After pressing the doorbell, Varen stood in front of his parents’ apartment for a moment. The sound of the bell was brief, but it always took a little while before footsteps came from inside. He already knew, before the door opened, what kinds of conversations would follow once he stepped in. That was why, whenever he came to his parents’ house, he always took one extra breath before going in.

His mother’s voice arrived before the door opened. When the door swung open, she looked him over once, her eyes moving from top to bottom before stopping on his face. “There you are. You retired, but your face looks just fine.” Varen laughed as he slipped off his shoes. “What, should I suddenly look old just because I retired?” It was the kind of exchange that had been worn smooth between mother and son. Turning away, his mother muttered loudly enough for him to hear, “Then you should retire when you actually look old. What kind of retirement is this when you’re still young enough to work…” She said it that way, but she did not continue.

From the living room, his father’s voice came flying in. “The Wi-Fi isn’t working.” Varen lifted his head for a moment, one shoe only half off, and laughed under his breath. “Dad… I haven’t even said hello yet, and we’re already at Wi-Fi.” He straightened his shoes, stood up, and said, “Re-employed the day after retirement.” He headed toward the router. “Once an engineer, apparently, always on call.”

He crouched in front of the router, turned the power off, then on again. The small lights blinked, one by one, returning in order until the final green light held steady. “There you go, sir.” As soon as he said it, his father opened the newspaper again as if nothing had happened, not even lifting his head.

His father turned a page of the newspaper. “Still, wouldn’t it have been better to become a doctor?” Varen had known it was coming. He reached for his water, took a sip, and smiled. “The smell of a hospital is enough to make me faint. I’d be down before the patient. You know that, Dad.” Without looking up from the newspaper, his father said, “Still making the same old excuses.” From the kitchen, his mother added while scooping rice, “Even so, all your friends became doctors…” Before she could finish, Varen picked up the rhythm. “And all your friends are rich…” His mother shot him a look. “This is not the time for jokes.”

She carried the bowls to the table, and the argument continued. Varen took his usual seat. His father came in with the newspaper folded under one arm and opened it again as soon as he sat down.

Varen lifted his chopsticks. “It’s not a joke.” His father’s hand stopped halfway through opening the newspaper. His mother added, “If you had gone to medical school, you wouldn’t have to fix things like this.” Varen answered lightly, “Doctors use the internet too, Mom.” His father spoke again. “Still… you studied that much.” Varen took a spoonful of rice. “I did.” He waited. “Then you should have aimed higher.” Varen thought for a moment. “How high? The moon?” His father muttered, “Still saying useless things at your age…”

“It’s the Vesper side of the family,” his mother said with a small grumble. “Always looking toward Venus.” His father lowered the newspaper. “Don’t blame Venus.” His mother looked at him. “Then whose fault is it?” His father thought for a moment. “Varen’s grandfather. He gave the boy three names that sound like a philosopher from another planet.” Only then did he look over the newspaper at Varen. “Varen Io Vesper. What did he expect?”

Varen laughed with them. For a moment, he remembered the students who used to call him “Master.” It had started as a joke. Somewhere along the way, they had stopped laughing when they said it.

His mother moved on without warning. “So, are you ever going to get married?” Varen put down his chopsticks and answered, “I’m still adjusting to Earth.” His mother replied immediately, “Still adjusting to Earth? I should have married someone from Earth.” Varen nodded. “You’re right. On Venus, marriage is optional.”

His father folded the newspaper. “Yes. You still haven’t adjusted.” Varen had heard that line many times before, and usually he had an answer ready. He opened his mouth, but his mother got there first.

“Enough.”

His father lifted the newspaper again, and the table settled into the small sounds of eating—spoons against bowls, the rustle of a turning page. His mother kept her eyes on her bowl, her spoon resting against the rim.

“As long as you’re doing all right, that’s enough.”

Varen looked up. “Seriously?” His mother avoided his eyes. “Just eat, Son.” Varen smiled. “I’m doing just fine, Mom.” From behind the newspaper came his father’s voice, quieter than before. “…I know.”

His father went back to reading while his mother stacked the empty dishes. Varen finished the last of his rice and headed for the entrance. Bent over his shoes, he called toward the dining room, “I’ll come again next week, Mom, Dad.” His mother asked why. Varen slipped on the other shoe.

“The Wi-Fi might break again.”

A small laugh came from the dining room before his mother answered.

“Fine. Come over, even if it’s just for the Wi-Fi.”

As Varen opened the door and stepped out, he muttered, “Earth adaptation rate: up a tiny bit.” The door closed behind him, and he began walking down the stairs. After a couple of steps, he stopped. Wait. Was it the moon?

Then he headed home, where Caffrey was waiting. She would probably have an opinion.

— The Cult Leader —

Christina H. Kimm

Episode 7. Conflict with Parents? Enjoy It.