NOVEL NEXT Chapter 59: Parental Concerns
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Jaz: Your parents' love life frightens me, Mother.
Marie: Stop calling me that.
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Sol 495 FY 26, 10:40 Mars Time, Bonestell Crater Colony, Hab Layer, 9.32.002.B
Adya's voice, strident, was easily audible from the hab's main hallway. "He's some stranger from a game, Vincent. I just don't see how this works. We'll never even meet his family."
Marie froze, one boot halfway on. Her heart stuttered, a mix of irritation and hurt flaring in her chest. It wasn't her mother's call to make.
Vincent's voice was calm, measured. A contrast. "Adya—I hear you. But what if it does work? They're both resourceful. And she clearly loves him."
Marie exhaled slowly, the sting of her mother's words softening at her father's defense. She pressed her boot heel down firmly and tightened the strap, listening intently.
Her mother sighed. "I just wish she'd met someone here. Someone I could actually… know. Someone who understands what it means to live here. To be us."
Marie's jaw tightened. Us. She knew what her mother meant, but the implication still felt unfair, like a quiet accusation that she was reaching for something that didn't belong to her. She tugged on her second boot, pulling the strap tight.
"Then maybe we should get to know him."
The silence that followed felt heavy, like a pause for thought. Marie stood up, her work suit creaking slightly as it adjusted to her movement. She knew she shouldn't be eavesdropping—knew she shouldn't care what they said when they thought she wasn't listening. But she did.
Her father warmed to his theme: "I think he means well. No… think about it. That knight companion he made for her, Gallant. That took so much time, so much thought. No, I don't think he'll be like Gallant in real life—but I think Gallant is what he wishes he could be for her. Gordon himself is what he will be for her—yet, even if he cannot live up to his ideal, it's still… how do I say this… a statement of intent. A sign of commitment."
"Vincent—even if he wishes he could be committed, that doesn't mean he will be. Big gestures are just that—gestures. You can wear yourself out making big gestures all the time, and follow-through pays the price for it."
"Adya. I've said my piece. If you want to judge him, at least give him a chance to prove himself first. That's all I'm asking."
There was a scraping sound as he pushed back his chair. "I'm going to lie down for a bit."
Marie hesitated for a moment, standing in the empty corridor. Big gestures mean bad follow-through. Her mother's words stung.
A dozen responses swirled in her mind. How could they judge Gordon without even knowing him? She could have defended him, challenged them, demanded they see what she saw. But none of it would have mattered—not yet.
She grabbed her helmet, its familiar weight grounding her as she strode toward the reactor bay. Maybe a little sweating would help her think.
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"I've seen you pretending not to be crying before, Marie. Does your auntie Vera need to go to Earth and knock some teeth in for you?"
Her one-time mentor was working a late shift. She did that a lot.
"Noo."
"What's the matter, sweetie?"
"... I told him I wasn't comfortable with how Karen's been flirting with him, and he got defensive and snippy."
"Uh-huh."
"And we've never had a conversation go that far south so quickly—even when I hit hot-button topics like his father, he takes the time to tell me it's sensitive and we eventually work through it, but this was just so abrupt it feels like he's compensating for feeling guilty—"
"—and he might be compensating, might feel guilty, but before you jump to conclusions and get all confused between what you know and what you think, let's jot each of those down in its own little column."
Vera pulled out her notepad. It was dog-eared and thin because Vera lived and died by the 'put it on paper' method. Marie took it a little ruefully, a little gratefully.
Marie took it with a mix of ruefulness and gratitude. "Okay, but just so you know, this feels like homework."
"It is homework," Vera said with a smirk, leaning back in her chair. "Now, column one: 'What I Know.' Start with the facts, kiddo. No assumptions, no reading into things. Just what you actually know."
Marie sighed but scribbled a few bullet points onto the page. "I know Karen's been flirty. I know I told him it made me uncomfortable. I know he got defensive and snippy."
"Good," Vera said, nodding. "Now, column two: 'What I Think.' This is where you can let those feelings and guesses run wild. Lay it all out, even if it's messy."
Marie paused, then started writing again, slower this time. "I think... he feels guilty. I think he might be hiding something. I think... maybe he doesn't know how to talk about this without making it worse."
"Go on," Vera prompted.
"I know he's been friends with her since they were kids, since he was ten. Maybe he feels loyal to her because of that, and I'm overthinking this."
Vera tilted her head slightly, watching Marie closely. "Okay. Let's put that in column one: what you know. You know they've been friends forever, and you know he might feel some kind of loyalty to her because of it."
Marie scribbled it down but frowned as she wrote. "But what if that loyalty is... I don't know, too much? What if he's prioritizing her feelings over mine? What if I'm reading into all of this because I don't know where I stand?"
Vera leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Then you ask. You ask where you stand, what her role in his life is, and what boundaries he's comfortable with—and what boundaries you're comfortable with. You can't tiptoe around this, Marie. You've got to get clear on what you want, or this is going to eat at you."
Marie bit her lip, staring at the columns she'd jotted down. "I just hate the idea of making it a bigger deal than it has to be."
"Sweetie," Vera said with a small, knowing smile, "if it's already bothering you this much, it's already a big deal. The only difference now is whether you deal with it head-on or let it fester. And trust me, festering doesn't lead anywhere good."
"Okay. And I know that I don't just want to sweep this under the rug and forget about it, because I told myself I wouldn't be that sort of person."
"Like your father."
"Dad tries," Marie started, but Vera stopped her with a shake of her head and a smile.
"Victor tries. Never said he didn't, but sometimes you prioritize the rules in your life differently than the ones we love watching us wish we would. He thinks it's more important to save his strength to win the arguments that matter than to stand up for himself all the time. We've talked about this before, and I think we didn't agree that time either, and that's alright, honey."
Marie nodded, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Right. Sorry. But yeah, I don't want to be like him in a relationship. What do you call it if you're a henpecked woman?"
"You'd be called a lesbian," Vera quipped, deadpan.
Marie snorted, covering her mouth as she laughed. "Aunt Vera!"
"Heh, got a smile out of you. That's the beautiful, confident young woman I know," Vera said with a warm grin, leaning back in her chair. "Just think about what I said. Give it a minute, let tempers settle, and then stake your claim. If he doesn't want to be yours, well... he already wasn't, right?"
Marie's smile faltered slightly as the weight of Vera's words settled in, but she nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Better to find out now than later."
Marie stood, the notepad clutched in her hand like a lifeline. "Thanks. I think I'll figure it out... but it's good to know you've got my back."