Orphans

27

27 “Just lie back, relax, we are preparing to leave,” the calming voice says, still not metallic, or robotic, not scratchy, or booming, just soothing, like rain water, and there for me as I prepare to go home, sleeping, dreaming and spinning across the universe. I lean my head back, tired and crusty, brain pounding. “You will soon be asleep,” the voice continues, making love to me, always love and goodness, wrapping me in warmth and joy and all the things we want regardless of age. The voice reminds me first of my mother, it is always the mother, and her creamy softness and flour-specked hair, and then of Shalla who I ache to hold throughout the long night. “Close your eyes, think good things, happy things,” the voice says. I think of Joey, of walking him to school, laughing together , and watching him grow into a man, someone we can be proud of, someone of worth and deserving of respect . “You’re doing great, just take a deep breath,” the voice says as the engines on the shuttle come to life with an enormous hiccup of electricity and fire and life, the slight scent of ethanol wafting past me as I settle back even further into my bed. I take a deep breath and then another, my eye lids growing heavy and sinking together. I picture myself out at Kanas Lake and on my board as the sun, all orange and streaky red, rises over the gray waters and gray O R P H A N S 92 skies, the endless nothingness stretching farther than I can possibly see. There is movement below me and around me, a slight hum, some grinding, and there is life, the sense of being pushed from below and above all at once, compressed between invisible hands, flattened and stretched, breathe, think good things, kite-surfing, making love, chewing SythKhat on the beach, holding Joey. ...