of a new friend awaiting him in the stars, and sang him songs. And in the end that last evening they had was one of the warmest memories of his whole life.
His dear Rocky needed him.
"Grandma said that when we die we become stars. That evening was my last with her, she was gone that very night. And so maybe she knew? Maybe stars already were speaking with her and told her of a lonely alien, far away, who was waiting for me." Grace was stroking Rocky's carapace and his dear love was shuddering beneath his fingers.
"I don't want Grace to go to the stars. Not want. Statement. Statement." the last one was sang with broken chords and a claw squeezing his poor shirt harder and harder.
"Hmm." Back and forth with waves in front they were rocking in the chair. "Rocky?"
"Yes, Grace?"
"Did you know that stars sing? We can listen to their songs by converting their light fluctuations into sound. And you can learn a lot from these songs — the age, the size. But that's just us humans. Who knows, maybe between each other stars can understand these songs much better."
Rocky didn't respond but did give off a curious, if sad, hum. Talking science with Grace never got old to him. Grace's brain is what brought them closer at first. His smart and open mind. And each year since meant a thousand new revelations and discoveries.
"Rocky?" Grace said much softer now, anyone else but Rocky probably wouldn't have heard.
"Yes, Grace?" he nestled into Grace impossibly closer.
"I want to sing a song with you. I want to remember it so when we meet again you will know it's me."
Rocky whined. "Why today? Don't want today. We can learn many songs tomorrow, or next week. Rocky will teach Grace all Eridian songs, we still have-"
"Rocky. I want to learn just one song, our song. Don't you want to? Our little duet, 'till the end of the universe."
And what could Rocky really say to that? He wanted nothing more than to sing together with Grace until the end of times. Until all the stars start to die to give birth to new ones. Millions of years with Grace still didn't seem like enough. No time ever would. But maybe The Universe will like their song enough it will allow them to be reborn into the new one. Maybe as one species this time? He so wished he could really really really touch Grace. Just once at first and then forever again, until this new universe will die too.
And so they sat that day and sang their song. And the next day it all repeated again. And then there was solo, for a long time, until a hundred years have past, and far far away a duet began again.