@gaby-crbKayla’s boots hit the ground. The dry earth scattered into dust clouds as she strode across the front of the house. Manny was late again.
The harsh sun beat down against her brown skin. She looked off into the distance, the heat haze sat above the plain, rippling the sight of the far off mountains.
She lifted her arm, checking her watch. The sun reflected across the scratched screen. She ran her finger over the deepest scratch. It had still worked after her accident.
A young boy came hurtling out of the front door and blindly ran straight into her. The force knocked them both to the ground.
She fell hard. Her limbs scraped against loose stones and the scorched dirt.
“What in the devil are you playing at?”
She got up quickly, patting herself off in the process.
The young boy sat still. Tears rolling down his dirty cheeks. He coughed as he struggled to breathe, the fine dust getting into his lungs.
Manny stepped onto the veranda and placed his hands on his hips. His shirt hung open and his hat tilted on his head.
Kayla shook her head at the sight of him. She had known Manny her entire life but she was always surprised to see him so relaxed at his home.
“This your boy Manny?”
“Aye, that be Thomas.”
“He make yer’ late then?”
Manny walked down the front steps and helped his son up. Thomas took the offered hand reluctantly.
Kayla chuckled to herself.
“Better bring him with us. ‘Bout time he learned the family trade.”
Manny and Thomas followed Kalya towards her truck. The truck smelled of licorice and sawdust. The engine rattled into life. Thomas slid into the centre. His eyes still pooling with tears.
Manny opened up a hip flask, taking a sip. He growled as the harsh liquid hit his throat. He passed it to Kayla, she drank as she drove across the open land.
“What them tears about then?”
She asked as she passed the flask back.
Manny laughed. “He got a clip round the ear for talking cheek to his mother, didn’t ya’ boy?”
Kayla gripped the wheel tighter as the truck bounced over the rough terrain.
“Well, that seems rightly deserved then. Ya’ don’t talk like that to your ma kid, ya’ just don’t.”
The truck swayed as the tires followed the grooves and tracks of the land. Thomas was the most affected by the force, having spent very little time in vehicles of any kind. He watched as the truck traveled through a river, unaffected by the water.
Manny lit up a cigarette and tilted his head back as he exhaled. The smoke filled the air quickly, Thomas started coughing.
“Quit it will ya manny. The kid got weak lungs or summit’?”
“He’s a weaklin’ alright.”
Manny laughed as he clapped his son on the back.
Kayla knew that laugh. She kept her eyes on the distant mountains, not able to look at Manny.
“Is it.. ?”
There was a moment’s silence; Manny nodded in reply, only to realise she’d hadn’t noticed.
“Aye, gets ‘em all out ‘ere, got yer two dint it…”
Kayla swallowed, glancing at the scratched watch - a sharp reminder of her headfirst dash down the dark roads of grief, straight into a stone wall. Loss was part of life, she’d come to accept that now
Manny had trailed off, flicking the smouldering butt out the window, again slapping the still wheezing child on his back - as though to knock the vigour into him.
“Right then Thom boy, ‘bout time we get teaching you the trade,”
Thomas had stopped sniffling, and was wiping a sticky smear of snot on his sleeve. He looked up, eagerness creeping onto his puffy face.
“Can I really press the buttons?”
“Now what did Ma tell ya umpteen times? It’s not a toy!”
For a moment, his excitement dipped, remembering the harsh slap of his mother's hand.
“But yes, if you’re good, you can press ‘em.”
A wonky toothed grin stretched over the gaunt face, as hands clasped each other in Thomas’s best effort to sit still.
Reaching the gaping entrance to the crater mine complex, Kayla pulled the truck to a stop. Thomas, energised with enthusiasm, was already pushing open the panel window behind them, wriggling out onto the flat bed.
“Oi!” Manny grabbed a spidery ankle, “Where dya think yer goin’?”
Thomas giggled, a sparkling infectious laugh that caught Kayla with him. Seeing her grin, Manny softened, letting go, and the second he could, Thomas tumbled through the hatch.
“You be careful boy! Don’t be messin’ now!”
It was too late, the child, so rarely allowed outside, was raring around the truck, his spindly arms raised, shuddering in front of him - his best impression of the remote drilling machinery.
A comfortable silence grew in the cabin, the two friends had seen so much together, this was one thing they hadn't dared to hope for.
Kayla fought an internal battle, her heart twitching with possibility, weighted by loss. Part of her was angry with reckless, chain smoking Manny and his disregard for the boy, but she knew all too well, it made it easier in the end. Yet she couldn’t deny the hope she felt surging through her, to finally see a child, fit and well enough to run around outside, kicking up plumes of red dust.
They’d settled here a decade ago, there was no going back, a body could adjust from 1G to 0.1G, but not the other way around. They hadn't known that then though, there was so much they hadn't known.
Kayla placed a worn, cracked hand over Manny’s.
“He ain’t ‘alf as weak as you make out, it’s good to let him out, teach him the ways, this one could make it.”
Manny snatched his hand away, reaching for the hip flask.
“Don’t.”
Kinda kicking myself, should've had Kayla drop Manny and Thomas off somewhere, like a casual lift, and go off on her own adventure, seen as the story was named for her. Oh well, no time to write another one, we get what we get and apologise for it. I had wanted to explore the way this dude treated his less than robust kid and the dynamic between the two adults - lifelong friends (or family) yet she's never met his kids. Ended up with settlers on another world, where kids not making it has become something every parent has had to accept, and how different people cope with that.
This is my entry to #finishthestory held over on the 
