By Jon Adcock
It was a diamond day. Sunlight cascaded from an achingly blue sky, and a faint, sweet smell of honeysuckle floated in the air. Sara, a young woman in her 20s, put her tablet next to her on the bench and took it all in. The park was full of young couples enjoying the holiday and the warm weather. Music from dozens of different players filled the air. In a bit of shade nearby, a couple drowsily lying on a blanket were dappled with the light that filtered through the trees.
A shadow fell across her, and she raised her hand to her eyes to make out the figure standing before her. It was a man in his late 50s. He was balding, with close-cropped hair and a beard heavily flecked with grey. Kind and weathered, his eyes met hers as he gave her a shy smile.
“Hi, miss. Could I share the bench with you?” His voice was soft, carrying a hint of weariness. “I walked here, and it was a lot further than I thought. Just need a few minutes to rest.”
“Of course.” Sara picked up her tablet and slid over to give him room.
While he sat on the end of the bench and stretched his legs before him, Sara half-heartedly began scrolling through her newsfeed. She watched her companion from the corner of her eye and tried to remember the last time she’d seen grey hair.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it,” he said half to himself.
“What do you mean?” Sara set her tablet down, her curiosity piqued, her eyes fixed on the man.
“No children. I used to bring my daughter here when she was little. On a day like today, it would be full of young families. Over there used to be a playground.” He pointed to an area where several volleyball nets were strung.
“It’s the only way to stabilise the population,” Sara said, and it sounded so much like a cliched government slogan that she instantly regretted it, feeling a pang of guilt for her insensitivity. “There’s still the lottery. I know the odds are really, really bad, but my partner and I have registered for it. I’d like to have a child someday.”
He nodded, and they sat in silence for a while. The man eventually closed his eyes and leaned back against the bench. Sara studied her companion covertly as she pretended to read. She had lots of questions but didn’t know how to ask them. An errant volleyball eventually came bouncing up and struck him in the knee. After he had thrown it back to the players, she smiled at him and decided to go for it.
“Have you started your treatments yet?” she asked, knowing it bordered on rudeness.
“No, and I don’t plan to.”
“Why?”
“Look, you seem nice, and I don’t want to offend.” He nodded toward the bracelet on her right wrist. The silver bracelet had a stylized image of a Phoenix rising from the ashes. It signified that she was one of the Renewed.
“You won’t offend me. My partner, Mark, is always complaining about how nosy I am. Please tell me. I want to know.”
“Look, don’t get me wrong, the treatments are a miracle. We’ve discovered the Fountain of Youth, and I’d give anything to be young again. But not everything. Do you remember anything of your past life?” His voice got softer when he asked the question, and he looked into her eyes as if searching for something.
“No, no one does.”
“The treatments are a treasure they hold out to us, glittering and glistening in their hands, but the asking price is too much for me. I don’t want to lose everything that makes me who I am. I don’t know who would wake up in that hospital room after the last treatment, but it wouldn’t be me.”
“I like to think I’m the same person, but I won’t lie, it was rough. Especially learning how to talk and walk again. I’ve heard they’ve been able to cut the rehabilitation time in half.”
“I’m also avoiding the treatments because of my daughter.” There was a long pause after he said that. Sara waited. He stared straight ahead when he started talking again as if looking into another world. “Tess died in an automobile accident when she was sixteen. If I get the treatment, I’ll forget her first words, her first steps, everything. It would be like she had never been born, and I won’t do that to her.”
“What about her mother?” Sara reached out and took his hand.
“Her mother got the treatment, but don’t think less of her for that. I don’t. The thing about grief is that it’s all it’s cracked up to be. It becomes your constant companion. If you’re lucky, you learn to live with it. My wife couldn’t, so she chose to forget. Now, I’m all that’s left to keep Tess’s memory alive. It may seem like a burden, but I gladly carry it. But this is too dark of a conversation for such a beautiful day, and I’ve taken up too much of your time.”
“It’s fine. I’ve enjoyed talking with you.”
“I’ve enjoyed it too. I hope you and Mark can have that child one day. You’ll be a wonderful mother, Sara.”
After he walked away, Sara picked up her tablet and started to scroll through it. She abruptly dropped the tablet, stood up, and tried to find him among the crowds in the park. He was nowhere to be seen. He had called her Sara, and she was sure she had never told him her name.
About the Author
Jon Adcock
A lover of alt-rock, Akira Kurosawa movies, and craft beer, the author lives in Northern California with his wife and two kids.
His beautiful wife definitely could do better, but, luckily for him, she hasn't caught on to that fact yet.
Rage Against the Machine, the Black Keys, and the Warlocks are in heavy rotation on Spotify for writing inspiration.
Our weekly podcast features the stories from recently published issues, often narrated by the authors themselves.
Merri Andrew writes poetry and short fiction, some of which has appeared in Cordite, Be:longing, Baby Teeth and Islet, among other places.
Emma Louise Gill (she/her) is a British-Australian spec fic writer and consumer of vast amounts of coffee. Brought up on a diet of English lit, she rebelled and now spends her time writing explosive space opera and other fantastical things in
Sarah Jane Justice is an Adelaide-based fiction writer, poet, musician and spoken word artist.
Chuck McKenzie was born in 1970, and still spends much of his time there.
Geraldine Borella writes fiction for children, young adults and adults. Her work has been published by Deadset Press, IFWG Publishing, Wombat Books/Rhiza Edge, AHWA/Midnight Echo, Antipodean SF, Shacklebound Books, Black Ink Fiction, Paramour Ink Fiction, House of Loki and Raven & Drake
Ed lives with his wife plus a magical assortment of native animals in tropical North Queensland.
Sarah Pratt is an avid fiction writer and a Marketing Consultant.
Margaret lives the good life on a small piece of rural New South Wales Australia, with an amazing man, a couple of pets, and several rambunctious wombats.
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Barry Yedvobnick is a recently retired Biology Professor. He performed molecular biology and genetic research, and taught, at Emory University in Atlanta for 34 years. He is new to fiction writing, and enjoys taking real science a step or two beyond its known boundaries in his
Mark is an astrophysicist and space scientist who worked on the Cassini/Huygens mission to Saturn. Following this he worked in computer consultancy, engineering, and high energy research (with a stint at the JET Fusion Torus).
Alistair Lloyd is a Melbourne based writer and narrator who has been consuming good quality science fiction and fantasy most of his life.
Tim Borella is an Australian author, mainly of short speculative fiction published in anthologies, online and in podcasts.
My time at Nambucca Valley Community Radio began back in 2016 after moving into the area from Sydney.