When she was done eating, as she did every year, she walked on the thin path through the wild grasses to the modest headstone.
She’d never asked Loske, but she suspected the unmarked footpath was a deliberate choice. Most of the property was well-kept; most of it was crops, now harvested as fall on this part of Concord Dawn came to an end. Here, for about a half-mile stretch, was a slice of something a little wilder than the fields the Treicolts grew their food in.
It felt like him.
The flowers she’d left last year were still there. Nothing had really struck her at the time; she’d ended up with some Timoran sunpetals, but the sky today was overcast, so they didn’t gleam quite so bright.
“Classic,” she murmured, looking up at the clouds. She went and knelt by the grave.
“Hey,” she said. “Sorry I’m late. I feel like Loske and Maynard get better at cooking every year.”
She rubbed the stone, suddenly struck by how dark it’d gotten. Moss had started to crawl up the base. “You’ve gotten older.”
She reached into her bag. “I don’t know how often the kids visit you, but- Kara’s more incredible every time I see her. She made brownies,” she said, pulling two out. She put one on the stone and one in her mouth. “They’re really good.
“And the boys- no, I shouldn’t be surprised. Maynard’s a good dad. I wish I spent more time with them when they were growing up.”
She finished her brownie.
“Vhi visited me, um, last month. We had dinner. He’s got a girlfriend now, and like- all the pictures I got him to show me were super touchy, and I was like, that’s awesome. I’m really glad he doesn’t have that problem anymore. Pretty sure when he left it was like, the second hug he’d ever given me. But it wasn’t just because we know each other, it was like, he does that all the time now I think. Makes him happy.
“Oh- Losa’s gonna be valedictorian. Or so she says, hasn’t been confirmed yet. But if she is I’m gonna go down and watch her speech. GCU invited me to speak, because like, they always do, but if she gets it I’m just gonna help her with her speech. Gonna be, like, the one that moms pull up on the holonet when they want to be inspired or whatever. She said she wanted to talk about you and the tattoos. I think it’s gonna be really good. She’s a better writer than I am.
“Kyla’s still holding down the fort. But, she said she was gonna do some traveling soon, so I told her about some of the places we got to go to. But she said she’d find her own way, which- very you.”
She paused.
“I heard from Kyric, too, actually. He said he’s doing alright.” She could never tell. She imagined that this was like what his father had been like to people who didn’t know him like she did.
“I’ll get him to visit sometime. The place is always empty, might as well have someone over.”
There was a lull in her thoughts. She reached over to the sunpetals and unwove them, returning the strands to the Force. Though the sky had cleared a little, it was already starting to get dark. She fiddled, looking up at the sky.
“You remember that, um, that night… back at the Temple, you came over, at like, 3 AM. And you…” She stopped again, wiped her eyes, and laughed. “Force, even when I’m late, this always happens on time.”
She sniffled a minute or two, not yet in the ugly-cry part of the evening yet. He was patient with her.
“You, um, you asked me about my dream. My vision for the Order. And I remember we had a great conversation, and everything, but I just- I can’t remember what I told you.” Sniffle. Tear wipe. “I- I remember everything. You know me. I just- it’s a blank. I can’t.
“And then I think about it, and I’m like- I can barely remember how I got here. I only remember the bad parts. I only think about all the things I’m tired of with this. And I just- why am I even here, you know? I’m the most powerful woman in the galaxy, and it’s nothing. I feel like my skull is being compressed. Don’t even get me started on my polling. I don’t even know how I do it at this point. I’m just…”
She laughed again, then cried a little more. “This is my day off. This is my day off. All the power in the galaxy and I get a day off. Should’ve listened to Cotan.”
She rubbed her nose.
“I miss you.” She said that every time. “I say that every time. I just feel lost. I’m forgetting why I’m doing what I’m doing. Like, I’m sitting there listening to the debates thinking about what a great paper I’d write dissecting these arguments. Almost makes me regret getting into politics.
“I’ve had thirty requests from people to ghostwrite a memoir for me. And it’s just so- so empty. Nobody knows me anymore. Even if I talked to Adhira, I’d probably… I don’t know.”
The glow of the sun faded, and left them under the stars, only a couple peeking through the clouds.
“I don’t even know if I want to do good anymore. I- of course I do. It’s just… the power I have. If I used it to shape the galaxy- make it how I wanted, would I still be good? I know you think I am, but it’s because I don’t do that. It’s not about me. Never can be.
“I see all these brilliant, incredible people — Jedi, Senators, all the rest — more moral than I am, and I think, I could never trust you with this. I don’t think I could even trust you. So how could they trust me?”
She sighed, then laughed again. “Every time I come I tell Loske not to ask me about work. Even back then, I- I don’t know if I ever could articulate to her what I was thinking. And I love her with all my heart. But- I don’t know. You were always different.”
She rubbed her eyes. Finally it came to her; she reached down to that old connection, now slack, and drew from it her threads. She wove, pouring her whole being into a miniscule thing — a small inflorescence from Naboo. Queen’s Heart, red like blood, beautiful like the sun.
She placed it gently on the grave’s base. “Thank you for listening,” she said, putting her forehead against the stone.
She looked up at the sky again, as always, wondering if she had something else to say, or if she’d leave it for next year. After a few minutes, or maybe an hour, she rose, and walked back down the path.
She’d never asked Loske, but she suspected the unmarked footpath was a deliberate choice. Most of the property was well-kept; most of it was crops, now harvested as fall on this part of Concord Dawn came to an end. Here, for about a half-mile stretch, was a slice of something a little wilder than the fields the Treicolts grew their food in.
It felt like him.
The flowers she’d left last year were still there. Nothing had really struck her at the time; she’d ended up with some Timoran sunpetals, but the sky today was overcast, so they didn’t gleam quite so bright.
“Classic,” she murmured, looking up at the clouds. She went and knelt by the grave.
“Hey,” she said. “Sorry I’m late. I feel like Loske and Maynard get better at cooking every year.”
She rubbed the stone, suddenly struck by how dark it’d gotten. Moss had started to crawl up the base. “You’ve gotten older.”
She reached into her bag. “I don’t know how often the kids visit you, but- Kara’s more incredible every time I see her. She made brownies,” she said, pulling two out. She put one on the stone and one in her mouth. “They’re really good.
“And the boys- no, I shouldn’t be surprised. Maynard’s a good dad. I wish I spent more time with them when they were growing up.”
She finished her brownie.
“Vhi visited me, um, last month. We had dinner. He’s got a girlfriend now, and like- all the pictures I got him to show me were super touchy, and I was like, that’s awesome. I’m really glad he doesn’t have that problem anymore. Pretty sure when he left it was like, the second hug he’d ever given me. But it wasn’t just because we know each other, it was like, he does that all the time now I think. Makes him happy.
“Oh- Losa’s gonna be valedictorian. Or so she says, hasn’t been confirmed yet. But if she is I’m gonna go down and watch her speech. GCU invited me to speak, because like, they always do, but if she gets it I’m just gonna help her with her speech. Gonna be, like, the one that moms pull up on the holonet when they want to be inspired or whatever. She said she wanted to talk about you and the tattoos. I think it’s gonna be really good. She’s a better writer than I am.
“Kyla’s still holding down the fort. But, she said she was gonna do some traveling soon, so I told her about some of the places we got to go to. But she said she’d find her own way, which- very you.”
She paused.
“I heard from Kyric, too, actually. He said he’s doing alright.” She could never tell. She imagined that this was like what his father had been like to people who didn’t know him like she did.
“I’ll get him to visit sometime. The place is always empty, might as well have someone over.”
There was a lull in her thoughts. She reached over to the sunpetals and unwove them, returning the strands to the Force. Though the sky had cleared a little, it was already starting to get dark. She fiddled, looking up at the sky.
“You remember that, um, that night… back at the Temple, you came over, at like, 3 AM. And you…” She stopped again, wiped her eyes, and laughed. “Force, even when I’m late, this always happens on time.”
She sniffled a minute or two, not yet in the ugly-cry part of the evening yet. He was patient with her.
“You, um, you asked me about my dream. My vision for the Order. And I remember we had a great conversation, and everything, but I just- I can’t remember what I told you.” Sniffle. Tear wipe. “I- I remember everything. You know me. I just- it’s a blank. I can’t.
“And then I think about it, and I’m like- I can barely remember how I got here. I only remember the bad parts. I only think about all the things I’m tired of with this. And I just- why am I even here, you know? I’m the most powerful woman in the galaxy, and it’s nothing. I feel like my skull is being compressed. Don’t even get me started on my polling. I don’t even know how I do it at this point. I’m just…”
She laughed again, then cried a little more. “This is my day off. This is my day off. All the power in the galaxy and I get a day off. Should’ve listened to Cotan.”
She rubbed her nose.
“I miss you.” She said that every time. “I say that every time. I just feel lost. I’m forgetting why I’m doing what I’m doing. Like, I’m sitting there listening to the debates thinking about what a great paper I’d write dissecting these arguments. Almost makes me regret getting into politics.
“I’ve had thirty requests from people to ghostwrite a memoir for me. And it’s just so- so empty. Nobody knows me anymore. Even if I talked to Adhira, I’d probably… I don’t know.”
The glow of the sun faded, and left them under the stars, only a couple peeking through the clouds.
“I don’t even know if I want to do good anymore. I- of course I do. It’s just… the power I have. If I used it to shape the galaxy- make it how I wanted, would I still be good? I know you think I am, but it’s because I don’t do that. It’s not about me. Never can be.
“I see all these brilliant, incredible people — Jedi, Senators, all the rest — more moral than I am, and I think, I could never trust you with this. I don’t think I could even trust you. So how could they trust me?”
She sighed, then laughed again. “Every time I come I tell Loske not to ask me about work. Even back then, I- I don’t know if I ever could articulate to her what I was thinking. And I love her with all my heart. But- I don’t know. You were always different.”
She rubbed her eyes. Finally it came to her; she reached down to that old connection, now slack, and drew from it her threads. She wove, pouring her whole being into a miniscule thing — a small inflorescence from Naboo. Queen’s Heart, red like blood, beautiful like the sun.
She placed it gently on the grave’s base. “Thank you for listening,” she said, putting her forehead against the stone.
She looked up at the sky again, as always, wondering if she had something else to say, or if she’d leave it for next year. After a few minutes, or maybe an hour, she rose, and walked back down the path.
