Chapter 5
JOLAR
I read the recipe carefully that Commander Gundar’s wife, Darla, had given me, saying that Neal was bound to love it and how much she and her siblings had looked forward to having it Sunday mornings.
Why only on Sundays, I had no idea, but she’d reassured me it was okay to eat this any day of the week, especially if I served crispy bacon with it and made sure not to forget the maple syrup.
I’d stopped by the Commissary on my way home yesterday and picked up the bacon and said maple syrup, as well as the vanilla flavoring which came in an astonishingly small bottle.
The bacon had come in several varieties of bacon made of pork, Canadian, streaky, smoked, unsmoked, and back bacon plus combinations thereof, as well as imitation vegan bacon and turkey bacon, which again came as smoked and unsmoked.
I grabbed a package of smoked turkey bacon since I knew Neal liked chicken.
After all, wasn’t a turkey a kind of huge chicken?
“Whatcha making, Daddy?” Neal asked me, coming into the kitchen.
“French toast,” I told him.
Neal’s eyes grew round. “Really! That’s super yummy!” he said, bouncing up and down in excitement.
“So you’ve had it?” I felt a bit relieved to know that he had and liked it. I would have felt terrible if my surprise had turned out to be a disappointment because I’d made something he disliked.
“Yup. Mrs. Mason took us to the Waffle House every Sunday for breakfast and I gotted the French toast once. I ated something different each time,” he explained to me, “so I could try to taste one of everything.”
“And did you?” I asked him as I carefully dunked a piece of bread into the egg and milk mixture.
“No,” he said, sounding sad. “Mr. Mason gotted a job far away and I had to go live at the home.”
I did not press the subject. The group home had been his last placement before I’d adopted him.
“Well,” I said, turning the bacon after placing the soaked bread in another pan to brown, “the Commander’s wife told me this was her mother’s recipe and her mother used to make it every Sunday morning.
” I lowered my voice conspiratorially. “Though I’m not sure why it was always on a Sunday, same as yours, as she told me it was okay to eat any morning. ”
Neal laughed. “Because Sunday is the special food day, Daddy, if you gots a family! You haves the really good breakfast and then a big dinner with a big chicken or a pot roast and smashed tatoes and stuff! Or else you go has a picnic in the park for lunch and order pizza for dinner.”
A special food day, huh? I’d have to remember that.
As for having a family, he definitely had that now.
And as for picnics, I’d have to think about that.
I seemed to recall there was something about sandwiches, cakes, a basket to pack the food in, a blanket to sit on, and ants who come steal all the food.
We didn’t have any ants, which I was pretty sure was okay because the movies all showed everyone trying to chase the ants away.
Everything else I could do; we had a park with the requisite greenery and even some play equipment for Neal to enjoy.
I just needed to find out what should go in the sandwiches and if it was okay to pack some Mylosian food.
I was trying to get Neal to eat more of it and learn more about his new culture.
I flipped the toast over and began dipping another piece of bread ready to place it in the pan next.
My kunnarskyn beeped, letting me know I had a message.
I frowned, wondering what it was. Today was my day off and the tone it had emitted had marked it as urgent.
I removed the piece of cooked toast and turned off the bacon as it was ready, and plated up Neal's serving.
“Here you go, the syrup is on the table. Be careful with it.”
I was sure he’d be okay, it had a pop top that only let out a little bit at a time when I’d tested it. Once I had my piece of toast in the hot pan, I checked my message.
Congratulations, you have been matched.
I stared at it in disbelief. I’d been matched already? I’d been here less than an Earth year and there were hundreds of Mylos onboard this ship alone who had been waiting far longer.
“Daddy, is something wrong?’
I turned to face my son.
“Not at all,” I reassured him, beaming at him as the smell of my toast scorching reached my nose.
I hurriedly spun around and added some more butter to the pan before flipping it over.
Just a bit of the edges had gotten overcooked, thank goodness.
The butter and toast sizzled and I turned the heat on the pan down.
“You looked funny, like something was the matter.”
“Nope, I just got a bit of a surprise is all.”
“A good surprise or a bad one?”
“Oh, it’s a very good one, and it’s for both me and you.”
I placed my food on my plate, turned the cooker off, and took my usual seat next to him.
Before eating, however, I tapped out my reply, letting the center know I’d be there in an hour.
I was not going to cheat my young out of his breakfast treat and I needed to explain to him what was about to happen.
I looked up to find him staring at me, chewing his food with a thoughtful look.
I gave him a warm smile. “Remember how we talked about the Fleet?”
He nodded, swallowing his food. “Yeah,” he said, sounding noncommittal. He picked up his cup and took a large swig of his milk.
“Well,” I continued brightly, “then you’ll recall this is called the Bride Fleet, as we came looking for mates. Only of course, not all of us want brides, some of us hoped for grooms. And many of us wanted families, so even if we never found our mate, we’d have young to love.”
“Are you getting another kid?” he asked me, his tone sounding flat.
“No, no. But we are getting a new family member. I’ve just been informed that my perfect match has been found.” I speared my bacon with my fork and began slicing it in two. “As soon as we finish, we’ve got to go down and bring him back with us.”
My stomach dropped as Neal looked panicked. “We have to go right now?” he asked, his eyes darting around.
“No, no. We have time to finish eating our delicious breakfast.” I took a bite of my bacon to prove this was true.
“Is that why you made this?” he asked, making it sound as if I’d prepared a grand final feast.
I shook my head, then after I finished chewing and swallowing my bite, replied, “If I’d known, I would have arranged for us all to have breakfast together. But I did not know,” I gentled my tone, “because we are not notified until the very instant our match is verified.”
“And that happened just now? While you was doing the cookings?” he pressed.
“Yes. It was as big a surprise to me as it is to you. It says his name is Mitchell and right now, he’s also surprised. He went in to see about money for school and found out he’s my mate and that he has a young now.”
“But what if he hates me?” he whispered, tears threatening to spill.
“Then he could not possibly be my perfect match. You know I love you to the ends of the universe and beyond, right? So, to be my perfect match, he will have to as well.”
“But you’re Mylos and maybe only Mylos like me.”
“You’re Mylos now too, and now so is he,” I reminded him. “And have you met any human-born Mylos here that hate you? Does your teacher or any of the young hate you?”
He shook his head no.
“Then no one who is matched to a warrior or approved by the AI to come here to live and work could possibly hate you, right? They might not want to be your best friend, but they wouldn’t be mean to you. But being matched to me, well, that means they are also matched to you.”
“Perfectly?” he asked, his lip no longer quivering. He appeared to be mulling things over.
“Down to the last particle.”
“You should ask if he’s had breakfast.”
I blinked at the sudden change of subject. “Ask if Mitchell has?”
“Uh huh. ’Cuz he might like French toast and be hungry.”
“I can make more when we get home if he is.”
“But then it won’t be a special family meal.”
Oh. I suddenly grasped what he was trying to say. If Mitchell was a perfect fit and was meant to be family, he should get to have some of our special family food.
“I’ll ask,” I assured him, quickly tapping out the question. Moments later my kunnarskyn beeped, letting me know the officer at the center had replied. “He’s eaten already,” I informed Neal.
Neal deflated a bit. “Can we go now? I’m not very hungry.”
I suspected this sudden upset was the culprit, but thought it would be best to not force him to eat and possibly get sick. I took our plates and placed them in the chiller unit. “How about I warm these up for lunch when I get back?”
“Okay.”
“Do you feel up to finishing your milk?”
He nodded and drank his glass down. I decided to allow him to wait to clean his teeth, but he did need to wash the milk mustache off.
“Go wash your face and hands, and then we’ll go.”
I watched him slide out of his chair and walk slowly to the bathroom.
I gritted my teeth, seeing the slump to his shoulders.
His parent had been most unworthy indeed, having told him his entire life that he was unlovable.
It was one of the many reasons he had been removed from her care shortly after his fourth birthday.
He had only accepted that I could, and did, love him but he had it in his head that it was because I was Mylos.
I loaded the cooled cookware and our flatware into the dish cleaner.
I tended to only use the same ones again and again, and not simply replicate new ones.
I wanted to give Neal a feeling of permanence, so he would remain confident in us being family forever.
I hoped that Mitchell would understand how delicate Neal was and not give him reason to doubt, even if he himself was grappling to find how he fit in our family.
“I’m ready, Daddy,” Neal said, appearing behind me. I turned a smile on my face. He had not only washed his face and hands but had combed his hair. I saw he had the stuffed cat he slept with clutched tightly in his arms.
“Stitch wanted to come, too, huh?”
“Uh huh,” was all Neal said, taking my proffered hand in his free one and holding on as if I might be snatched from his grasp any second. On impulse, I bent down to pick him up.
“It will be faster this way,” I told him. “Then we can find out what kind of milkshake is his favorite and get some before we come back.”
That got a real smile from him. A tiny one, but it was there.
He leaned his head on my shoulder. “Better hurry up then before someone breaks the machine like the last time,” he replied, recalling our last visit down to Earth.
We’d stopped at a fast food place for hamburgers and milkshakes during our three day vacation and the machine that made the shakes had been broken.
“Yes, we can’t let that happen again,” I agreed, and strode out the door towards our future.