The Final Rite of Passage

Fifteen

The week before Scott was due to arrive, Kyrano and I took time out to enjoy a mid-afternoon stroll. For an hour and a half we wandered along the island foreshore before doubling back around the base of the roundhouse and heading in the direction of the garden leading up to the side entrance of the house. The warm November breeze caused us to linger long enough for him to point out the different species of flowers and for both of us to appreciate their various exotic scents. It was hard not to feel a sense of anticipation for our first summer in this beautiful place, especially watching all the butterflies dance in and out and around them.

"It's almost December," he commented. I swear the man could read my mind. "In the spring the island flowers are sweet and delicately fragrant but in the summer months their beauty will take our breath away."

"Kyrano, sometimes I think you should have been a writer, not a botanist," I joked.

His eyebrows lifted. "That is different. May I ask why?"

For once he sounded like he was genuinely surprised.

"Well, for one, you've always had a way with words. And two, even though I don't know how you do it, somehow you make me see things… things I don't see that easily. If you … err… know what I mean."

My explanation tapered off awkwardly.

"We all have that ability," he said, after a short reflection. "I think it is often more a matter of the timing of when our eyes finally choose for us to see."

We began walking again.

"I remember when I was young and first married to Tin-Tin's mother. During our travels, I often spoke of my yearning for the warmth of Malaysia's year-long summer. Since then I have learned how important it is to appreciate each of the seasons as they are given to us."

I glanced sideways at him.

"And I suppose there's some sort of advice in there for me, Kyrano?"

His eyes met mine. "If advice is what you are seeking."

I looked away again. "Right."

I shoved my hands in my pockets and mulled over his words. Longing for the year-long summer... no, not me. I'd hated the heat and the parched earth of the summers when I'd lived on the farm in Kansas. Appreciating the seasons… the winters there were even worse. It might be true that I had sought him out because I needed his advice about something, but I wanted the one in charge of this conversation to be me, not him.

"The final testing begins a week from tomorrow," I said, changing the subject.

"So soon," was all he politely observed.

"Ah, you know what Scott's like. He'd launch Thunderbird One as soon as he got here if he could. I've told him he needs to give himself twenty-four hours to settle in at least. There's a lot riding on how well he makes the transition from the military back to life out here as a civilian."

"You are concerned."

It wasn't a question. Kyrano didn't ask questions. He only made statements; with every single one of them always seeming to burrow deep down inside me, leaving behind an obligation to provide him with explanation.

"Scott knows what he's let himself in for." I was one hundred percent confident about that. "He'll adapt, and he'll do it quickly. What worries me, Kyrano, is that he's coming home to lead his brothers. You've seen my boys together. I don't want to ask him to do anything that might screw that up."

By now our pace had slowed a little as we wandered back through a cluster of palm trees towards the sandy slope that would lead us down to a mile of open beach. He said the chances of that happening were highly unlikely. I said that was what I kept trying to tell myself, too.

"Scott's always been a leader and the others have followed him ever since their mother died. But Kyrano, we both know what's at stake here." I stopped and levelled my eyes directly with his. "Should I be expecting him to do that? Is it worth me taking the risk?"

For a full two minutes he looked straight through me with no indication of what he might be thinking. I had no idea whether he agreed or disagreed with me. Hell, he didn't give one outward sign that might have even allowed me to take a guess. It was only when I sighed in frustration and told him to forget it that he said, "First one must define risk," before indicating our conversation should continue in seclusion, leaving me no choice but to follow him down onto the beach.

Sixteen

Consequence never formed part of the equation when it came down to the Jeff Tracy definition of risk.

The decision to serve my country from behind the controls of a USAF fighter jet...

…crazy acrobatics…

A first response pilot behind enemy lines before I'd reached the age of twenty-five.

"Back then, I thought I was invincible, Kyrano. I was raw, ambitious, and so determined to prove myself. Even I can't believe some of the stupid things I did up there. Adrenalin is one of the most dangerous drugs there is."

Then the World Space Agency approached me to consider furthering my career as an astronaut.

"It was the biggest thing that had ever happened to me and of course, I jumped at the chance. I never saw exploring the universe as a risky business. The colonization of the moon was a really big deal."

He bowed his head to acknowledge the truth of the statement. "It was. I remember it well."

Not long after that, I met my wife and that brought with it exposure to a whole new kind of risk. I never regretted it but I sure didn't appreciate her timing.

"I still remember that day, Kyrano; the day she told me. You know how it is... hearing you're going to be a father changes everything, right down to how you view the world and assess your own worth. For a while I even considered withdrawing from the space programme and it got worse once we were married and during the months after Scott was born. I just couldn't stop thinking about how tough it would be if I had some sort of accident and she had to raise him on her own."

"Yet, you did not withdraw."

"No, I didn't."

I had two grounded parents and a wife who refused to let me give up my dreams, even though in order for me to fulfil them she had no choice but to sacrifice her own.

"It is never an easy thing to ask someone else to risk everything for a dream no-one but you can see," he empathized.

"That's exactly what she said."

"Then, I think your wife knew you very well."

With every lead-up mission my confidence grew; and with it my determination to keep juggling my responsibilities and be the very best father I could. Instead of one son, I now came home to two. By the time I embarked on the actual lunar landing I was back to feeling like I was invincible again. Twelve months later I was holding number three in my arms.

"It was a big responsibility. Handling three of them was tough."

"And yet, you accomplished it."

"Of course, I did. I had to. I was their father, Kyrano."

I was promoted to colonel six months after John was born. I was convinced I could handle it but the juggling act was becoming harder. It wasn't just a matter of providing for a wife and three young boys anymore. Now I had a reputation in the space programme to keep up.

"They had to pull me out of training to tell me I'd missed the arrival of my fourth. Early delivery, they said; a very quick birth. She coped so well; tried to pretend she hadn't needed me. When I showed up at the hospital she even joked with the doctor that she was starting to become way too efficient with this baby business. But then somehow with …"

"Mister Alan," Kyrano said, quietly filling in the gap.

"That's right." I cleared my throat and felt every part of me snap shut. "Nothing taught me more about the consequences of taking risks than Alan did...

... so, there's no point in either of us dwelling on the rest."

Seventeen

I couldn't be unravelling. Not after twenty years of being in control. I watched my fingers clench and unclench on the keyboard, impatient. Why did it always take this site so damn long to load?

Things had been just fine until he'd started the botany project. When I wanted to think about the past, I allowed to myself to think about it. When I couldn't, I wouldn't. Her memory existed face down in the back of my desk drawer.

What had he said as I'd walked away from him down on the beach? That like death, taking risks was just another example of life's transformation. That despite time putting a distance of years between two people, one day they would fly together again, happy in another dimension.

I could live with his reminder that it had taken her loss for me to grow. I'd long since dealt with the fact that my summer had never been destined to be a life-time and like him, I needed to be grateful for the other seasons it had created in my life – like building my business and watching my sons grow.

The Heliconius genus species can live for up to six months.

A part of me went into denial as my mind calculated the math. It had been five months now. It meant at best, she only had one left.

That butterfly had given me so much happiness these last few months. Something beautiful and bright – a reminder that my memories belonged where I could reach them … not trapped in a compartment of my mind or face down under paperwork in a drawer.

"Nothing is forever, honey."

For the first time since my wife died, Mother's awkward words of comfort suddenly made perfect sense.

As did Kyrano's.

We do need to appreciate all the seasons as they are given to us. Just as nothing worthwhile would ever happen without someone taking the risk. The revelation was so simple that all I could do was sit there, stunned.

Was this what he meant when he started the botany project and said it might be the catalyst for some sort of final rite of passage?