What Dreams May Come

Chapter 15: eye of the storm

I didn't stop running until I made it back to my parents' berth, glad my code for the door still worked. I darted through the living room, and to my empty room, throwing myself onto my bed and wishing I could cry. Perhaps tears would stop me from feeling so guilty. Instead, I curled myself into a ball on my old mattress.

"Dylan?" my madre said softly.

I heard her sit on my mattress, pulling me towards her. I let myself be pulled in her hug and I sat there for quite some time, replaying the conversation over and over again. I didn't know why he had reacted so; I had tried to be....

"Now, what happened?" my madre said. "I'm certain this is Levi related. Who said what and didn't mean it?"

I snorted, lifting my head up to look at her. She gave me a half smile.

"How did you know?" I asked dryly.

"Because that sums up all of your papa and my early fights." She pulled me up to lean on her shoulder. "So tell me what happened."

"I took Levi back to the berth to rest, but when I got back, he was watching video logs," I said. "Weeping. I startled him, and he snapped at me. I tried to say something, but then he started yelling in Spanish and told me he would have rather died in cryo than be here. And then I left."

"We should have never started taking video logs," my madre sighed. "Nothing good has ever come of them."

"You have them," I remarked, surprised at her sentiment.

"I know. And I would kill to keep them. But I also know how they've hurt my ability to be content here. I miss my family. And, since to Levi, he's only missed a day or two, he's not only forced to watch his parents grow old and die right before his eyes, but he has to do it knowing he's a century in their future, and all he has of them is in his hands. No one remembers them but him."

"That is sad," I admitted. "But...doesn't excuse all the yelling."

"You caught him at a vulnerable moment," my madre chided. "Levi doesn't strike me as a hothead, but I would wager that such a breakdown was long in coming."

"What?"

My madre rolled her eyes. "He's had a time of it, Dylan, and putting on a brave face for a girl who he thinks hates him is probably stressful."

"Oh."

That only served to make me feel worse, not better. I sighed again, uncertain what to do. My papa would have baked something: cookies, cake, scones. While I could bake all right, Levi couldn't eat anything, not for a couple more days. Levi himself would probably quote poetry in this position, but I didn't know any, nor where to find any that wasn't already in his collection. I dreaded returning to the berth.

"I don't know what to do," I said. "Now, I mean. The facts don't change; he's still my partner. And I am sorry; Madre, I don't know what to do with crying people."

"Give him space," she recommended. "Hang out with your friends tonight. Tell them Levi passed out on the bed, which is probably true, and don't worry about it."

This did not sound as simple as she was making it. My madre frowned.

"Do you hear that?" she asked.

I didn't hear anything, but we both stood from the bed and walked out of the berth, listening quietly. There was nothing, or rather, the absence of the low rumble that had been our cycle. Had the earthstorm stopped?

I turned toward my papa's office and my madre followed. I couldn't believe that the earthstorm had stopped; it had been raging so just hours before.