little convincing to vacate the area and disappear into the pod. The hatch closed behind him. That left Rain alone with her thoughts as she waited for Calvin to arrive.
In another life things would have been different , she mused, listening to the almost silent hum of the starship. She allowed herself to indulge in the fantasy—but only momentarily—of what life would have been like had she the chance to live out a normal life expectancy…she imagined being with Calvin, maybe even having children together once all this was through; it was a peaceful thought. But she knew it would never be—indeed it could never be—and there wasn’t a thing in the galaxy she, or anyone else in the galaxy could do to change it. We are but leaves in the wind, blowing wherever life takes us, so long as we’re alive , she thought. Yet every day, and every experience, is such a privilege. Even the bad times . And, the few choices we get to make, the kind that affect others, causing them to affect even more people, and so on, like ripples in a pond…what tremendous opportunities those choices present to us , she continued to think. She thought of the future, a future she would not live to see, and felt tears well up in her eyes, despite herself. She had made peace with her destiny long ago. Accepted the fact that she was sick and there was nothing that could be done to save her—she had even found comfort in the knowledge that, despite her illness, she was one of the lucky ones. To have ever been born at all had been an unfathomably unlikely thing, and yet here she was. And, for almost thirty years, she had been able to experience the full gamut of human feelings. And now, today, she would be forced to endure the experience she loved the least of all. Saying goodbye to someone she cared about for the last time.
It was enough to bring more tears to her eyes, but she wiped them away, unwilling to let the sadness overwhelm her. Instead, she thought of all the good things and remembered that, in every goodbye, there was something to celebrate—and that was the honor she had had in being a part of someone’s life at all, through thick and thin. And though she would never see that person again, she could revel in the fact that she had been lucky enough to be a part of that person’s life, even if just for a single breath of time, and nothing and no one could ever take that away.
Eventually, Calvin arrived. He wore a full climate suit, including a glass-dome helmet, and he walked awkwardly around the corner and toward her on his way to the hatch. She could only just make out the look of surprise on his face through the thick face shield.
“Rain,” said Calvin, his voice slightly distorted by the air filter strapped around his mouth. “You came to say goodbye?” he sounded touched.
Rain nodded. “Yes,” she said, knowing that this was the last time she would ever see him. “I thought you deserved at least that much. No, I thought we both did.”
“Oh, Rain…” said Calvin, and as he looked at her, their eyes locked momentarily. He seemed at a loss for words. Then he asked about Rafael, why he hadn’t arrived at the hatch yet.
“Rafael is already in the pod, getting it ready,” said Rain. “I sent him on because…I wanted to have a moment alone with you. To…say goodbye.”
She reached out to embrace him and he took the clue. He pulled her into his arms, as tightly as he could—restricted by the climate gear—and she hugged him back, though he felt strange, so heavily bundled.
“Take off the helmet,” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.
“Why?” asked Calvin.
“So I can say goodbye to you properly,” she said, feeling more tears begin to form in her eyes. He must have noticed them too because, without any delay, he did as she asked, and removed the helmet.
Their eyes met once more and she could see pain in his eyes, though he did not shed any tears, unlike her.
“Oh, Rain,” said Calvin, giving