“Like that summer we all slept on the roof during the heatwave.”
I smiled immediately.
“Or the mini tacos from Bill’s gas station. I think about that time you mowed Ms. Charlene’s lawn while I painted her front door. I think about my dad’s goofy laugh and his shitty pancakes. Sometimes I think about how unfair it is that I was just figuring stuff out. I kind of feel like my adulthood was stolen from me. Like I blinked and went from twenty-four and broke to thirty-something.”
I refused to think about those things because if I did, I’d probably give up if I was being honest. But hearing her laugh tonight felt like finding the answer I’d been looking for, not even sure what to ask.
“You know what I miss most?” I asked.
“Hm?”
“You making fun of me constantly.”
“That’s what you miss most?”
“Absolutely.”
“Not sunlight? Or the ocean. Soccer!”
I smiled to myself, staring out at the stars beyond the station glass. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I still played soccer at least once a month with a few ensigns after work. “I miss hearing your footsteps before I saw you,” I admitted. “You always walked as if there was a fire, or you were late for something.”
“Iwasalways late for something.”
“Hardly. Don’t even get me started on your backseat driving, even though you refused to get your license for so long. God I’d give anything to have you snap at me about my parking.”
“You loved me.”
I leaned forward slowly, resting my elbows on the desk. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “I do.”
I could hear her smile in it.
“What else?” I asked, steering the conversation away from less dismal thoughts.
“Hm?”
“What do you do all day?”
“Oh.” Another beep. “I read a lot.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“There are only like thirty books down here though, so at this point I’ve started re-reading them. One of them is just a plumbing manual.”
“Oof. That’s rough.”
“I’ve read it four times.”
I laughed under my breath, turning my chair slightly so I wasn’t just staring at the same spot on the desk.
“And I exercise,” she added. “Or I try to. There’s only so much cardio you can do in a bunker.”
“You still hate running?”
“With every fiber of my being.”
“Some things never change.”
The static softened for a moment, almost like a sigh. “Remember when you tried to get me to jog with you?” she asked.
