Fear is the Heart of Love
She always dreams of George Takei when she has a difficult choice to make. Not Mr. Sulu, as you would expect, but the man behind the role.
It's been this way since she first saw Star Trek as a child. Leonard Nimoy with pointy ears shows up before exams; Nichelle Nichols, smiling and beautiful when she needs strength; James Doohan when she needs to create. Other cast members from different series drift in and out of her dreams as her life warrants, but those four are constants.
She's long acknowledged her subconscious mind is a fucked up place.
She hates dreaming of Takei. The man doesn't stand for any nonsense, poking holes in any argument she makes with a pleasant expression on his face, not even raising his voice when she's yelling at him in frustration. She wonders why he's here. The time for choice is past, isn't it?
They're in The Garden this time. Bougainvilla plants guard its borders, all thorns and flowers. There are large swaths of grass, broken up by hibiscus and ixoras of all colours that accept the worship of the hummingbirds and butterflies hovering over them as their just tribute. An artificial stream meanders through the plants, ending near a patch of bamboo that rustles and clacks a rhythm as it dances in the breeze.
They're under the poui tree at the centre of the garden, seated on the yellow carpet of fallen blooms. Ever so often another blossom falls, and they watch it drift lazily to the ground.
"Why show up now, and not before?" she asks him.
"Before? Your mind was made up." He doesn't look at her. "You'd planned out every step." He ticks off the points on his fingers. "Buy the vodka and chasers. Go down to the beach - the one that wouldn't sweep the body out to sea. Get drunk. Text your husband that you're going for a swim to clear your head before coming home." He closes his hand into a fist. "Get a verdict of accidental drowning so the insurance company would pay up."
She shudders, remembering her husband calling, crying, begging her to come back home to him and their son. The sweet little voice asking why mommy wasn't coming.
"I thought about hurting them." She watches another blossom join its sisters on the lawn. "I thought about killing them so we wouldn't be separated." She glances sideways at the old man next to her. "So they wouldn't have to live with my death. I need to protect them from me...from what I could do to them." Takei nods to show he's listening.
"But you didn't go through with it. You listened to them. You went home." He looks at her. "That's why we're here now."
She hunches, wrapping her arms around her knees making herself as small as possible. "I thought about hurting them, and it scared me. I'm a monster. I don't deserve them."
"No. You're depressed. You know this."
"I just want it to stop!" she bursts out. "I'm tired of working all the time. I'm tired of messing up, failing, never getting better. They'd be better off without me!" She's dimly aware, in the real world, of tears sliding from under her lids. "One day of feeling normal. I remember normal. Why can't I get back to that?"
"And that's the choice you face now."
"Why am I like this? They're people with worse problems than me and..."
He holds up one hand, stopping her.
"You are looking for reasons not to try." He looks directly into her eyes. "To validate giving up."
"It's...hard. I broke y'know? Never feeling good enough...smart enough..."
"You hate yourself. And your son has similar feelings about himself. You've heard him say the same. What example will you give him to follow?"
She curls up into a small ball. She feels him pat her on the shoulder and hears the smile in his voice. "Good decision."
When she looks up, she is alone.
She stretches out under the poui tree, collecting all the peace she can before she has to wake up and find a way to start living again.
It's been this way since she first saw Star Trek as a child. Leonard Nimoy with pointy ears shows up before exams; Nichelle Nichols, smiling and beautiful when she needs strength; James Doohan when she needs to create. Other cast members from different series drift in and out of her dreams as her life warrants, but those four are constants.
She's long acknowledged her subconscious mind is a fucked up place.
She hates dreaming of Takei. The man doesn't stand for any nonsense, poking holes in any argument she makes with a pleasant expression on his face, not even raising his voice when she's yelling at him in frustration. She wonders why he's here. The time for choice is past, isn't it?
They're in The Garden this time. Bougainvilla plants guard its borders, all thorns and flowers. There are large swaths of grass, broken up by hibiscus and ixoras of all colours that accept the worship of the hummingbirds and butterflies hovering over them as their just tribute. An artificial stream meanders through the plants, ending near a patch of bamboo that rustles and clacks a rhythm as it dances in the breeze.
They're under the poui tree at the centre of the garden, seated on the yellow carpet of fallen blooms. Ever so often another blossom falls, and they watch it drift lazily to the ground.
"Why show up now, and not before?" she asks him.
"Before? Your mind was made up." He doesn't look at her. "You'd planned out every step." He ticks off the points on his fingers. "Buy the vodka and chasers. Go down to the beach - the one that wouldn't sweep the body out to sea. Get drunk. Text your husband that you're going for a swim to clear your head before coming home." He closes his hand into a fist. "Get a verdict of accidental drowning so the insurance company would pay up."
She shudders, remembering her husband calling, crying, begging her to come back home to him and their son. The sweet little voice asking why mommy wasn't coming.
"I thought about hurting them." She watches another blossom join its sisters on the lawn. "I thought about killing them so we wouldn't be separated." She glances sideways at the old man next to her. "So they wouldn't have to live with my death. I need to protect them from me...from what I could do to them." Takei nods to show he's listening.
"But you didn't go through with it. You listened to them. You went home." He looks at her. "That's why we're here now."
She hunches, wrapping her arms around her knees making herself as small as possible. "I thought about hurting them, and it scared me. I'm a monster. I don't deserve them."
"No. You're depressed. You know this."
"I just want it to stop!" she bursts out. "I'm tired of working all the time. I'm tired of messing up, failing, never getting better. They'd be better off without me!" She's dimly aware, in the real world, of tears sliding from under her lids. "One day of feeling normal. I remember normal. Why can't I get back to that?"
"And that's the choice you face now."
"Why am I like this? They're people with worse problems than me and..."
He holds up one hand, stopping her.
"You are looking for reasons not to try." He looks directly into her eyes. "To validate giving up."
"It's...hard. I broke y'know? Never feeling good enough...smart enough..."
"You hate yourself. And your son has similar feelings about himself. You've heard him say the same. What example will you give him to follow?"
She curls up into a small ball. She feels him pat her on the shoulder and hears the smile in his voice. "Good decision."
When she looks up, she is alone.
She stretches out under the poui tree, collecting all the peace she can before she has to wake up and find a way to start living again.