The Girl On the Moon [#Watty2015]

Chapter 12: Samuel Thomas

I have known the Man on the Moon for a total of a single day, and now he's dead. But Rowan has lived with this man for most of her life, and she doesn't remember much of a life before him. I try to grasp that, imagine what it would be like losing all of your family. I can't manage it, so I just rest my hand on Rowan's shoulder gently and her frame wracks with heartbreaking sobs.

Soon, I began to see a warning on my oxygen mask-it's running low-and I urge Rowan to her house gently. The Man on the Moon's house must have extra masks somewhere, enough to hold out for a trip back to Nova II. It might take me a few minutes to find them, I know, because Rowan is barely able to let me carry her inside. She is definitely not able to assist me with a search.

Once I have closed the door, and guided Rowan to a chair, I immediately begin searching inside sealed cabins. Though I find a small leather notebook with pages crammed with scrawling pencil marks, spare masks are no where to be found. I hear a small whimper right before I am about to search the next room. "Th-they're over there," Rowan manages with another breathless sob. Her fingers-noticeably shaking-is directed to stack next to a plant I recognize to be the specially engineered Lunar Saintpaulia ionantha.

My eyes flicker to the side, and I spot at least fifteen masks. Dropping the notebook, letting it slide behind the cabinet, I grab an armful of masks, tossing one over to Rowan. She doesn't make any attempt to catch it, letting it bounce off her left arm. I walk over to her carefully while strapping on my mask. "Hey, are you okay?" Bad move.

She turns to me, green eyes blazing. "OF COURSE I'M NOT SODDING OKAY! MY ONLY FATHER FIGURE-MY ONLY PARENTAL FIGURE, JUST UP AND SODDING DIED. YOU SNIPPING IDIOT. I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU, BUT SNIP SNAP, THAT'S SOME HORRIBLE CRAP, OKAY? Just leave me alone." Her voice breaks as she attempts to push herself away, but her limbs are trembling too much to function.

"You haven't changed a bit," I force a small laugh, but Rowan does not echo my hollow sound.

Instead she meets my eyes with a steely gaze and a clenched jaw. "I have changed, Sammy. I really have. I'm much older now, and I have to be strong, Sammy." I can see her hands grasping for purchase against the smooth wood armrests. The strain does nothing to lessen the tremor in her grip.

"That doesn't mean you have to be strong alone." I meet her glare head on, neither of us blinking. Just sitting there, the silence too fragile to hold but too delicate to stand destroying. Finally, after what seems like eternity, Rowan stands up and walks out. Where, I don't know. Why, I'm in the dark too. But it dawns on me that maybe I should chase after her; by then she's long gone and I'm sitting in the deserted house feeling equally empty inside.