“No more games.”
Rose yawned again. “My apologies, but I’m afraid I still can’t quite place you. You’ll have to tell me your name.”
“My name is Robert.”
Of course. “Named after the Captain, no doubt.” She smiled.
Robert smiled back. “No doubt.”
“Well, Robert, give the old lady a kiss and let her get some sleep.”
Obligingly, Robert leaned over the bed, kissing her gently on the cheek. He brushed away a wisp of white hair that had fallen over her left eyebrow and said softly, “Sleep well, Rosie.”
Rose breathed in the slight musky warmth of him. A rush of memory carried her away, her father tucking her into bed that last night before his departure on the milk run to Mars, the last time she ever saw him, hot summer night, his big warm hug. Impulsively she reached up and hugged Robert, remembering. “Goodnight, Daddy,” was all she’d said, the sum total of her last conversation with her father. If only she’d known. But it was supposed to be for a few months, not forever. The door had closed so quietly as he left that night.
Tears flooded Rose’s eyes. She pushed Robert away. He straightened, but stayed beside the bed. Rose tried to flick the tears away with her cold, dry fingertips. Her throat was too tight to speak. He must think her a pitiful excuse for a matriarch. Embarrassment only made the tears worse.
Finally, Rose managed to clear her throat. “Time dilation isn’t exclusive to outer space, I guess. Just for a second, it happened right in here.” She touched her chest. “In my heart, I was nine years old again, saying goodnight to my father. My own relativity paradox. God’s just full of little jokes that make old ladies look foolish. I hope you’ll still come back to visit me.”
“Of course I will,” Robert said, his voice tight.
Rose smiled at him through her tears. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Goodbye.” She closed her eyes and turned her head to one side, to let him know he should leave.
Robert stood there a few seconds longer, then smoothed the sheet over her legs. “Goodbye, Rosie.”
She heard his footsteps move across the room, heard the click of the door handle turning. A thought came.
“Robert?” She opened her eyes and looked toward the door.
He stood in the doorway, his hand on the knob. “Yes, Rosie?”
“You have to move on, you see, because that’s the only way you can look back. Move on, you remember with love. Keep things the same, you end up angry, bitter or afraid. I moved on. I love my memories of the Captain. I missed him, of course, and Mother was heart-broken, but still, he was the first human to leave the Solar System, planned or no, and growing up the only child of a noble explorer wasn’t so bad. So, though it hardly seems suited to someone of my age, if you really want to call me American Beauty, well, I think I’d enjoy that.”
“Would you? I will, then. Thank you. Until tomorrow, my American Beauty.”
Rose closed her eyes again. “It was my father’s nickname for me, you know.”
“I know,” Robert said. The door closed so quietly as he left.