The man glared at John.
His wife sat next to him, eyes wide, occasionally letting her gaze shift back and forth between her husband and John like a spectator at Wimbledon. John wore more of a confused countenance. The wife had asked him to come over and talk to her husband. He was happy to do so as this was the role he often played in their bustling pod. “John can you talk to Mike about his study habits?” or, “John we need help, I think Jacob is seeing another woman.” Funny how even an outpost on Mars could experience the same crap they had back in the old country. INASCA failed to see ‘marriage and family therapist’ as a practical skill, however, so the valuable human cargo space on the transport from Earth was relegated to men and women who could, as the colonists like to say, “farm, fix, fight, and fuck.” As a mechanic John could certainly do two out of four of those things which qualified him for the trip; but apparently his skills as a calm mediator were more valuable to the people of New Houston at this very moment.
John looked at the man and said, “Tim, you asked to talk to me today and I’m not trying to make you mad. What do you and Laura need from me?”
Tim’s face was red and he looked down at his coffee and said, “I guess I’m just an asshole.”
Laura looked at John desperately, “This is what he says every time.”
Tim, almost excited to have something else to look at, snapped his gaze to Laura and chuckled as he spat, “You think I’m the one with the problem and John sits over there with his smug smile and you two think you have it allll figured out. Well fine. That’s just fine.” Eyes back to the coffee cup.
John looked at Laura who still resembled a deer in the headlights. “Laura I’m not sure what I can do here. You’re saying that Tim isn’t taking his medication regularly. When he doesn’t take his medicine you notice he’s getting disoriented so you remind him. He gets mad at you for reminding him and you two don’t talk for days. Maybe you should just let him die on the floor.”
This got Tim’s attention.
“Is that what you would do with YOUR husband? Let him die on the floor? Do you even KNOW anyone with diabetes?”
Funny thing about diabetes. Apparently it was able to make it past the ‘farm, fix, fight or fuck’ manifesto and settle nicely on the red planet.
Tim was getting more agitated. He seemed excited to have someone besides Laura as a target for his acidic comments. He was addressing John again, “You have NO idea what it’s like to have a family member with diabetes.”
John regulated his breathing and felt his teeth open slightly. The extra space in his mouth allowed his tongue to move as he inaudibly verbalized a mantra praying for peace and the right words. The knot in his stomach was moving toward his throat and he adjusted the next breath to loosen it before it triggered a more violent reaction.
Tim had narrowed his eyes and was leaning forward. His hands were on his knees. John doubted Tim would move to strike him, but he imagined Tim’s confidence was bolstered right now with the thought that he could. John wondered fleetingly if Tim’s sugar was low.
Katenotkatherine 