Six #2
She and Maya walk together in the pale spring sunlight. Tiny white pasqueflowers are blooming from between the patches of fescue planted along the sidewalk. “How’ve you been?” Isako asks. “Everything okay?”
Maya shrugs. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“How about everyone else? What’s new?”
“Auntie Krita and Uncle Laslo are away at that new atmospheric research station near the south pole but they’ll be back next month, I think.
Kalen’s decided to go into botanical engineering, so he’s been nice to me lately because he needs my help with biochem homework.
I keep telling Kithma Sondra that I need a lock on my door because Alise keeps coming in when I’m not home and borrowing my makeup and jewelry and not returning it.
” She rolls her eyes. “That’s pretty much it. We’re all good.”
As far as Community she’s seen many of them fail.
Isthmus Akio saw in her the necessary combination of brains, brawn, and ability to work like a motherfucker under high pressure in ambiguous situations. He nurtured those traits from a young age, made her his protégé.
Maya is nothing like her, and for that, she’s genuinely relieved.
Her daughter’s happiest when deeply immersed in quiet, organized, intellectual work.
She has the influence and encouragement of gentler women in her life, like Sondra and Amie and Krita.
She would hate the unrelenting demands of client service.
Maya’s planning to be a genetic archivist working in the Genebank.
It’s a role that will suit her perfectly, pay her well, provide her with all the usual Company benefits.
The determination Isako carried into the visit wilts faster than the sheet of nori in her soup. She can’t bring herself to say anything that’ll ruin their afternoon together.
So she changes the subject. “How’re your studies going?”
“Pretty good. This semester’s course load was a bit of a drag, but I’m interviewing for an internship position with a really well-known bioreintroductionist who’s worked on pretty much all the major insect species launches of the last fifty years.
” Maya’s eyes light up. “Oh, and Silas and I are going to visit his kithparents in Bioscience next week, and his uncle’s got some geneticist connections who he says would be happy to talk to me about career stuff. ”
“That sounds great.” Isako needs a moment to bring her daughter’s boyfriend to mind. She’s met Silas a couple of times. Polite young man. Decent looking. A bit too agreeable? Not very ambitious, but he seems to make Maya happy. “What’s Silas up to?”
“He’s working on the portfolio he’s going to submit to the Arts & Media Guild.”
“Wasn’t he planning to get an airshield-tech certification?”
“He decided not to do it this year after all. He says he’ll think about it next year if the A&M route doesn’t work out.”
Isako chews her bok choy slowly and swallows. “It’s not easy to make a living with art, you know. There are only so many approved commissions to go around. It’s never an essential service or a top Company priority.”
“Yeah, but Silas is really good,” Maya says, as if that’s all there is to it. “And I’ll be earning us scrip while he’s getting started. Sondra and Amie like him a lot,” she finishes, with a cheerful finality that stings, because their opinions are what actually matter, and who is Isako to disagree?
You could do better, Maya. You’re too young to settle. Isako bites her tongue. “So, have you seen your dad lately?” she asks, as casually as she can.
Maya gives her mother a look of mild disappointment, as if to say, Why don’t you ask him yourself? It’s not like they parted on bad terms. They tell their daughter that they’re still friends.
“He’s good. We went to the Founding Day festival together. That was fun. I think he still feels guilty for transferring kiths, even though I’ve told him I understand.”
“Do you?”
“I’m an adult, Mom. Depending on how things go in my career and with Silas, I might be transferring in the next year or two myself.”
She says it with the blithe acceptance of youth. When you’re a teenager, things change, and change fast. Another major life milestone just ahead. Isako’s had days that feel longer than her daughter’s entire childhood.
“Well, transferring kiths to be with someone is a big decision. You shouldn’t rush it. Nothing wrong with taking more time to figure out what you really want. Remember to do what’s right for you and don’t worry about what anyone else thinks.”
It’s bland, cliché parental advice that anyone could give, but Isako doesn’t want to think about Maya leaving home, even if she’s going to already be gone herself.
It makes sense that Tai would transfer—Isthmus was never really his kith, just the place he ended up because of her.
But in Isako’s mind, Maya will always be here.
“I know, Mom.” Maya doesn’t even look up as she finishes her noodles.
Isako listens to her daughter talk more about her studies, her friends, her hobbies.
Isako’s painfully aware that she’s not up to date with youth slang, current popular media, or fashion trends, but she nods encouragingly, asks a few questions—not too many, but enough to keep the conversation going.
When the bill arrives, she pays with her scripline, which still works, proving that Director Minto’s good for her word.
Just tell her. Who knows when you’ll get another chance.
But Maya’s standing up, putting on her coat, checking the time, and thinking ahead to her important interview. She says it’s competitive but Isako knows she’ll get it. Now’s not the time to be distracting her.
As they walk back to the house, a school bus stops on the corner and disgorges a pile of young children who run home across Otter Jain Park.
Their shouts are high and clear and their feet kick up the ryegrass and gravel.
Isako remembers when Maya was one of those little kids, just like that girl with the pigtails, maybe eight years old.
She feels like an alien here, peering into the tidy, protected terrarium—a smaller, gentler bubble within the airshield, where she and Tai left the one perfect thing they made together.
They reach the house. “That was fun, Mom. Thanks for lunch.”
“You didn’t get an ice pop.” Damn, how could they forget? If she returns to Yoshi’s right now, maybe she could bring one back to Maya before she has to leave for her interview.
“That’s all right, I didn’t really want one.
Maybe next time.” Maya gives her a hug, quick and unconcerned, and starts through the door.
Isako can hear Sondra and Amie laughing somewhere inside, along with the sound of Kyle kicking a ball against the wall.
The smell of delicious chicken tagine wafts out from the kitchen.
“Maya.” Isako’s chest tightens, as if the oxygen level has dropped, as if she’s stepped outside the airshield.
She loves this child born of her own body.
She doesn’t know how to be a mother, not even after nineteen years.
Years that were too short, filled with important moments that she missed that can’t ever be reclaimed.
Coward , she thinks, because she doesn’t doubt her own ability to walk into the Vastness, but she can’t bring herself to say what needs to be said right now.
Maya won’t understand, not at first. Maybe she’ll even feel betrayed. But that doesn’t really matter. She’s smart and strong and beautiful. She’s going to be fine.
Isako will make sure of it. It won’t matter what job Maya works, what kith she chooses, whether she decides to be with a scripless artist, whether she has help from anyone else. Not with the bonus her mother’s going to leave her after she completes this final assignment.
Maya turns. “Yeah, Mom?”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks, I’ll let you know if I get it.” Maya goes inside. The door shuts behind her.
Isako turns and walks away. At first, her steps feel slow and heavy, but as she crosses the park, her back straightens, her head comes up, her stride lengthens.
The red wool peacoat swings against her thighs, in time with the sway of the triggersheath on its bearings.
Wagefolk glance at her, move out of her way on the sidewalk.
She looks behind her once, then not again.