Me and My Moon Man
a short story by Ernio Hernandez
“I can’t actually ‘make it rain’…” Fengari said jokingly on his last transmission home.
“Oh no, dad, don’t,” Luna begged, knowing the inevitable was coming.
“But…”
“Please don’t, dad,” she pleaded, firmly inserting her face into her palm.
“…if I were to propel my water supply at just the right trajectory, you might feel whatever doesn’t completely burn up upon reentry into the atmosphere.”
Luna laughed, not at the joke, but at her father’s horrible attempt at humor. He had heard the song lyric once when Luna and her mom commandeered the radio on a road trip. It was hysterical trying to explain to a man of science what it meant to throw your money in the air. “Like you just don’t care?” he asked, completely unaware of the hip-hop reference he had just made.
With an overly audible sigh, Luna volleyed her father’s joke, “I think we’re breaking up…”
“Luna, this is a multi-million-dollar satellite communication system, you cannot fake a dropped call.”
“What? Wha… that, I can’t… you. Hello?…Are you…”
“Luna,” he said in his most fatherly voice, stretching the vowels in her name with disapproval.
She gave. “Dad, my jokes are way better than yours.”
“I cannot deny you that, my love. Thankfully, you got your mother’s sense of humor.”
Jokes were not Fengari’s strong suit. Nor were they among the many skills required for space travel. Engineering degree, piloting experience, 20/20 visual acuity and all other standard physical attributes aside, Fengari would completely bomb if he ever tried his material at an open mic night.
That wasn’t the kind of bombing mission control was concerned with, however, when they lost contact with their man on the moon.
“Everything seems in order and it all looks good…” said Director Hargrove, leaving his last word hanging in his well-known lilt.
“But?” asked Fengari, helping his old university flatmate bridge his thought.
“I was going to say ‘on paper.’ But, well I am just going to say it plainly, I’m concerned about your mental state. Are you certain you’re prepared for a mission of this magnitude? Can you, or rather, do you want to leave Luna at this time?”
Fengari didn’t reply right away. He looked up at Hargrove, then turned away, taking a deep inhale and exhale. “I’m no more ready now than I was before any of this. Luna is fine. And she will be fine. That little woman is stronger than me in so many ways.” He added, “Certainly smarter.”
“But it hasn’t even been what… half a year now?”
“Just over 5 months, yes. But she was sick for the better part of Luna’s life. So, I’ve been,” he stopped himself. Another deliberate breath before continuing, “…as prepared as one can be, you might say.”
Hargrove said nothing, just gave him a half-smile and nodded.
“It’s the job, Graeme. And I think we both know I’m the best one for it.”
“You don’t have to sell me. This mission was built with you in mind. Getting someone else up to speed now would be time and money we don’t have. Let’s face it: our funding is simply not what it once was.” Hargrove placed his hands on his desk, bracing himself to stand.
Fengari stood immediately, raising his hand to salute. This made Hargrove smile.
“If you call me Herr Director one more time, I will punch you to the moon myself.”
Fengari cracked a smile. “Come now, it’ll be a whole year before I get to do it again in person…”
“IF you get to do it again,” Hargrove corrected Fengari. “Piss me off, I could decide to leave you out there.”
“Thanks, Graeme,” Fengari said, all kidding aside. “I may need this mission more than it needs me.”
Luna hugged Hargrove, however out of place that seems, standing in the middle of Mission Control. “Luna…” he said, with the weight of a proud grandfather. He held her at arms length and added, “My heavens! You have grown.”
She smiled politely, something she’d become more and more accustomed to doing lately. “Mr. Graeme, it’s good to see you.”
“Come, we have a room set up for you,” Hargrove ushered her out, handing control over to his second-in-command with a slight gesture. “Keep an eye on 5,” he said before he walked her down the long corridor.
Luna hadn’t been there since her father’s first mission ten years ago. She barely remembered mission control, but the smell seemed exactly the same. A few quick lefts, a wave of Hargrove’s accessband and they were alone with nothing but the quiet hum of air pumped through the vents.
The room was subtle and windowless with a chair and workstation on one end, a monitor mounted on the wall opposite. He ushered her to the seat and knelt down beside her. Luna prepared for the consoling words he was no doubt readying. Holding her hands in his, he said, “You don’t have to do this now if you are not ready.” Can someone ever really be ready? “You are more than welcome to return at any time. Our doors will always be open to you.” His words were kind and his sentiment genuine.
Pulling one of her hands from his grasp and placing it atop his, she assured him, “I’m okay, Graeme. If my mother and father taught me anything, it was endurance. I can handle it.”
As Hargrove walked over to the workstation, Luna felt her feet firmly on the ground. Last time she was here, she recalled swinging her legs back and forth so much, her mother had put her hand on them and shot her a you-know-better look. Looking up at the screen, Luna saw a paused video image. She took a breath. There was her father in his work gear. It was a surprisingly calm feeling seeing him, as if she were watching an old home movie with him.
“He was inside the oxygen generator chamber making adjustments when the unknown incendiary breached Colony One’s perimeter. The impact sent a large shard from a diffuser valve down one of the distribution vents into the chamber rupturing the main pipeline. Your father survived the blast, but his oxygen levels dropped rapidly.”
Hargrove began the video and they watched:
Fengari noticeably hears and feels the impact. He turns immediately to leave the chamber, but his efforts are futile and the explosion propels him forward into a wall. Luna jolted in her chair, grabbing hold of the arm.
When the dust clears, her father is either injured or struggling from the lack of oxygen. Still, he pulls himself toward a control unit at the base of a nearby column. He punches a series of buttons and the extinguisher sprinklers engage, cascading water down upon the fiery chamber.
Fengari falls to his side, grabbing at his heart.
Luna wiped a teardrop escaping from her eye. She wanted to turn away or pause for a moment, but knew she had to muddle through and continue watching. Her father had taken his finger and written “Luna” in the dust beside him. She held her breath as he faltered again. Reaching out once more, he slowly etched:
“xx”
“He sent me kisses,” Luna cried, stifling her sniffles while turning to Hargrove with a face full of tears.
“Wait,” Hargrove said, pointing back at the screen.
She turned back to see her father had continued writing an “O” as far as he could extend his finger. Then, filling the gap, he added “H2” so his final message read:
“xx-H2O”
In that moment, Luna had her mom and dad back. She remembered that road trip more vividly than ever: her father attempting to sing harmonies with her on their journey across miles and miles of highway, heading towards as many memories as they could cram into that minivan. She saw him looking over at her mom, healthy and young, like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And this was a man who’d seen the heavens.
Those days. Those were the ones she would hold with her and share with anyone willing to listen. Those days made it worth all the heartache they… all the heartache she had gone through since.
Luna smiled widely and let out a guttural laugh. “He did it. He made it rain.”
Ernio Hernandez is a writer of fiction, plays and poetry. He prefers tea: 🍵 and seems to write about the moon a lot: 🌚🌝
