“Highlights?” the girl stammered. “You want to know the highlights of my day?”
“Yeah, of course. Share something with us. Did you hear any juicy secrets? Did you learn something interesting?”
Natalia cocked her head to one side and drew her eyebrows together. Tears pooled at the edges of her eyes. Then she looked back at her mother with an expression of utter bewilderment. Alina shrugged.
“Thank you, Dad,” Natalia said finally. “I don’t know what to say. You have never asked me that before.”
Leonard’s breath caught in his throat. “Really?”
Natalia nodded knowingly before taking a bite of meatloaf. She chewed and swallowed hastily. “You’re always so distracted at the dinner table.” Taking a sip of water, the girl examined her father curiously over the rim of the glass. “But you’ve been different recently.”
“She’s right, Leonard. I’m tempted to ask you about your highlights. Anything new going on at the base? You’ve been more present these past few weeks.”
The base. What do I do?
Out in the real world, Leonard repaired and programmed computers. He spent most of the time in his home, either on his laptop clanking away, writing clever code, or at his solder-covered desk playing with electronics. He preferred tinkering and experimenting.
What is my career in this fantasy world? An electrical engineer?
Leonard looked at the ceiling for a moment before responding. “Oh, you know, testing, the usual. Nothing I toy with ever works as intended.”
Alina frowned and placed her fork and knife on the table purposefully. “Knock it off. First of all, I’m well aware that you cannot discuss your project, and you ought to know by now that I’d never ask.” She looked around the room as if searching for an eavesdropper. Then she glared at Leonard with an expression he could only decipher as admonishment. “Second of all, you don’t toy with things. You’re a genius.”
He stared at her. “I…uh…”
“What I’m really looking for is good gossip.” Her eyes lit up. “Nothing top-secret of course.”
Leonard frowned slightly and looked from Alina to Natalia. The girl took a sip of water, stared at her plate, and shook her head disapprovingly. Then she looked up at her father and rolled her eyes subtly. When she returned her attention to her meatloaf, he could have sworn she glanced stealthily to the left and right.
“Anyway,” Alina continued, “let’s get back to the ‘What are your highlights?’ version of my Leonard. I was kind of intrigued by him.” She smiled warmly. “So, Natalia, your father was asking about your day. Do you have a highlight you’d like to share?”
Natalia regarded her mother and father, each in turn. “It’s more of a lowlight. Can I share a lowlight instead?”
Leonard reached out and touched his daughter’s hand. “Of course, darling. Whatever you want to talk about.”
Natalia chuckled, but her voice quavered when she attempted to mock him. “Darling. Gaga, Dad.” Her body shuddered slightly as she held back an emotional release. Staring at the table, she bit her lip, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. “Linda’s not talking to me. She’s been ignoring me for several days now.”
Alina’s face softened. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“I think she’s pregnant. She’s been hanging out with the other pregnant girls.”
Pregnant? Leonard had to censor himself. His first instinct was to ask how old Natalia was, not an appropriate question for a father, especially when the girl obviously found him aloof and out of touch. “How old is Linda?” he asked instead.
Natalia glared at him. “Thirteen, Dad. Two weeks older than me, the same as it’s been ever since we were born.” The young girl’s eyes flashed from sadness to anger. She scowled at him, shaking her head. “It’s like you’ve been in a coma ever since you went to work for the DID.”
“Natalia,” her mother cautioned, catching her daughter’s eyes and locking them in a gaze.
“Sorry, Dad. I know you work hard.” She mashed her peas with her fork. An oppressive silence lingered. When Natalia spoke again, she sounded calmer. “I’ll drop a hint, since you’re clearly in another universe most of the time. Linda just turned thirteen.” She spoke slowly, pausing to confirm that her father was paying attention. “Which means my birthday might be coming up soon…sometime around September seventeenth perhaps?”
He nodded, playing along. “Of course I remember.”
“And what you promised me?”
“Absolutely,” he lied, hoping it wasn’t birth control pills. He was vaguely aware that tweens were having sex these days, but since he was an obsessed recluse with no children, the idea had not shaken him until that very moment.
“The seventeenth…that’s uh…”
“Thursday, Leonard,” his wife said dryly.
What’s today? he wondered.
“I’ve been saving gas rations,” Alina said, addressing her daughter. “I won’t let him forget.”
Natalia nodded, apparently satisfied with this information.
The conversation stalled. Leonard was confused, but he didn’t want to reveal the depth of his bewilderment. Perhaps he had planned a trip with Natalia. It would make sense given the gas rations comment. Gazing appreciatively at his beautiful daughter, he willed the dream to last long enough for him to find out. Then his face darkened. “I hope I don’t have to worry about you.”
“Worry?”
“You know,” he stammered. “If your friend is…”
Natalia glowered. “If my friend is pregnant and her friends are pregnant, you assume I’ll be next?”
“Well—”
“I hate those girls. They think they’re better than the rest of us.”
“They want to care for a baby at their age?” Leonard asked, incredulous.
“CAPERS will place them in a DCF,” Natalia said matter-of-factly. She frowned; then she mumbled something under her breath.
Alina narrowed her eyes. “Those girls are not better than you. They’re foolish. I see so many pregnant teenagers at the hospital.” She shook her head despondently.
At the mention of hospital, Leonard’s brain raced, recalling facts and memories that had been tucked away for ages. Alina and Leonard broke up right after she received her bachelor’s degree. Leonard had graduated three years earlier, but he was still devastated by the shame of causing the accident that claimed Tommy Richardson’s life. He gave up on his plans for graduate school. Instead — armed with a computer science degree, a minor in physics, and hours in the electronics lab — Leonard retreated into his newfound obsession. By the time Alina graduated and was accepted into the University of Colorado Medical School, she had grown tired of the detached, fanatical man she once called her best friend.
He didn’t even try to pursue her when she left. One evening, saying not a word, she touched him gently on the shoulder, kissed him tenderly on the cheek, and walked out the door. He stood motionless for fifteen minutes wondering if he should run after her. Then he returned to his desk, pulled out a notebook, and worked for three days straight — driving her from his mind and chaining himself to his futile mission.
“You became a doctor,” Leonard said joyfully, abruptly emerging from his memories and rejoining his fantasy family.
Both female jaws dropped simultaneously.
Embarrassed, Leonard said, “I mean, listen to your mother. She’s a doctor. There’ll be plenty of time for boys in the future. You can start a family when you’re older and wiser.”
“A family?” Natalia said, puzzled.
Just then, a door opened and someone entered the foyer.
Alina shifted awkwardly in her chair. “Garrett,” she called down the hall. “Would you like me to heat up the meatloaf?”
A scuffing sound approached. Leonard glanced over his shoulder as a teenage boy shuffled into the room. Tattered jeans enveloped his dirty sneakers. The boy looked about fifteen. Leonard presumed he was his son. Except for b
rown eyes, the teenager had undoubtedly inherited his father’s looks with fairer skin and a bigger nose than his sister. The boy’s mousy brown hair was short except several long strands that hung precariously near his eyes. A haughty, annoyed expression marred his features.
“I don’t want any of your stupid oatmeal-loaf.”
Alina took a deep breath and glared at her son. “Garrett, if you don’t wish to join us for dinner, you need to call.”
“Whatever.”
Leonard glanced at Alina apprehensively. Her previously bright face darkened. She looked several years older than she had when Leonard first approached the table.
The boy grabbed a chair, flipped it around and sat down, resting his chin on its back.
Alina raised one eyebrow. “Either sit at the table or go to your room.”
Garrett abruptly pushed back causing the chair to crash to the floor.
Leonard finally summoned his courage. “Treat your mother with some respect.” His voice boomed, filling the room. “And pick up that chair.”
The teenager regarded Leonard suspiciously. Eventually, his thin lips formed a faint smile. “Look who grew some balls overnight.”
“Be quiet, young man,” Alina said sharply.
Garrett flipped his palms up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying.” The boy retrieved the chair, sat down, and put his elbows on the table defiantly. He slumped forward and placed his chin in his hands, looking utterly bored.
Leonard hesitated. Should I say something further? He didn’t enjoy being bullied by his imaginary son, but he didn’t want the dream to be ruined by arguments and hostility. The precious moments with Alina brought him such happiness. He decided to steer the discourse in another direction.
“So, Natalia. What does DEPS 007934 mean?”
The young girl eyed her father curiously.
“On your shirt.”
Natalia nodded slowly.
Garrett scoffed. “I knew you were out of it, but this is ridiculous. You went to 7934.”
“It was called Ridgecrest then, Garrett,” Alina explained.
“Right. Ridgecrest. You had competitive sports in those days,” Garrett said, grimacing. He shook his head. “Still, you’ve got to admit, the old man should know his daughter’s school number. That’s not too much to ask.”
Ridgecrest. My middle school, Leonard thought, feeling dull-witted and out of place.
“And you think he’s a genius, Mother.” Garrett laughed. “Inbreed,” he muttered.
A horrible taste burned the back of Leonard’s throat. “I’m sorry, I forgot,” he whispered. “I guess I am getting old.”
He glanced around the table. Natalia stared at him, mystified, almost scared. Garrett maintained an expression of righteous insolence. Alina’s eyes bore into him with a mix of emotions he found hard to decipher. Anger, no. Concern, yes. Bewilderment, definitely.
No longer pleasurable, the dream disturbed Leonard. Thirty-one years haunted by Tommy Richardson, he deserved a nice dream. Still, what good was a story that reminded him of all he might have had but did not pursue? The hostile teenager may as well have been Leonard’s own conscience — ridiculing him as an old man who knows nothing, reminding him that the newer generation is already moving in to embrace the world that had passed Leonard by while he tinkered.
“Excuse me,” he said, standing. “I’m not feeling very well.”
He walked away from the table without so much as a glance back, leaving behind the woman he lost decades ago and making his way to the ten-by-ten prison that had claimed his life.
Chapter Three
“Sweetheart.” A female voice roused Leonard from his slumber.
He moaned and stirred. Michelle. He pulled the blanket over his head. “Go away.” She was the last person he wanted to see. Drowning in failure, he mourned the end of his vibrant dream, a dream which slipped away as his brain awakened. Not now. Presumably Michelle had returned to retrieve some forgotten items or maybe even to apologize. If she wanted to get back together, he would have nothing of it. On the other hand, perhaps she was eager to wake him up so she could gloat. Surely she saw the state of the room — the fire extinguisher, the foam. It was painfully obvious that something had gone wrong and Michelle would be more than happy to hear every humiliating detail.
“Leave me alone,” he said, squirming deeper under the covers.
“We need to talk, Leonard.” The voice was gentle and compassionate.
Leonard? Michelle always called him Leo. She only used Leonard when she was miffed at him, and she typically said the name with such disdain that it often sounded like an insult. This voice did not belong to Michelle. Leonard sat up abruptly.
Alina.
A prickly sensation crawled up Leonard’s neck. He looked around the room. Renoir, floral bedspread. The clock indicated it was 1:17 a.m. “I’m still dreaming.”
“That explains it,” Alina said in a tone of amusement. “You must have been sleepwalking at the dinner table.”
Leonard did not respond. The beautiful woman mesmerized him — perched upon his bed, her long hair resting on a green t-shirt. He reached out and caressed her face lightly. She touched his hand, sending shivers through his body. A wave of desire flooded his senses and all rational thoughts slipped away. He considered only the idea of laying her on the bed and making up for lost decades.
She whispered in his ear, “Let’s take a walk.”
“I can walk when I’m awake. While I have you, I want to make love to you.”
“We’ll make love when we get back.” Her voice, still very low, sounded sharper, possibly urgent.
“Alina, I’m going to wake up and the last thing I want to do with these fleeting moments is walk.” He stroked the side of her breast.
Alina pulled back and considered him, frowning. “You are awake, Leonard.”
He smiled and returned his attention to her breast.
She grabbed his hand. “Look at me. Do you really believe you’re asleep?”
He nodded.
She glanced apprehensively at all four corners of the ceiling. “What did they do to you?” she mumbled, barely audible. Then she stood up and spoke in an obviously forced, nonchalant tone. “A little fresh air is what you need, sweetheart. Put on your pants and let’s take a quick stroll around the block.”
He looked down. He was sitting in his briefs, wearing a tattered t-shirt. He ran a hand through his thinning hair.
A real stud. No wonder she doesn’t want to have sex with you.
Leonard obliged, and a few minutes later the couple ambled down the sidewalk. A third-quarter moon barely lit their path. They passed a home with a mildly sloping yard and a garden proudly displaying an assortment of late-season flowers. The moon’s glow blanketed the garden in silver-gray, teasing Leonard’s eyes. At that moment, walking with Alina, he longed to see the flowers’ proper colors.
Just beyond the shimmering flowers, a row of bushes marked a small greenbelt. It separated the Tramers’ neighborhood from a bland, high-density development. In Leonard’s real world that area contained luxurious houses situated on skillfully landscaped, multi-acre properties. It struck Leonard as odd. The ugly, stone-gray housing development seemed incongruent. Everything else in the dream was a gentler, lovelier version of what he experienced in his actual life. The cozy home, the beautiful wife, the handsome (although not-both-so-well-behaved) children.
“What about the kids?” Leonard asked, realizing that they were several houses away in the wee hours of the morning.
“They’re fine. It’s you I’m worried about.” She reached out and grabbed his hand. “You’ve been acting so strange lately,” she whispered. “Your memory’s failing. You think you’re asleep. That’s weird, Leonard.”
He spoke in a normal volume. “I’m just—”
“Shh. Keep your voice down. A few more steps.”
Alina glanced nervously over her shoulder before shoving Leonard through the bushes into the open spac
e. She dragged him several yards away from the bushes but remained in the shadow of a huge tree near the center of the greenbelt. She sat down and patted the grass beside her.
“Okay,” she said, “tell me what’s going on.” No longer maintaining a whisper, her voice was nonetheless quiet and cautious. “Are you involved in some kind of human experiment?” She examined his head for scars.
He pulled her hand towards his chest and leaned over to kiss her.
“Leonard,” she said in exasperation. “I’m glad you’re feeling affectionate. You’ve barely noticed my existence for the past several years…but you’re really starting to worry me.”
He barely heard dream-Alina’s words. A feeling of tremendous loss washed over him. A peculiar sensation began in his abdomen and traveled swiftly toward his head, until his scalp tingled. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice quiet and sad. “I made all the wrong choices. I should have abandoned my pointless crusade. I should not have let you go.”
Alina’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m here, Leonard.” Her voice trembled and she leaned over, stifling a gasp with her free hand. “But you’ve got to tell me what’s going on. What pointless crusade have they got you working on? Please tell me they haven’t hurt you.”
A cool breeze tickled Leonard’s face. Suddenly, he became aware of the warmth of Alina’s hand and the chill of the moist grass. He felt the dampness seeping through his jeans. It was irritating yet very tangible.
“I’m not asleep, am I?”
Alina shook her head, slipping her hand out of his and pulling her jacket closer to her neck.
“What’s happening?” Leonard whispered.
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
Leonard reevaluated the events which had transpired since he left the smoldering time machine. The household setting, once established, did not morph from one home to another as one might encounter in a dream. The characters, properly developed and realistic, did not blend and fade as the evening wore on. Almost every physical detail seemed to remain in its proper place. All at once, it hit him.
Nine-Tenths Page 2