November 2088. Jordan Graham is 28, Maria Boone is 26, Johanna is 4.
content warnings: grief, despair
He went dark when he was upset, like he vanished from the whole world, Maria’s world included. And she craved a text, a note, anything. She could give him space. She wasn’t a clingy girlfriend, except that she yearned for some sort of tether, some connection, and maybe that made her clingy after all. But she didn’t want to nag. She didn’t want to be exactly what he was running from in the first place.
She didn’t need him to tell her that it was Colette on the phone. His whole body announced it with tension and grit. The last she heard of him, his voice boomed with a desperation she’d never heard before. He had already walked away from the campsite and she couldn’t hear his words, only the echo of his pleading on the rocks. Mostly she saw the way he shriveled into himself, growing smaller and smaller, until eventually, he stopped arguing back. Maria didn’t need to hear what Colette said to know it was ugly.
“Is he coming home now?”
“Soon,” Maria told her, which was only a hope, of course. She had no way of knowing where he was or when he was coming home. It had been three hours. The last time this happened, she didn’t hear from him for almost two days. But things were different now, and she couldn’t possibly wait that long before she started to panic. At the same time, she had JoJo to think about so panic wasn’t even an option.
JoJo was too riled up to go to bed, but she had finally agreed to put on her pajamas. She was too riled up to even wait inside. Outside, a sharp chill swept across the north Nevada desert, making clear that it would be December in a matter of days. Maria lit the campfire, and they sat beside it.
