Orphans

22

22 Ricky and I are receiving massages from a pair of female E.C.s. We are on our backs, undressed, sheets at our waists. It is the night before we arrive on Mars. We are supposed to be preparing for battle, but I am stuck on being so far from home and what it means to be okay with that. “Look kid,” Ricky says, “it’s what we do, we’re salesman, and salesman sell, let it go.” “But you have kids right and a wife, can you really justify being away and not caring for them, by saying that you’re a salesman and that’s what you do, done, that’s all?” I respond, “I’m not sure I can do that.” “You have to separate yourself from that and them,” Ricky says. “It’s two different lives, two different buckets . I lose myself in the work and I don’t think about it. There can be no thinking. Period. And you can’t think about it either.” “But then how are you any different that an E.C.—no offense,” I say looking up at the E.C., who just nods as she works on my shoulders, then arms, “or your Terrax? Is that being human?” “It’s coping kid,” Ricky says, “it’s how we get by.” “And what about the Terraxes,” I continue, “how do you deal with one living in your home as you, doesn’t it drive you crazy?” “Like Shelley,” Ricky says chuckling, “sorry, I didn’t say that out loud, but same thing, Norrin; I don’t think about it. I can’t think about it. I am work. Be work kid.” “I’m not sure I can be that guy,” I say. B E N TA N Z E R 77 “We’ll see,” Ricky replies, “if you can’t, you’re Shelley; if you can, you’re me, time will tell.” Is that really all there is? I think as the E.C. starts kneading my forearms and palms, my body going limp. Are there really no other options? I look over at Ricky, he looks relaxed, content. “Is that it,” I blurt out, “are those really the only options?” “It is if you want to work,” Ricky says, “and if you’re going to be like me, you better learn how to take care of yourself.” “What does that mean?” I say leaning-up on one elbow. “She knows,” Ricky says, looking dreamily at the E.C. The E.C. slides her hand under Ricky’s sheet, and I lie back down, eyes closed. I try to ignore thoughts of responsibility and Terraxes, and instead try to focus on good things—the surf and memories of my mom. I don’t fully calm down, but I do begin to relax a little as the E.C. moves to my thighs and feet. ...