Coffee Stains in the Earthlight by Olivia Leitner

Scratch.

Scratch.

Scratch.

The cheap, blue-inked pen moved in small, precise strokes across the folded napkin placed atop the notebook on Elek’s leg. Small movements: less likely to attract his therapist to the fact he wasn’t listening.

It was the coffee stain. He’d tried to listen at first, but that crescent of brown on white was just so distracting – especially with the Earthlight from the window shining on it. It begged to be snatched up and used to create something, to cast its coloring across whatever his mind could conjure.

He wouldn’t have seen that two months ago. Back then, she would have pointed out that coffee stain and he would have teased her for being weird, making her defensively resorted to petty name calling, which then would have spawned a competition of who could come up with the stupidest insult. Only after the round of playful sibling banter would he ask her what she could see in it. She’d have no problems describing it, chatting away excitedly–

His pen ripped through the napkin’s delicate surface as he blinked back the sudden, building pressure behind his eyes. She wouldn’t have been that careless. But, then again, if she were still here, he wouldn’t have needed a therapist in the first place.

His therapist. Damn.

Elek dragged his gaze up from his shredded drawing, trying to blink back the moisture in his eyes.

His therapist – Sandra, she insisted – had a gentle smile on her face as she held a tissue out to him. “You were thinking about her, just now.”

A statement, not a question.

He snagged the tissue, resisting the urge to sniff and make himself sound more pathetic. “Can’t imagine how you guessed that.” Sarcasm. Blah. This was only their second session, but she must have already picked up on that being his primary defense when he got emotional. He might as well have had a holo sign projecting it over his head.

She gave an amused smile – amused? “Probably the same way I guessed that you’re a little sick of people thinking they know how you feel and people feeling sorry for you. Probably in the same way I guessed that at times the feelings you’re going through feel like they are going to rip you apart.”

Elek sniffed. Dammit. He’d made such a valiant effort, too. “Yeah… That does get pretty old…” He clenched the unused tissue in one hand, forcing his other to loosen its grip so he wouldn’t damage Ellia’s notebook. Or was it his notebook now? She’d only managed three drawings.

“If it’s any help, this is a safe place to talk about those things.  You can yell, scream, cry and there won’t be any judgements.”

Elek wondered if any of her prior patients had screamed right there and then. It was tempting. A way to release some of the pent up heartache that kept trying to force its way up his throat to choke him any time his twin’s face flashed in his mind.

“Maybe you would like to start by telling me about the notebook.”

Elek swallowed thickly. He knew this would be brought up. It wasn’t as though he’d tried to hide it. He carried her notebook everywhere.

Elek slowly held the book out to her. “It… it was hers. Ellia’s.” He’d said her name. When was the last time he’d done that? “She got it the same week…” He bit his lip, giving it a tug. “She wouldn’t have wanted it go to waste, so I started… doodling where she left off.” His gaze skimmed over the notebook’s surface for probably the thousandth time. Its engraved surface matched Ellia’s tastes exactly.

He forced his hands not to snatch the book back as Sandra took it. This was the first time in weeks it had left his care.

She turned it in her hands. “It’s beautiful. I’m glad you have found this way to honor and remember your sister.” Elek found the book being offered back to him, unopened. “Let’s call it a day. If you are willing to share your drawings with me next week, I would like that very much.”

Elek accepted the book, a mumbled response finding its way out as he tried not to make his surprise too obvious. “Um, yeah. That’s cool. Arctic breeze cool. Not that I’ve ever actually felt one of those, being spaceport born and all…” What was he babbling about? He cleared his throat. Yeah. That wasn’t obvious.

He was too busy mentally kicking himself to remember Sandra’s response, but moments later he was out of her office and in the elevator.

Where to go from there, though? He glanced at his wrist COMM. Sixteen thirteen hours. He didn’t have any plans, and his father wasn’t home.

Elek hesitated. There was one place he could go. Their favorite diner onboard the moon base: Mooncake Makery. They served cheesecake. Moon. Cheese. Haha. The restaurants around seemed compete for the worst puns, which made reading their menus like trying unscramble nuclear launch codes. Did they have “burgers?” No. They had beef that was “100% guaranteed from the cow that jumped over the moon.” Ellia found them hilarious.

He’d never been there without her. But… Ellia wouldn’t want him to give up something that had been so special to them.

Elek smashed the button before he could change his mind.

Stepping into the Mooncake Makery caused a weird lack of déjà vu – the atmosphere had changed. Not what he pictured. Maybe he’d just–

“Elek!” The waitress waved. “Hey!”

A faint smile tugged at Elek’s lips. Ellia always thought she was nice. And there was that snooty business guy. And that blonde Ellia teased him endlessly about not having the guts to talk to.

This place hadn’t changed – he had.

Elek made his way over to their usual booth and sat in her seat, setting the sketchbook open on the table before sparing a glance up.

There was a reason this was their favorite diner – it had the clearest view of the Earth onboard, the planet filling most of the dome’s transparent ceiling. Ellia must have sketched this view at least thirty times. The first of the drawings in her notebook was her favorite attempt – even fully colored.

Elek trailed his fingers down the edge of the second page, the paper too soft to cut him. A colorless drawing of himself stared back, barely looking like him anymore. His skin didn’t match the shading Ellia had used for their tanner complexions. And his hair… When was the last time it was that neat? He hadn’t brushed his natural curls straight in weeks.

He flipped the page violently. He didn’t need a reminder that he used to be happier.

The third page: a drawing of the diner. Unfinished. Ellia hated unfinished drawings.

He took a slow breath. Dare he? Dare he disturb her last work? No… disturb was too negative a word. Ellia had dubbed unfinished works ‘the bane of her existence.’ He could finish it. For her.

Elek felt around the wall for the loose board he knew was there and tugged it free, slipping his hand inside Ellie’s hiding spot for her pencils.

He studied the scene around him, taking in every detail his untrained eyes could find. Blonde girl. The others weren’t close enough to be detailed well on such a small page, but she was.

Guy drawing a girl when she didn’t know. Definitely creepy. He had to talk to her.

Crap, seriously? Had Ellia planned this?

His gut gave a nervous flop as the blonde tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Oh, no. No way was this stopping him.

He stood, trying to compile his courage so he’d be able to actually speak. He strutted over to her table before he could chicken out. “Can I draw you?” Well, that was smooth. No hello. Totally normal.

Blonde glanced up from her book. Act not creepy. “I was, uh, trying to draw the diner, and you’re in the center, so…”

She smiled. “Um… sure?” Green eyes, he noted. He’d never been close enough to tell before. “Do I need to stay still?”

“No, just sit like you always do.” Oh, great. Admit you’ve been watching her. Super not creepy.

“Okay. Elek, right?”

She knew his name? “Uh, yes…”

She nodded. “You two are usually within earshot.”

They were– oh no.

She apparently found his expression amusing because she burst out laughing. “I’m Sabrina.”

“Right. Pleasure. I’m going to go draw now… and die of embarrassment.” Retreat. Retreat.

“I thought your sister was the artist?”

His gaze dropped, the aching in his chest returning in full force. “She was.”

He shuffled back to his seat before she could say more. He didn’t want pity. He was tired of pity.

He missed Ellia, and he couldn’t bring her back, but he could preserve her memory in small ways like this. One pencil stroke at a time.