"Have a good day at work." (Tuvok/T'Pel, Sek)
The house in the suburbs of Shi'Kahr was too big. It had been bought for a husband and wife, four children, and the expectation of in-laws and grandchildren to come, but with two sons living with their families off-world, a daughter sworn to the Kohlinar priesthood, and a husband lost in the Delta Quadrant, T'Pel found the empty spaces empty indeed. She and Sek, her last child still living at home, had taken to eating in the kitchen rather than at the dining room with its too-long table and vacant seats. It was only logical.
"When will you be home?" she asked, breaking the silence of the table as he took his last bite of gespar.
"Eighteen hundred hours, approximately. I have a rehearsal." He picked up both their plates and headed over to the compost bin. "It may run late."
"Is the second movement of the symphony still a challenge?"
"T'Mir and I disagree on the tempo, but I believe we can compromise." Judging by the energetic way Sek scraped the red fruit rinds into the bin, however, T'Pel could guess that there would be a lot of debate at that rehearsal before any compromise was reached.
"Keep an open mind, my son," said T'Pel. "Different styles can work well together."
"I know, Mother."
"And do not forget to practice at home. The lyre needs to be kept in tune."
"Yes, Mother." He left the plates in the sterilizer and headed out the room, raising an eyebrow at her over his shoulder as if to say, Your reminders are unnecessary.
She cupped her redspice tea in both hands, watching the curls of steam rise up. Outside her window, the trees in the garden were in full crimson leaf, catching every drop of rain as it fell. She swallowed a reminder for Sek to wear waterproof boots and carry his umbrella. As a university student, he was more than old enough to remember these things. Even if he still seemed like a boy when he breezed up and down the stairs like that, swinging his satchel as he went.
"What are your plans for today?" he asked through the open door frame as he stepped into his boots and shrugged into his coat.
"I have a poem to finish. Letters to write to your brothers. Also, the orchids are looking fragile this season. I must consult a botany text."
Sek followed T'Pel's gaze out to the tiny greenhouse at the corner of the garden, its glass panes clouded with rain on one side and condensation on the other. Some of the flowers inside were hybrids, as frail as they were beautiful. She had helped to tend them for many years, but she was still not used to doing so alone.
"Let me know if I can help."
"I will. Have a good day at work, my husband."
"Mother?" Sek turned around, his young face visibly bewildered. His hands paused in the act of buttoning up his coat.
"I … misspoke." She put down her cup and rose to her feet, taking deep, silent breaths, shaping her hands into a meditative diamond pattern until they stopped shaking. "Have a good day at school, my son."
"Of course." He lowered his gaze respectfully as she pulled herself together. "This collar … help me, please?"
He was more than old enough to button his own collar, so she knew what he was really asking. After fastening the buttons and smoothing the edges, she brushed the psi points on her son's cheek with a mother's well-practiced hand.
You miss your father, she thought-spoke.
We both do, he replied. I worry about you. You spend so much time in the past.
Only because I still hope for the future. He will come back.
I hope so too, but Mother … do not forget to live while you wait.
Love and encouragement flowed in both directions, like water cycling through the greenhouse. By the time she let go, she felt better, like a tree getting ready to bloom.
"Perhaps I will attend a reading at T'Hain Academy tonight," she said calmly. "Some of my former colleagues will be there. It may be healthy for me to leave the house on occasion."
"May it be an instructive evening," said Sek, with a dignified air that he promptly ruined by trying to pick up his satchel and umbrella and salute his mother at the same time.
He was out the door in moments, splashing through puddles to catch the train. T'Pel turned back to her empty house, but with the lingering warmth of a mind-meld on her face, its solitude was no longer so daunting.