2 Rewrite CH2: I Don't Trust Him

As time ticked away, I sent a text, the 9th one in an hour. While my family told stories about their lives against the backdrop of fallen moon fragments, I hoped. As midnight closed in, my desperation grew. I knew it was over, but I wanted closer. All I needed was for her to say goodbye the illusion that she still loved me would have been good enough.

My phone rang, and it was her.

"Is that the girl? Well, I hope it works out, son." Grampa said.

I rushed to the dark cover of the woods and answered it out of hearing range of my family. Heavy male breathing and slapping noises filled the woods. Then a video appeared.

"Dear, I hope you like your going away video; editing took a while." The message read.

I knew what it was, and I felt the betrayal. Orange light lit the world as a large shard of moon rock burned over the barrier. A hollow feeling filled my chest, and I felt relieved. It was over, and my family was gathered. If I let her get me down, then I would regret it.

My grandfather gave an account of his experience in Korea, one of the few stories I hadn't heard a thousand times. After a joke, my sister pulled in.

After the pill, Emma and my mother could almost be twins. The blonde hair and blue eyes were identical. My sister took a red pill and looked a little older than our mother. Isaac Clark, a 6' 4" black man with a friendly smile, strode forward confidently.

I was glad Grandpa didn't pull his .357. Mom looked away from throwing a fit, and Uncle Reginald shook Issac's hand.

"Everyone, this is my husband, Isaac Clark; we've been married a week," Emma said.

"How do you like your steak?" Grandpa asked, easing some of the tension.

Mom dragged Emma into the house.

"How could to drop this on us today?" Mom asked in a hushed yelling tone.

"Medium rare, please. This is quite the pickle."

Isaac clicked with his Qs; I thought that came from the pronunciation of an African language. Isaac Clark was the most American-sounding name I had ever heard.

"They'll get over it," Reginold said.

I stared up as one of the alien ships passed overhead. The windowless gun-shaped vehicle only produced a shadow when it passed over them. If not for the orange light from the moon fragments, the ship would go undetected. My teeth hurt when they passed over.

"It's going to bomb the old rocket plant upriver," Reginold said.

"Selling us off barely paid for the interest for the debt imposed on the world from hiring mercenaries," Isaac said.

My uncle was in military intelligence back in the day. He knew what he was talking about. It was rare to know something more about the debt than they were being sold off. None of the whistle-blower personalities I listened to found anything. If they couldn't, then odds were good Isaac had connections, or he was a fed honeypot.

I snorted at that; what would a honeypot do here. There wasn't much time before we would be expatriated into indentured servitude. What was the point of making sure they wouldn't corrupt anyone else?

"What pill did you choose?" Vincent asked when the conversation lulled.

"I guess we're changing the subject. Mine was white. I was curious if it would turn me white since green pills made old people young again. I think it worked, and I only still see myself as black."

I immediately sensed Emma's Red pill, but I couldn't feel anything from Isaac. There were some people that I couldn't sense, but they were few. White pills stood out like tiny white dwarf stars. Only black pills were, at times, undetectable. I figured either Isaac was lying about his pill or about taking one in the first place.

"Alright, someone needs to walk through that warzone and get some plates; we're ready to eat." Grandfather said.

I eyed the humongous pile of steaks on the old ceramic plate.

"We might as well eat on the fancy plates tonight; not like we can take them with us," Ben said.

"I forgot the dessert in the car; we brought a key lime pie. Emma said you used to claim to have one every Christmas but never did." Isaac said.

Emma burst out of the house, makeup in disarray and crying. "Isaac, I think we should go."

"Way to bring down the moon? What did Mom say? If the two of you don't break up, she'll never speak to you again?" I said.

"No, she probably said something like you're no daughter of mine, or if you really loved this family, you would leave him," Ben said.

"Shut up, both of you," Emma said.

"Emma understand it from our perspective; we've always wanted a brother with a chance to join the NBA," Ben said.

Isaac lost his jovial expression and got into my personal space. The guy towered over my meager 5'10" by a head easily.

"Did you really waste your moon pun?" Isaac said.

"So none of you care that he's black," Emma asked.

"Emma, he's been white the entire time, right Ben?" I asked.

Yes, I was gaslighting, but it was the end of the world, and I deserved some fun.

"I've never seen eyes so blue or hair so arian. Do you use divine shampoo because you are clearly the ubermensch Nietzsche spoke of in the legends?" Ben asked.

"Mom's expectations have blinded her; she expected to see a black man instead of this obvious work of German engineering," I said.

"Knock it off. I already gave Sis a talking-to. Come on in and get some wine. I'm sure we all want to be drunk before midnight.