Passionate Ambivalence

 Harrow had never lived without the threat of war. He had been a boy, and a man, and now a father, in a world of recurring alarms and drills.  Drills to prepare for attacks from Xadia, or the retaliation prompted by a first-strike attack the Coalition considered justified. 

The lockdown, the shelter-in-place order, the potential for disruption of communication and supplies... all these things were familiar. But the cause, in this case, at his new home, at the flagship university on the shoulder of Mt. Kalik, was new to Harrow. As he went through the disaster checklist and the customary process of reassuring Callum, he tried to adjust to the idea that all of this is was caused by storms. It was both more and less terrifying. Lightning and wind, hail, sleet, and snow, lacked malice, but also fear and reason.

And, for the first time, Harrow knew he would be doing this alone. The ongoing state of emergency and Sarai's devotion to her post were turning their trial separation permanent. He refrained from further attempts to beg her to quit and come home, but the fact that this change was faultless and seemingly endorsed by nature didn't make it less sad or Harrow more ready to face it.

Harrow's mother, the university's chancellor, who had invited/begged him to take this job, had no time to help. She was busy looking after her many student charges, and the other staff and their families. There were a hundred logistical fires she needed to put out, and Harrow couldn't resent that, but he could still desperately wish to be someone's first priority. 

In the evening, three days in, he had fed Ezran and was snuggling the sleepy toddler and stroking his hair while Callum drew, feeling both peaceful and overwhelmed. When the doorbell rang, Callum sprinted to the door and flung it wide open, letting in a mixture of snow and sleet, and three people, one of whom was familiar. It was Dr. Viren, the man from the daycare parking lot, herding a small boy, carrying a relatively enormous slow cooker, and a tiny girl with a picnic basket.

"We brought you dinner!" The girl yelled. "I made it myself! Dad said the recipe was probably too complicated, but I showed-"

"Hey!" The boy interrupted "I helped a lot! I chopped all the fucking vegetables!"

Viren sighed, frustration and embarrassment showing on his face and in his body language. He took several deep breaths before reproving the children.

"Claudia, it's polite to wait until you're invited in. Soren, it's not polite to use that language." Their excitement fell away as they retreated back to the door. 

Viren  knelt with practiced ease to ask Callum to get his father, but smacked his cane into the decorative umbrella rack by the door, precipitating a loud, chaotic collapse. Looking back, Harrow would always think of this as an appropriate introduction to a family of bright, awkward, impulsive, generous people who always danced their own singular steps through life.

When Viren caught sight of him he launched into what sounded like a lecture, about how bringing food to neighbors had become a tradition, and he did text first but there wasn't an answer, so they'd avoided most common allergens and followed traditional dietary rules just in case, and the meat for the stew was locally sourced, and the bread was from his uncle's bakery...

Harrow smiled warmly and and thanked him, then proceeded to ignore most of the stream of words as he guided Claudia and Soren into the kitchen and helped Callum set the table. 

Dinner went well, and afterward the three older children headed to the playroom / art studio, with Ezran toddling after them. This led to a fair amount of screaming, but no blood, an equal amount of laughter, a creative mess, a plan for a collaborative project, and enraged sobbing when Ezran had to part from Soren, aka the source of banther-rides.

Meanwhile their fathers washed the dishes together and talked. When Harrow tried to apologize for missing the texts, and for the state of the apartment, Viren yelled at him, "Stop being a judgemental prick to my new friend!" and took his phone and scheduled the cleaner for twice a week. 

That sort of thing became a pattern. Viren's opinion was that money was for spending, and resources and power more broadly were meant to be used. He had no patience for shame, but also very little consideration for the moral or social implications of most choices. 

Summer semester was very nearly over, finally. It was an optional review day that the TAs were supposed to be running on their own and Viren was having a hard time convincing himself he really needed to be there, let alone on time. Claudia was finally over the worst of her sore throat but still miserable, and she had been home from camp half the week, leaving him scrambling for childcare options, plus waking in the night whimpering in pain and requiring more medicine.

He wasn't early like usual, so the customary parking spaces weren't available. Viren cursed as he drove farther from his building hunting for a spot. He drove past the daycare and decided to try there since most of the students and faculty were gone until fall. Technically you were supposed to be using the daycare to park there, but it was worth the risk. He was double-checking his laptop accessories when he heard a commotion that activated the long-dormant Distraught Toddler Alert in his brain.

"Mama mama mama no mama noooo!!!"

"I know you miss her pumpkin, but today you're going to play with the school friends."

"I'll be there too, Ez. You like the playground, remember? And the snacks..."

"No school! No no no school daddy noooo..." The child escalated to that particular soul-rattling whine-cry Viren would very much like to never, ever hear again, and there was the sound of objects hitting the concrete, followed by ragged not-quite-swearing.

"Would you like a hand? I have, um... two." Viren holds one out to the stranger, who doesn't have any free to shake. "Dr. Viren, bioengineering, been here a long time."

"Dr. Harrow, history, just starting today. This is Ezran, and that's Callum." Callum nodded gravely, clutching a decorated coffee can filled with art supplies.

Viren smiled and held out his free arm so Harrow could hand him some of the bags he was juggling, but Ezran lurched suddenly, so Viren grabbed him instead. I knocked him off balance slightly, so he leaned on the van, but even that felt comfortably familiar. At least this kid wasn't pulling his hair.

Harrow picked up the last few items, stuffed them in the tote labelled "water fun," and traded it for Ezran. Viren took another bag, and Callum took the last one, and they made their way in. Harrow hugged the boys goodbye before they were taken to their classrooms, and Viren walked him out.

Blinking in the sunlight he seemed calmer, less frazzled but more sad.

"Thank you, Viren. Some moments are just..."

"Believe me, I remember."

"Did your wife leave, too?"

"...no... There's a coffee shop down the hill. Can I buy you something? You can tell me all the ways your life is shit if that helps."

Harrow was happy to go, but when Viren tried to pay, he shook his head and covered the bill.

"Money is never a problem. My mom runs this place."

Viren stared at him. The resemblance was clear, now that he was looking for it. "Chancellor Octavia is your mother?" He rubbed his neck nervously. "We ah... we've had some differences of opinion..."

Harrow waved him to a bench as their drinks were delivered. "Let me guess, she chewed you out in vile language that doesn't use any actual profanity."

Viren recalled the recent event where she'd demanded he 'Take a break from publicly fellating the military industrial complex' to answer alumni questions.

"Yes. That."

Harrow smirked, visibly reviving as he inhaled the coffee.

Viren called the department secretary and told her he wouldn't be in all day. Yes, another urgent personal matter, but the kids were fine. Yes, he did have a tiny sliver of non-child-related life. Yes, he knew he was lucky to be unique and brilliant and well-funded.

"And hot!" That would be Silvis, yelling, as he headed off to cover the class alone.

Viren sighed.

"That's something you have to get used to in this job: students who want to get into your pants. Most of them don't want to actually try, but they sit in the front row and moon over you, or they come to office hours and ask about things they already know, or they sign up for every. single. one. of your classes even if it means they're in school for an extra year."

"I do have some experience turning people down gently."

"I guess you would, handsome bastard that you are."

"Can't say I've felt that way lately."

Viren waved a dismissive hand.

"Nonsense. You are extremely handsome for a zombie who smells like rancid apple juice."

That made Harrow laugh. The warm sound of it, and they way he seemed brighter, happier, and more whole afterward, left Viren feeling absurdly proud, as though it could be worth dedicating his life to repeat performances.