through the lens of a living son
Inkwell Wolff
The door slowly opens, and is pushed close by Telemachus, resting his back against it as he lets out a deep breath.
His eyes scan the VIP Suite he had booked for himself at the resort, looking for anything out of place, his emerald eyes tracing over every inch as his hand hovers over his handgun. Eventually everything seems to be normal enough to satisfy his paranoia, and he moves over to the bed, sitting down on it and letting the mattress sink beneath his weight.
He would undo the armored leggings, placing them to the side as he kicks off his shoes and pulls his legs up to sit cross legged on the bed, reaching into his jacket, Telemachus would pull out a well-worn leather journal, and he'd open it up to the bookmarked section. 3/12/2322.
3/12
Telemachus woke me up, kicked my stomach something fierce. He's gonna be an energetic one, I can feel it. Just like his father, always running about the place. Kid is making me crave
Dee's Buffalo Wings. I'll have to ask Ody to pick them up when he heads out.
I'm so excited for this kid, I know I'm gonna spoil him rotten, he's not even born yet and he
means the world to me. I'd do anything for him. Despite how much pain he's causing me right
now hehe
If you're ever reading this Tele, Hey. Be sure to do your homework and give me an easy time
about showering, yeah?
Something's been weighing on Ody, I can tell it in his eyes. He just shies away when I ask
about it. Stubborn man that he is. I just hope I can help him with it.
That's all for today.
-Penelope
Telemachus' eyes get misty, a clear sheen against his black and emerald eyes. Reading this journal was always hard, but it's all he had of her. All he had of his mom. After a few slow breaths, Telemachus steels himself to turn the page to 3/13.
Before he can read anything, Telemachus is startled by a data drive falling into his lap, having fallen from the book. How has he never seen this before?
It doesn't matter, he grabs the drive and pulls his laptop from the bag he discarded earlier in the week, slotting it in and opening the folder that the drive contained.
It holds a series of videos, Telemachus clicks on the first one and full screens it, watching intently.
The video starts, it's a shakily hand-recorded home video. The sounds of songbirds can be heard in the distance, along with a gentle breeze through a forest canopy. Telemachus pinpoints that this is in the forests of Athens II, the Moon of Octanius IV.
There Penelope is, with her olive skin and brilliant orange hair. Crows feet at her eyes show her age, and her rounded face reminds Telemachus of his own. She's in a maternity gown, and holding a hand to her very pregnant stomach, Telemachus assumes she's in the third trimester.
The sound of her gentle humming plays from the speakers of the laptop, and Telemachus immediately wishes he had headphones. The sound of her humming having an immediate relaxing effect on him, causing him to lean back.
She sways back and forth on a swinging bench, clearly trying to soothe the baby, unaware that she's being recorded.
Odysseus' voice comes from behind the camera, "Smile, you're on camera!"
His voice sounds youthful, full of joy, hopeful even.
Penelope startles and turns to the camera with a pout, "Ody! I look like trash right now, don't put me on camera!" Penelope whines.
"Ah come on, you look gorgeous!" Ody's voice rings with a younger version of his self-assured confidence that Telemachus knows him for.
"Yeah yeah, what ever you say Ody," A smile creeps on Penelope's face, infectious enough that Telemachus can feel his own lips twitch into a smile.
"Hey Hun?" Odysseus starts, to which Penelope turns her head. "If you could make sure our son knew one thing, no matter what, what would it be?"
"Hmm..." Penelope thinks on this for a while, swaying back and forth in the gentle breeze, "Probably, that he should always be himself, and that I'm sure he'll do great things!" She responds with a chipper tone, smiling at Odysseus behind the camera.
Odysseus chuckles before responding, "Well we'll be sure to tell him that everyday, yeah?"
"Of course!" Penelope responds, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Now get over here and cuddle with me and your son."
​
The camera is set down, as a young Odysseus enters the frame, lacking his signature beard and scars, he'd curl up with Penelope on the bench, wrapping an arm around her and placing his head on her shoulder.
Penelope's singing can be heard for roughly 30 seconds, before the video cuts, leaving Telemachus in a pseudo-darkness, a solemnness washing over him as he replays the video a few times; trying to burn the memory of it into his very soul.
After the 3rd replay, Telemachus would move the laptop off his lap, and stare into the middle distance.
"Am I doing right by you Mom? Am I making you proud?" Telemachus asks the open air, clutching the journal close to him with fat, salty tears welling up in his eyes.
"I wonder how life would be different if you were still around," Telemachus muses to himself, "How different things would be."
His gaze trails down to the book as he continues,
"Would I still be here? Doing this job?" the question hangs in the air for a few seconds.
"Or would I just be a young adult in Dedale, running around, having fun?" those same tears start to roll down his cheeks.
"We were practically royalty, then you died and Dad threw it all away...." His chest heaves with pain, a single question hanging over his thoughts, but he can't verbalize it just yet.
"How different would I have been?"
A mental dam breaks inside him, the silent crying turning into ugly crying as he hugs the book close, wailing for his mother like a child woken up by a thunderstorm, clinging so tightly to the journal left for him by Penelope.
After a few minutes, maybe half an hour, his crying subsides, his chest heaving as he gulps for air.
The single thought remains.
"Can you grieve someone you've never met?" He asks nobody in particular, more just verbalizing the thought. It hangs heavy in the air, a question he'll never truly know the answer to.
"Are you proud of me?" another question he'll never get the answer for.
​
Telemachus stews in the resulting silence for a few minutes, letting himself soak and marinate in his own feelings. Afterwards, he'd stand up, close his laptop and move to the bathroom, splashing water on his face to help alleviate the tear marks before looking up into the mirror.
He sees his mother's traits in his face, and another pang of pain hits him straight through the chest.
Without dwelling on it, he stands up fully, getting a glass of water and heading to his balcony to watch the beach and the ocean. He's had enough soul-searching for today. He just wants peace.
Inkwell Wolff is a trans girl who also happens to be a Young Sci-fi writer. Having grown up with I.P.s like Isaac Asimov's Robots and Murder, along with Bungie/343/Halo Studio's Halo game series, Sci-fi has always been a big part of her life, and as She got older, She found herself wanting to press the boundaries and limits on what Sci-fi could mean to people, including things like expression of gender and grief of lives you never had.