Lying in grass that never grew, Pilar spread her fingers, feeling the scratchy blades between them. Through her blindfold she could sense the clouds floating in front of the rays of light, the vibrancy of the blue fabric ebbing and flowing with each pass.
Summer Day was her favorite room. Interestingly, Winter Night was her second favorite. If not for the dancing lights, she wouldn’t have cared for it at all, but the aurora borealis made every goosebump and numb fingertip worth suffering. She’d heard someone complain once that it was unrealistic; that many people went their entire lives without seeing the Northern Lights–as they were called on Earth. Luckily the swirling greens and purples remained. Sometimes their calming effect was the only thing that helped when she was in a mood. She’d spent nearly all her free hours there for the first few months after Rory.
But she didn’t need them today. Today was a good day. Today, Summer Day was all she needed.
“Okay, you can look now.” The words were accompanied by Twyla’s small fingers pulling up the blindfold.
Pilar blinked away the bright imitation sunlight, simultaneously shielding her eyes as she sat up. She pulled down her shirt, the white cotton fabric having bunched up in the movement to reveal her pale skin for the briefest of moments. The girl didn’t notice. Twyla’s eyes were fixed on the surprise. Only when Pilar gasped did she face her again, a wide grin erupting on her freckled face.
“How did you…?” Pilar’s words trailed off in disbelief as she pushed herself off the ground, taking slow steps toward the creation.
It was a dog. A dog that had not existed moments before. The curly-haired ball of grey and white sat prettily with all the manners of a prized poodle, though its butt wriggled happily with each swish of its tail.
She hesitantly reached a hand out, which was greeted by a sloppy wet tongue. With a giggle, Pilar patted her legs and the dog bounded forward, reaching its front paws up to brace itself on her thighs to better receive its pets.
“Is it real?” she asked the apprentice. She’d never been on friendly enough terms with any of the ship’s hexes to ask such questions before. But with Twyla, a girl who clung to Pilar like a sister since joining the Renicoff, she finally had a chance to learn about the magic that kept the ship running.
Twyla shrugged. “Who’s to say what’s real and what’s not?”
Pilar turned to look at the girl, though she continued scratching the dog’s ears as she did so. “Wise beyond your years, you are,” she teased.
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With a snap of the apprentice’s fingers, the dog disappeared.
“I can bring him back anytime. Just let me know when you want some puppy cuddles,” Twyla said as she picked up her maroon robes–the robes of an apprentice hex–and shrugged them on, the deep hood covering her auburn hair, “but I have to go now or I’ll be late.”
“Thanks, Twyla,” the woman said. “Have a good…”
The girl snapped her fingers and she too disappeared before Pilar had even finished her sentence.
“…lesson.”
The woman sighed, tucking a piece of her short black hair behind an ear. She had hours free before she was due at her station. With Twyla busy with hexes and both Florence and Christof working, she was alone. Several times since Rory she’d found herself unable to face the silence of solitude, and posted herself at the mess, gym, library, rec room–anywhere she could find company. But her thoughts didn’t claw at her today, so she remained in Summer Room, passing the time with a leisurely walk through the wildflower fields.
Pilar skimmed her fingertips along the long stalks of colorful buds, following a passing butterfly with her eyes, feeling the warmth of the imitation sun on her cheeks. She had no way of knowing it wasn’t quite the same as on Earth. She was one of the majority of the crew that was born and raised shipbound. Not on the Renicoff, of course, but others just like it. The Renicoff was the sixth ship she’d called home–though there was hardly a difference between them. Six ships in thirty-two years. It was an accomplishment, really. No one else could have gotten kicked off five ships without being banished planetside.
She took a deep breath, inhaling the too-pungent floral scent. The shipbound lifers would be disappointed in the subtlety of the fragrance of Earth flowers. A soft smile tilted her lips. Yes, today was a good day. Not because of anything in particular–perhaps that was exactly why it was a good day. It was slow. Banal. Easy. Nothing to think about. Nothing to worry about.
She looked up, finding herself in a thicket. The arterial-like pattern of interlocking branches of two trees caught her eye.
Well, it had been a good day.
Pilar’s breathing immediately quickened as a memory took hold.
“They’re connected,” Rory said, pointing a gloved hand upward. He and Pilar were in Winter Day, lying upon a bed of snow, looking at the leafless, ice-covered branches of the trees that surrounded them–an oak on the left, a maple on the right. “They love each other.”
Rory rolled over to kiss her cheek before standing and heading toward the exit, the ice crunching under him. He never announced what he was doing, where he was going. He never said goodbye. It was one of the things that irked her to no end.
As he walked away, Pilar remained. She twisted her ring under her glove, staring at the branches as a faint wind rustled them, the melodic sound of the creaking limbs and tingling ice falling on her.
She couldn’t help but think it was the oak’s useless attempt to disentangle itself from the maple.
Pilar looked away, the chill of the memory cutting through the Summer Day heat causing her arms to involuntarily wrap around her. The walk to the exit wasn’t leisurely. She practically sprinted, running through the options in her mind and deciding that the rec room would be the most crowded at this hour.
Yes, joining a game of cards would do nicely to drive out the thoughts of Rory.
And his death.