by Rowan Massey
“I’m gonna be a chemist.” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
“You know a lot of science?” My words were slurring. I really needed some sleep.
“I have like, six chemistry books under the bed. I know some shit. Did you know the alphabet drugs are alive? They’re basically intelligent biological robots created by humans, like AI in movies, only tiny. They make transactions with our bodies because if we like it, their species survives and evolves really fast. Plus, our bodies and drug factories put a lot of stuff in the air that helps them grow without our help. If you find an old stash of drugs, you’ll see bumps on it because it’s growing. In some places, like near factories and labs, they turn into slime.”
“That’s trippy,” I said, but I didn’t know if he was making it up to sound cool or what. “You must be really smart. That’s hot.”
He laughed, and I felt like somebody else had control of my mouth.
“If you wear glasses while you read, that makes it even hotter,” I mumbled.
His elbow nudged me. “Dude, shut the fuck up. Go to sleep.”
I turned over onto my stomach. I could remember sleeping that way back in the day before my mom left. It was like a hug from the bed. It was impossible that I’d ever been more warm and comfortable in my life. Nando pulled the thick blanket up to the back of my head, just far enough that I could still breathe. Sleep came easy and took me somewhere deep, warm, and perfectly safe.
Chapter Four
When Nando sat up and turned his lamp on, I was wide awake in a second flat. Sleeping in the open makes you a light sleeper. But I felt great. I didn’t know it was possible not to wake up feeling like shit physically.
Nando was just sitting at the side of the bed, slumped. I figured he was slowly waking up. I sat up and threw the blanket off. I stood on the bed to stretch, reaching my arms up almost to the ceiling, and yawning. There was crust in my eyes, and I rubbed it away.
He looked up at me with eyebrows bunched up. His eyes were puffy, and his hair was frizzy. It made him a lot less intimidating. Like he had at the field, he stared at me, eyes narrowed and looking me up and down. He scratched his fingernails across the little bit of stubble on his face.
“Like what you see?” I asked, and grinned. I stuck my tongue out to the side and did a little dance.
“Nobody likes morning people,” he grumbled.
I laughed and sat down beside him, bouncing when I landed. He winced and rubbed his head.
“What time is it?” There was no telling with no window, and I didn’t have a phone or a watch. He took a little digital clock from the floor and showed me. Just barely time to stop by a stew kitchen and get back to Dr. Sardana’s if I hurried. I grabbed my shoes and stuck my finger in one to test how wet they were. Not terrible, but my feet would be cold all day. I’d get a few sores from having damp feet.
“What’s the rush?” Nando asked, and flopped backward onto the bed. “Come with me for stew in a little bit.”
“I have to be at the doc’s at noon.” I tied my laces tight and double knotted it. My laces were rotting away, and I always half expected them to break and make me punch myself in the teeth.
“He makes you work that early?”
I shrugged. “Noon.”
“Where is it?”
I told him, and he sat up, grabbing his own shoes.
“I’ll take you on my bike so you can eat first.”
“There’s a kitchen on the way. I’ll make it.”
“Nah man, you don’t play with a good job like that. You have to plan on being early. That’s better than being late even once, even by a few minutes.”
I nodded. He was smart and deserved a good job much more than I did. “Where’s the bike?” I asked. I raked through my hair with my fingers, careful not to get anything bleeding again. I winced when I hit a section near my forehead that was really sore.
“I share it with Rydel. I gotta go upstairs and grab it.”
“Okay,” I smiled, and my chest swelled up. He was being so fucking nice to me. I hadn’t made a friend who wasn’t a fielder in a long time. People weren’t big fans of making friends with you when you were expected to drop any day, any time. The way he’d been looking at me, maybe he wanted more.
We brushed our teeth really quickly, using plastic cups and a gallon jug of potable water. We used the window in the hallway to spit. It only takes one bad tooth ache to make you learn never to skip it. He used some water to fix his wild curls and tied a red bandanna around his head while I grabbed my pack from his room. He tossed his things through the door and locked it.
We went down the hallway to the front entrance, and he headed up the stairs, telling me to go wait outside. It wasn’t quite as cold out as I expected. Being wet the night before had probably made it seem worse. The pavement was still dark with rain, and the sun wasn’t making much impact through the gray clouds. Nando came back out carrying a much nicer bike than I expected. The green paint was still shiny and mostly unscratched.
“Nice, right?” he said. “Go ahead and tell me how jealous you are.”
“I’m jealous. You should keep it locked up good so I don’t steal it.”
He smiled crooked and placed it on the asphalt, swinging a leg over the side, and waited for me to climb onto the spokes. I felt a stupid thrill from gripping onto his shoulders. His muscle and bones seemed like something I should memorize. He pedaled fast enough that the breeze made my hair fly around. I watched the wheels weave between pot holes, people, and trash. I loved the gliding feeling.
It took us no time at all to get to a crowded stew kitchen where there was a sale on some stew that was going to go bad the next day. I bought myself some of that, and bought Nando the fresh stuff, if you could ever call vitamin stew fresh. He mumbled a thanks with his head down, and we squeezed into the only empty spot on a bench. No table available. We were both busy eating as fast as possible, but I couldn’t ignore his leg touching mine, never mind that a stranger was almost as close on the other side. I tried not to think about it, and stared into my bowl as if it had a math problem in it, not bad food that tasted like pissed-on socks. I watched Nando’s index finger rub back and forth against the number etched onto his bowl.
“Is he teaching you chemistry?” he asked, and I was lost for a second.
“Oh, no. I don’t think it’ll be anything like that,” I said, trying to swallow my food. I wasn’t even sure what exactly chemistry was, if I was honest. “I think I’m just going to be the guy who does his chores.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Well, if you start to learn some cool shit, you gotta tell me about it.”
“Definitely,” I grinned, even though I probably had something weird in my teeth.
We ate the last few bites in a little less of a rush. Nando took my spoon and empty bowl from me, brushing his fingers against mine on both hands. As he walked away, taking them to the bin, I had to take in an enormous breath and sigh. It was hard not to keep feeling his skin against mine. If he wasn’t careful, I would easily convince myself he was into me.
I met him at his bike. When I offered to pedal, he said he liked to be the one doing the steering, so I stood on the spokes again. He took us down the streets fast enough to make my heart flutter every time he took a corner or dodged another biker. The hard curves of his shoulders and the smell of his hair were already feeling familiar to me. He felt as cemented in my head as Spitz’s voice. It didn’t really make sense, but I didn’t care.
We came up on Dr. Sardana’s house, and I pointed it out. When the wheels squeaked to a stop, I hopped off onto the sidewalk.
“This looks like something out of an old movie,” Nando said, staring up at it. I looked at the house.
“Being here makes me feel kind of weird,” I told him.
“It should. You won the lottery.” He gave me that look again, like he was trying to figure something out. “Better get in there.”
“Yeah, thanks for everything.”
&nb
sp; “No problem, man. See you tonight.”
He took off, pedaling hard down the street. I watched him go. I wished I could spend the whole day with him.
The door of the house opened behind me.
“I didn’t know you were friends with Nando,” the doc said.
I shrugged, smiling.
He smiled back as I walked up the steps to the doorway.
“You like him. Are you dating?”
“Um, nope.” I said, my ears going warm.
He swung the door open wide and let me in. I wondered if he sat around waiting for me or what.
“Let me clean up your head for you,” he said, shutting the door and locking it.
“What? Why?”
“It’s bleeding. You didn’t notice?”
I touched my head, grazing against that sore spot by my forehead, and winced. My fingers came away with a little blood on them. I must have scratched at my head and fucked it up in my sleep, but it also stung a lot more than the usual. It was getting infected.
The doc gestured for me to follow him down into the lab, where he sat me on a stool by a large sink. He got out a big first aid kit from under a table and started taking things out of it.
“You don’t have to,” I said. “Volunteers will give me something for it tonight.”
“I’m a volunteer, remember? And it’s no bother. Everything comes out of our own pockets anyway.”
I’d never really thought about where their supplies came from. I did know they ran out of things sometimes.
“Not dressing a wound would feel like not scratching an itch,” he said, and smiled.
I put my chin down so he could take a look. He didn’t just slap ointment on it. He ran his fingertips lightly over my scalp, checking my entire head for infections. It was only that one spot, so he scraped the pus out of the cut with a Q-tip, then smoothed some cream over it. I was squeezing the edge of the stool, trying not to show it hurt so bad. I felt nauseated. Pain when I had the crawls was one thing, so was pain without an infection, but this always sucked ass.
“I’m going to give you some soap to use every time you wash. Try to wash at least your hair really well when you leave the field, even if it’s not potable water.”
“I thought tap water was bad for cuts.” Not that it stopped me from using it.
“Well, potable is better, but not washing is worse. Do you want a haircut? If you’ll let me, I can clip it short.”
I thought of the dorky kids on billboards with short haircuts and scrunched my nose. Letting Fiona hack at it with her scissors now and then was good enough for me.
“At least let me get it off your ears. It will be easier to wash.”
I shrugged, and he took it as a yes, going into action like I’d given him permission to do something fun. He shuffled around for things in a cabinet, went upstairs, and returned with a towel and supplies. I let him wrap the towel around my neck and comb my hair out with a wet comb. Nobody but Spitz and Fiona had cut my hair or been close enough to touch me intentionally since before school days. I thought I could remember my mom’s stick-like fingers playing with my hair while I watched TV, but maybe I’d just dreamed it. The doc’s careful snipping and combing was a lot of attention to get from an adult. Even the people I knew who had parents didn’t have parents who gave them haircuts without grumbling.
“When you were here before,” I sang and swung my legs, because the haircut was making me happy, “couldn’t look you in the eye. You’re just like an angel. Your skin makes me cry...”
“Jesus, Wally,” he said, sounding irritated, “your shoes!”
I looked down at them. They were muddy, but what did he expect? Then I saw the floor by the stool and up the stairs. It was only a little dirt, hardly noticeable, but the lab was really clean.
“I can clean it up,” I said, quickly. “I’ll be fast. I can clean my shoes.”
“No, no that doesn’t matter. Take your shoes off. Your socks are wet, aren’t they?” He sighed big, almost growling. “Shit,” he hissed.
I didn’t know what the big deal was, but I didn’t want him to be mad. I took my shoes off and let them drop by the fridge. Dirt fell off them onto the floor when they landed, and I hunched my shoulders.
“Socks.”
I took them off. He stood there and stared at my calloused, blistered, scarred, and blotchy feet. I was almost embarrassed at how ugly they were. His eyes stared at them without blinking. He looked upset, and I didn’t have a clue what was going on.
“I can clean,” I said again, not knowing what else to say, but he didn’t answer me for a moment. Finally, he gave me one, awkward pat on the back and picked up the scissors.
“Take a hot shower when this is done,” he said, and cleared his throat. “I’ll put your shoes in the dryer. Give me your laundry too. If you bring Spitz’s clothes for him from now on, I won’t mind.”
“Fiona does his laundry,” I said, and he nodded. I didn’t tell him that I didn’t need the shower. If he said to take a shower, I would just do it.
When he was done with the haircut, he brushed loose hairs off me with the towel. I avoided looking him in the eye, just because I wasn’t sure what his deal was. I stood and put the first aid kit back together while he took the scissors and things back upstairs. When he didn’t come back down right away, I got the broom and dustpan from where I’d seen it in the laundry room and started sweeping hair and dried mud. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I’d never swept in my life, but it couldn’t be hard. It took me a few minutes to get the hang of swinging the broom stick and not needing to go over the same spots four times.
Did Dr. Sardana just feel sorry for me, or was there something I wasn’t getting? Nando had talked about him like he was dangerous, but he was acting like such a TV dad. It was impossible to know what to expect.
Before he could get back down to the lab, I’d locked myself in the bathroom, stripped down, and gotten in the shower. If he was upset with me, the least I could do was hurry up, but I covered my face with my hands, and just stood there. The hot water sent my cuts stinging all over again, and I tried to angle my head out of the water. The cold of my feet in the hot streams of steaming water made me feel like I was stepping on hot coals.
I wanted to make Dr. Sardana happy working with me, not just avoid getting fired. He didn’t understand that I was a fielder, and that meant I was always fine. Volunteers never understood that. I had to keep trying to convince him, but what if he couldn’t deal with me because my life seemed depressing to him? Eventually fired or not, I didn’t want that.
So, I wouldn’t be depressing.
By the time I was drying off, my toes were white again instead of the purple they got when they were cold. Next time, I’d clean my shoes and stuff them with newspaper, even if I was sleeping outside like usual. I’d keep my scalp washed and always use antibiotic cream.
It was sweet that he was trying to be a friend, not just my boss. He was old, but it wasn’t that different from Nando wanting to be friends. Well actually, hopefully it was different.
Back in the lab, Doc put antibiotic on my infected cut again, his fingers so soft that it tickled, and he handed me a pair of thick socks. I put them on while he threw my shoes in the dryer and shut the laundry room door to muffle the noise. He was frowning and had his sad volunteer look going again.
“I’m going to show you how to clean some equipment,” he said, letting his shoulders relax. “If it’s too complicated, I’ll have you do something else. Don’t let yourself get overwhelmed though. If you learn a handful of things that you can remember tomorrow, that’s as well as anybody ever does. Okay?”
I stood taller and nodded. He gave me black gloves, a doctor mask, and big, ugly goggle glasses. I didn’t like the feeling of the plastic against my face but didn’t complain. He handed me some kind of big shirt, and I didn’t ask, just put it on. It was dark blue, so I didn’t realize until I had it on what it was.
“Holy fuck! I’m a
scientist!” I walked down the room like I had a stick up my ass, nose in the air. I decided to try out a snooty voice. “Einstein. Gravity. Explosions. Experimentation!”
“Try to forget the explosion part,” Doc said. “Let’s just clean trays.”
He was smiling, but I thought I should probably try not to goof around if he was going to trust me with his stuff. I went back over, hopping into place to stand next to him. He poured a jug of something clear into a plastic bin, and it stank. I had to rinse glass jars and tubes in it over and over, then rinse them in special water under a special, skinny tap. Next were metal pipes that we scraped out until they were spotless, keeping the powder residue it made in a jar. The pipes were washed in a whole different way. Everything had to be dried and put away in perfect order.
I didn’t get the point of washing and rinsing things over and over, but I could tell he was serious about it, so I payed attention. We frowned over all the crusty spots together. I kept expecting him to go do computer stuff or something, but he stayed next to me. We handed things to each other and watched each other work. Twice, he said I was doing a good job, so I kept myself focused. It took a long time. I stretched when I could and sang a few lines of a song to myself when I got bored.
In my head, I compared Doc to other volunteers on the field who smiled but didn’t really look at us; helped but seemed to hate us; talked but didn’t have any expression on their faces. The doc was different.
When the job was finished, he leaned up against a table and told me how to put things away and throw things out.
“You’ll learn faster if you figure out the small things by doing it,” he said. “It will help if you learn to repeat things to yourself in your head too. It’s just like learning lyrics, only you don’t have the tune to help you along. Why don’t you describe to me what you just did, as a learning exercise?”
I laughed and felt like I was in school again. Remembering every little step we’d just taken was harder than it seemed like it should be. I kept putting the stuff away while I stuttered and backtracked. When I thought I’d remembered all of it, I slumped and waited for a reaction. The way he was looking at me made me feel like a spot on one of the glass tubes we’d just cleaned.