Orphans

18

18 I jolt awake, puffy and weak, my eyes bulging from my head like an anime character in a book that Joey might read. Where am I? I am here, of course, somewhere, yes, here, somewhere. But where, is this BeiShan, Shalla’s arms, the kitchen, my mom, what, what is this? I am shaking, no shivering, I don’t know. I know I cannot breathe though. I cannot calm down. I try get up, but I cannot move. My legs are jelly. My arms don’t work. Nothing is responding, nothing , nothing works any more. My mouth is so dry. I could drink forever, anything, now, now please, what, where am I? I am not with Shalla, this is not Baidu or my kitchen or anything at all. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck! Lights are coming on. The glare burns my bulging eyes, my skin, my brain. I put my hand up in front of my face, shielding myself from that which I do not know. “Relax, breathe,” the calming voice says, the voice of reason, love and the mother, always the mother. She’s back, and I can relax. I breathe. “Slowly move your hands and feet,” the voice continues , “you are alright.” How does she know this? Because she knows everything, she must, I trust that, and know it to be unequivocally true. It has to be so. I shake my hands and feet, at first just moving millimeters at a time, and then something more, bending, and blood 65 B E N TA N Z E R flow, and my eyes begin to adjust, my brain no longer so fried, my skin beginning to cool. “It is time to awaken,” the voice says, mellifluously, the room coated in honey, well, honey and love, “please stand up, slowly.” I tell my legs to stand, to swing over the side of the bed, but they do not. I grasp the sides of the bed and lift myself up to a sitting position, blood immediately rushing to my head, brain pounding and eyes itching and pulsing and ready to leap from my skull. I rub my forehead until the moment passes and then inch by inch I shift my legs to the side of the bed, before lifting my right foot, then my left, over the side, leaving them dangling for what looks like miles above the floor. I push off of the bed and feel a jolt ripple through my legs, starting with my feet, before moving through my calves, knees, thighs and into my hips. I pee in my pants. But I’m standing. I’m good. As good as I can be. “Please proceed to the shower station just outside the door,” the voice says. I am embarrassed at how erect I am, how quickly and achingly, thinking of Shalla and my mom, the voice, and any woman I have ever met and thought I might have had a shot at. “After your shower, please exit the door and follow the hall until you reach the cafeteria,” the voice continues , and for a moment I believe the voice will follow me into the shower and finish off this phase of the trip with a happy ending. I enter the shower station and begin to stroke my cock even as hot water starts to cascade across my willing skin for the first time, in how long, and how many miles—too many, and a whole world ago at that. ...