Absolute Gravity

I hadn’t moved in days—maybe longer. This was a memory, I knew. I could see it now in the way the shadows twisted on the glass in front of me, on the windows looking out over a half-dead sea.

There weren’t many memories of this time. Likely because I hadn’t done anything but sit in that chair once Liv was done with her tests. Happy had come to see me. To tell me that Clara and Tony left Bernie in my care. I reminded him that me being Bernie’s godmother was just an honorary title. And asked him to send Bernie to my mom.

“She’s been trying to call you, you know?” he told me. The pain lodged in my throat, making it hard to speak. So I didn’t bother. I heard him sigh. “She lost people too, Jo.”

“I know that,” I snapped. I did. And it hurt just as much. She’d lost her husband and her daughter. I couldn’t imagine the pain and the loneliness she must be feeling. But she was far better equipped to raise Bernie than I was. When I couldn’t even be alone with him for more than a few minutes at a time. “I can’t take care of a kid if I can’t even be in the same room as him.”

“I know,” he replied softly. He hadn’t bothered to come around the corner, and I hadn’t bothered to turn around. That was the way it had been from the start—the way Liv dealt with me, the way my new housekeeper dealt with me. She hadn’t spoken to me at all, but I’d heard her crying to herself from the kitchen, and I wished I was a better person so I could get up and help her.

We were all grieving. Every single one of us. And it wasn’t fair for me to assume my grief was any stronger than anyone else’s. It wasn’t. I knew that. But I was still the Vessel of a dying star regardless. My mom had a future. A life ahead of her. Even one full of grief. And she’d already proved she could raise two children to adulthood. And do a pretty decent job of it. I wasn’t doing well, but that had never been her fault.

“She’ll understand,” I explained. Bernie is too young to care about me. My mom will do a better job anyway. And this way, he won’t get attached to me.”

“Why would it be a problem for him to get attached to you?”

“Because I don’t have long to live anyway.”

“I’ll bring him to see you before he leaves.” I almost asked him not to. But I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t say goodbye.

“Thank you.”

“Your grandmother has been calling, too. The one from Belarus.”

“I know.” He sighed again, and I could see his reflection shift.

“I talked to Rogers.” I didn’t answer verbally. I just inclined my head a bit, letting him know I was listening. Steve hadn’t told me his plans. But I knew he had one. He always did. “They weren’t successful,” he continued. “They killed Thanos, but the stones are already gone.”

I just nodded. I didn’t have hope anyway.

The memory shifted into the silence of that time—that unmovable chair, my brittle bones, and grief. Sometimes, it felt too big, too heavy to hold. Sometimes, I felt nothing at all. And there was silence everywhere. No more visits from Happy beyond letting me say goodbye to Bernie. No Dana to knock on the glass every morning and scold me for my laziness. No Graham showing up with pizza and conversations that made life feel relatively normal. No Clara.

There was a tap on the wall behind me. Days later. Maybe weeks. Months, I wasn’t sure. When I lifted my head to look, Tony was standing in the doorway. He looked emaciated. For the first time ever, looking small, frail, and broken. Consumed by grief and apparent starvation. They’d told me he was back. He’d been lost in space without food.

“Hey, Kid,” he said. I used to hate when he called me that. But now I recognized it for what it was. A reminder that we were family. I was his sister, regardless. I turned back to the window. At the startling lack of seagulls. Even they weren’t spared. The ocean churned with anger.

“It’s good to see you,” I said. These were the first words I’d spoken since the day I sent Bernie away. “I’d hoped.” I meant to finish that sentence, but there was nothing to add. I’d hoped, and I’d lost that hope.

I dropped my head into my hands and cried. I was far past caring whether anyone saw me or not. But Tony was in pain, too. It was evident in the way he hobbled across the floor and gathered me in his frail, thin arms. I cried against him until we cried together.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I failed. I tried, but I failed. I made a mistake. There must have been something.” I shook my head and clung to him.

“It’s okay,” I told him. But it wasn’t. And that wasn’t what I’d said. The memory ached. But it was just a memory now. “You’ll get them back someday,” I promised him. “You’ll have your rest. I’m just sorry that I’ll never get to say goodbye.”

He pulled back to look at me, but the memory swallowed what I’d said. Because that hadn’t been what I’d said. I’d said nothing at all. He was struggling to kneel beside the chair. His body was still too weak.

“You’re dehydrated,” I noticed. “And you’ve been starved. Let me get you something to eat.”

“Jo, I’m fine. I was on an IV the entire flight. I’m so full of fluids that I’ve peed thirty times today. I’ve eaten. It’ll take time, but I’m alive. I’m more worried about you. Happy says you won’t eat.” I shrugged and leaned back into the chair. My knees were tucked under me, buried in the blanket Happy had thrown over me when he came to check on me one night.

“I’ve obviously eaten more than you have.”

“That doesn’t make it okay. I couldn’t eat. There’s a difference.”

“I’m just processing, Tony. I’ll be fine.” He sighed as if he knew that wasn’t true. But he didn’t press me on it. The touchy-feely thing wasn’t exactly Tony’s forte. Mine either, for that matter.

“I’m going to get Bernie tomorrow. I was going to have him flown out, but I thought that wouldn’t be fair to your mom. She deserves—more. From me. From both of us.” I nodded.

“Yeah, she’s—she’ll be alone now. She’ll need the support.”

“She’ll never need anything for the rest of her life, I promise.” I nodded, glad to hear that. “Come with me. She won’t leave. I offered to have her stay here, but she refused. She’d like to see you either way. She said you won’t answer her calls.” I shook my head.

“I can’t leave. I can’t—do anything. That’s why I sent Bernie to stay with her in the first place. I can’t take care of him. If you hadn’t come back—I don’t know—why’d you have to make me his godmother? You know I won’t live long enough to raise him.”

“You could if you had more time. You’d be good at it, too, and you know that. Clara and I never doubted it.” I shrugged.

“It’s not in the cards for me. You know that.” He nodded pensively.

“I wanted it to be,” he said, “for you and Barnes. I know he wasn’t at fault. I don’t think I ever could have liked him, but I wanted you to have a future with him.”

“And now he’s gone too. So it was all for nothing anyway.” He stood on shaky legs and had to hold himself against the back of my chair before he could walk again.

“I’m not going to let you waste away. So get that idea out of your head.”

“You can’t waste away if there’s already nothing left,” I pointed out. He paused in the doorway but didn’t answer.