The Final Expedition

Day Sixty-Three

I moved towards my sleeping cubicle and noticed that Flynn’s door was open. The American was watching a video on his laptop inside. I could hear singing from the video.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you…” I glanced in the direction of the laptop.

“Can I help you with something, Carter?” Flynn’s eyes were still fixed on the screen.

“Sorry to intrude, Chuck.” I replied. “I can see this is a personal moment. I’ll give you some privacy.” Flynn finally glanced in my direction and I could see his eyes were red and puffy.

“It’s okay, Carter.” He said after a moment. I nodded and reached for my own door before pausing a moment and turning back to the American.

“Your wife and daughter?” I finally asked. Flynn nodded.

“Caitlin and Sarah.” He replied. On the screen in front of him, I could see a blonde woman and a little girl, perhaps seven or eight years old, fair haired like her mother. They were holding a cake decorated with an astronaut on top and ringed with candles. They looked like they were standing outside what was presumably Flynn’s house on a bright summer’s day.

“Sorry you can’t blow out the candles yourself, but Sarah said she’ll do it for you.” His wife smiled. The little girl beamed at the camera and after a few breaths, blew out all the candles.

“Happy birthday, daddy.” She smiled.

“They recorded a few videos for me before I left.” Flynn told him. “One for Thanksgiving, one for Christmas, one for Valentine’s Day from my wife and this last one for my birthday.”

“So it’s your birthday today?” I asked.

“Forty-three today.” Flynn smiled humourlessly. I acknowledged that fact with a nod, knowing that to wish Flynn a happy birthday would have seemed rather hollow under the circumstances. I opened my mouth, wanting to say something sympathetic, but coming up empty. Flynn must have read it in my expression as he nodded. “I envy you, Carter. Sure, you lost friends and relatives, but you weren’t married and have no children. The woman you love is right here on the station. Varennikova’s a beautiful woman, Carter. She reminds me a little of Caitlin when we first met. You’re very lucky.”

“I know I am, Chuck.” I replied. “I can’t imagine the pain that the rest of you must be feeling.”

“And you should be forever grateful for that.” Flynn told him. I nodded and pulled myself into my own cubicle, for once pitying the big American.