Blue-eyed Miracle - 3. Unexpected Detours

Day 9

Life can take some unexpected detours.

I, for instance, never imagined I would end up stranded on a planet of which I know virtually nothing. Chris hasn't been very forthcoming about the place, his home, or his family. So today when he said he missed his home I felt a sharp pain in my heart at the prospect of losing him. When I gave it a second thought, I realized how stupid of me it is to think of losing someone who's been with me for only four days and who I barely know. But the pain within me feels so real I can't even begin to understand what it is that I feel for him.

Right after lunch, he asked me if I could go get some things from his house, things he'd like to have with him for as long as he stays with me. He's made a list which I take and fold, and place inside my left pants pocket. He gives me directions when I ask if I should meet someone there, he just negates moving his head sideways, as he always does.

As I walk towards the place, I realize I feel relieved at the fact that he will be staying with me.

When I've walked for like around twenty minutes in opposite direction to the lagoon, I come to a crash site. The wreckage is that of a vacation cruiser. And I know it because of its oblong shape. It's one of those cruisers which looks like an elongated saucer with no more than four decks from top to bottom, and with a capacity for around one hundred people counting both passengers and crew.

Then everything starts making sense. I come to the entrance hatch and type the code Chris provided me with. The hatch slides open and I go inside.

"Lights!"

The whole main aisle lights up. The cruiser is beautiful on the inside, the aisle decorated with Greek motifs all the way through, but the dust and rust tell me this ship has been on this planet for some time now. I follow the aisle and on the third entrance I make a left. I take an inter-deck ladder down and take the final aisle which will conduct me, according to Chris' instructions, to where his quarters are. I type a code once again and the door slides open.

Unlike the rest of the ship, which looks unattended, this room looks perfectly clean and arranged, and I can tell Chris has done his best to keep it tidy.

I take the list and look at it, not without smiling at the careless handwriting.

1. Mom's Picture

2. Clean pants and shirts from the second drawer of the chest

3. Clean underwear form the third drawer

4. Tiny metal box hidden under the pillow

The first I get to find is his mom's picture, which is placed next to his bed. It's a wonderful picture where his mother is carrying him in her arms. I imagine he must've been like around eight years in the picture. I can't help but shed a tear as I look at the picture of a loving mother with her son. His golden hair and his blue eyes jump from the picture as if the young version of him were alive.

I place the picture inside the plasleather bag I brought with me and which I've placed on the bed.

I then go under his pillow and remove the tiny metal box. It's a very beautiful piece of craftsmanship, and the markings on it allow me to guess it comes from Athruvia, a planet not far away from the Core, which is inhabited by a humanoid species known as the Athrae. I almost immediately feel a strong curiosity and feel tempted to open the box. But also instantly my inner voice tells me not to, I have no right to invade Chris' privacy in such a way. So I place the tiny box inside the bag.

I then move towards the chest of drawers and open the third drawer, from there I get his clean underwear, most of it white briefs. I place them carefully in the bag and then go to the second drawer. I get a couple of pants, the very ones he told me – his favorites – and two shirts. I take the clothing to place it inside the bag, but first I sit on Chris' bed. I let the ambiance fill me, as if with it I could understand more about him than in the past four days.

Looking at Chris' picture with his mother has somehow brought back memories of mine. I haven't seen my mother for some time now and I feel a sudden burst of nostalgia. I don't know why exactly, but I go back to my childhood and I think of my mother and my siblings back in those years when I didn't know I'd be called into The Core Military Academy, a career I wouldn't have chosen on my own. If I'd had a say, I would've more likely ended up in arts, a painter, an architect, maybe a sculptor.

But we're at war and we've been for so long I can barely remember how many years it's been.

As I close my eyes, the memory of my parents' dining room fills my nostrils, as if I were there, looking at my now deceased father resting his feet after a day's labor, and the smell from my mother's cooking coming from the kitchen.

Before I notice, the feeling of longing for my family has taken over and I'm weeping. And it's only when I open my eyes that I realize I'm holding tight to one of Chris' shirts. I also notice that I'm holding it close, in such a way that it brings me comfort. Why, I ask myself, why do I find comfort in Chris' scent? Why is it that all of a sudden thinking of him makes me feel like I wouldn't need anything else but to hold him close?

I come out of my self-pity moment. I fold Chris' clothing and place it inside the bag.

Once I've gathered everything he asked for, I look around the place one more time before leaving.

I now know Chris has been the victim of a crash, just like me. What I don't really know is whatever happened to either the crew or the passengers. There are so many things he still has to tell me, but I think I should let him come around on his own.

Once I've gathered myself together, I leave Chris' room and start my way back to my shuttle.

Chris' face upon seeing his stuff is a smile-bringer.

The light I feel within my heart as I deposit all his stuff over his lap is what I gather happiness is, or must be.

I ask him if he wants me to place his clothes alongside mine and he nods.

He takes his mother's picture and places it next to his pillow. Finally, he takes the tiny metal box in his hands and pads the bed, signaling me to sit down facing him.

"This little box and its contents are my most precious belongings," he says.

I nod and grin.

"The box was brought to me by my father from one of his trips ... He ... umm ... he was a cop in The Core ... I dunno if he knows, if he still …."

I take his chin in my hand.

"It's alright," I tell him, "you don't have to do this now."

He clears his throat and looks at me deeply with his bright blue eyes.

"It's ok," he says, "I dunno if my father is still looking for me or if he thinks I'm dead or ...."

He then opens the little box and when he does, there's a tiny metal key on it, which he takes in his hand and shows me.

"And this little key," he says, "this was a present from my mom ...."

I nod for him to continue, attentively listening to him. He goes silent again and I say nothing, I just wait for him to carry on at his own pace.

"She gave it to me when I was twelve years old, before she passed away. She said ... she said it represented the key to my happiness ... she said when I was a man ...."

He stops. I can almost hear the knot in his throat as his eyes go slightly watery. Without thinking, I place my hand on his left one, the one that is holding the little box.

"Sorry, Robbi," he says and then continues, "she said when I was a man, this key would be the token of my happiness, and that I would remember her."

I nod once again. He places the key back on the little box, and puts the box under his pillow.

"I'm ... I'm sorry for that."

"Don't be." is all I say.

"Last time I saw her I was twelve, she ..." he stops midsentence.

"How long ago was that?"

"I don’t know for sure, four, five years maybe …."

"You've been here since then?"

He nods.

"On your own?" I ask, "Whatever happened to the cruiser's crew? The other passengers?"

He does not reply. He looks at me in a way in which I can feel his pain. And then I can't help myself anymore and open my arms for him. He jumps into my arms and I hold him as he cries. The sobbing is loud and I can't do anything for him. I feel my heart breaking at his pain and at knowing there's nothing more I can do for him but hold him close to me, close to my heartbeat, hoping it would make him calm down.

"I miss her! I miss her so much!" he says in-between sobs.

I hold him tight and rub his beautiful golden hair. He does it again, the burying of his face in my chest. As he does that, I repeatedly kiss his head in an attempt to soothe him without even realizing I'm doing it.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm ... I'm such a crybaby ...." he says, his voice muffled by my chest.

"Shhhh ..." I tell him, "Shhhh ... you're not, beautiful boy ... you're not a crybaby ... It's okay ... it's okay to cry ... I'm here ...."

He raises his face, his eyes looking deeply into mine. And in an impulse, he pushes his lips against mine. To my own surprise, I do not recoil. He presses his lips more strongly towards mine, as if both our lives depended on that kiss. My hand still rests on his head caressing his hair, and he now hugs me tighter, if that's even possible. My mouth moves a little and his does too, as we break into mini kisses, pressing our mouths once and again against each other's.

The warmth of his mouth against mine has broken the sad moment and turned it into something else as the atmosphere becomes one of love, passion and understanding. My brain has short-circuited as we kiss, and all the feelings of fatherly love I've experienced over the past days have turned into something I can't even begin to describe. Something deep inside me tells me to stop and brings the slight shadow of a moral dilemma within me ... but his lips against mine cloud every trace of judgment I might still have inside.

It's his tongue and not mine, the one which ventures further as we kiss. And we continue to kiss for only the Gods know how long. The one thing I have clear in my mind is that I don't want to spend any single moment away from his lips, from his golden mane, or away from his bright blue eyes.

When the euphoria has passed, we let go of each other's mouth, but we do not break our embrace. I look deeply into his eyes. Not knowing what to say, I remain silent, just looking at him. His beautiful deep blue eyes stare back at me, his blond lashes jumping as he blinks. His tears have now dried to be replaced by a beautiful grin.

I open my mouth as if to speak, but he takes his right index to my lips motioning me to keep silent.

"Shhhhh …." he says.

"Chris."

"Don't ..." he tells me and smiles, "don't have to say anything. Let's not say anything, Robbi ...."

"Chris."

"Call me beautiful boy once again …."

I take his face with both my hands so we can continue to look into each other's eyes.

"Why is that?" I ask him.

"Cause you told me, you know? And I think I might, you know? ... I might be that ... maybe?"

I hug him close to me once again. As I hold him, a lot of feelings battle inside me as I realize the mixture of emotions this boy causes within my heart and mind. I want to protect him and I want to keep him safe, and I now feel like I want to kiss him and hold him and …. My heart races in such a way it makes me feel like it might burst my chest open.

"I think," I tell him after a while, "that we might be getting ready to sleep now, don't you think, beautiful boy?"

"I think you might be right, Robbi."

I stand from his bed and go back to start fixing my makeshift bed. As I start working on it, Chris calls to me.

"Robbi?"

"Yes, Chris?" I ask turning to face him.

"Would you ... I dunno ... would you sleep with me, like, tonight?"

I walk towards him.

"Would you like that?"

"I would, Robbi ...."

Then I stop working on my improvised bed and pull him up to move the bedspreads aside. I place him back on the bed and then jump inside.

"Aren't you gonna undress, Robbi?" he asks and I instantly blush, "you always undress before sleeping …."

"I thought I might make you uncomfortable ...."

"Why would you make me uncomfortable, you sillyhead?" he asks and laughs.

So I undress and jump in bed. As I pull the bedspreads and cover both of us, he immediately hugs me, placing his lovely head on my chest. I then throw my arm around his shoulders and kiss his forehead.

"Thank you, Robbi."

"No," I tell him, "thank you, beautiful boy ...."

I feel him drift away very quickly. I observe him as he sleeps, his lips pouting. I smile as I feel an utter sense of completion with him sleeping over my chest, like this is how it's supposed to happen, like this is where I belong, in this bed, with him sleeping by my side holding on to me as if I were his everything and he were mine.

Life can take some unexpected detours indeed.