Ensign Ollie Bergmen - Homefront, part 3
CPT Arianus
(OOC: I’d like to thank Morro Caras of the USS Octavia E. Butler for his editorial guidance in crafting this scene!)
(( Bergmen’s residence, Gideon ))
Ollie watched with interest as his mother stood over the stove. She was clearly evaluating his cooking skills, particularly his Shkedei marak soup, which she found to be digestible. At least that’s how Ollie interpreted her expression, which remained a serene mask, offering no hint of her true feelings. After a brief pause, he glanced towards the kitchen door, aware that his mother had come alone and that Ollie was anticipating her return with his father.
Bergmen: Where-where is dad?
Mierri: Oh, he’s got his book club tonight.
Those words hurt Ollie deeply. While he hadn't truly believed his father would come... he still held onto hope. He wished to feel worthy of his father's presence, even if it meant stepping away from dinner for a moment and leaving right after.
Bergmen: ::inhales deeply:: Well, that’s fine. We can still have our family dinner celebrating my commission, you, me, and later with Manow, when she returns from the resort.
If Ollie's mother sensed the disappointment and sadness in his voice, she didn't let it show. Instead, she turned her attention to the soup, adding a touch of mint and vinegar as she stirred the ingredients, without any sign of emotion so as not to burn the soup.
Mierri: Actually, I’m not here to celebrate.
Mother set the wooden spoon aside, placing it gently next to the stove, then turned to Ollie with a disapproving glance.
Mierri: We need to talk about this whole Starfleet thing.
Bergman's face was a canvas of disappointment. Although he had steeled himself against the idea of receiving any backing from his father, a flicker of hope had lingered in his heart that his mother would be his ally in his life decisions. As he searched her eyes for understanding, the absence of support only deepened the ache within him, leaving him feeling more isolated than ever.
Bergmen: What, mom?
His mother leaned against the counter, as if gearing up to share an important lesson. With a disappointed yet resolute look on her face, she began gesturing passionately with her free hand, emphasizing her points like a teacher addressing a student she held in low regard. Each movement painted a vivid picture of her thoughts, bringing her words to life as she carefully shaped her message.
Mierri: Look, you gave it a decade, proven you can do it. Bravo.
Bergmen: It’s fifteen years already, Mom.
Mierri: One more reason why you should see it is time for you to do something meaningful with your life.
Ollie stood frozen, his heart racing as he absorbed her words.
Bergmen: Something meaningful?
Mierri: Yeah. Go back to school. Get a meaningful degree. Have a profession.
The way she chose her words struck Ollie deeply, making him painfully aware that his attempts to turn to her for support were nothing but a fruitless endeavor. He could feel the weight of her indifference, and it became clear to him the futility of seeking her for support. No matter what he said or did, it would not change the situation. He gazed down at the tips of his shoes before answering.
Bergmen: Being a Starfleet officer is my profession.
Mierri: Playing pretend explorers with a group of children that do nothing but cause problems?
Ollie stood there, his mouth agape. Did she really just say that? Could it truly be that she viewed him this way? The disbelief washed over him like a cold wave, leaving him grappling with a mix of confusion and hurt.
Bergmen: ::with shock in his voice:: Is that how you see me?
Mierri: It’s how a lot of people see Starfleet. Especially now after Frontier Day. ::sighs:: I want to be proud of you, instead of hoping people don’t ask me what you do for a living.
Mother nodded with a chilling detachment, her gaze piercing through Bergmen with the weight of her disappointment hanging in the air. He could feel the icy tendrils of shame wrapping around him like a shroud. Her eyes, once warm and nurturing, now blazed with a fierce condemnation, leaving no doubt that she was utterly ashamed of him.
Bergmen: I would expect something like that from Dad, but can you just support me? You know, you seem happy enough for Boun. I-I don’t get it.
Mierri: With Boun, I don't need to worry about when two strangers will come to tell me that you are dead every time Starfleet is mentioned on FNS, Ollie.
Ollie averted his eyes from his mother and leaned against the counter. He buried his face in his trembling hands, desperately wiping away the tears that brimmed on the edges of his eyelids.
Mierri: Your father and I have been very patient, supporting you when you dropped out of grad school and enlisted. Following your ideals, but now it is time to get serious about your future.
Bergmen squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves before turning to face his mother. His tense stance betrayed the hurt she had caused him, yet he fought to keep his voice steady and controlled, masking the turmoil that churned within.
Bergmen: Serving in Starfleet is my future. I love this job. I love it.
The mother let out a heavy sigh, her eyes rolling in exasperation as she turned her gaze away.
Bergmen: I get to help people.
The mother's gestures spoke volumes, her hands slicing through the air in frustration as she struggled to convey her feelings. Each movement echoed the rising tone in her voice, infused with the unmistakable strain of her waning patience. It was evident that her temper was wearing thin, creating a heavy atmosphere in the room filled with unspoken words and mounting irritation.
Mierra: You want to help people? Become a doctor!
As Ollie grappled with a storm of emotions surging inside him, he could feel the fiery anger racing through his veins, intertwined with a profound sense of disgust. He jabbed his finger toward his mother’s face, his frustration spilling over.
Bermen: Wow…
Mierra: Sorry to be so blunt, but it needed to be said.
Bergmen: Right.
Ollie turned away from his mother, feeling anxious and frustrated. The tension from their conversation lingered as he moved to another side of the counter, seeking both physical escape and a brief respite from the turmoil within him.
Mierri: Ollie?!
Ollie's eyes flicked back to his mother.
Bergmen: What?
The moment their eyes met, he wished he could take back the sharpness of his tone.
Mierri: Your father and I will always love you.
The mother reached out to Ollie, her fingers brushing lightly against his as she sought to envelop his palm in a tender, maternal grasp over the counter.
Bergmen: Mm-hmm…
Yet, her subsequent words shattered that sense of reassurance.
Mierri: But risking your life for a thankless job… We cannot be supportive of this any longer.
Ollie tore his hand away from her grip. His chest tightened, resisting tears, while his gaze locked onto her face—a cold, indifferent mask that sharply contrasted his vulnerability with her emotional distance.
Bergmen: Okay. OKAY! I heard you first time, Mom. If you are done expressing your disappointment, I would – I would like some space.
She just stood there, gazing at him, as if she hadn’t caught what he’d just said. Ollie shook his head in disbelief, struggling to accept that it had happened as if he were ensnared in a haunting nightmare with no escape.
Bergmen: Okay, if you don’t, I will go.
He turned and ran away, escaping not just from her but from the whole situation and the heavy emotions that were weighing him down. The sound of the front door slamming shut made it clear he meant what he said.
His mother lingered in the dimly lit kitchen, her eyes lost in thought as she stared vacantly into the empty space beyond the window. After a fleeting moment, as if sensing that he wouldn’t return, she let out a quiet sigh, shaking her head slightly. With a measured movement, she turned her attention to the pot simmering on the stove, carefully lifting it off the heat, with steam curling upward like whispers of unspoken words in the stillness of the room.
END
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Ensign Ollie Bergmen
Operations Officer
U.S.S. Artemis-A
A240009JC1