Chapter 1
Lost Memories
The attic's light turned on with a click, the metal chain swinging slightly as I let go of it. The dim light illuminated the dank, cobweb- covered room, filled with boxes layered in dust, a telltale sign of their abandonment long ago. I let out a sigh, wishing I could open every one of them, and then to possibly gain insight into the life he never spoke of. How I wish he would just once mention his friends, his family, his past. Then again, I stopped asking possibly around the same time this attic became the dingy, unused- and even forgotten- room that it is now. I didn't want to bring back into his life those memories that had left a part of him longing for the path he once walked, and although he pretended to have let those things go, he still yearned to be back on Enterprise. I just could see it in his eyes.
I walked between the rows of boxes, neatly organized for something so dusty, but I still was careful to not displace any of the boxes. It seemed like their place had become theirs, and that if one would be moved even slightly, it would disrupt the now set pattern. I looked at the tops of the boxes, and chose the one with the least dust to open first. I knelt down next to the box. The cardboard scraped against itself as I undid the puzzle-like folds, and sending small clouds of powder into the air. I could feel a small smile creeping across my mahogany lips. Inside the box were all of my old toys.
I picked one up off the top of the pile- a teddy bear. Its fur was curly and clumped together, but still soft. I let out a small giggle. Dad must have washed this bear thousands of times since I dragged this thing everywhere. How it was still soft, I had no idea. I could still recall him tucking me into bed, placing the bear into my outstretched and waiting arms. And he did so even after I had decided to give it a bath in one of my concoctions, which meant having to wash the bear before I went to bed because I couldn't sleep without it. He was so patient with me.
I replaced the bear with hesitance, but left the box open. I wanted to come back to it later. Searching for my own items wasn't why I came up here. I made my way through the room, and thought about where he might have put his own things. My boxes were labeled, and most of them were, but he probably threw his own up here to get away from them. I soon reached the other end of the attic where unlabeled boxes sat, arranged better than I thought they would be. I knelt down once more and slowly opened one of them, as though I were committing a crime and felt the heavy guilt of someone who knows better. But I had to remind myself that Dad would have never done this himself, and that if no one did, he would... I don't know. But I knew he felt an emptiness that only the loss of friendship can bring. I tried not to blame myself too much for it, even though it truly was my fault.
On the top of this pile I saw his uniform, folded neatly as though he finally admitted to himself that he would no longer be wearing it, but wanted it to be somewhere where he could come back to it easily. Now that he was in his fifties, those days were long gone, and he came up to the attic rarely, if at all. I don't know what pain would be worse for him: if he never let himself remember his friends again, or if he looked at these things daily, only to have to come back to the reality that they were not with him anymore. I delicately placed the uniform on my lap, and searched again.
I picked up an old, wooden, rectangular picture frame, in it a picture of the crew of the Enterprise, standing together before their departure. The edges of the photograph were worn, which was probably why he eventually put it in the frame. Everyone was smiling, save for T'Pol, who never smiled, or at least I was told. Vulcans never smiled, though it never bothered me to see T'Pol's serious face: it was just who she was. Hoshi's smile was delicate and sweet, and I've seen her a few times, which is enough to know that she herself was the same as her smile. Travis, who stood next to her, I recall meeting too. It was my birthday, and although he was on Enterprise at the time, he was kind enough to send a transmission to say hello. He was nice, though I barely remember him at all. The alien, the Denobulan, was Phlox, but I've only heard about him. And Malcolm never was one to make conversation- I never heard from him. He simply stood aside while others spoke.
I looked then to Jon. I've known him for the longest time, though eventually, their missions on Enterprise drove them all farther and farther from Earth, only to result in fewer and fewer transmissions from him until they died out altogether.
Finally, I allowed myself to look at my father. It seemed that now that I have seen everyone else briefly, I could look at him. He looked so young, so happy. His mouth was turned up in a wide grin, and his bright blue eyes sparkled with joy and excitement. It had been a long while since I've seen him completely happy, or at least close to it.
I couldn't help feeling responsible for changing the vibrant young man in the picture into the tired, quiet old man that sat downstairs, reading another book out of his enormous collection. I could not believe that this was the same Charles Tucker III. But despite my attempts in the past to repress my thoughts of destruction, the discovery of this picture strengthened the fact that I had most definitely done damage. I wished then, for his sake, that he had never been my father.
***************
So? Was it a pretty good first chapter? I realize that nothing much as far as information goes happened in this chapter, but this is just a cliff hanger chapter. You're yet to see a better explaination of both of their lives, but in the next chapter, you'll get to see some.
Lost Memories
The attic's light turned on with a click, the metal chain swinging slightly as I let go of it. The dim light illuminated the dank, cobweb- covered room, filled with boxes layered in dust, a telltale sign of their abandonment long ago. I let out a sigh, wishing I could open every one of them, and then to possibly gain insight into the life he never spoke of. How I wish he would just once mention his friends, his family, his past. Then again, I stopped asking possibly around the same time this attic became the dingy, unused- and even forgotten- room that it is now. I didn't want to bring back into his life those memories that had left a part of him longing for the path he once walked, and although he pretended to have let those things go, he still yearned to be back on Enterprise. I just could see it in his eyes.
I walked between the rows of boxes, neatly organized for something so dusty, but I still was careful to not displace any of the boxes. It seemed like their place had become theirs, and that if one would be moved even slightly, it would disrupt the now set pattern. I looked at the tops of the boxes, and chose the one with the least dust to open first. I knelt down next to the box. The cardboard scraped against itself as I undid the puzzle-like folds, and sending small clouds of powder into the air. I could feel a small smile creeping across my mahogany lips. Inside the box were all of my old toys.
I picked one up off the top of the pile- a teddy bear. Its fur was curly and clumped together, but still soft. I let out a small giggle. Dad must have washed this bear thousands of times since I dragged this thing everywhere. How it was still soft, I had no idea. I could still recall him tucking me into bed, placing the bear into my outstretched and waiting arms. And he did so even after I had decided to give it a bath in one of my concoctions, which meant having to wash the bear before I went to bed because I couldn't sleep without it. He was so patient with me.
I replaced the bear with hesitance, but left the box open. I wanted to come back to it later. Searching for my own items wasn't why I came up here. I made my way through the room, and thought about where he might have put his own things. My boxes were labeled, and most of them were, but he probably threw his own up here to get away from them. I soon reached the other end of the attic where unlabeled boxes sat, arranged better than I thought they would be. I knelt down once more and slowly opened one of them, as though I were committing a crime and felt the heavy guilt of someone who knows better. But I had to remind myself that Dad would have never done this himself, and that if no one did, he would... I don't know. But I knew he felt an emptiness that only the loss of friendship can bring. I tried not to blame myself too much for it, even though it truly was my fault.
On the top of this pile I saw his uniform, folded neatly as though he finally admitted to himself that he would no longer be wearing it, but wanted it to be somewhere where he could come back to it easily. Now that he was in his fifties, those days were long gone, and he came up to the attic rarely, if at all. I don't know what pain would be worse for him: if he never let himself remember his friends again, or if he looked at these things daily, only to have to come back to the reality that they were not with him anymore. I delicately placed the uniform on my lap, and searched again.
I picked up an old, wooden, rectangular picture frame, in it a picture of the crew of the Enterprise, standing together before their departure. The edges of the photograph were worn, which was probably why he eventually put it in the frame. Everyone was smiling, save for T'Pol, who never smiled, or at least I was told. Vulcans never smiled, though it never bothered me to see T'Pol's serious face: it was just who she was. Hoshi's smile was delicate and sweet, and I've seen her a few times, which is enough to know that she herself was the same as her smile. Travis, who stood next to her, I recall meeting too. It was my birthday, and although he was on Enterprise at the time, he was kind enough to send a transmission to say hello. He was nice, though I barely remember him at all. The alien, the Denobulan, was Phlox, but I've only heard about him. And Malcolm never was one to make conversation- I never heard from him. He simply stood aside while others spoke.
I looked then to Jon. I've known him for the longest time, though eventually, their missions on Enterprise drove them all farther and farther from Earth, only to result in fewer and fewer transmissions from him until they died out altogether.
Finally, I allowed myself to look at my father. It seemed that now that I have seen everyone else briefly, I could look at him. He looked so young, so happy. His mouth was turned up in a wide grin, and his bright blue eyes sparkled with joy and excitement. It had been a long while since I've seen him completely happy, or at least close to it.
I couldn't help feeling responsible for changing the vibrant young man in the picture into the tired, quiet old man that sat downstairs, reading another book out of his enormous collection. I could not believe that this was the same Charles Tucker III. But despite my attempts in the past to repress my thoughts of destruction, the discovery of this picture strengthened the fact that I had most definitely done damage. I wished then, for his sake, that he had never been my father.
***************
So? Was it a pretty good first chapter? I realize that nothing much as far as information goes happened in this chapter, but this is just a cliff hanger chapter. You're yet to see a better explaination of both of their lives, but in the next chapter, you'll get to see some.