“I am Gia Ursara, Little Bear. My mother is Fer Ursara, Golden Bear. My grandmother was …”

“Noha Ursara. I know.” He stared at her now, as if she had just told him she could fly. She understood that this was a shock. Her grandmother had been the tribe elder, the gifted magician, the one consulted on all tribe matters, small or grand. She foretold of all things, even his leaving, and she gave him his blessing to leave, the first of the tribe ever to do so. It was as if he were meeting royalty, and she hated it.

Sunday we walked around with K and we saw ahead a girl in a dress behind her lemonade stand (50 cents a glass, cookies extra) with earbuds in. I asked R if he had money (he always does) but he said no, he didn’t bring any. I rummaged through my pockets as we got closer but found nothing. When we arrived she took her earbuds out and heard us (lame adults) saying we hadn’t brought money on our walk, and she said a very soft (attempting to be cheerful) “That’s okay,” but I was sad and just wanted to disappear.

“As you approached 18, we heard rumors, talk of your wanderlust. Then one summer night grandmira told me you would come. She said you would ask to be released and follow another calling. This was the bravest thing I could imagine, to leave your destiny and go to another.”

This admission released Kona from the shock he was feeling. He visibly softened and leaned back slowly on the bench. She turned her shoulders so that she faced him, still unable to look directly at him, fighting her headache as she smoothed a section of the purple satin between her fingers.

“And then one night you arrived for the blessing. I stood with the … asda … to the side.” She used their word for a female ready to become a woman, refusing to call herself a girl. In her eyes, she and Kona were practically equals. “You met with grandmira and soon after walked out tall and proud. Everyone was in disbelief that you were given blessing to go, but I was not.”

“You have the gift to see.” He spoke quickly, almost excitedly.

“Oh, no.” Gia smiled and looked up. “She told me beforehand that she would bless you.”

“And that is when I knew what I would do, too.” She breathed in quickly, then her words fell over themselves so that she could clarify. “I didn’t know that you and I would work together. I didn’t follow you.” She knew what he must have been thinking then, that she had tried to make his path her own. But it wasn’t true. “I went to the academy, yes, but I didn’t stay. I didn’t want to be an officer. I transferred out to the civilian science academy, and …”

“Yes, I know. You are on my crew.”

“Of course.”

When I heard I’d been requested by the Topaz, I was thrilled. I had no idea you were commander. Then you walked into my lab …” She looked into his eyes, caught their golden flecks. The stuffy air had brought his musky scent to her, and his lips were slightly parted. In the gentle light he was more handsome than she’d ever seen him.

“I still don’t understand. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I tried, but I couldn’t. My work is the most important thing in my life. If you knew who I was, you might be intimidated …”

She was in sick bay with Fields for longer than she expected. He ran a battery of annoying tests and scans to be safe, he said. It turned out she was fine, just a “tension” headache and a nice bump on the head. Kona hadn’t even stayed around to find out how she was.

By the time she got back to her cabin she was too tired for a shower. She crawled under the cool, thin sheets in her tank and shorts, and laid there, staring at the ceiling. She was exhausted but completely unable to sleep. Damn that Kona.

She was doing very well. Others said so, too, and her staff liked her, had already improved in productivity for the lab over the last two months. Yet he called her out on the slightest oversight, even for things over which she had little control. The staff had noticed it too, even though Kona always spoke with her in her glass-wall office. Some staff members had mentioned in passing that before she took over he never even bothered to stop by. Pretending she didn’t know him was getting harder each week, and keeping her hair in place was a challenge.

Recently she’d seen him coming into the gym also. She’d been born a mountain climber and took to the difficult climbing walls right away. He was a runner, of course, and passed below her when he was headed toward the virtual running courses. When she noticed him she turned her head quickly away, and luckily she was way up most of the time, too far away for him to glimpse her dark tribal markings.

Now, unable to sleep, she wanted to use the late-night time wisely … check in with Lia, see how the lab – Lia’s lab, now — was going.

As Gia started writing about her latest minor infraction, she saw the bar doors open, drawing her attention from the pad. Hardly anyone came in this late, so the motion made her look carefully. It was Kona. He saw her before she could dip her head, so she changed gears, writing furiously about nonsense that came right to mind, hoping he’d go to the other side of the bar if she looked busy. But after a minute she sensed someone at the side of her table. She nonchalantly grabbed her hair and ensured it was pulled down over her cheek.

The last thing she thought he’d say. “Yes, certainly.” She quickly clicked closed the letter file, leaving the pad blank, glowing a whiteish blue. She tipped her pad toward her chest instinctively, as if she’d been writing the secret codes to the security system. He slowly settled himself across from her at the table, placing his steaming mug down gently. She stared into the open well of the cup, and as if answering her unspoken question, he stated, “Pina tea. I used to drink this as a child. When I can’t sleep I always seem to come back to this.”

She knew Pina tea. It was a willowy plant from their plains. The leaves were dried and boiled with water, and it relaxed the muscles. She reminded herself not to comment, not to give away that she had experience with it.

“Warm milk.” She pushed the pad to the right side of the table and lifted her own brown vessel up to indicate her beverage of choice.

The silence was awkward. Gia sipped from her glass and looked to the twinkling stars, wondering if he just wanted company or had something specific to say. He looked over at her pad.

“I haven’t seen one of those in a long time.” He leaned back in his chair.

“Lets me be more descriptive than videos.” She ran her hand through her hair, pushing it farther over her cheek. “I’m writing to my former colleagues, checking on the lab.”

“Do you wish you’d stayed there?” He looked into her eyes, a straight expression on his face.

“No … no.” The question caught her off-guard. He was usually direct but never personal. “I needed a change. And a chance to learn about new species …” She looked down into her milk. “Meet new people.”

“The staff really likes you. I’m sure they’d be happy to have you join them outside work.”

“I like them, too. … “ She wasn’t sure what he was getting at. “You mean organize a staff party.”

He leaned forward. “I mean, I see you alone for the most part. In the gym. In here. …”

She spit, “I’m not the only one alone in the gym.” She sounded childish, but part of her was glad it had been said. Fine, they were watching each other. He wanted her to assimilate better and she just couldn’t stop checking him out.

He looked off past her shoulder in thought and took a large swallow of his tea. “True, Landon. We’re lone wolves, you and I. It’s good to know another.”

She wanted to tell him, blurt out how, yes, they were both wolves, both from the same pack. Maybe it was the late, dark hour or the personal conversation that gave her the courage, but carrying around this heavy secret was exhausting her, making her make stupid mistakes at work and lose sleep at night. There was no better time than now.

“Commander, you may have just met me, but …”

She didn’t bother to voice activate the door for him; it was already open as he came down the hall. He wondered how he’d find her. It was highly unusual for her to be calling him about anything when she could be sleeping.

He walked in briskly, as if rushing. The air in her cabin was cool and still. He smelled cinnamon and vanilla, scents that brought him back to that first night in her cabin. The low light made him start to let down his guard. But he knew her, and he knew better. She was up to something.

She was reclined in a plush lounge chair in the front sitting area of her quarters, a technical brief in her small hands. Her blonde hair was tousled. She was wearing rose-colored lounge pants and a white wrap top, the neck breaking open low on her chest. The side curve of her left breast peeked out from the edge of her shirt. Her legs were bent at the knee, up on the chair with her. She didn’t rise when he walked in.

“Sir,” he said, stopping a safe distance from her, straightening and clasping his hands tightly behind his back.

“I’ve just been given orders to video in for a rescheduled captains’ Fleet meeting next week. I won’t be able to attend the Discovery conference.” She looked up from the brief, flicked her green eyes over him, and then focused on his face.

“Understood.” He’d never attended without the captain, but this would be an easy assignment. One long day of mission information exchange and a crowded evening dinner. It was mostly show and politics, smiling and shaking hands, keeping peace in the quadrant by sharing the Fleet’s knowledge.

Her eyes narrowed. “I doubt it. I’m sending Landon with you.”

There is a For Rent sign newly on our dirt patch that might be called a front yard. Since this went up some days ago, the neighbors have treated us as if we have leprosy. Is it my imagination? I don’t think so. This is the way things work, right? You try to move forward. I would think others would not care at all or care enough to approach us. Or is it the same thing that happens when someone gives notice in a small office … they think they’ve found something better so are now not one of us.

Landon? “That’s not necessary, sir. I can certainly pass along the data …”

“It’s not necessary, but she needs the experience. She is the chief science officer. Besides, what fun would it be alone?”

As she slightly cocked her head, he realized she was scrutinizing his face, checking his expression, looking for him to react to her decision. What was she looking for – his disgust or pleasure? Was she purposely putting them together?

“Whatever you feel is best.” He wasn’t going to give her anything. He knew her all too well; she’d run with even a glint in his eye.

“It’s the logical thing to do.” She emphasized the words almost in anger. Then she lowered her voice. “You will let her know, won’t you? I’m overwhelmed with these damn briefs on new mission routes.” She waved the brief papers in his direction and then set them on her leg.

“Yes, I’ll tell her.” He didn’t move, waiting for her to continue. When she only stared at him silently, he broke in. “Is there anything else, sir?”

She seemed to think for a moment, then replied, “No, that’s all.” She looked down to read her brief again, effectively dismissing him.

As he exited down the hall, he was more confused than ever. She’d been professional since he’d ended their brief affair, and they’d been able to work well together, but from time to time there’d been a tension he couldn’t put a finger on, and when he’d talked to her then he’d felt it again. She could have spoken with him tomorrow morning but she wanted him in her cabin, wanted him to see her. It was as if she was getting off on putting him and Landon together. Or perhaps she’d been instructed to send Landon, against her wishes.

The family is in Wildwood this week and we are not, of course. We are here packing and working and being parents, which are all good things on their own but when put together feel to me like I am in a pressure cooker. Honestly I would rather be vacationing somewhere new like the Keys or a Caribbean island. I feel like exploring, smelling new air, drinking and eating at a small café with strange flatware and knotty wood on the walls. There are Sam Adams bottles in our fridge but having a beer at home just isn’t the same.

I was looking around at all the STUFF we have as I was packing tonight, and I started to have an anxiety attack. Seriously. I almost started to hyperventilate from the thoughts of moving it all and what the hell do I need this stuff for anyway and I guess I can go through it when we get to the new place and get rid of what I don’t want but do I want any of it. My friend mentioned the attraction of living with little – a nonattachment zen thing. I agree in theory. In practice I suck at it.

Kona’s com sounded abruptly, stopping her.

“Kona.”

“Commander, I know it’s late. Can you come see me in my quarters. I’ve got an issue that is time sensitive.” The captain issued a command. Kona stiffened in his chair.

“Of course. I’m on my way.” Kona tapped the com and pushed his chair back, rising close to the table. “I’ll let you get back to your letter.” He paused as he picked up the mug.

“Yes” was all she could manage. It was fate, she decided. Not the right time to tell him. Perhaps there would never be a right time.

Today I found myself searching the words “new house remorse” and finding some boards on which people had posted my same thoughts (although to be fair they had been living in their “mistake” house for a bit, whereas I am anticipating this remorse once I get there). The responses were suggestions to redecorate, stop searching the realty listings, wait it out for a while and then sell to move to a more desired place. The latter is our plan so far. How sad is it to have a “plan” like that before you even get to live in the house?

Tonight we met friends at a restaurant to see them before things change. The husband joined the army and will train in California for 6 months while his wife and two young daughters stay here until they can join him. He is from Lebanon and speaks Arabic languages, and although R and I understand he needed more stable work to support his family, this choice seems so potentially dangerous. He shaved his head, has worked out for months, looks the part. I was rather silent during dinner (what should I say?) and in leaving simply whispered, “Take care of yourself.”

I had digestive problems, regularly felt sick, cramped up, IBS. I would spend hours awake in the dark early mornings reading online postings by people sharing their stories of their phobias, illnesses, and so on. Although I thought perhaps the pregnancy would bring on greater feelings of sickness, it seemed to keep them away, and I have felt good for quite a while. But now today I feel the twinges again for the first time in a long time. I think it’s all the pressure from moving and packing but what if it’s not? This is how it starts …

I wish there were a homegrown way to be able to record the number of times a day that a thought passed through my mind -- I mean a specific category of thought, not thoughts that could fall in broad groups like CHOCOLATE or FEAR but ones that are directly related to when I compare myself to others. I bet the number would really shock me. I am literally exhausted (and disgusted) just by the thoughts I am aware of -– flashes of whether I am heavier than someone else or poorer or will live in a nicer house … what a waste.

Let’s say that two days ago she was thinking about how she would like to learn a Native American language and today, hidden at the bottom of a forgotten box in the attic, she finds a book on Indian grammar – a newer, reprinted version of an old text – and on the first page is an inscription from the person who sent it to her, and the handwriting is like a friend whose voice she memorized and now hears again after too long, and just hearing it brings back thoughts she assumed she had packed away like a forgotten attic box.

I am eating mild cheddar from a basic supermarket (a husband pick, not personally selected). The package doesn’t even list the state it was made in and it tastes sour and is rather gross (have I mentioned I am a cheese snob and rarely eat cheddar that’s not super-sharp from Vermont). Today my father tells me that a local cheese shop is closing after 48 years. I rarely went there but now I wish I had because they probably had even better cheddar than my favorite from the high-end supermarket that put them out of business.