…
"My God, as it would seem, is a cruel comedian." - from Markus's final log
…
Sully lied wide awake on top of the covers of his bed. He was staring at a picture of a still smiling, jubilant Beth that sat on his nightstand. The only thing that laid next to Sully was her pillow. It may have served as a poor replacement of his wife, but it was better than nothing. That nothing was something that he'd spent the last year unable to leave. Her absence may have been more painful than the picture or the pillow that bookended him as he lay in bed, but the void left by her was still something he could hold onto. He would never leave her. He would never abandon her again, whether it was the somethings or the nothing she left him with.
His worn eyes glanced at the alarm clock beneath the photo. It read "3:14 AM."
Sully took a deep breath and forced himself out of bed. His room was utilitarian, much like the rest of the colony. There was his bed, a nightstand, and nothing else. While Beth's portrait was a color photo, the sheets were green, and the nightstand included one faux orchid that was permanently fastened to it, everything else in the room was white. Though, because it was still the dark, early hours of the morning, the screen that would simulate an outside view of the colony was turned off, along with the rest of the lights.
He took Beth's portrait with him as he shambled toward the bathroom in darkness. He flipped the switch and was momentarily blinded by the wash of light that lit up the room. The bathroom also emphasized function and little else. It included one mirror, one sink, one toilet, and a shower head centered on the ceiling with a drain directly below it on the floor. There were no curtains, and everything was white.
He set his wife up on the kitchen sink facing toward the wall as he went about his business. Once he concluded the activities he'd rather Beth not see, he rotated the frame back around, so that he and Beth could see each other.
Sully looked himself over in the mirror. He looked terrible. Still, he forced a smile, turning toward Beth's portrait. "Yeah, I have looked better, huh babe?"
Sully pressed a nerve on the back of his neck. "Hi, honey," a recording of Beth's voice echoed in his mind. She wasn't bubbly or cheerful. She was obviously exhausted when she'd called.
He pulled out a drawer of his essentials, including shaving supplies. The drawer was neat and organized, as though it was set up for a military inspection.
"I know, I know. You're working late again. It takes longer without—yeah," Beth's recording continued sounding more agitated now.
He pulled out his razor and cream, and prepared his face for grooming.
The blades stroked his cheeks and left smooth, soft skin behind.
"Isaiah's showing me his latest," said the recording.
Sully's eyes began to darken again. "I know, honey. I know I said the same thing yesterday. You know what, maybe I'd have something new to say if you could fucking join the conversation for once."
"Anyway, I hope you don't stay too late."
He rinsed the stubble and cream from the blades. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Please don't leave me. Please don't…"
"I want you to know…" The voice paused for a moment, like the next words required effort. "I still love you."
The recording stopped. His tears mixed into the shaving cream that he carved away. He rinsed the blades off again and held tight to the sink, breathing deep, as deep as his lungs could hold, before blowing the air back out as fast as he could. "I know. I came home late last night. Again."
He looked back to the portrait. "Would a nice massage with some hot stones make it up to you?"
The portrait didn't answer back.
"It's ironic, no? I love the feel of your skin, and somehow I don't give you enough of those."
The portrait didn't answer back.
"Plus, I get to see how sexy you are. I know I shouldn't ask this, but maybe I could be in a birthday suit with you?"
The portrait didn't answer.
"Squirmy? He's fine. I checked on him last night. Yes, I did. He was right where I left him. No, I'm not trying to be cute. I get it. No. I don't remember the last time I spoke with him. What do you want me to do, Beth? He wouldn't shut up about them."
The portrait didn't answer.
"Fuck you for this. Fuck you. You knew fucking well I was never good at this. You were always better with him."
The portrait didn't answer.
"I'm sorry. Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me." Sully finished washing his face, looking at himself in the mirror. He knew he was losing it, but the picture called to him. With no words, no animations, no acknowledgement of him or his speech, the picture still possessed him.
He took the portrait with him out of the bathroom.
"I know you tell me to move on. Every day you tell me to move on. But I need to live in a world where you still haunt me."
Once he was done getting dressed, Sully took the portrait out of its frame, folded it, and tucked it in his shirt pocket.
Sully checked the clock again. It was now 4:00.
The widower exited his room. The adjacent living area included a similar projector screen that would simulate an outside world, and the room was segmented in three separate zones. The zone nearest the screen was supposed to be a living room. It included a couch, and a faux fern. Both were fastened to the floor. In the middle section stood a small metal table with four chairs, though the dining room furniture was at least fabricated to look like it was made of light colored wood. The third and smallest section that was nearest his exit was a kitchenette, which included the means of cooking rations, as well as storage. His room and "Squirmy's" room were positioned opposite each other.
Sully opened a cabinet and withdrew a notepad and pen. His cabinet was kept like his bathroom drawer with a militarized neatness. He wrote a message in the notepad. The portrait beckoned his attention. "Stop," he said under his breath. "I-tomorrow. I'll see him tomorrow. Just, please remind me how to be with him. I don't remember how."
Sully folded the sheet of paper and left it on the table. He started for the door before he felt the portrait tug at him.
"I know," he told the portrait. "Tomorrow. I promise." A memory slashed at his heart strings. As quick as the image and feelings flashed through his mind, he snuffed them, pushing them back down. "I love you too," he said as he finally walked out the door.
The lights in the hallway were already on, which meant he wasn't alone. Not that it concerned Sully too much. At first when he started leaving early enough to not run into anyone, the initial darkness was comforting. He could be alone with his wife just a little longer. However, that changed with the new arrivals from last month. The first time the lights were still on, he panicked, worrying someone had discovered him. But those concerns proved needless when he met the elderly woman who liked to be up at odd hours of the morning too. She approached him this morning like so many others.
"Hap-morn to you, Sully," said the always warm Jude.
"Hap-morn, Jude," Sully replied, turning off the recordings of his Beth.
She scanned his face. "Something troubling you?" she asked.
Sully was never the best at hiding his emotions. "I'm fine," he lied.
Jude gave him a skeptical look.
"It's good to see you, Jude." Sully started to walk away.
"I'm old, not blind," Jude said plainly.
Sully stopped. "I appreciate it." Sully turned away again.
"Too bad we're not on Callisto," Jude continued. "Old breeds such as yours here have helped many by lending an ear."
Sully mulled the offer. He turned to face her. "A couple months ago was the anniversary of…" his words trailed off. Jude waited patiently. She somehow softened her expression even more. "My wife died in the last outbreak." He forced the words to come out.
"Oh, dear heart," said Jude, comfortingly.
"It's fine. I have to move on."
Jude laid a hand on his shoulder. "It sounds like you don't want to move on," she said.
Sully wanted to hurry away, but something about Jude kept him complacent. He felt comfortable. He didn't understand it. His experience taught him the rumors about Callisto women were just that. Rumors. Yet…
"I could've saved her. It's not my son's fault. I just didn't have what I needed." He didn't know why he was opening up like this. But really, what could Jude even do with a vague notion of what Sully was capable of.
"You poor thing," she consoled him. "I'll help you in any way I can."
Something didn't feel right. He felt like he was being watched. "Hap-morn, Jude," said Sully, hurrying away.
"Don't be a stranger," the elderly woman called out.
Sully turned on his wife's voice again.