Chapter 4
ORION
As I return to the car, I feel everyone staring at me.
It’s probably my imagination, but I don’t think so.
I see the surreptitious glances, and the way they look away when I catch their eye.
Not that I ever try to catch their eyes.
Before I left Doctor Genji’s examination room, I hid my tentacles safely behind my mask, so maybe it’s just because I’m tall, or the red hair, or the mask. Likely, it’s everything.
Could I give up my sense of taste? Would it be worth it to be able to walk down the street without causing an accident?
I don’t know. Maybe it would be worth it. Will it hurt? They’re so sensitive, but Doctor Genji must have anesthetics for procedures that involve…
My phone buzzes with a text, stopping this line of thought before it gets too gruesome, and I find there’s another message I missed while I had my phone turned off at the appointment.
Hi Orion, it’s Bertie. Turns out I’m going to bake some more kouign-amann on Friday. Let me know if I should set aside a few for you!
Thank you. Yes. I would love a few.
Drop by the bakery a little later than usual. See you then, handsome!
Always flirting. Maybe I should flirt back, just this once. A nice compliment should do the trick, but what can I say? Something about his baking, of course—that’s really our only connection.
Thank you, Master Baker.
I do have talented hands ;) See you then.
What did that mean? Such an odd response. I’ll have to remember to ask him about it on Friday. The message I missed is from Enzo.
News about appt?
It went well. Looks like he’ll be able to help me out. We scheduled a follow-up to discuss treatment plans.
Then it hits me. Masterbaker. Sounds like, well, I won’t say it. A juvenile sex pun…and no way to take it back. Ugh! After a moment, Enzo answers:
Gr8!!! Home late
I’ll leave some dinner in the fridge, if you’re hungry.
Thx
I hope Albert wasn’t offended by my remark. His flirting is always more, well, gentle than that crass joke, but he didn’t seem offended in his breezy response. I don’t want to push—he is married, after all—but it sure is nice to have a flirty friend.
“Hey, buddy, did you miss me?” Jake is waiting at the door when I get home, as I knew he would be. I strip off my mask and let them get some air before I take Jake on his walk.
“I think this calls for treats. Your dad had a successful appointment. Let’s see if we still have any of Albert’s cookies.”
Jake is only too happy to hear the T-word, gobbling the cookies down in a flash.
“Let me change, bud, and we can go to the park.”
The weather is cooling down, but we’ll be running most of the time, so I trade my nice pants for some athletic shorts.
I don’t know what I, or Jake, would do if we lived somewhere with snow.
Play in the snow, I imagine? I have no idea.
Do dogs get too cold? I suppose I don’t need to worry about it, living here where we never get weather worse than rain.
I grab a few tennis balls and some water, strap everything away again with my mask, and we’re ready. Jake is already at the door, waiting with his leash.
“Such a good boy!”
Just as I hoped, our favorite park is almost empty.
It’s a perfect spot, secluded and too small to have a playground, too large to have a community garden, with just the right amount of grass for Jake and a tennis ball.
I nod to Robert, an amenable older fellow who often takes an afternoon constitutional with his walker, and then it’s time for fun.
I set Jake free and throw the ball as hard as I can.
This is the high point of my day, every day. We’ll play this simple game to the point of exhaustion, a satisfying exhaustion for both of us, and hobble back home, ready to repeat the same thing tomorrow. Unfortunately, the joy is occasionally punctuated, but I never let that stop us.
Today, the punctuation is a comma, a short pause in our pleasurable afternoon.
Three teenagers—I’ve seen them many times before—pedal their bicycles down the winding sidewalk in the park.
They’re aimless, lazily meandering and joking, bored with too much free time on their hands.
Imagine having enough time to be bored! That’s a thing of the past, between work and boyfriends and doctors and the joy of an hour in the park with Jake.
They’re not exactly looking for trouble but happy if they find it.
I don’t think they’ve ever actually seen my tentacles, but word gets around.
One yells, “Hey freak. How’s it hanging? ”
I do the only thing I can do: ignore them, throw the ball to Jake again, and hope it won’t escalate.
I’m imposing, so I’m certain they won’t try to start anything, and frankly, I’ve cultivated a look of menace I can deploy at any time.
If they want a freak, I can give them a freak, at least as much as they can handle.
A simple glare usually does the trick with low-level stuff like this.
This bunch have never taken it much past a few names, but I’m an easy drive-by target that’s too good for immature minds to pass up.
It’s the older ones I need to watch out for, ones who have ossified into their beliefs and need some reason to validate them. So far, I’ve been lucky with this quiet suburban park and this time of the afternoon. My fun with Jake has never been punctuated with a period or an exclamation point.
“Hey Mom. How are the holidays going for you?”
How am I going to bring up the subject of my upcoming procedure? I really need to get their thoughts on it.
“Orion! It’s so nice to hear your voice. Everything is fine here, perfectly fine. You know your father. I’m doing everything I can to keep him off that ladder, but he has to do his lights.”
I’m not surprised. That’s my dad, always a go-getter.
“I thought one of the neighbor kids was helping with that.”
“He’s not a kid anymore! He’s away at college, but your sister has promised to drop by later this week to help.”
“How is she doing? We haven’t spoken in a while.”
“All good. Little Dakota is in third grade already—can you believe it?”
“It is hard to believe. Speaking of that, do you have a Christmas list yet? I’m going to do my shopping soon.”
“You’re such a good uncle. Dakota is doing puzzles these days, and if you can find one with dinosaurs, that’s even better. I’ll send over some suggestions for the others. How is Jake?”
“He’s great. We’re walking home now from our run in the park.”
“That’s nice, dear. Maybe the two of you can come for a visit someday.”
“Yes, I’d like that, but…” I’d love to visit, but it’s so complicated, with work and Enzo and Jake. I really need to make it happen. Maybe next year.
“I know, dear. Travel is difficult for you, and I understand. What are you doing for the holidays?”
“Nothing big for Christmas Eve, but I’m planning a dinner for some of my friends on Christmas.”
“That sounds fun. What are you cooking? No, wait, I can probably guess. A roast?”
“With all the fixings. Just like you make.” Enzo is going to love it. I’ve never made Mom’s signature dish for him.
She laughs and says, “Just like what I’m making. It’s rather a command performance from your father.”
“You do make the best,” I say, remembering the flavors. My gravy gets close, but never quite right.
“Your sister also requested a sweet potato pie. I haven’t made one of those in years and I’m looking forward to it. What are you making?”
“I’m going to buy a pie from my favorite bakery. He makes a great bourbon pecan pie.”
“Sounds delicious. Now you’ve gotten me thinking—I’ll have to look up some recipes. I think that’s something your father would like.”
“No doubt. I know from personal experience they’re delicious.”
“I’ll have to do it, then! Thanks for the tip. Do you want to talk to your father?”
“Yes, please. Is he around?”
“Right out back. Give me a second.”
I really need to get around to my serious subject. Maybe I can bring it up with my dad.
“Hey son! How’s it hanging?”
“I’m doing great, Dad. I hear you’re putting up the lights.”
“Trying to, but you know your mother. Cassie is dropping by later today to help.”
“Send me a picture when you’re finished!”
“Will do. It’s just the same old stuff, but the grandkids like it.”
This is it, the perfect time to address my elephant in the room.
“So, Dad, I have some news.”
Of course, my dad catches my tone instantly. “That sounds serious…is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything is fine. I’m just thinking about doing it after the New Year. Having them removed. I just wanted to let you know.”
There’s a pause, silence, then he asks in a level voice, “Your TenTens?”
“Yes.” I don’t really know what’s next, what he’ll say. I’ve mentioned the possibility a few times over the years, but never seriously.
“Hold on a second, Orion.” I hear him shout, “Dear! Could you come here?”
He puts his phone on speaker and continues, “Orion is thinking about removing his TenTens. Son, tell us more.”
“I found a cosmetic surgeon I like, and he says it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Oh dear,” Mom says, worried. “Do you need us to come out?”
“No, Mom, I’ll be fine. He says it will probably be an outpatient thing, and I’ll just be bandaged up for a while. I think he’s planning to do it in phases.”
“Is it really what you want to do?” she says. “Your TenTens. Oh my. They’re so much a part of you.”
“Sometimes that’s the problem,” I say, perhaps too peevishly.
“You know what your mother means,” Dad says. “We’ll support whatever you want to do, but please give it some thought. You’d be giving up a lot, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” I say, confused again. Sometimes I’m ready to chop them off tomorrow, and other days, I just don’t know. “I won’t do anything rash, but I would like to be able to walk down the street like a normal person without scaring everyone.”