Chapter 14
Chris, Fatimah, and Sonny all spill out of my car and into the parking lot of the barcade.
Considering we still have a lot of building left to do and a fight tomorrow, we make a tentative plan on when to leave before dispersing into the revelry. The bar is overflowing with people, but I realize it’s mostly other builders. I suppose this place would be popular with this crowd.
Chris and I play some two-player games together before he and a friend from another team go off to do something.
I put the hood of my sweatshirt up to turn invisible in the crowd, observing while I wander around looking for another game to play.
Sonny and Fatimah are playing skeeball. Soledad is playing giant tic-tac-toe with some friends.
Clusters of comrades and colleagues laugh together.
Everyone is having fun. I’m having fun, even just watching people.
I can’t remember the last time I went out like this, the last time I did something for fun.
I haven’t had time to do something for me in years.
I’ve given up so much of my time, energy, and ability to my family and—by extension—to work.
Anything I have left, I pour into combat robotics, desperate for it to fill my cup.
I’ll go to an occasional party or something, but that’s usually more out of community spirit and support rather than desire.
The barcade is small, but I can play any game I want. I can play with my friends, or I can play alone. This time is mine. I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts, even if it’s only a couple of hours.
Maybe I’ll find more of these days soon with Ava off to college come fall, and Dad back to independence.
The bills don’t stop, though. I still have student loans.
I’m doing everything in my power to make sure Ava doesn’t have any.
We still have so much left to pay on Dad's medical bills, but with his shop up and running again, maybe we can pay them off more quickly. I scraped enough together to get Ava a car a few months ago, which has helped free up time previously spent driving both her and my dad around. We can take turns with our dad when he can’t use the accessible bus service.
I’ll still be around to help them both. I’ll still be exhausted from working all the time, but maybe I’ll get to live a little again. I’ll get started with the life I never got to have.
Even if this run at Circuit Smack doesn’t work out, maybe I can find my way onto another heavyweight team. There’s one here in Chicago and one in Milwaukee. Those aren’t too far to spend weekends. As long as we win, it would probably offset the costs.
Maybe I can finally prioritize a relationship.
It’s been hard to have anything beyond hookups.
The reality of my responsibilities quickly crushed even the flings that tried to turn into more.
Despite the outcome of my parents’ marriage, I’ve always wanted to get married.
Have someone to share my life with, my joys, my hobbies.
I know everyone in the local combat robotics community, and while I’ve hooked up with a few people, none of them are people I’d want to date.
Maybe I can find a nice person and get them into robotics, too.
Maybe that would make it less daunting, again.
Jacob is coming back. He’s already into everything you are.
The thought startles me. It’s a ghost, a remnant from a life long, long gone.
Even if we weren’t constantly in each other’s way and praying for each other’s downfall, we had years to make a move, and neither of us did.
That little part of my brain still stuck on him after all these years is nothing more than juvenile scar tissue clinging to the familiar.
I find myself staring at a large arcade cabinet with two plastic shotguns wired to it.
A classic zombie shooting game. While I don’t condone real-life violence, video games (and smashing robots) are the perfect way for me to vent the leftover terror of being sent home and partake in some childlike wonder.
The heavy metal tokens in my pocket can’t wait to be spent.
I lean my cane against the side of the cabinet, out of the way, before sliding a token into the slot.
The weight of it leaving my fingers feels like a ritual offering.
I grab the blue gun and get used to it in my hands as I wait patiently for the countdown to end and the game to begin.
My hood blocks out everything around me, letting me focus entirely on the screen.
I’m thankful for it. I played this game many years ago when I still had time to do things, and I know how fast-paced it is right from the start. I’m not wasting tokens on dying early.
“Mind if I join you?” A man’s voice makes its way through the concentration and din of the arcade.
The game is more fun with two, and I’m less likely to die. “Go ahead,” I say, not taking my eyes off the screen. He’s standing barely outside my hooded field of vision, but a long arm puts a second token in the slot and grabs the red gun as the countdown ends.
I let out a manic laugh as we shoot our way through hordes of zombies.
The game moves us down alleyways and streets.
My mystery team member and I give each other warnings, “on your left, on your right”, as we progress through the map.
Every time there’s a break in the hoards, we “reload” the fake guns in perfect sync. He must have played this one, too.
Unfortunately, this game is tough, and we both die near the end of the second level.
“No,” I groan as the zombies swarm the screen and GAME OVER appears.
“Want to play another round?” I say before turning to see Jacob grinning and holding the red plastic shotgun.
My words die on my lips. Jacob’s perfect mouth makes a surprised “O” before falling into something else.
Not anger or confusion. Nothing that familiar, nothing that normal.
Fondness. Bittersweet fondness.
I can taste his small, wary smile on my tongue like unripe fruit. It’s tough to swallow. It’s not something I ever thought I’d see directed towards me again. It makes my skin itch and my chest hurt, but mostly, it makes my blood boil.
“Just like old times, huh?” he says. The words sound like a whisper in the ruckus in the room, but they couldn’t throw me off balance more if he were screaming them in my face.
A waving arm over his shoulder catches my eye.
Chris points at his watch. Time to go. I hate that I’m always the one running away, but I’m floundering under his soft gaze.
All I want to do is get somewhere far, far away and never look back.
I can’t get stuck in this void of memories and frustrations with him.
I toss the fake gun back in its holster and start to push past him.
Fuck. My cane.
I stop in my tracks, closer to him than I intended. Once again, my poor proprioception—the innate lack of understanding my body’s position and where it is—has put me in the path of danger. This time, instead of a table corner or missing a step, it’s inches from Jacob. Thanks a lot, hEDS.
The soothing scent of him hits my nose, warm and fresh, like a blanket wrapped around me in front of a cozy fire.
His shoulder is eye level, damn his tallness.
It would be so easy to rest my head on it.
My eyes follow the curve up, over the defined ridge of his jaw to his plush lips, parted like words might spring free at any moment.
My brain catches up to me, screaming red alert. What am I doing? What is wrong with me? Nothing he says to me is ever good.
I take a step back, and another one. “Mari, wait,” he says.
I snatch my cane and turn, looping around a row of machines so that I won’t pass him again. It’s a cowardly move, but I’m not sure I could handle being that close to him again with the way my heart is trying to beat out of my chest.