Chapter Sixteen
There are so many things this century has shown him that his younger self wouldn’t have believed.
How do you explain hearing a voice from a world away?
Or a picture made with light and chemicals instead of paint?
How could he have fathomed the possibility of man touching the heavens, and believed it to be anything but a dream?
VICTORIA, AUSTRALIA
The excited chatter of teenagers and a dozen staff fills the auditorium like an endless echo.
A small school for a small town, but there is a buzz in the floorboards.
Anna can feel the hum of it burying beneath her skin like static.
Outside, she can see the swaying of eucalyptus against a gunmetal sky through the windows and wonders if the high winds will affect the television signal.
Giving a disgruntled sigh as her class files onto the bleachers behind them, Susan sits beside her on the lowest bench.
The older woman’s gray hair is pulled back into her customary low bun, but there are some stray wisps escaping the pins.
She looks more irritated than usual. Anna wonders if the assembly disrupted the cigarette break she usually sneaks between classes.
“Well, they landed the thing,” Susan says, voice rough as gravel. She raises a thin brow, brown eyes looking at her over the thick red frames of her reading glasses. “You watch it this morning?”
“Of course.” Anna doesn’t know of anyone who didn’t.
It seems like the entire world has their attention on the heavens.
Khiran had sat beside her on their tiny yellow sofa, their coffee cold and their fingers entwined, watching history being broadcast on their tiny television.
Anna didn’t understand most of what was being relayed between NASA command and the Apollo 11—the jargon too unfamiliar for her to untangle, but it hadn’t stopped her from hanging on every word.
“Longest fifteen minutes of my life,” Susan quips. “Thought they were going to end up like all those poor bastards that came before them.”
“Susan!” Anna hisses, reprimanding. A quick glance shows the nearby students as being too preoccupied with their own conversations to have noticed.
“Please,” she drawls. “Like you weren’t thinking the same thing.
” Anna won’t admit it—not to Susan, anyway—but she’s been carrying dread around like a weight for the past week.
Hard not to, when humanity’s adventures into the galactic unknown have been marred by more failures than successes.
This morning, when the countdown changed from moments till landing to how much fuel remained, her heart had seized—prepared to mourn yet another catastrophe.
They waited, air stale in their lungs, until the moment the long empty stretch of static made way for words.
The Eagle has landed.
A laugh, breathless and full of wonder, escaped her.
The feelings that clamored inside her chest too great to hold.
Khiran had kissed her—picked her up and twirled her around their tiny living room and laughed in ways she hadn’t heard in years.
But, for all the excitement, she still can’t seem to shake the dread that had taken root.
Getting there is only half the journey—there is still so much that could go wrong.
Being lost in space… well, Anna thinks it must be a different kind of drowning.
One where the ocean is without end and no shore to wash up on.
Susan leans her chin on the heel of her hand, glancing at the empty seat on Anna’s other side. “Where’s tall, dark, and handsome?”
Anna shakes her head, amused despite herself. “That is my husband you’re talking about, Susan.”
She shrugs a bony shoulder. “Just be grateful I’m saying it to your face.” There’s a distinct implication that there are others that don’t.
Sighing, Anna glances toward the auditorium doors. For all Susan’s teasing, it is strange that he hasn’t arrived yet. Stranger still that Principal Merryweather is also missing. She frowns. “Hey, Susan? You’re pretty good chums with the secretary, right?”
“Course I am. Small town like this? Gotta get my bit of gossip somewhere.” The corners of her mouth lift into a smirk, nudging Anna’s side with a sharp elbow. “Why? You worried your mister might be sticking his hands where he shouldn’t?”
Anna shoots her a dry look, more exasperated than angry, and Susan clucks her tongue approvingly.
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t, would you? You got him so wrapped up in you, he’s damn near blind to everything else.
Between you and me? I hear the way he shut down that hussy from the admin office was a bona fide work of art. ”
Anna’s smile goes tight, her laugh hollow.
She knows exactly what incident Susan is referring to.
The woman—Carol—had been a little too forward with her flirting, and Khiran had been all too happy to retaliate by shamelessly broadcasting his disinterest in front of his entire class.
The poor woman had felt so humiliated, she’d refused to show her face on campus since.
“No, I don’t see those hands straying,” Susan hums, glancing pointedly at her watch. “Now, if you could manage to do something about that mouth of his.”
Anna’s stomach sinks, resisting the urge to rub her temples. “What did he do?”
Susan leans close, her whisper sly. “Word is he went off lesson again. Mr. Merry ain’t living up to his name about it.”
Anna cringes—recognizing the probability of the accusation.
Mr. Merry is the nickname the staff call Principal Merryweather when he’s out of earshot; an entirely too ironic jab at his surly demeanor.
Khiran’s consistently proven to be a thorn in the administration’s side and not just because he insists on sharing bits of history the textbooks like to gloss over or outright ignore.
Anna still doesn’t understand how he managed to keep his job after the incident where he told a student his father was an idiot after regurgitating some of his parent’s talking points.
If they let him finish the school year, it will be a small miracle.
The auditorium door opens, Khiran walking in and looking entirely unfazed. Anna wishes that soothed her nerves.
He’s been happy these last few years—learned how to navigate his mortal limitations and still find fulfillment.
Yet, he never bothered to invest himself in any kind of relationship outside their own.
He plays his part well: goes to the pub to have an occasional drink with some of their male faculty members, tells jokes and stories in the break room.
He has fun with it, but he always stops just short of caring.
It’s all just a game—this play pretend mortal life. Like children playing house, immersed in their roles but ready to let them go once the dinner bell rings.
Anna understands the instinct. She has had to restart and abandon more faux lives than she can count. It’s easier to say goodbye when you know from the beginning that people are temporary. What she struggles to comprehend is his utter disregard for causing trouble.
Khiran’s sleeves are rolled up to his elbows the way he knows Merryweather hates (and she secretly admires). His eyes scan the bleachers, grinning when he finds her. Anna’s more focused on the fact that the principal walks in right behind him.
Definitely not a coincidence that they were both missing, then.
Susan gives a huff of laughter, the sound smoky at the edges.
“Well, speak of the devil.” Anna can’t be sure if the devil she’s referring to is her husband or their boss, but Susan stands, knees creaking, before she can ask.
“Well, while you grill your honey, I’m gonna go get the scoop from Cathy.
” She gives Anna a wink before leaving, but pats Khiran on the shoulder, chuckling, as she passes him.
He gives the teaching veteran a curious look, but says nothing as he sits beside his wife.
He’s so close, his arm brushes hers as he reaches up and loosens his tie.
Anna catches Merryweather’s scowl at the action.
“Sorry, I got held up. Has it started?” he asks, eyes flitting around the auditorium.
“Looks like we’re still waiting on the television? ”
Anna scowls at him. “How much trouble are you in?”
He blinks, startled, before his gaze flits to her accomplice on the other side of the auditorium. Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair. “Susan?”
“Susan.”
“Old bat could run an entire business on selling secrets,” he muses. “If it weren’t so aggravating, I’d find it impressive.”
“Khiran. How much trouble?”
“Two weeks suspension,” he grumbles, but there’s a spark of laughter in his eyes.
“Or, would have been. Thankfully, your husband is incredibly charming, and I got off with a metaphorical slap on the wrist.” His grin is teasing, but when she doesn’t smile back, he sighs.
“A few parents didn’t appreciate my commentary on certain current events. ”
Anna’s heart sinks. There is no shortage of topics for him to choose from with the anti-war protesters demanding an end to military presence in Vietnam to civil and land rights for Indigenous Australians. “Khiran—”
“I’m not sorry for it,” he says, voice as low and level as his stare.
“I would never ask you to be,” she murmurs fondly, expression softening.
Discreetly, she leans closer until her knee touches his.
One of the reasons she had suggested he try this field was so he could see there were ways he could still make a difference in the world.
That he is just as capable of inspiring change as she is.
She won’t scold him for teaching the truth.
“You worry over nothing.” His fingers curl along her palm, coaxing her hand open until he can trace her heart line. There’s a warmth in his eyes, sly and brimming with mischief. “I have everything handled.”