Europa

April 15, 2048

Dad made an unexpected visit to Washington D.C. today to deliver me the custody papers in person. To say I was a bit shocked when I came into the living room to see him after work was an understatement. My jaw dropped. I didn't know what to say.

We had dinner together while the neighbor's daughter's baby sat with Diego, and I have to say the conversation was much calmer. He was still extremely disapproving of the idea of me traveling across the solar system, but he seemed calmer and more calculated about his words this time. He also seemed to be actually listening to what I had to say this time around, which was much different than last time's onslaught where I could hardly get a word in.

He went silent when I explained to him that this was not just some random mission, I was jumping on for a chance to see the universe, but a mission I'd been working tirelessly to make a reality for years. Life on Europa was a topic I'd been bothering him about every day when I got home from work back when I still lived with him back in Huston, before I got the job in Washington D.C. Sure he was still completely disapproving of my decision, but he was starting to understand why I had made it which was a big step forward.

After dinner I offered to let him stay in the guest bedroom, but he still insisted on keeping his hotel room for the night as he had an early flight the next morning. I don't know if that's true, but I'm really not in the position to question anything at this point in time. I would understand if he needed space from me again. The dinner was mostly positive, but it went a little sour when he asked me to promise him that I would come home.

I refused. How could I make that promise? I did not have control of the design of the rocket ship we would be traveling on board. I didn't even have the mathematical expertise to test the math the engineers of the rocket ship had used for their calculations. I did not have control of the path the ship would take through the asteroid belt, or the knowledge to fly a rocket in general. Until we landed, I would be a mere passenger, doing some side experiments before going into cryogenic sleep. Shit, in eleven years I didn't even have control over whether I would develop breast cancer and die from a lack of treatment options in space. The reality of the matter was, while I could make smart choices, much of my fate on this mission was out of my hands.

If it was a promise, I knew I could keep, I would have made it in a heartbeat. Promising my father, I would come home safely would be a lie, just like the one my mother told me the day before she died. It's one of the few interactions I truly remember having with her. I don't even know if I remember the actual interaction.

What I do remember is all the times I wrote something like Mommy lied or Mommy said she would come home on a door, or the box of a board game. To this day I still randomly find things I drew words like that on when I look at my old belongings. It was even written on some of Diego's hand me down toys.

I can't make a promise I cannot keep to my father, and I certainly can't make a promise I can't keep to my son.

Instead, I said "I'll do the best I can," to my father. It wasn't enough to ease his mind.