Lessons

(Many thanks to Andy for doing this with me. Thanks, Andy!--Maer)

Thursday, 12 Sep 2520
Kuiper II Class, Summer’s Gift
Somewhere in the Black
13:15hrs, ships time

Joshua was just about finished with gathering the last of the lunch dishes. Unlike dinner, it seemed that lunch was a meal served everywhere and plates needed to be retrieved. He didn't know if it was normal, but he liked cleaning dishes. Just as preparation was the formal start for cooking, cleaning was the formal ending and they put nice bookends on one of his favorite activities.

Rina's dish was the last to get, and as he entered her workspace, he saw that her dish, was in fact, just as full as it had started. Rina had taken one bite, at most, Joshua judged, and that was being optimistic. She needed to eat, he thought.

Joshua cleared his throat. "Uh-hum." And he stared at the plate.

 ***

        One of the advantages of the long stretches between ports was it allowed me to work on projects portside duties precluded. It was also a disadvantage—when the daily maintenance chores were done, I had the entire rotation of the clock before addressing them again and I often lost my sense of time. It took a backseat in my consciousness and in the case of the current project in front of me, it flat out disappeared.
        So I was in the middle of recalculating a materials list when Joshua cleared his throat and brought me back to my surroundings. I blinked and saw him standing there, looking pointedly at a bowl of something that used to be hot and edible.
        Food? Damn. When did that happen?
        I sighed and leaned back in my task chair and rubbed my eyes.
        "What time is it?" I knew exactly what time it was from the data ticker at the bottom of the CAD page—13:15 hrs—but I asked anyway.

 ***

"Past lunchtime. You haven't eaten, Rina. I don't want to play the 'I slaved over a hot oven’ card, but you need to eat." He paused and looked around the workspace. "In fact, have you left this space since you got up this morning? It might be good to get up and walk around." He wondered if Christian had to play mother hen to the crew to get them to eat, rest, and the other basics of human existence.

 ***

        Stung, I pushed up my sleeves and hit 'save'. I'd get back to it later. A similar conversation came to me unbidden:
                You're not eating. There something wrong with your food?
                I'm not hungry.
                You're lyin'.
        Aloud, I dodged the question and said, "Sorry. Got sucked in."
        I peered into the bowl, gave the spoon an experimental stir.
        "Would it hurt your feelings if I asked what it was supposed to be when you served it?" I looked up at him through my lashes and bit my lip. I meant it when I said I wanted to spare his feelings but with all the TSE-contaminated crap floating around, I couldn't resist asking. Besides, I loathed soy and it, like the protein paste, was the cheapest thing going and something our virtually nonexistent finances could afford.

 ***

"Well," he said, "it won't hurt my feelings, and it was a chili. Without fresh food, I have to find ways to juggle up the stuff we have, and chili is actually a really good way to do that. Of course, cold, it's probably not appetizing." He softly smiled at her. "I know food is not a top priority for you..." he paused and looked up in the air as if in thought, "...or for any of the crew for that matter, but it is all I do around here. You could at least make an attempt to eat it." He winced internally as he said it. It had come out much harsher than intended.

 ***

        “It used to be a priority. Food, I mean.” I thought back to childhood meals with my family, it being one of the few occasions the cease-fire in the constant sibling bickering and horseplay meant we could all relax and enjoy each others’ company. Homesickness stirred, an old familiar pain, and I squelched it. I also recognized a rebuke when I heard it and dutifully picked up the bowl. And knowing full well how it would look, damage already done, I took up the spoon and downed a bite anyway. My eyebrows lifted in surprise.
        “Cinnamon?”
        I took another bite. Yup. Cinnamon. It added an unexpected fillip to the protein paste they’d been eating for breakfast and lunch as a way to save the better provisions for dinner, and not for the first time I wondered what Joshua would have become had his life not taken the turn it had. I spooned up several more bites before I realized what I was doing and paused halfway to another, saying, “It’s good cold. And I’m sorry I didn’t think to try it when it was hot.”
        I kept on eating, less to prove my statement and more because having been given a taste my body demanded more of it. When it was gone and the spoon polished, I put it aside and looked up at him.
        “Is there any more? Or did I really fall down the rabbit hole and miss the call for seconds?”

 ***

"You did miss the call for seconds. I served an hour and half ago. But.." and he held his finger out, "there is still a little left warming on the stove. The pot is always the last thing to get cleaned up." He picked up her bowl. "I could get you some more and come back. Let me do that." And without giving Rina a chance to protest, Joshua swooped out of the room.

 ***

        Dammit, that tears it...
        I quit my worktable and followed him to the galley. As galleys go, it was only slightly larger than a walk-in closet so I planted my shoulder on the jamb and leaned in to watch him scrape out the last of the lukewarm chili from the pot. The look on his face when he turned and saw me in the doorway was tinged with….what? surprise? gratitude? Hell if I know. He’s a puzzle, that one. And I knew my affinity for puzzles. Careful. You know what happened with the last guy you thought that of.
        And for a second it wasn’t Joshua standing at the range, but Christian. And his answer to me query as to why a Companion of his stature was dishing up soup and counting dishtowels came back to me: Right now, this is the best place I can be…
        What’s your place, Joshua? Where is the best place for you to be?
        Knowing the issues that plagued the man, I kept my thoughts to myself and merely took the bowl he held out to me.
        “Thanks.”

 ***

"Um..." She had startled him and while that wasn't unusual these days, Rina seemed to do a better job at it than the rest of the crew. "You're welcome." He put the pot in the sink and started washing it.

He turned around to look at her as he washed and she ate. "I feel like I should apologize. I snapped a little about the food. I didn't think the Cortex quiet would bother me, but I've been in a mood the last few days. My job is not to yell at you about eating."

 ***

        "Actually, in a very real way, it is." I looked up again. "If I zone out over my work, it's everyone's responsibility to snap me out of it, because it's my responsibility to the rest of you to pay attention. Neglect in either area can lead to trouble. I'm just sorry I added to yours."
        I shifted my shoulders on the jamb and lifted the bowl to my chin and dug in. I ate, he washed, I continued:
        "If I saw you doing something stupid, I wouldn't hesitate to call you on it. So when I fall out of the world, please, yell at me. I won't take it amiss."

 ***

"Ok, I'll keep that in mind," he said, scrubbing a little harder to work the chili off the pot. They were good dishes - a good cook had loved these dishes. Another thing to live up to Christian to. Ah well. "I'm still getting the hang of this responsibility thing....and the crew thing...and the real life thing. Let's just say everything and leave at that."

 ***

        Something in the line of him, his tone, brought me up short and eyes narrowing, I set the bowl aside and watched him scrubbing the damned pot as if his life depended on it.
        "I could say the same for myself. Just different areas of it. But we're not talking about me." I put a foot up on the jamb and crossed my arms. "We're talking about you. And since you're only just now getting the hang of living for yourself because as a chameleon-on-demand you hadn't any freedom to do it before, try not to be too hard on yourself until you get your feet under you.” Which had a narrow chance of happening, I knew. Joshua was a driven individual. “And as to that? What do you want out of life, Joshua? What do you really want to do?"

 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***
 ***