THREADS OF THE BROKEN FUTURE
CHAPTER FIVE
*Historically, the local conditions that night weren't quite as written here, and the moon phase is off. Artistic license please. At least I'm not writing that the trees talk and make their planet totally invisible.
Luray, Virginia – September 13th, 1999
He stood in the kitchen, prepping the items needed to do the hamburgers on the grill. To say that he hadn't felt this relaxed in days was an understatement. A small sense of normalcy wrapped around him like a warm blanket. Oh, the recurring dreams were still there to greet him every night when he fell asleep, clawing at his peace. But being in the company of his grandmother was helping to ease that strain, like a balm on an open wound.
She had asked him to stay longer than he had originally planned and to his surprise, he had quickly agreed.
She came into the kitchen, tsking away at him as she tugged on the loose, frayed fabric strings that hung from the edges of his denim shorts.
"Young people," she muttered. "Never dress appropriately."
Her criticizing him was playful, a bemused frown creasing her forehead. Then she grabbed the black fabric at the shoulder of his blank tank, giving it a good tug as well. Her dark eyes narrowed in mock disapproval.
"Not even any sleeves," she murmured, shaking her head as she glanced down at the sandals on his feet.
He laughed, the sound echoing in her kitchen. "Nonna, we don't dress like it's the 1950s anymore." The lightness he felt in his chest this evening felt almost foreign to him.
"How do you ever expect to find a nice young woman dressed like that?"
Her question hung in the air for a moment as a strange emotion overtook him. An emotion that he didn't recognize.
"I don't want a nice young woman?" he asked her with a small smile.
She laughed, a rich sound that felt like home. "Mio nipote. I have known you since the day you were born. You need a nice young woman." Her gaze softened as she looked at him.
He shrugged, his thoughts flickering back and forth. He felt that at one time, he had considered a nice young woman. And then his mind protested at these thoughts. Knowing a change of conversation was desperately needed, he looked up at the clock above the sink.
"Someday. Come on, help me take the stuff outside, the air is starting to cool for the night and the grill is probably ready to start the burgers."
Nonna gave him a smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "We could have had pasta tonight."
He placed the plate with the burgers on the tray, then picked it up, the weight of it grounding him. "I am your guest. And we had pasta last night, delicious pasta."
He leaned over and gave her an affectionate kiss on the cheek, a small gesture filled with love. "Besides, you love my burgers and you know it."
She picked up the other tray and followed him out to the backyard, the lingering warm, evening air wrapping around them like an embrace.
The late summer night was beautiful, perfect. The temperatures were still warm, and tonight was not too humid. He could feel the fleeting essence of summer but, for now, summer seemed in no hurry to bid a fond farewell. It was almost as if she were holding on for dear life, at least a little longer.
After placing the burgers on the grill, he sighed contentedly. "You know, Nonna, this was a wonderful place for you and Grandpap to retire to."
His voice softened as nostalgia flickered through him, the warmth of old memories settling over him like a familiar comfort. "It's a shame he didn't get to enjoy it longer."
His grandmother smiled gently, the kind of smile that held a thousand memories. "Oh, but he did, caro. Especially when you kids visited. He was happiest when the house was full of life."
She placed a hand on his arm, her touch warm and grounding, a reminder of the love that had always filled this home.
"When are you going to put roots down, young man?"
He chuckled, but it felt hollow to his ears. "My roots haven't decided where yet, let alone when."
"That does not surprise me. You children – one country this week, another country the next. How any of you ever felt like you were home, beyond me." Her voice was filled with a mix of disbelief and concern.
He just laughed as he moved to put items on the patio table. She followed, busying herself with placing the silverware.
She patted his arm softly. "Ah, you children and your restless hearts. But remember, home is more than just a place. It's the people you share it with." Her gaze held him for a moment, and he felt the weight of her love. It wasn't the first time she'd said something like this, but tonight, the words hit a little closer to home.
The people you share it with.
For a moment, he felt, that at one time, there had been a home, of sorts and there had been wonderful people to share it with. He shivered a little in the warm air.
Then, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leaning into her warmth. "Well, wherever you are feels like home to me. Always did."
She beamed up at him, her eyes crinkling with that familiar look of love only a grandmother could give. "You always know how to make your Nonna smile."
"As if you and Gandpa stayed in one place for very long," he reminder her, a teasing tone in his voice. It had seemed to be hereditary, the men in the family taking jobs that didn't keep them in one place for very long. He remembered his dad's job having them move quite a bit while his mother had always argued for stability for the children.
"Well, that is true," his grandmother finally admitted, softly.
"Besides," he told her as he moved to put his arm around her shoulders. "We always had a home. Wherever you were, we were always welcome."
She smiled at him. "True. I'll never forget, shortly after we bought this place. Your mama finally put her foot down and said no, she most certainly was not packing all of you kids up, again, and moving back to Italy, again."
He laughed as he recalled the memory. That had been a most epic fight between his parents. "Oh my, three Verdeschi kids and Mama, all living with you and Grandpap while I finished high school."
There was a sparkle in her eye when she spoke. "It was wonderful, mio nipote. There was always something going on, you and your sports, the girls and their dancing classes. Never a dull weekend. I believe it kept us young at heart."
She followed him back over to the grill, where he opened the lid to check on the burgers. After a few moments of silence, she spoke again.
"What I don't understand is why you and your brother, after all that moving around, couldn't just settle into one place. You both can't even stay on Earth." She began waving her hands, the bracelets on both her wrists clinking together as she did.
"Oh no, you both had to go get certified for those damn flying objects. Up to the moon you go, back and forth Guido goes."
He put an arm around her shoulder, squeezing gently. "They're called Eagles, Nonna, not damn flying objects."
"Whatever," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "I'm glad at least one of you had the sense to put your feet back on Earth full time."
He smiled, but a flicker of something darker crossed his mind. If only she knew what had prompted that choice. Of course, knowing her, she might heartily declare that pasta cures everything, even bewildering dreams.
The aroma from the cooking burgers was beginning to fill the air around them. He inhaled deeply, savoring the moment. "Man, do they smell good."
For a few perfect moments, everything in the universe felt like it was exactly where it should be. The night was serene, his grandmother was still her fiery, lovable self, and he was starting to believe that, just maybe, things would fall into place.
Even his grandmother's wish of having both her grandsons permanently based on Earth seemed close to coming true. Guido had just accepted a full-time position, exclusive, planet-bound ferrying of VIPs. No more infrequent trips up to the moon and back and a much better pay rate.
As for him, he'd been quietly tipped off about a consulting job with the same company his father worked for, based out of Maryland.
Things were starting to look promising.
He took a slow swig from the beer bottle he'd brought outside, savoring the crisp flavor as he leaned back and looked up at the evening sky. He'd always loved looking at the night sky.
It was breathtaking. Away from the city lights, the stars shimmered like diamonds, scattered across black velvet. In the western sky, the moon glowed softly, casting a gentle light over everything. The breeze was just right, cool and refreshing. And his grandmother was making him laugh.
A warm smile crossed his face as he thought that yes, for the first time in a while, everything felt right.
But then, in a single heartbeat, it all changed.
Bright, rapid flashes were filling the black velvet behind the moon.
His stomach twisted violently.
"Santa Madre!" he gasped, his heart racing. "Madre Santa! It's going!"
The lightshow behind the moon grew larger, brighter and brighter, until it seemed as though a million suns were trying to emerge from behind her.
Nonna clutched his hand tightly. "What is it, mio caro? What's happening?"
He barely heard her as his eyes were glued to the sky, the sight too horrifying to comprehend. "Get inside, Nonna," he ordered, the urgency in his voice cutting through the shock. He gently pushed her toward the house, cutting the propane to the grill in one swift motion.
But she hesitated, fear rooting her to the spot. Her hand clung to his, as if letting go would break the world apart. "What's happening? Tell me!"
He looked back up at the sky, dread now pooling in his stomach.
For a time, he thought he felt the ground beneath them tremble, as if the Earth was crying out in anguish.
The squeal of car brakes - out on the road - pierced the still air. People were jumping out of their vehicles, shouting in disbelief. Horrified screams floated on the night breeze. The sound of sirens wailed in the distance.
He squeezed his grandmother's hand, his heart aching. He knew now.
In his heart, he knew.
The moon was growing smaller.
Shrinking.
She was disappearing from the nighttime sky.
His dreams – this had been in them. He had thought he was losing his mind, going insane. But NO, the moon really was being hurled into the depths of space. Only this time, he wasn't there.
He was down here, on Earth.
And he had lived through this, before – not in a dream, but in a reality. At some point, at some time, up there had been his reality.
Area Two.
The nuclear waste stored there was over a hundred times greater than the waste in Area One.
This had happened before.
Area Two had just blown.
And then, he remembered the date.
It was September 13th, 1999.
The morning meal passed between them in an unusual silence. Her father, always a steady presence, seemed distant, focused on something far away. She watched as he absentmindedly pushed food around his plate, his movements slow and deliberate, as though each bite required effort. The quiet clink of utensils against the plate only amplified the heavy silence between them.
She glanced over at him again, her worry deepening as she noticed the dark circles under his eyes. He looked tired - more tired than she had ever seen him. It wasn't just a physical fatigue; it was something deeper, something that weighed on him in ways he wouldn't speak about.
"Father, are you feeling well?" she asked softly, her voice breaking through the stillness.
"Yes, my child," he replied, though his words felt empty, lacking his usual warmth. He took a sip from his cup, but his hands trembled slightly as he did. That small movement, almost imperceptible, sent a wave of unease washing over her.
She watched him carefully as he continued to eat in silence, barely tasting his food. The way he held his utensils was different too - tighter, like he was holding onto them just to keep steady. Something was wrong, and the more she watched him, the more it troubled her.
She hesitated, then decided now was the time to try again.
"Why don't you let me help you with your work today?" she asked, her voice more insistent than she intended, but her concern was growing, and she wanted to help, to do something for him.
He looked up from his plate slowly, his tired eyes meeting hers. A small smile touched his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. The smile felt thin, almost brittle, as though it might shatter if she looked too closely.
"No, my dear. There's a lot…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping back to his plate, like the weight of what he didn't say was too much to bear.
She leaned forward, her hands resting gently on the table as she pressed. For a moment, she hesitated, glancing at his tired face, and then she reached over, her fingertips lightly brushing his hand. "I know there's a lot I don't understand. But I never will, Daddy, unless you teach me."
Her touch lingered, a small gesture meant to reassure him, to show that she was here, that she cared. She tilted her head, her gaze softening as she watched him, concern evident in her eyes. "And you look like you could use some rest," she added quietly. "Please, Father."
He paused, his hand frozen midway between his plate and his cup. His shoulders seemed to sag under the weight of her words, and he placed his fork down carefully, as if it had suddenly become too heavy to hold. His fingers curled loosely around the handle of his cup, but he didn't drink. Instead, he stared at it for what felt like a long time, his expression unreadable.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, and she could hear the exhaustion in every word. But there was something else in his tone, something she couldn't identify.
"I suppose," he said slowly, his eyes still downcast, "I could teach you some of the controls. I'm sure you could handle those."
For a moment, she couldn't hide her smile, a rush of relief flooding her. Finally. He had relented. Her father always told her she was clever, and now she had the chance to prove it.
But something in his posture, in the way he sighed deeply before meeting her gaze again, gave her pause. His eyes, once full of pride when he looked at her, now seemed shadowed by something she couldn't place.
Was it regret? Sadness? Guilt?
She didn't know, but the heaviness in his eyes stayed with her, even as she smiled at his words.
She didn't understand the storm brewing in his gaze, the flickers of something just beyond her reach. Finally – now she had the chance to be the clever daughter he had taught her to be. What good was cleverness, she thought, if it wasn't enough to help him shoulder his burdens, to chase away whatever shadows he faced alone.
Whatever he asked of her, she would learn.
No matter what he might ask.