A Rediscovered Box

I had a bomb dropped on me today.

Han had been digging through Dianna’s old stuff: boxes she kept up in the attic and in the backs of closets, that sort of thing. He was hit hard by Dianna’s death, and seems to be hanging on to anything he can use to remember her by.

That’s not what he says, of course. He’s been insisting Dianna asked him to find a few things. He’s, you know, a little crazy.

Well, today he brought me a small box of photos and letters. They weren’t familiar to me, and I have no idea where he found them, but they had belonged to Dianna. I’m sure she’d been hiding them from me for the entire time we’ve been together.

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Judging from the various states of construction in the background and the size of Dianna’s belly, these photos were taken over a span of years from around the time Dianna and I started dating to just after the triplets were born.

Under normal circumstances, I’d be devastated. However, there were two major factors that enabled me to keep my composure. The first is that, of course, I already knew what had been going on. I mean, look how many people were involved. You don’t mess around with that many people over that many years without leaving a few clues behind.

I loved Dianna. I loved her with all my heart. At the risk of speaking unkindly of the dead, she was a bit of a slut. So what? She was a wonderful wife, a terrific mother, and a beautiful person. Yeah, she messed around a bit on the side. Nobody’s perfect.

Even if I hadn’t known, there was the second factor: the note Dianna had tucked into the box with the photos.

My Dearest Apollo,

If you’re reading this, you probably hate me. I don’t know why I keep this stuff around, and some day I just know it’s going to bite me in the ass, but you know how I am about throwing memories away. That extends to memories I’m not particularly proud of.

So, why did I do it? I don’t know. Maybe I needed more validation than one man could ever give me. Maybe I’ve got some kind of mental disorder (that’d put to rest the debate over which of us Han got it from, wouldn’t it?). A hormonal imbalance, maybe? Whatever it is, it’s not you, as they say, it’s me.

I’m going to say the same thing I’d say to you regardless of whether or not you knew my dirty little secret: I love you. I have always loved you. I have loved you since our very first chess game (which, incidentally, I let you win). I love you as much as a wife has ever loved her husband, and how could I not? You are an amazing man, Apollo, and I’m lucky to have married you.

I hope you have it in your heart to forgive me. If not now, some day.

I love you, Apollo. I always have, and I always will,

Your grateful wife,

Dianna

A Moment, Long Ago

I would give anything to tell the mother of my children and the love of my life that yes, of course, I forgive her.

Tapping the Brakes

I’m wondering if maybe it’s time for Apollo and me to dial things back a bit. We’re aren’t getting any younger, you know, as if that wasn’t obvious from the wrinkles, the gray hair, and the overwhelming urges to yell at the neighborhood kids to get off the lawn.

Leia, Apollo, Me, and Aron

We’ve accomplished a lot in our lifetimes, Apollo and I. We built this place up from nothing, raised a set of triplets, and built strong careers that provided for our family. As proud as I am of all the hard work that got us to where we are now, I wonder if maybe it’s time for us to cut ourselves some slack, and let the next generation take things from here.

The foundation we’ve helped them build under themselves should allow them to take this family places Apollo and I never dared dreaming of. Leia, for example, is following in her father’s footsteps, and joined the family business. For now she’s working as a maintenance engineer on Apollo’s fleet of one ship, but she’s got a real knack for it, and she may just end up a better astronaut than Apollo ever was. Don’t tell Apollo I said that, by the way.

He Dresses Funny but We Love Him Anyway

Meanwhile, Luke’s been scrambling up the corporate ladder at a dizzying pace. He’s worked his way up to a manager position at the software company he works for, and pulling in a pretty impressive salary. He’s doing pretty well for himself, but I will admit the long hours he puts in concern me a bit. When he’s not at the office, he’s typically parked at a computer trying to make sure whatever project he’s managing meets its production deadline. It’s not often he can be found anywhere else. He even eats at his desk most nights, and he hasn’t been particularly picky about what kind of food he’s eating. I’m pretty sure that between all the time spent on his butt and his questionable food selection, he’s starting to spread out a bit.

A Tune-Up Between Chapters

Han, of course, writes. It’s the only thing that seems to keep his mind focused, so I don’t begrudge him all the time he spends putting words on pages. Besides, the royalty checks that come in every day from all the blockbusters he’s written are extremely impressive. While Leia and Luke have done quite well for themselves, Han is a certified, undeniable success. His income at this point is probably more than all of the rest of us combined. Not bad at all for a kid that talks to people who aren’t there.

Han’s also recently developed quite a knack for fixing things, which is always a good thing. Plumbing, electronics, you name it. If it’s broken, he can probably fix it. I think it’s therapeutic for him, like his writing. Something about having to really stop and think about things, and focus on a task, seems to line things up in his brain in a way that give him some normalcy, at least for a short time.

Writing a Song for Apollo

With all the success our kids have had in their respective careers, Apollo and I have started considering that maybe it’s time for us to think about handing off the reigns to our triplets, and spending a little time enjoying our golden years. As much as I’ve enjoyed the job I’ve had playing music at the Hoof and Mouth all these years, and how much Apollo has loved his voyages into the farthest reaches of the galaxy, there’s something really appealing about the idea of being able to sleep late, and focus on things at home for a change. I wouldn’t mind spending a bit more time out in the garden, and Apollo’s starting to wonder if he’ll still have what it takes to dodge a blaster bolt for very much longer, and doesn’t particularly fancy the idea of having a hole in his old gray-haired skull. With Leia and Aron’s wedding coming up soon, it might not be long ’til we’ve got grandchildren to dote on. Maybe it’s time we thought about changing our focus.

Coming Back from an Exploratory Mission

Not that we need to hang everything up, of course. I’ll still have my music, and… well, it turns out that spaceship of Apollo’s isn’t only good for smuggling Denebolan Spice to Sirius V. Turns out it can be downright comfortable, and really comes in handy when we can’t find a little privacy in our crowded house.

The Blonde Leading the Bland

Few things are more stress-inducing than a blind date. Some of the guys at work decided to set me up — they invited me out for drinks after work, where they introduced me to a gorgeous blonde named Dianna. The word “gorgeous” actually doesn’t do her justice. She’s like Olympic-level beautiful, and obviously way out of my league.

Give That Lady a Lasso

It became apparent after a couple drinks that it was a set-up. Conversations were being turned in such a way that Dianna and I would inevitably be pulled into them with each other. It became really obvious what was going on when my co-workers walked us over to a chess board and started talking about the infamous matches between Gary Kasparov and IBM’s Deep Blue computer back in 1996 and 1997. I mean, I’ve bored my peers with chess talk enough times to know they couldn’t care less about it, but apparently Dianna’s got a major interest in it, and it seems they knew that about her. We were clearly being lured into a trap like a couple of geeky mice to a big chunk of nerdy cheese.

Left: Supermodel. Right: Dork.

I don’t know what they were thinking. Dianna’s an absolute stunner and I’m just this long-haired, penniless dweeb who lives on a patch of grass so remote that nobody’s even noticed that I’ve moved in. It was obvious she could do far better than a guy like me, and this was going to go nowhere.

I thought it was obvious, anyway, but the two of us genuinely seemed to be hitting it off as the night went on. She laughed at my jokes, blushed at my feeble attempts to flirt, and didn’t even seem to be too turned off by the fact that I am, essentially, homeless. I think she may have let me win at a chess game. And then, when I started waxing poetic about the views of the stars from the overgrown pasture I like to call my living room as we were leaving the bar, she dropped a huge bomb on me.

The First Kiss

“That sounds beautiful,” she said, as she inched a little closer to my face. “I’d love to see it.” She followed that up by planting a huge kiss on my dumbfounded lips. Or maybe I initiated it. It’s all a little fuzzy now.

I’ve only recently started breathing again.

I won’t go into the gory details, but I can say that the rest of the night went at least as well as what preceded it.

The Morning After

Incidentally, for you mythology scholars out there, I’m fully aware that Apollo’s sister was Artemis, and that her Roman name was Diana. Let’s just treat that piece of trivia like that kiss between Luke and Leia, and pretend it doesn’t exist, OK? Thanks.