Kip frowned. ‘I don’t know, M. This is kind of a lot.’

‘Of course it is!’ The lift arrived, and she stepped in. ‘I wouldn’t want anything to do with you if it felt otherwise.’

Tessa

The scene at home was the last thing she expected to find. Instead of discarded clothes and messy toys, there was only Pop, sitting on the couch in a tidied-up living room, a bottle of kick and two empty glasses on the table. He had been waiting, elbows on his thighs, hands folded between his knees. He smiled when she entered the front door.

Pop picked up the bottle. ‘Don’t worry about waking the kids. They’re spending the night next door. Been a while since this home had only grown-ups in it, huh? Not since Aya was born.’ He examined the label. He squinted, holding it at length, then up close, then farther out, trying to find the spot that fit his eyes best. ‘You know, they don’t make this stuff anymore.’ He rotated the bottle for her to see: a bluefish, leaping its way into the stars. ‘Farmer’s Friend,’ he said. ‘They used to make it out of the fruit that wasn’t good enough for the stores. Stopped making it after M Nazari died – must’ve been . . . well, let’s see now . . . I guess forty-some years ago. She was the one who made the stuff. Sweet old lady, always nice to me and my brother. Whenever we’d go down to trade with her, she’d always hand us a bunch of fruit or something after the barter was done. And we’d always say, aw, c’mon, M, we didn’t give you enough for that, here, take a couple extra chips. But she’d always say, no, no, and tell us we were her favourite customers. I think she said that to everybody, but she made you feel like it was true. After she went, though – well, none of her kids were much into brewing, so, the kick went, too.’

Tessa sat down, the back of her neck tingling, her stomach uneasy. She’d been holding the conversation with George in her stomach the whole way home, and the added uncertainty of wherever this conversation was going made her . . . not scared, exactly. But time had slowed, and she felt awake. Present. There was gravity centred around the table. Real gravity, not the conjured stuff in the floor. ‘I remember the label,’ she said. An old memory came back to life. ‘You kept a few bottles on the shelf, over there.’ She pointed. There weren’t bottles there now, but tins of seeds and tech bits.

Pop nodded. ‘For fun and company,’ he said, pouring two generous fingers into the glasses. ‘That’s how your mother always put it. And you two weren’t supposed to touch that shelf. You did once, though.’

‘Oh, stars.’ Tessa laughed. ‘Oh, no. I forgot about that.’

‘When your mother and I were going on a market trip—’

‘The shuttle broke down half a day out, and you had to come home early.’

‘Yeah, we came home to you two dipshits, puking your guts into a blanket.’

‘Hey, that was Ashby, not me. I found a sink.’

Her father gave her a look that told her how little that distinction mattered. ‘Couple of dumb teenagers who couldn’t handle themselves.’

‘I maintain that playing charthump all the next day was an asshole move.’ Full volume drums, for hours and hours. She felt an echo of nausea from memory alone.

Pop laughed heartily. ‘That was your mother’s doing, and you deserved every second of it. Here.’ He handed her a glass. ‘For grown-ups.’

They clinked glasses and sipped. The kick was rough, but once she got past the edges, it warmed her all the way through. She didn’t remember the taste – she didn’t remember much of that adolescent night, honestly – and yet, somehow, it made her feel at home.

‘Ahhhhh,’ Pop said. ‘Stars, that’s fun.’ He took another sip. ‘Do you like it?’

‘I do,’ Tessa said honestly. She eyed the bottle. ‘It’s half empty,’ she said.

‘That it is.’

‘I’ve never seen you drink this.’

‘I’ve been saving it. Wasn’t sure if I’d ever get to have any again.’

Tessa waited patiently. Pop didn’t always make sense on the first go.

‘I first opened this bottle,’ he said, ‘when your brother told me there was something he needed to talk about.’ He briefly met her eyes over the rim of his glass. ‘Would’ve been a good number of years ago now.’

Nobody said anything for a moment. ‘You kept the other half for me,’ Tessa said quietly.

‘Yep,’ Pop said. He drained his glass and exhaled appreciatively. ‘Just in case. I didn’t think I’d bring it out again, but – well, kids have a way of surprising you.’

Tessa stared into her glass, held with both hands low in her lap. She watched sediment drift and swirl in the decades-old kick. She raised the glass and tossed it back in one smooth swallow. ‘We haven’t made a decision yet.’

He refilled both their glasses. ‘Uh huh,’ he said. He left the bottle uncorked. ‘Is George with his folks right now?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘So, you’ve decided between yourselves, then.’

Tessa shook her head. She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. She couldn’t believe anything about this at all. ‘I don’t know.’