Beyond the Galaxy

Chapter 3 - Grappling With Brilliance

Isabelle's Point of View

"You know, it's so great to see you again," Mom said. Through the rectangular screen of my laptop, the fuzzy yellow face of a Shih Tzu that was my own mother beamed back at me as she perched her chin in the padding of her paw. "I'm so glad that you called. I'm still trying to figure out how to work this new technology, but it's worth it if I get to hear your beautiful voice again."

Dimness already clouded the room in the late hour. I had already rolled down the dimness of the lights in the dining room to be easier on the eyes, but the low light only sent a tired soreness of longing for sleep through my eyelids. My laptop sat open on the surface of the table in front of me, already possibly five minutes into the online call I had arranged with my mother, islands away at the house where I grew up. I might not have seen the likings of that place in person for eight whole years, but I looked forward to the online chats I set up with my parents. No matter what kind of a day I was having, they knew just how to slip a smile onto my face.

"It's not new, Mom," I reminded her. "This has been around since I was a teenager. Maybe even longer. It's just new to you."

"Oh, that's right. I apologize." Mom gave a compliant nod and reached up to scratch her forehead under the curtain of her blonde bangs. "Nevertheless, I'm so happy to see you again. It makes me sad that we can only talk so late at night because of your work hours. I don't want to take out the time that you should be getting your rest."

"No, it doesn't bother me," I assured her. A muffled rustling sound appeared in the background of Mom's line as she lowered her paw again, setting it on the table in front of her as she watched me. "I'm lucky enough that I can function just as well on two hours of sleep or twelve."

"Just promise me that you won't push yourself, okay?" Mom replied. "You deserve to take a break when you need it. I'm curious about your work, though. Am I allowed to ask about it, or does that go against company policy? Things are so different from when I used to work."

"I'll let you know if you start to cross a boundary," I promised.

"Good," Mom replied gently. "Thank you. I appreciate that. How is everything going? Pretty smoothly? Do you feel like you fit in well?"

"If I didn't fit in, I probably would have realized that before I spent six years working this job," I reminded her. A shadow fell briefly over the image as somebody seemed to walk past Mom's computer.

"Yes, but sometimes you could still change your mind," Mom answered. "What about your boss? Are you getting along well with him? Mr., um... I'm sorry, what was his name again?"

"Tom," I told her, but instantly corrected myself as soon as the name leapt from my tongue. "Well, actually, it's Mr. Nook at work. I call him Tom outside of work when we're hanging out as friends. And yes, we're getting along great. He's my best friend, without a doubt."

"Oh, that's lovely," Mom said. I smiled at the sound of this, though a certain warmth of comfort like a fluffy blanket had wrapped around my heart at the thought of Tom Nook. It was almost like he was sitting right there beside me, blessing me with the ease and tranquility that was his presence. "I love that you can work with animals you can appreciate your time with. It still gives me the shudders to think of that one job you almost got with you-know-who. You and your brother are both so lucky to have jobs that you enjoy so much."

Eight years ago, I had left behind my twin brother, Digby, at home to move out on my own. It had been somewhere around the time that he had excitedly begun work at an interior design company known as the Happy Home Designer and Academy and aside from the overwhelming workload, the demanding clients, and the mental struggles that stirred from all of that, I'd only heard good things about it from him. We hadn't found much success in staying in touch, with me calling home once or twice a month only for us to argue each time I did until he finally cut us off at nineteen. We had reconnected once again at twenty-one—Just weeks before the crisis that had completely altered my mindset. We hadn't called directly since then, but he sometimes popped into the online meetings with my mom and dad.