I woke early the next morning, and rolled toward the cave's front entrance, watching the sun rise outside. I turned and looked back at Boba, who was asleep with a grimace on his face.
So it wasn't a dream, I thought, letting all that was said the night before rush back to me. Boba was back in our lives, for better or worse. I wanted to reach across the bed and stroke his cheek – I was certain that he was in a lot of pain, and wanted, whether he deserved it or not, to offer him some comfort. But, despite the small bridge that had been crossed in the darkness the night before, there was still a wall between us. I slid out of bed without waking him.
The smell of breakfast cooking woke Wedge quickly, and he pulled back the curtain that separated his room from the rest of the cave and walked out, yawning and stretching.
" What's for breakfast?" he asked, climbing into a chair at the table. I saw his eyes fall on Boba's sleeping form in the bed, and he jumped a bit, remembering.
" Dustcrepes," I said, watching him stare at his father. I could see him wondering what the point of having one was, anyway.
" Is he going to eat with us?" he asked.
" I don't know," I said, still tired and confused myself. " I can't tell you what he'll do or not do. He does whatever he wants."
" Oh," Wedge said quietly, as I served breakfast. I saw Boba stir in annoyance at the sound of our voices – the cave didn't exactly allow for privacy or shelter from noise.
" Come and eat if you're hungry," I shouted to him, taking my own seat and starting in on my breakfast. I wondered if he would be willing to tell me what had happened – had he really killed Dooku? I had a hard time believing it, but, then, it might explain his battle scars.
He stayed where he was for awhile, stubborn, but eventually began to propel himself out of bed. His movements were labored and painful to watch, and he winced at almost every step toward the table. When he fell into a chair I got up and fixed a plate of dustcrepes for him, setting it down in front of him without ceremony and returning to my own meal. Wedge, meanwhile, was picking boredly at his breakfast and staring at Boba, unashamed.
Boba rubbed his forehead, groaned, and then looked up to see both Wedge and I looking at him, waiting to see what he would do next.
" What?" he snapped, and we both turned our eyes back to our plates.
After breakfast, Wedge pulled some toys from his room and brought them out to play with on the floor – or, to pretend to play with them while he studied Boba out of the corner of his eye. Boba was doing little more than lying his head on the table and occasionally groaning in pain, but apparently this was fascinating to our son. I knelt at the stream rinsing dishes and continued to wonder in silence what the hell was going on.
" We need to change your bandages," I called to Boba. " I never got a chance to clean them properly. I'm going to go to the market for more gauze, and something for the pain, if you'd like."
" I'm not taking Geonosian medicine," he grumbled without looking up.
" Suit yourself," I said, annoyed, " Anything else you need?" Wedge looked up, obviously having a few things in mind if I was taking requests.
" Death sticks," he said.
" Ah, self medication – brilliant," I muttered, rolling my eyes. " Forget it. You don't need a narcotic addiction on top of all of this other junk." He looked up at me and sneered.
" Oh, it's the mother I never had," he snapped sarcastically before letting his head fall back onto the table.
" Of course, right, make fun of me because I dare to give a damn about you," I said, marching past Wedge and heading for my landspeeder.
" Wait," Boba said, looking up and frowning. I turned back, and he shifted his eyes down to Wedge. " You're going to leave –" he stopped and looked back to me, figuring that I'd understand what he was asking.
" Yeah," I said, " It'll be a relief to go to the market a-l-o-n-e for once. Got a problem with that?" I could tell that he did, but didn't want to admit it, perhaps because he knew I might physically attack him if he did. After all, I had put in six years time raising our son alone. He could keep his eye on him for a few minutes while I stopped off at the market.
" Unless," I said, " You think someone might be coming after you – unless you think its not safe for him to be here while you're still – healing."
" No," he answered easily.
" Whoever did that to you couldn't have followed you?" I asked. He shook his head.
" They're d-e-a-d," he said dryly. I rolled my eyes.
" Quit teasing me," I muttered, climbing into my my speeder.
" Mom," Wedge said as I prepared to leave, obviously nervous about the prospect of being left with a man who may have been his father, but was still a stranger to him.
" You'll be fine," I promised him as I left, he and Boba both watching me with a fear of being left alone with the other in their eyes. I, on the other hand, was happy to give them a chance to get to know each other, even if Boba would probably just moan and wince and drag around the cave while Wedge hid in a corner.
They had to start somewhere.
I realized something as I motored off toward the market: even after all that had been said and done, I trusted Boba enough to leave him alone with our son. Which meant that I actually still had a great deal of trust invested in him.
Which meant that I might be able to forgive him. Which terrified me.
When I returned from the market with fresh medical supplies and some groceries for the night's dinner, Boba and Wedge were both in the garage, Boba inspecting the nicks and scratches Slave 1 had received during its last exploit, and Wedge standing ten feet behind him, watching and asking his usual stream of endless questions. I parked quietly on the other side of the cave, and snuck into the kitchen with my purchases, listening to their conversation.
" What happened to your arm?" Wedge was asking him.
" Someone threw a thermal detonator at me," Boba explained plainly, keeping his eyes on his ship.
" What's a thermal detonator?" Wedge asked.
" A weapon," he said, " A weapon I didn't expect a couple of Imperial morons to use," he muttered to himself.
" What's an Imperial moron?"
" Someone who works for the Empire," Boba answered.
" What's the Empire?"
" A bunch of idiots who think they own the universe," Boba told him easily.
" Why do they think that?" Wedge asked.
" Because they're idiots," Boba said. I walked over and cleared my throat, and they both turned.
" Mom," Wedge said, running over to me and throwing and arm around my leg. " Why are they idiots?"
" I don't know," I said, picking him up and kissing his cheek. " Did you have fun while I was gone?" I asked, casting Boba a look. He turned back to his ship.
" Yep," Wedge answered. " He's going to fix his ship," he said, pointing to Boba and Slave 1. " See?"
" He needs to let me change his bandages first," I said, looking at Boba. He turned to me.
" Dammit, Calli," he mumbled, " Don't worry about it."
" Excuse me," I said with phony sweetness, putting Wedge down. " But I don't want you d-y-i-n-g of an infection in front of our s-o-n. Meet me back at the bath when you're ready to stop acting like a child."
With that I took the supplies I had just bought and headed for the bath. I heard Boba say to Wedge before following me:
" Don't touch my ship while I'm gone."
" A-alright," Wedge stuttered.
In the back of the cave I lit a fire and began heating water to fill the basin – the usual routine when Wedge had a bath. Boba stood and watched.
" What are you doing?" he asked.
" You're not mucking up the pool again," I said, " It still hasn't drained completely from yesterday, and I'm not bathing in your blood."
We didn't speak as I worked, and when I was done I looked up at him.
" Take off your clothes," I said plainly, pretending not to be as embarrassed as I was. Boba took off his shirt and pants, and hesitated.
" It's a little late to be modest, don't you think?" I said, turning my back. When I heard him climbing into the basin, I turned back around, and found him sitting awkwardly in the small tub, his legs hanging over the side, a white stick in his mouth and a match in his hand.
" Where did you get that?" I asked, furious.
" From my pants pocket," he said, puffing on it. " Relax. Its just a cigarillo." He tipped his head back and blew smoke toward the ceiling, muttered a curse.
Annoyed, I went to him and began pulling off bandages, causing him to twitch and curse more loudly. I took the gauze off of his shoulder, his right ankle, his left knee, and, finally, I reached down into the water to pull off the bloodied towel that was pressed against his worst wound.
" Careful," he said, grabbing my wrist as I did this. I froze, my arms wrapped around his middle, gripping the bandages, my chest pressed against his back and my lips an inch from his ear.
Neither of us moved. I could feel my own resistance amplified in him: we didn't want to go through the motions of our ruined attempt at love again.
" You killed Dooku," I said without meaning to, nervous. I was dying to know how, and, furthermore, why.
" I don't want to talk about it," he grumbled, putting out the cigarillo against the side of the tub.
" Fine," I said, yanking the bandages away. He growled in pain.
" Damn you!" he shouted, cringing and pinching his eyes shut. " What do you want me to say? That I killed him for you? Of course I did!"
We were both silent for a time after that. I sat back, holding the dirty bandages, letting the words sink in. Boba leaned forward in the tub, said nothing and didn't turn to face me.
The stone in my heart cracked open, and every part of me that couldn't bear being hurt again cursed at it for breaking away. But I couldn't help it – when he had betrayed me I had tried to hold my love for Boba in a tiny, neglected space inside, hoping to suffocate it. But it had forced itself out in that moment.
I moved back over to him, taking up the sponge and stick of medicinal soap that I had bought along with the bandages. I reached around him, dipped the sponge in the water and coated it with soap.
" This might hurt," I warned, holding the dripping sponge just above his shoulder. He didn't respond, so I brought it down onto the wound, washing it carefully. Boba didn't even flinch. I moved down to work on his ankle and busted knee next, careful not to look him in the eye as I went. Finally, I went again to his back, and reached down, stiffer this time, to wash his side.
" Now climb out," I said, " So I can re-wrap them."
" Leave me," he mumbled, " I want to stay here awhile."
I wanted to ask him what was wrong – he was physically hurt, but hadn't he gotten everything he'd hoped for in killing Mace?
But I couldn't. I knew he hadn't gotten what he really wanted – his father, alive again, smiling and patting him on the back for a job well done.
No, the only way he could revive his father was to put on his armor, and when he did, he would be taking himself away again from the people who loved him – those of us who were still alive.
I left the room and let him sulk in private. I was still dying to know what had happened, but I knew he wasn't yet ready to tell me. When I returned to the front of the cave I sat on our bed and watched Wedge playing with the holovid, reflecting on the fact that I hadn't really let it sink in yet that Mace was dead, and that Boba had killed him. I shut my eyes.
What had become of my life? I wondered, watching Wedge tinkering with his toys. When had I let it get so twisted and complex, so hurtful, so full of long stretches of loneliness and sustaining bursts of joy that I could barely set my eyes on before they slipped through my fingers?
Was it the day I walked up to a ten year old boy who was scowling into his lunch tray and said hello?
Was it the day I left the orphanage with said boy, full of impossible hopes for a normal life with him?
Or the day I let a Jedi named Mace Windu introduce to me my dead parents?
Had it all happened long before I was born, when my nosy but well-meaning father pried into the affairs of a Jedi master named Dooku?
A Jedi Master who was now dead, at my orphan boy's hand.
I put my hands over my face, prompting Wedge to ask me what was wrong. I looked up at him, put on a smile, and held out my arms. He ran into them without hesistation.
" Nothing's wrong," I told him, smoothing his hair. I was glad to offer him the exquisite reassurance of happy lies that only a parent can provide. Having been sheltered from nothing as a child – well aware at six that my mother was dead and my father was nonexistant – I could appreciate the effectiveness of a warm untruth.
But, I thought to myself as Wedge returned to his playthings, maybe nothing was wrong after all. Boba had completed his quest, and he had come away from it broken but alive. Maybe we could heal each other – maybe Wedge could heal both of us – and let the past lie in its grave with those we had left in our wake. Maybe it was over.
No.
There was no fooling myself anymore – everything naïve in me had died the last time that Boba had blown out of my life.
I knew it would never be over. There was a storm in him that would not quell, even with the death of a million Jedi.
There were no Jedi left to kill – the last of them had dispersed or been destroyed. And with Jango's murderer dead, there was no justice left to inact.
There was only the pain of the past, and the screaming question of the future. I knew that it would not be bright for the two of us, but I also knew that I would wait by his side, then and again, while he replenished his energy before leaving again to fight the battle with himself that he would not let die.
For the next week, Boba did little more than sleep and eat. He wasn't outwardly nasty to us – he answered my inquiries (Did he want something to drink? Were his cuts healing properly?) and Wedge's questions (Where'd you get that ship? How'd you learn to fly it? Are those real ion cannons?) with a good deal of paitence and restraint – but there was something in him that was harsh and unwelcoming, and we tended to steer clear of him unless he was at the dinner table.
I was nearly bursting, wanting to hear about what had happened with Dooku. Part of me was also curious about how Mace met his end, though I wasn't sure I wanted to hear about it. Either way, Boba didn't seem to want to open up, until one evening, just before dinnertime, when he was sitting at the entrance of the cave and smoking a cigarillo.
" Calli," he said as I was walking by. I stopped, surprised that he had addressed me. Usually it was the other way around, and his answer would come only begrudgingly. " Come here," he said.
I walked over, sat down beside him and took the cigarillo from his hand as he was bringing it to his mouth for another puff. I threw it out of the cave, and it bounced off a rock and went out. Boba scoffed.
He shook his head. " You've changed," he said.
" I guess we both have," I said. He let out his breath.
" I, uh," he began, " Wanted to tell you about – you know. What happened to me. Why I came back, everything."
" Oh, everything," I said, pulling my legs up to my chest. " This should be good."
" Where's Wedge?" he asked, looking behind him.
" Reading in his room," I said.
" His room," he said with a scoff. " That kid should have a real house. And go to a real school, with other kids. I don't like the idea of my son living in a cave."
" Your son?" I snapped. " Since when do you get to claim ownership, estranged one?" Boba looked at the ground.
" He's still my son," he muttered.
" Well, great, buy him a house and put him in Imperial boarding school. You're the one with the money," I said, annoyed with his declaration that the life I had set up for Wedge was not good enough. He was probably right – I certainly wanted better for our son myself – but I had done the best I had with what was available.
Boba sighed again. " Look," he said, " Do you want me to tell you, or not?"
" Tell me," I said, quietly, defeated. " Tell me, of course tell me."
He was quiet for a moment before he began, looking at his hands.
" After I left here," he said, " We fought, the Jedi and I." Then and always, Boba would refuse to speak Mace's name, though he had learned it by then.
" Our battle was – indecisive," he said. " If – if anything, anyone but you had led me to him, I would have been able to kill him, I know it. But I couldn't even see straight that day. I barely escaped with my life."
" Where did you go?" I asked, something I had been wondering since I had heard this portion of the story from Mace.
" A friend on Alderran," he told me.
" A princess on Alderran," I muttered in response, remembering Luna. He shrugged.
" I hated you so much that day," he said, " It seemed like the right place to be."
We both fumed silently for a few moments after this. I felt that he had no right to resent me for unknowingly betraying him, when he had lied to me to hide his father's affiliation with Dooku even after he knew about my own father's death at that man's command. And the thought of him running to Luna after what had happened that day was not exactly thrilling.
" There was a bounty on him," he said after awhile, breaking the silence.
" What?" I said, frowning.
" Your Jedi friend," he said, not without a hint of malice. " Dooku put a bounty on him, and a couple of other Jedi that were still alive. I took the job."
With this, I stood and began to walk away, furious, but Boba jumped up and grabbed my arm.
" Let go of me!" I shouted, yanking myself from his grasp.
" Quiet," he hissed. " You'll scare Wedge."
" As if you care," I said, glaring at him. " You didn't seem to mind scaring him when you crawled in here the other day on your deathbed, hacking up blood –"
" I didn't think of it," he muttered, " At the time."
" Of course not," I said, " Wedge just gets lost in the tumble, doesn't he, while you're about the more important business of endlessly tormenting me?"
" What are you talking about?" he demanded, turning back toward the cave's entrance.
" Why else would you work for the man who killed my father?" I said, my voice faultering.
" I can't explain why I did it," he mumbled. I walked to him – I had a good mind to slap him across the face, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Maybe I was a little frightened of him, after all. He looked up at me, and I searched his eyes for the little boy who had been my best friend, but he was long gone. There was something else there, something not entirely cold or hard-edged, but I didn't have the strength to root it out anymore. I went back to the cave's entrance, and sat down again, waiting.
" I was angry," he said, walking to me and taking a seat, farther from me this time.
" I wanted to do something that I knew would hurt you."
Tears pooled in my eyes, but I hid my face from him. What had I done to provoke this rage? The chance encounter with Mace? I knew it had looked like more to him – like some sort of grand plan of mine to thwart his revenge. Maybe it had seemed like the perfect counteraction to my percieved betrayal of him – to foster a friendship with my own father's killer.
" So I hunted down the Jedi," he continued. " I found him hiding on Dantooine, and I killed him. I'll spare you the details."
" Thank you," I said quietly, my heart breaking for Mace. My time here is coming to an end, he had said when I last saw him. He was right, and in letting Boba go during their previous confrontation, he had certainly known that he was sealing his fate. Was he satisfied with this demise? Though he had always denied it, had he really felt guilt over what a little boy saw him do that day in the Coliseum?
" I contacted Dooku," he continued, " And let him know that I'd made the kill. He told me he was pleased, and that he was on Geonosis and wanted the bounty delivered there." He paused, and I looked at him.
" Geonosis," I said under my breath. " Why?"
" The Geonosians have always had a labor contract with the Separatists, no matter how hard the Jedi tried to regulate their government after they won the battle here."
" The battle here," I said, frowning. " You were wearing your father's armor, I'm sure, when you met with Dooku about the job?" He nodded.
" He didn't recognize – his old bodyguard?" I asked awkwardly, still not sure exactly what Jango Fett had meant to Count Dooku and his agenda.
" He did," Boba said. " He seemed kind of amused by it, that I was returning to his service, following in my Dad's footsteps."
" Amused?" I scoffed. " He must have remembered – what Geonosis meant to you. I don't understand why he would have you meet him there."
Boba shrugged. " My father was just another hired hand to him," he said. " I doubt Dooku remembers his death, or that I was there to witness it."
" Still," I said, " Its strange."
" Well, I don't see why he would, but if he did have some kind of agenda involving me, it didn't exactly play out," Boba said with a coldness that made me shiver. " If he hadn't called me to Geonosis to make the delivery, I wouldn't have thought to kill him. In fact, I didn't, not until I was two steps in front of him. If I had been planning it he would have sensed it – he was a damn Jedi once himself. But when I was faced with him, here, on this planet, where you – where you and I – where everything –" he broke off, and glowered at the floor. I didn't know what to say.
" I started thinking about you as I was walking to him to accept my payment," he said. " About what had happened to your father because of his dirty politics, and to mine, too. How I had been standing beside him with my father that day in the Coliseum, but after Dad was dead I looked back up to the group of crooked politicians that he'd been working for, and they all turned their backs on me."
" So you killed him," I said, shutting my eyes. The one selfless thing Boba had done for me, and it was murder.
" I did it without thinking," he said. " It was stupid. But his face – he has the coldest face, the most smug expression. I was tired of letting him pull the strings, and I guess – I guess I felt guilty, for what working for him would mean to you. So I pulled my blaster out and shot him. The second in command to the Emporer, and I killed him. After it happened, none of us moved – the room was filled with stormtroopers, some Geonosian officials, and a few Imperial officers. Everyone was stunned, even me. I managed to get away, but I got caught by a thermal detonator one of the troopers threw." He scoffed. " Figures it would be one of them."
I didn't understand what he meant by that, but then, I didn't understand most everything that Boba did. He had risked his life to exact my revenge for me. I wasn't sure it was what I wanted, but I was touched by the gesture, in a twisted way.
" So what now?" I asked. Years ago I would have been too scared to ask him about his plans, hoping that if I didn't he wouldn't think to make any. But that strategy had never worked, so I gave in to my curiousity.
Boba said nothing for a long time, and then:
" Don't ask me that."
I didn't know whether to hold him or tell him off. I got up and went back into the kitchen, tried to find something to busy myself with, but I felt restless and upset – had Boba and I come full circle now that our fathers' killers were dead? It certainly didn't feel like it. I had never even seen Dooku, I couldn't picture a world without his cold cruelty; the smug expression that Boba had described meant nothing to me. And just because he was dead it didn't mean the evil and tyranny that the Empire was built on would end. There was still Palpatine, who had revealed himself to be behind the movement at last, and had declared himself Emporer of the galaxy he stole from the Republic.
Wedge trotted out of his room, book in hand, and came into the kitchen to poke around in the cabinets for a snack.
" Stop," I said, " Its almost dinnertime."
" Aw, Mom," he said, noticing me standing in silence by the cooler. He walked over, leaned around me to have a look at my face.
" What's wrong, Mommy?" he asked. I looked down at him.
" Your father wants to put you in school," I said, " What do you think about that?"
" I don't know," he said. " What's it like?"
" You read a lot of books," I said. " And learn how things work, and all about the different spiecies and planets in the universe."
" Sounds good!" Wedge said, grinning. I smiled, but inwardly I was afraid. The Empire had taken over most of the galaxy's educational systems and had made it mandatory that they become boarding schools. It was easier to program the children to love the Empire this way.
And even if Wedge did resist the Empire's mind control, he would still be in danger. He was his father's son, after all. If he didn't like something, he would fight it. And that was even more terrifying to me than the idea of him accepting the Empire with open arms.
There was a small resistance that was whispered about sometimes in the market – those who were almost hopelessly clamouring for revolution after almost five years of Imperial rule. But the arm of the Empire was so strong and wide-reaching that it was foolishness, and had gotten many involved killed already. I wasn't an expert on the movement, but I knew that young people, often those who had defected from the Empire's military training programs, were the most likely to join the idealistic rebellion. I reached down and took Wedge's hand.
" Promise me you'll never go looking for trouble?" I said to him.
" I won't," he said, grinning, " I promise." I wrapped him in arms, feeling hopeless. He was growing up in a dangerous world, and the eager promise of a six year old would mean little in the future, I knew.
Days passed. While Boba had spent most of his free time messing around with adjustments to his ship in previous visits, this time he wasn't doing much at all. Often he would spend hours sitting at the front of the cave and staring out over the rocks of Geonosis, or soaking in the bath with a wet washcloth draped over his face.
As he retreated into himself, I became more and more on edge – there was a feeling in the cave of the three of us waiting for something to happen, and I didn't like it.
Meanwhile, I saw Wedge being drawn in by his mystery as I had once been as a child. He was again the quiet, melancholy loner, and with Wedge he had the added celebrity of being his estranged father. As Boba tip-toed around the boundaries of our lives Wedge tried cautiously to edge in closer, his eyes always on this elusive man I called his father.
He would walk slowly over to him while he sat at the edge of the cave, and I would listen to their stilted conversation from the bed or the kitchen.
" What are you doing?" Wedge asked him one day – it was what we were both dying to know. What they hell was Boba doing back in our lives? He didn't seem to have much use for us – was he just returning to his old haunt, happening in upon us and perhaps wishing he had found the cave again empty?
Boba looked at Wedge.
" What its to you?" he asked him. I rolled my eyes. He had a right, I suppose, to be angry with the world, and even an understandable prejudice against me, but showing hostitily to his six year old son was taking it a little too far.
Wedge shrugged. " I just wanted to know why you're sitting over here," he explained paitiently.
" I'm thinking," Boba answered, looking away.
" About what?" Wedge asked, sitting down beside him and making himself comfortable. Boba sighed, visibly annoyed.
" Things," he said.
" What things?"
" I don't really feel like explaining it to you," Boba said.
" Why not?" Wedge asked, geniuely curious to know why someone wouldn't want to talk to him.
" Because you wouldn't understand," Boba told him.
" Why wouldn't I?" Wedge asked, not accepting this.
" Look," Boba snapped, starting to loose his temper. He stopped himself though, and his shoulders dropped. I hoped he wouldn't turn, because I was staring at them now, waiting to see how he would handle this.
" Do you remember me?" he asked Wedge. " From – from when you were a baby?" Wegde frowned.
" I didn't know you when I was a baby," he answered easily.
" Right," Boba muttered, standing. I whirrled around, pretending to be busy with something in one of the cubboards while Boba walked past me toward the bath. Wedge stayed seated at the front of the cave, and when I turned around again he was looking at me. I shut the cuppboard and went to him.
" He doesn't like me," Wedge said in a small voice, looking up at me. I sat down beside him and wrapped him in my arms.
" Yes, he does," I promised him. " He doesn't know – he doesn't remember how to show you, but he loves you."
" He said he knew me when I was a baby," Wedge said.
" That's right," I answered. " He lived here when you were very young, and you loved him very much."
" I did?" Wedge said, confused by this.
" You did," I told him, " And I'm sorry you don't remember." I had been wondering if Boba himself remembered how much he had once loved his son, but my proof that he did was there that day – he wanted Wedge to recall the days when the three of us were happy together on Geonosis.
I left Wedge and walked back to the bath, where Boba was undressing for the tub. I stopped, and turned away, embarrassed. My cheeks burned red – his scars were healing, and he was beginning to look again like the man I had once fallen easily into.
" Its alright," he said. When I turned around he was in the pool, tipping his head back onto the stone edge. " What – you want something?"
" Yes," I said. " I want you to make a decision." He looked at me.
" What?"
" Are you staying or going?" I asked, swallowing a lump in my throat, still afraid to know. " I need to know now."
" Why?" Boba asked, his face darkening. " Got big plans?" He gave me a look that told me he doubted I did, and then drapped his washcloth over his face. I proceeded to catapault myself into the pool, rip the washcloth of his face, and, squatting into his lap, push him roughly back against the edge of the pool.
" As a matter of fact, I do," I said through gritted teeth. " I have plans for our son. I plan to spare him the pain and heartbreak of growing to love you before losing you again. I plan to shelter him from the hell I went through, hoping you'd come back, wondering if you even cared or ever thought of me. So, if you don't mind, let me know now, before he gets too attached, before he remembers how much he once loved you. Tell me what your plans are. Tell me what you're going to do."
Boba had a sneaky way, throughout his life, of avoiding making any promises to me outright. He never said the words, and so, I suppose, in his own twisted moral universe, he had never done me wrong, never broken any agreement, never smashed any plain understanding.
In this case, on that day, he did it again, by grabbing me there in the pool and pulling me to him, kissing me full on the lips.
Without thinking, I let myself melt into him and returned his kiss with a ferocity that surprised both of us. My body, lost to his for the last five years, managed rather easily to manuelly override my brain – without thinking, I kissed him. Without thinking I let his lips move to my neck while I clutched his shoulders desparately. Without thinking I let his hands push away the wet cloth of my shirt.
" Wait," I hissed, pushing him back, my mind regaining control. We both sat still in the water, gasping for air and staring at each other. " Stop," I said. " I don't want this. And anyway, Wedge."
Boba looked away from me, and I slowly pulled myself out of the water. I stood for a moment at the edge of the pool, but I couldn't come up with anything to say. He was silent in the water, slowly stilling his breath. I opened my mouth, shut it, and walked back out toward the kitchen.
When I did, Wedge was sitting at the table reading. He looked up at me and frowned.
" How'd you get all wet?" he asked. I froze, trying to come up with something.
" Swimming lessons," I blurted out without thinking.
" What?" Wedge said, laughing.
" S- swimming lessons!" I said, walking to him, frantically putting together a story in my mind. " I've decided we need to teach you how to swim, Wedge."
" Swimming?" he said, curious, pondering this. " That's why you're wet?"
" Well, yes!" I said, with a forced laugh. " You'll understand why eventually. Just – just bring one of the towels from the laundry and follow me!" I faked an exuberent smile. Wedge gave me a look like he didn't quite believe me, but at the same time he seemed willing to go along with it anyway. He pushed away from the table and trotted off to find a towel.
I put a hand to my forehead and sighed to myself when he had gone. What was I doing – what had just happened? I didn't want to start all over again with Boba, because this time I knew what the ending would be. My heart was racing – I had thought that I had left this part of my life easily behind, but when Boba had taken me in his arms my defenses had crumbled like paper in flame.
Before I could get my head straight, Boba walked out into the kitchen, half-dressed, wearing only his pants. We stared at each other, both beginning to speak as Wedge rushed back into the kitchen.
" Ready, Mom!" he said, clutching the towels I had asked him to get. He looked at Boba, then back to me. " Are we going?" he asked, sensing our tension.
" Going where?" Boba asked. I realized suddenly, in my heady state, that his voice was different than I remembered it. It was deeper, smokier, gritty now. I hated myself for finding it attractive.
" Swimming," I blurted out, taking Wedge's hand. " I'm going to teach him how to swim," I said, pulling our confused son toward the cave's entrance.
" What for?" Boba asked. I didn't answer him, just started down the rocky landscape, helping Wedge down as I went.
" Aww," he whined. " We're not taking the landspeeder?"
" It'll be good exercise," I insisted. In my hurray to get away from Boba's stare I had forgotten it.
As we walked toward the lagoon, which Wedge had never seen and I hadn't visited since before he was born, I heard someone quietly following us – Boba, of course. He was walking about fifty feet behind us, still shirtless, kicking rocks absently as he went. I groaned.
" Hey, he's coming, too!" Wedge said, turning with me and noticing him. " Why's he walking back there?" he asked me.
" I don't know," I said with a sigh.
When we reached the pool a feeling of sad nostalgia washed over me. I hadn't been there since I was nineteen years old. An adult by some definitions, but, looking back from where I stood, with my son beside me and my scorned lover following close behind, I knew in retrospect that I had been only a child then.
" So," Wedge said, standing at the edge of the lagoon. " What do I do?"
" Um," I stuttered, not having thought this far ahead. Boba reached us then, and walked to the edge of the pool himself. Wedge and I watched him.
" I didn't know about this place," he said, looking down into the clear water, at the fish swimming below its surface.
" I never told you," I said quietly, something in me bothered by the fact that he had infiltrated the last of my hidden places. Keeping in this vein, he nodded and dove head first into the water. I gasped and Wedge giggled with glee, looking up at me.
" Can I do that, Mommy?" he asked, his eyes bright. I frowned.
" No," I said, deeply troubled by the fact that he might ever want to imitate anything Boba did. " You can't."
" Aw," Wedge said, sitting down on his towel. I watched Boba swim down to the bottum of the lagoon, and linger there before rising. When his head broke the surface he gulped the air, and looked at me. My heart stumbled over itself in an attempt to resist, to get away from the things that drew me to him – from that sort of look. He held his arms out.
" Come here," he said. I started toward him but stopped myself when I realized he was talking to Wedge.
" But I –" Wedge said, looking back at me, less brave in the face of actually climbing into the water. " Don't know how."
" Well you're not going to learn until you get in," Boba said sternly. Wedge dipped a toe in the water.
" Will you catch me?" he asked. Boba moved closer.
" Yes," he said. There was a moment between them then, both watching the other, a little cautious, a little eager to give in. There was an unexplicable rememberance. Sitting in the shadows beside the lagoon, I could feel it moving between the two people I loved most in the world.
" Okay," Wedge said, taking a deep breath.
He jumped in, and Boba caught him, bringing him back up to the surface. Wedge had a sort of surprised look on his face – he was trying to look braver than he really was. He wrapped his arms around Boba's neck.
" Good," Boba said shortly.
" I did it!" Wedge said, beaming at me. I gave him an encouraging grin.
" You jumped in," Boba reminded him. " Actually swimming is a little more complicated."
" Okay," Wedge said, growing serious. Boba showed him how to move his arms and legs to stay afloat, and he gave it a try, sinking in the process.
" Not quite," Boba said when he lifted him back up. Wedge clung to his father's shoulders but looked back to me – he looked nervous. I slid out of my skirt and walked over to the lagoon, jumping in with my tank and underwear on. I held on to the rocky edge of the lagoon and held my other hand out to Wedge.
" Come on," I said. " Try to swim to me." Wedge gave me an uncertain look.
" Make sure you're kicking your legs, not just flailing your arms," Boba said to him. " But try not to kick me in the face when you push off." Wedge giggled, and set off, paddling and kicking toward me. He faltered toward the end of his attempt and I had to reach out and catch him.
" Good job!" I said, kissing his wet cheek. He grinned, and looked back to Boba.
" Alright," Boba said, reaching out. " Now swim back, and don't give up at the end this time. Keep coming, because I'm not going to reach out and catch you like your mother did."
" Don't listen to him," I said, " Just try your best."
Wedge pushed off, his kicking feet splashing me with water as he went, and headed furiously toward Boba.
" Don't try so hard," Boba shouted over the noise of his paddling. " Swimming is fun. Or its supposed to be." With that, Wedge, reached Boba, and he took him in his arms.
" Wedge!" I said, swimming over to them. " You did it!"
He smiled hugely, and, holding him, his father fought to keep his identical grin in check.
When Wedge had worn himself out, Boba and I pulled ourselves out of the lagoon as well, and laid back on towels that we spread across the rocky floor of the canyon, letting ourselves dry in the sun. It wasn't long before Wedge had fallen asleep, and I moved him into the shade so his skin wouldn't burn.
" Thank you," I said, lying next to Boba on my towel, not looking at him. " For – joining us, today."
" Sure," Boba muttered.
" Are you angry with me?" I asked, annoyed with his tight-lipped attitude.
" No," he said, his eyes shut against the sun. " Its not you."
" What is it, then?" I asked, checking to make sure Wedge was still alseep.
" I don't know," he said, drapping his arm across his face to block the sun. " Don't worry about me so much."
" I can't help it," I muttered. I wanted to tell him then that I loved him and always would, but I didn't feel he deserved to hear it. I tried to remember if I had ever let him know. I hadn't.
He took his arm away and turned to look at me, squinting in the sun. His prenially tanned cheeks were turning pink.
" Maybe you should get into the shade," he said, noticing the same redness surfacing on my much paler skin. I shrugged.
We stared at each other for awhile.
" You're going to get burned," he warned. I laughed out loud at the irony of that statement coming from Boba.
" Yeah, its too late for that," I said, shaking my head at myself.
" I never meant to hurt you," he said quickly, and I was surprised that he knew what I was implying.
" Great," I muttered, rolling over again onto my back. " Should I feel indebted to you, then – because you never meant to hurt me? And what about Wedge?"
" I don't know," Boba said, looking away again. " I was just a kid. So were you."
" That doesn't change the fact that we brought a child into the world," I told him, not sure where this was going. We both looked at Wedge, sleeping in the shade, his hands curled under his chin.
" Thank you," Boba said suddenly. I turned and looked at him.
" What?"
" For taking care of our son while I was – away," he explained. " I feel like I should thank you."
I wasn't sure how to respond to that.
" Yes," I finally said. " You should. But I don't want you to think I did it as a favor to you."
" That's not what I meant," Boba said, standing. " I think we should go."
He walked over to Wedge and scooped him easily into his arms, still wrapped in his towel. Wedge blinked and looked up sleepily at his abductor.
" Oh, Dad," he muttered. " Are we going home now?"
I watched Boba for his reaction – it was the first time Wedge had called him 'Dad,' or even remotely referred to him as his father.
Boba paused for a moment, then said simply:
" Yes. Time to go home."
We trekked back to the cave, Wedge asleep in Boba's arms for the entire trip. By the time we reached our home I was exhasted myself, from the sun, the swimming and the walking. While Boba placed Wedge gentley in his own bed, I pulled off my damp clothes and fell into ours, yanking a sheet loosely over me and letting my head sink blissfully into my pillow.
Already half asleep, I heard Boba's own clothes fall to the floor with a wet SMACK. I felt the sheet lift off of me and then drift back down over me after Boba had slid under it. Finally I felt his skin, still warm from the sun, pressing against my bare back. His arms went around my shoulders as he curled up against me from behind, and I almost sobbed with relief, I was so warmed by this small, silent gesture.