12 I walk Joey to school. He is not speaking, and I wonder if I should say something about what he may or may not have seen when he walked in on us. He is staring straight ahead—no eye contact, no small talk. It’s peaceful, pleasant , but I wouldn’t be a parent if I didn’t try to disrupt the sense of calm by asking him about something he can’t possibly want to discuss. “So, do you want to talk about that?” I ask. Nothing. No reaction. He doesn’t even look at me. Do I jump in? Do I wait? Do I drop it? I fight the urge to push more, to address whatever guilt and confusion I am feeling by making him feel guilty and confused as well. A black helicopter flies overhead, swoops in close to us and moves on. We walk another block in silence. I have to say something else. I will say something. I get distracted. A group of kids dressed in black run out into the street in front of us and pose as statues. Flash mob. I smile to myself and watch Joey watch them. He is oblivious to the fact that he is observing an effort at peaceful disobedience. Instead his beautiful face is just full of awe as he tries to absorb the randomness of a world he is just barely learning to navigate. And then the black helicopter returns. “Please disperse immediately,” the robotic voice says. The flash mobs always disperse, but for a moment it appears that they don’t plan to, as if they truly are frozen in place. It’s fantastic, until there is a loud pop. One of the members grabs his shoulder and falls to the ground. O R P H A N S 40 That pop is followed by another and another after that. The kids pick up their fallen member and run away in a variety of different directions. The helicopter hovers for a moment before flying after one part of the group. We start walking again. “Hey bud,” I say, “do you want to talk about that, or about what you saw this morning?” “Did you know that where you’re going for work is known as the red planet?” Joey says. “I do,” I say. “Did you know that iron is in abundance there?” he asks. “No,” I reply, “thank you for sharing that. And so we are not going to talk about this morning then?” “No.” “Good enough.” When we get to school I give him a big hug, and while I intend to linger for only a moment, I find that I can’t quite let go. “Daddy enough,” Joey says trying to wriggle free, “I can’t breathe.” “Alright, sorry,” I say, “I’m just going to miss you. That’s all.” “Blah, blah, blah,” Joey says smiling. “Fine, get in there, go learn, and I will be home soon,” I say. I watch Joey as he walks into school, enters his cubicle and puts on his headphones. I then watch him for a moment as he begins his lesson. “ei, bi, xi…” After that I head back to our apartment building. “Your kite-board is ready,” E.C. says as I walk in. “Thanks E.C.,” I say, “and hey, you’ll keep an eye on the family for me while I’m gone, right?” [3.85.63.190] Project MUSE (2024-03-19 02:05 GMT) B E N TA N Z E R 41 “Yes sir,” E.C. replies. “Be careful.” “Always,” I say grabbing my board and heading out to the lake. The skies are grey. There is almost no wind, except for when the black helicopters zoom too closely by. These are not ideal conditions, but I need to surf before I leave. Four months without chasing waves won’t do. I walk up to Lebowski’s hut and knock on the door. “What? Go away. Fuck off,” a voice says happily from inside. “Hey,” I say, “it’s me, Norrin.” “Hey kid,” Lebowski says emerging from the hut, “one last ride before you head into the stars?” “Yes, right, how did you know I was leaving?” I say. “You know,” Lebowski says waving his hands in the air as a black helicopter glides by, “you hear things. Is anything really secret anymore?” “Good question,” I say, “and yes I’m leaving today.” “How does it feel to...