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i. reading is a choreography
Years Ago
The funeral hadn’t even happened yet, but two of the receiving rooms were already filled with memorial bouquets. As he encountered them, Esteban considered turning right around, going back to his room, but he’d gone to the trouble of dressing in a suit his father would approve of, and he’d taken three deep breaths before walking down the stairs.
Nothing for it but forward.
He wandered through the sea of flowers, idly tapping on the tags to see scan over names, condolences. He looked at them, but didn’t see them. The various perfumes clogged his senses; he clamped down on the urge to sneeze, knowing it would seem indecorous, even unobserved.
Then something caught his eye, sitting on the piano. A single bloom, but not in an ornate crystal vase or spilling from a hydro-bubble. Esteban tilted his head and beelined toward it.
An single stem. An orchid? He thought that was what they were called. It was in a simple green glazed pot. He put his nose not to the blossom, but to what its stem led to.
The scent was bracing after all the airy florals. Almost bitter, rich. He reached up and tapped his finger to the brown grains. They were slightly damp, and finer than the sand he’d seen at Lorelei. He pressed and his finger sank down.
“It’s dirt,” Sol said behind him.
Esteban didn’t even turn. “It doesn’t feel dirty.”
Sol laughed as she came up next to him, bumping his shoulder. “Not like that. It’s soil,” she emphasized. “Must have cost ten times its weight, honestly.”
Esteban looked over at her then. She blinked at him, a faint smile still curving her lips. He wondered if his eyes were as red, as swollen, as hers were. “Soil is expensive?”
“Out here, yeah,” Sol told him. She slung an arm around him, dipping her chin to his shoulder for a second. “One dirt-grown flower out here?” She jerked her head to indicate all the bouquets surrounding them. “Worth more than ever hydro-forced clone in the house.”
Esteban rubbed his finger and thumb together, contemplating the smudge of soil that still clung to his skin.
Sol pressed a brief kiss to his temple, quick enough that he knew she would let him ignore it.
“You ready for the crowds, kid?” she asked.
“No,” Esteban told her.
Sol laughed and guided him around. “Too bad.”
ii. to be concentrated is to be distracted
A Year Ago
Esteban sat in his workroom, not doing anything. He heard the far door open and knew who it was. “I’m not sulking,” he pronounced.
Sol dragged a stool over to him, deliberately letting the legs scratch against the floor.
Esteban scowled at her. “Must you?”
“I absolutely must,” Sol said. “You’ve been back for two days and spent both those days in here.”
“I’ve been too long away,” Esteban rejoined. “I have to set up new starters, make sure the data--" He trailed off as Sol made the blah, blah gesture their cousins often used behind his back, or so they thought.
“Someone’s having a dance out there,” Sol told him. “It’d do you good to be seen by some familiar faces.”
Esteban winced, thoughts of warm brown skin, laughing eyes darting through his mind. “I think I’ve had enough of dancing for a while.”
“Are you ever going to tell me what happened out there?” Sol leaned dramatically against the work table, though careful to avoid disturbing his PD. “Or should I let the gossips do their work, Stevie?”
Esteban rolled his eyes at the nickname. “Please don’t call me that.” He thought back to Julia, to the way she whispered in his ear, teased him about being oh-so-stoic. “I’ll tell you. But only once.”
Sol straightened, surprised.
Esteban sighed, and began.
iii. first one loves a name
A Few Days Ago
It had taken a few hours before Esteban fully comprehended Julia’s mention of a child, but only an hour after that to storm into the law firm and demand to speak to whoever had been assigned to him, personally. (He’d been introduced to them once, but hadn’t bothered to remember their name.) After they ascertained he wasn’t there to formulate a countersuit against Evelyn Ojukwu—and he’d blinked, because he hadn’t thought of her since he’d escaped the clamor of the party—he asked them if they’d heard anything from Julia Johnson.
“No,” they said, tapping in their PD rapidly. “There was correspondence from a Ruthi Johnson, but nothing from any Julia.” They paused. “It mentions a Jules.”
Esteban took three deep breaths before speaking again. “And what did it say?”
“Nothing you should be concerned about,” the lawyer told him. “We’ve been advised to counter any fraudulent claims, particularly when it comes to paternity--"
“So I should have known,” Esteban confirmed.
The lawyer stared at him. “It’s our job to protect you from--”
“Can I fire you?” Esteban asked. At their gasp, he waved his hand, dismissing the thought. “Actually, no. Never mind. Draw up a contract designating support for the child, as well as for Julia, no, Jules Johnson.” He narrowed his gaze. “Generous support.”
The lawyer gulped. “And where should I send it?”
Esteban opened his mouth. Closed it again. Considered.
“I’ll get back to you.”
iv. the strengths of coexistence survive through time being erased
A While from Now
Esteban had never been to Brooklyn, but this was where Sol had told him to be. It’s there or the lawyer’s office, she had messaged, so he’d taken the fastest transport to Earth proper.
He entered the deli and didn’t see anybody he recognized, so after waiting in line--after figuring out how to wait in line--he placed an order for the daily special and then wedged himself into a corner booth, a glass of water in hand.
He’d halfway finished his water when someone slid into the bench across from him. Esteban startled. “Evelyn!”
“Ruthi,” she said, with no trace of the bubbly cheer he’d associated with her voice.
“Ruthi,” he repeated. “Right.” He took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“This meeting wasn’t my idea,” she said, voice flat.
“Not, not for this,” Esteban said. “For helping me with, you know.” He gestured vaguely. “For letting me help.”
Ruthi smiled at that, a vulpine expression that reminded him of his sister. “I always take the money, Stevie.” She grinned wider at his flinch. “And Sol was the one who convinced Jules to take it, you know.”
“I owe Sol a lot,” Esteban replied. “I always will.” Ruthi’s demeanor softened at that. “I’m glad the two of you--"
They called out his order. Esteban cleared his throat. “Excuse me a moment.”
Ruthi’s mouth quirked, probably at a Mendez-Yuki getting their own sandwich.
Esteban walked back to the counter, as dignified as possible, when the chime sounded. He turned toward the sound, and.
Julia. Jules. Beautiful as ever, but hair cut shorter than he remembered. She wore a plain set of coveralls, and in her arms--
Esteban held his breath as Jules met his eyes. She ducked her head to the child’s ear, and he heard her murmur over the clamor, across the room.
“Sweetie, look over there. It’s your da.”