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When Kristin was 16, she wanted nothing more than to melt into a black hole.
Most would say she was going through her ‘edgy teenager phase’, and it was true that that was part of it, but there was something she loved so much about space. There was so much unknown, so much to be seen . Trillions upon trillions of stars, galaxies capable of so much.
The idea of a blackhole fascinated her. No one knew what was on the other side, no one could predict what happened to something that was enveloped by such a massive thing. She was just so very curious .
But, as it were, she wasn’t destined for something like space travel. She didn’t take a single AP class, her math skills were subpar, and no one in her life thought very highly of her.
So when people asked, she would tell them she just liked the idea of space. The aesthetic, the thought. Nothing more.
The closest she could get to space was her college boyfriend. An overly-serious man with not an ounce of fun in his bones, who was working hard to become an astronaut. He was looking for someone loyal, someone who he could come home to, some housewife.
And Kristin complied. She could do that, be that for him, if she just got to hear about his adventures. If she got to live his life through his stories.
Somewhere along the line, between his missions and uneventful dinners, Kristin had Tommy.
Tommy, her sweet baby boy, the light of her life, the sun that cleared the fogged window that were her eyes.
Tommy, who giggled and shined.
Tommy, who was capable of pulling Kristin out of the blackhole she shoved herself into, Tommy who had so much love but seemed to pull it out of you all the same.
Kristin remembered the way he giggled as she pressed kisses all along his face, the way he would try to sneak up on her while she was cooking, the way he would insist she sang him ‘sunshine’ everyday.
“Sunshine,” he would say, shoving his head into the crook of her neck.
“You want me to sing sunshine?” Kristin would respond, immediately making room for him where he would always fit.
Tommy would nod, his eyes going glassy.
“I don’t want to sing sunshine if you’re going to cry, Toms.”
“Why?” He would say, already holding back tears.
“Because when you cry then I want to cry, and I can’t sing and cry.” She would pause, but Tommy would just pout at her, “Are you going to cry?”
“No.” He would deny, snuggling closer.
Kristin would sigh, smiling, “Okay…” and he would always end up crying by the end. Kristin was never sure why he would, maybe he could sense the pure amount of love that Kristin would shove into the lyrics. Maybe the melody just made him a bit sad.
Around two years after Tommy was born, his father had another mission, one he wasn’t allowed to talk about.
That was the last time Kristin saw him. She was never updated on what happened, but still, Tommy had questions.
And what are you to do, as a now single mother, but give your shining star of a son hope?
“He went to space,” Kristin would say, tucking a blonde lock underneath his ear, “To make friends.”
“I go space!” Tommy would smile, leaning into Kristins hand, “I make friends too!”
Kristin would huff a laugh, hiding the way her stomach would drop, and kiss the blonde on the forehead before saying goodnight and leaving.
It was funny, how Kristin got with that man to be closer to space and the only thing it did was make her resent it.
She was right before. There was so much unknown . She should have known it wouldn’t be safe, she should have tried to stop him. Not for herself, no. The marriage was loveless, built on a fantasy that Kristin knew she could never have, but just so Tommy could grow up with a dad.
She saw her younger self in Tommy, in the way that he grew up asking questions about the empty void of stars. They were all simple, easy things for Kristin to answer, but she saw the way her sun would take all the information in.
And, though she wanted to resent the idea of Tommy going to space, it made her think. Think that Tommy could do what she couldn’t.
So she bought him a telescope. A small, cheap thing, but Tommy squealed about it anyway, begging to go outside every night to look at the stars until he would fall asleep in her lap.
That might have been Kristin’s worst regret.
Not the average grades, not the loveless marriage, not letting Tommy’s dad leave but-
But projecting onto her son. Trying to shape him into some she so desperately wanted to be.
Because if she hadn’t, if she had just introduced him to other things, then maybe- maybe he wouldn’t be lost in space.
Kristin was broken out of her stupor by the sounds of Drodents walking towards her cell.
Their footsteps made an uncomfortable, rather disgusting squelch sound as they approached. They spoke a language sounding as though someone was actually drowning, gurgling and popping somehow coming from their mutated looking faces.
And, look, Kristin wasn’t one to usually judge. In highschool, she was a weird kid. She hung around people of all different types really-- but she thought it held at least some merit here. Especially since these aliens separated her from her son.
Their footsteps were accompanied by the clank of rock against metal as they used light blue sticks to hold their decomposing bodies up, some of them dragging the sticks behind them.
Kristin could easily take them out, that was what she was planning to do of course, but there were just so many. Though her plan was slowly falling into place, especially with the way the Drodents approached the cell like she wasn’t a threat.
That was how Kristin knew humans hadn't been out in space much. There had been no research on motherly instinct .
They didn’t know that the worry and rage of losing her son was all encompassing, threatening to take over her mind until she saw him again.
She was going to get her son back. She wouldn’t rest until she found her sunshine again.
When the Drodents turned the light to her cell off, gurgling something entirely incoherent, Kristin was enveloped into darkness; the glowing eyes of the aliens faded down the hallway.
The silence left a ringing in her ears. A ringing she could have sworn sounded something like Tommy.
She could’ve sworn it sounded like that same memory.
“Sunshine!” His voice rang.
So, she sang. She cried, but she sang.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away.”
And she hoped, somewhere across the void, Tommy could hear her. Somehow, someway.
“The other night dear, as I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you in my arms
When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
And I hung my head and cried.”
And maybe, somewhere light years away, Tommy hummed the song as he settled down in a new ship with new aliens who didn’t laugh at him. New aliens that seemed nicer than the others.