Chapter Twenty-Three
I stay in my bed all day and try to distract myself from Principal Major’s voice replaying in my mind, and Roman’s confession. My hours are spent alternating between reading the same pages in one of my books and staring at the lights that line the bed.
Some time later, Roman comes back in the room. I hold my breath when I hear his footsteps pause beside my bed, then let it out when I hear him climb into a different one. When the day is over and I should be sleeping, there’s an ever-revolving door of questions and doubts running through my head.
Was Roman really telling the truth when he said his dad was the one he was lying to, or was he trying to save face? Did he read every manual he could to know how to fix the various gadgets, or was it to learn each machine inside and out so that on our last day here everything would fail with no possible way to fix it all?
I huff out a breath, hating the doubts flowing through my mind and how my imagination is coming up with all sorts of diabolical things I was certain Roman wouldn’t do. Or would he?
“Are you awake?” Roman asks from the other side of the screen. His voice sounds clear and devoid of the sexy raspiness he normally has when he wakes up, confirming that he didn’t sleep either.
“I’m awake,” I say, and lift the screen. I’ve hidden long enough, and now it’s time to face the new day.
When I slide out of the bed and stand up, it’s a punch to my chest when I see Roman waiting a few feet away. He looks horrible, with dark bags under his eyes and a small frown tugging at his lips. I feel horrible, like my heart’s been ripped out and stomped on. I get the sense everything that happened yesterday could melt away if I reached out to him and made contact. My hand itches to grab hold of his, give us both some kind of assurance everything will be fine, but self-preservation keeps my arms locked to my sides.
He opens his mouth, and with my emotions so topsy-turvy, I know I’m not in the mental state to hear more apologies or explanations.
“I guess we better go out there and get started,” I say before he has the chance to utter any words.
His shoulders lift on a sigh and he nods. “Yeah. Okay.”
I stop in the bathroom to get cleaned up while Roman continues on to the common room. Unsurprisingly, the image that greets me in the mirror is horrendous. My face is puffy and the tip of my nose is red from crying last night. I’ll still have to go out there and work with Roman, but I don’t need to look like I’m falling apart.
I soak a small hand towel in water and let it sit on my face for a few minutes while I try rebuilding my battered emotional barriers. I need to tap into Vice Principal Rogers and bring forth the superpowers I use at school when someone is testing me, despite the fact that I feel very un-super right now. When I take the towel off and glance in the mirror, at least I don’t look as run-down.
When I come out of the bathroom, Roman is at the stove making breakfast, so I go to the comms station to do a visual scan of the outside cameras. The conditions look perfect. No dust storms, no debris, and the antenna is up and functional. I even see our rover, Miles, slowly moving around in the sand.
There’s a light indicating we still have unopened messages, and for a second I’m physically sick, like my stomach is about to take another free fall, as Principal Major’s voice replays in my head.
“Food is ready,” Roman says to me, and I’m only too happy to turn away and go to the table.
“What is this?” I ask as I take the seat across from him but avoid direct eye contact.
“Eggs and Spam. I would have made this sooner if I knew we had it. Earth, Mars. I don’t think it matters where you are, it’ll taste the same.”
I break a piece of the Spam off with my fork and sniff. “Is it real meat?”
“Yes, it’s real meat,” he says with a slight chuckle.
I take a tentative bite, surprised by how flavorful it is. Crispy on the outside, since Roman fried it, and soft on the inside.
“What do you think?” he asks after I take a few more bites.
“It’s not bad.” I know the response is short and clipped, and even though I hate this subdued air surrounding us like fog that’s hard to see through, I don’t have it in me to keep giving more of myself.
Roman finishes his food first and waits for me. Instead of allowing him to take my plate, I cover it as I slip off my stool.
“I’ll do the dishes since you cooked,” I say, and without waiting for him, take my plate and his to the sink.
I’m positive the vibe I’m giving out screams “I want to be left alone,” but Roman follows me to the sink. At first it’s easy to ignore him as he leans with his back against the small counter and his arms crossed over his chest. I focus on making sure each particle of food disappears. But when I grab the pan and begin washing, my barriers start weakening.
I see the pan and the dish towel in my hand, but I also see the softness in Roman’s eyes when he brought me breakfast in bed and hear his sweet baritone when he began humming the Mission: Impossible song so I wouldn’t give up on finding Miles’s battery. When it comes down to it, I want to believe what he felt for me is as real as what I’ve always felt for him.
I set the pan down. Roman’s still right beside me, stubbornly waiting for me to acknowledge him. I close my eyes and let my head fall against his arm, and we stand together as the minutes pass by.
When I tilt my head up to finally meet his gaze, I know that no matter what plans he did or didn’t make with his dad, my heart belongs to him. He rests his hand on my hip, and while I have plenty of time to move away, knowing full well the cameras are right on us, I stay in place as he bends down and kisses me. It’s tender and sweet, and every bit the reassurance of his feelings I need.
“We good?” he asks, his grip tightening slightly at my hip like he can’t bear to let me go.
“Yeah,” I say. “We’re good.”
He finally releases me, and it’s really time to get the day started.
Roman pulls out his journal, and I start dusting. When I’m back at the comms station, the blinking for the unread message annoys me so much I decide to just see what it’s about.
It’s another message from the school. This time from a group of students, probably those enrolled in summer school. They’re all cheering on Roman and me, excited for the library remodel. It’s evident that to their minds, winning the money is pretty much a done deal.
“What do we need to do today?” Roman asks, coming up behind me.
I exit out of the message and rub at my temples as they begin to throb. Too much stress and not enough sleep.
“We need to clean the solar panels,” I say.
“How about I take care of those, and you rest today,” Roman says, scanning my face. “And don’t argue. You had me rest when I had a migraine, and you’re not looking all that great right now.”
I could be offended, but even after using the cool water to get rid of some of the puffiness, I know I must look bad. I feel it too.
“Fine,” I say. “But you’ll still need help getting the suit on.”
While helping Roman get ready to go outside, my head throbs and I can’t get the students’ faces out of my mind. It would be such a tragedy for their hopeful smiles to disappear if we didn’t walk out of here with money for the library.
Roman strokes my hair with his big, gloved hand. “As soon as I get back in, you need to go lie down.”
“Yes, Mr. Major,” I say before helping him with the helmet.
He turns around so I can attach the oxygen. In the second it takes me to reach up and secure the tank, the intrusive thoughts hit me at full force. I think of my boyfriend from college and how he made different plans that left me and my heart in the dust. I think about Principal Major changing the plans for the library and trying to pit Roman against me. I’m still not positive if Roman’s actions throughout our time here have worked to help or hinder the outcome. And ultimately, I think I can’t take the risk of him not being one hundred percent in this.
I bring my arm back down before completely attaching his oxygen tank and step back. “Okay, good to go.”
Roman walks out of the Hab, going through the tunnel to open the hatch, then steps outside. As soon as he’s far enough, I hit a button that allows me to control the hatch’s lock, knowing Roman won’t be able to unlock it from outside.
As he approaches the solar panels, an alert plays over the comms as well as his headpiece, alerting us that his oxygen is depleting quickly from a leak. He turns back to the Hab and tries to open the hatch. “What the—? Bri, can you open the door?”
My heart pumps wildly in my chest as I watch him through the screen.
“Brianna?” He pulls at the hatch again, but it doesn’t budge.
Think of the kids. Think of the kids. I ball my fists, battling with myself not to let him in.
Roman must finally catch on that the predicament he’s in is my doing. He shakes his head and hangs it low. Before I can act on my second thoughts, he removes his helmet.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers through the microphone, looking up into the camera above the door. He takes in a deep breath. “Ugh, it smells like rotten eggs.” He lets out a sad chuckle. It’s a sadness I feel in every ounce of my soul.
Within seconds, the alert switches from warning about Roman’s oxygen leak to blaring his imminent demise. It feels like the least I can do is stay and watch as my deception fully unfolds, but I don’t have it in me. I turn away and head back to the bedroom. I slip into my bed and close the screen even though no one is here that I would need the extra privacy from.
Eventually, the alerts over the speakers become silent. And my heart is broken. Or rather, I’m broken. I know it because there are no tears. Just me and the empty stillness as I sit with what I’ve done.
It’s quiet when I get up the next morning. Quiet and lonely. Quiet, lonely, and wrong . I wasn’t supposed to be the only one left standing. Simone, Angie, Jordan—we came in as a team. Roman…I’m still not sure about his motives. But it felt like he was part of our team as well. And now it’s just me.
I lie in the bed I was sharing with Roman just days ago. Not just sharing, but smiling, laughing, loving. If I knew the kiss we shared yesterday morning was going to be our last, I’d have made it count.
But with so many kids counting on me, with their futures on the line, I couldn’t take the risk Roman wasn’t one hundred percent on board. And now that probably means there’s no future for us .
As I roll out of bed and stand in the empty room, I wonder what it says about me that even after all this, my feelings have not dissipated in the least. I still want a future with him. My heart felt like it was torn into a million pieces and scattered among the dust when I finally got the courage to check the cameras last night before going to bed and saw that he was well and truly gone. And I’m the one who sent him away.
There is a comfort to be found in following a routine. I guess it’s why experts push the practice so much for kids. I do what I’ve done the past five weeks. I eat breakfast, clean my bowl, dust the furniture and comms, check on the cameras and Miles, and look over the rock samples. It’s tough getting into my space suit with no one to help, but I manage it and go clean the solar panels. Finally, I get to checking in on the greenhouse.
Today I’m ready to finally switch out the soil and plant new seeds. I’m hoping something will sprout in the time I have left. I might even pray over them.
I walk in, expecting everything to be just as I left it yesterday, but as I approach the dandelion plot, I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. I get close, so close my nose touches the soil, and I realize I’m not seeing things. There are sprouts—multiple!
I cover my mouth with my hands so I don’t scream but realize no one is here anyway. I can absolutely scream, so that’s just what I do. We did it. We completed all the tasks. We’re going to get the money for the school, Superintendent Watts is going to approve the library remodel, and Principal Major is going to have to deal with my intolerable happiness for the next year.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath as Roman’s handsome face crosses my mind, and his look of acceptance after removing his helmet pierces my heart. He really didn’t try to sabotage the dandelions.
Why couldn’t these have sprouted one day sooner?