The editor and reporter should be held accountable, but if they are, then so shall I be. I am a military captain, not a police official. And I pulled a gun on a civilian. It may be a lesser crime, but a crime it is. And if the reporter wanted to risk his life and career, he could try to bring charges. But I doubt he will. What I have on him is far worse.
I return home, all these thoughts swirling in my brain. I’m not afraid of going to prison. I’ve already lost the most important thing in my life, something that I didn’t even know was important until just a few days ago. But without her, I can’t go on. I must find a way back into her heart. I must earn her forgiveness. The solution eludes me as I land my vehicle and make my way into my house.
I avoid my housekeeper, knowing that I will snap at him if he asks if I need anything. And though my mood is foul and dark, I don’t want to take it out on anyone. I go to my room and pour myself a scotch.
Out on the veranda, I gaze into the gray and silver crashing waves against the red shore. The sky is pale blue with low gray clouds that suggest a coming storm. I think about our history on Mars and the technological wonders of our world, the advanced state of our race. Yet we are still hounded by a voracious press that is so hungry for a story that it will risk the future of our species for a scoop.
Anger rises again inside me, and I take another long swig of scotch. I need to relax enough so that I can think of a way back into Doris’s heart.
When I’m finished with one scotch, I pour myself another and sit at the table in my library. I try to recall my courtship training and the intricacies of the Earthling female heart.
There must be a way back into her good graces. I rub my temples, at a loss. I scour through the courtship training resources. Earthling females enjoy gifts, intimate conversations, affection and closeness, praise, and attention. I would give her all these things if I could and so much more. But she won’t even speak to me.
I settle on the one possibility that does not require her allowing me to be near her. I will get her a gift. What kind of gift, I do not know. But then it dawns on me exactly what she might like. She has been drawn to art history. All the knowledge of Mars and Earth before is stored in our databases. But the physical treasures made by the hands of Martians and humans alike are far more valuable.
Thinking I’ve found my answer, I leave the house and climb into my vehicle. There is renewed hope in my heart.
I hurry into the city and land outside the gallery district in a high-rise parking lot. On the forty-second floor of a glass-and-chrome high-rise, I walk into a Mars-renowned gallery and take in the paintings on display.
Doris has been teaching me to appreciate art, and along with everything else she has taught me, it has expanded who I am as a man. I progress down the halls, trying to decide on a piece that will suit her. Then I stop, my eyes falling on a bouquet of flowers in a vase. The lighting is dramatic with high contrast between light and shadows. These are all terms that she has explained to me. And I think that she will like this piece.
I find the gallery owner and ask for the price. It is a shock at first, but then I wave it off. No price is too great for the affection of my beloved. I just hope that it will earn me at least a conversation.
24
After Jaxxo leaves, I curl up in bed, hugging a pillow, and begin to cry. It’s soft at first but soon turns to deep, shuddering sobs. I don’t know what I’m crying about. Is it because I’m angry? Is it because I miss him? Is it because I’m mourning the loss of my mother and grandmother and everything I’ve ever known?
It all merges together in one dark mass of sorrow. A tangle that I fear I will never be able to unknot. Bethany comes to my door, but I want to be left alone.
Jaxxo’s betrayal is too much. On top of everything else, it has compounded all my other losses. I had believed, naïvely, that he offered me a new life on Mars. That I could be happy here with him, and that we could continue the species together. It felt as if I had a new purpose for my life—a purpose that was missing back on Earth.
But he has betrayed me like every other man in my life. Why is it that they do this to me? Am I somehow flawed? Do I somehow deserve it?
All these thoughts whirl through my brain, and I can’t make any sense of anything or make myself feel any better.
I pull myself from the mattress and go to the bathroom. I draw myself a bath in the deep porcelain tub and fill it with sweet-smelling oils.
Sinking into the hot water, I let out a deep sigh. My body is sore, and my eyes sting from crying. But the water and smell of flowers and spices entrances me. As I lay my head against a soft pillow at the edge of the bath and close my eyes, I finally feel myself relaxing. I soak in the bath for a long time, and the water never seems to chill. I don’t get out until I hear the AI notify me that someone is at my door.
I step out of the water, dry off, and pull on a kimono-style dress in pink silk with yellow accents. I slip on a pair of sandals, pile my hair in a bun, and go to the door.
On the other side is a deliveryman in a blue uniform with a name tag that says Char.
“Are you Doris Gray?” he asks.
“Yes. What is this?” I peer at the giant rectangular package wrapped in hard white plastic.
“I am here to install your painting.”
“Okay,” I say, stepping aside for him to push the hovering package into my bedroom.
“Who is it from?”
“There’s a gift tag inside the package.”
He opens the package, and the contents are finally revealed. It’s a massive painting that must be ten by twelve of a still life of roses and a golden vase. The petals tumble to the hardwood table below it. The light and shadow are dramatic, detailing every crease and crevice of the flowers. It brings a harshness to a typically soft subject. And my heart weeps at the sight of it.
The deliveryman deftly hangs the painting on my wall. I’ve been speechless, staring at the gift, but I don’t need to see the tag. I already know who it’s from. He hands the card to me nonetheless, and I read the handwritten words.
“To my beloved Doris. You have taught me so much in our short time together. But of all extraordinary, beautiful things you have brought into my life, the most profound thing you’ve taught me is how to love.”
A tear slides down my face as the deliveryman bids me farewell and slips out the door. I sink to my knees, clutching the note and stare up at the painting. It’s framed in a Baroque gold frame, making it look like a masterpiece that would have been in a museum back on Earth. I can’t believe this is in my room.
I cover my face with my hands, trying to think clearly. The bath has helped me relax and soothe my emotions, but my mind is still a jumbled mess of confusion. I don’t know what to do or how to react. I read the note again and again, wishing that things were simple, wishing that I could forgive him.
After pacing my room until my legs are sore, I finally decide that I must speak to him. The painting on my wall haunts my thoughts and my every step. It is a glaring reminder of the man who I wish I could forget. But I know I never can. He has become as great a weight in my life as the painting on the wall.
I ask the AI to contact him, but before it pings his communication device, I tell it to stop.
“Arrange transportation for me to Captain Jaxxo’s house.”