Chapater 13 the loneliness
Lestelle arrived at the Hapes spaceport and took a sky cab to her home of origin. The home was situated in the suburbs, where rows and columns of homes were laid out in grid like fashion, half acre lots separated by concrete fences and the only way to access any of the homes in the neighborhood was by air. There were a community parks, trails for walking, jogging, and biking, and lakes interspaced between groupings of homes. Lestelle’s family’s property line didn’t butt up against a park, and might have been insignificant, but it stood out because it was the only one with a private pool in the back yard for six lots in any direction. The private, computerize cab settled in the intended parking space. The door opened skyward and she got out and asked the car to wait. The car acknowledged her request, but it was understood that if there was an emergency call, it had a proximity protocol that might require a response.
Lestelle went slowly up the path, in present time and past. She sorted through memories, some pleasant, some not so pleasant. She rationalized the past ‘bad’ and regreats and ‘sadness’ as just something all people experience, trying not to linger at anything particular that came up in her mind. She spoke code to the front door and it opened, welcoming her back. She entered, set a small bag that she had acquired in her journey home onto a table, removed her shoes, and proceeded through the house, calling her mother. No answer. The house felt empty, and at the same time, it was also full of ghosts. Smells brought a flood of emotions to the surface, the intensity of which surprised even her. She was about to proceed upstairs when the wall pager came to life.
“Sis, is that you?”
Lestelle sighed, let go of the rail, and touched the button on the wall.
“Hello, Letha,” Lestelle said.
“Where’s mom?”
“She’s in the nursing home. Didn’t you read your emails?”
“When?” Lestelle asked.
“About a week ago,” Letha said.
“Thanks,” Lestelle said.
“Wait, we need to talk,” Letha said.
“No, we don’t, but thanks,” Lestelle said, and ended the call.
She gathered her things, slipped into her shoes, and headed for the cab. The door closed automatically behind her. The cab accepted vague instructions like, “take me to the facility hosting Fana Re,” but in this case it required the signing an affidavit that she had legal rights to another form which allowed her to access to ‘a release of personal information’ that allowed the nursing home the ability to acknowledge the presence of said person. She consented, of course, and once the cab got clearance, it was off. It arrived in hardly no time, but that passage of time may have just seemed shorter due to Lestelle’s trance like gaze out the window, watching the scenery below and the reflections in the window, watching the droplets from a misty rain gather and roll with the wind. She thanked the taxi and again asked it to wait. The entrance was nondescript, perhaps intentionally so, but it opened into an expansive lobby. The front desk had her immediately sign in and put on a reusable, electronic name tag. There were residents loitering in the lobby, some in mobile assist devices, while others occupied the provided chairs or couch. A lady, hunchedback with age, wanted to talk to her but she did her best to excuse herself politely, suggesting to the woman who was obviously confusing her with someone else. There was a piano, not being used, and a fireplace, also not being used but was set with logs and appeared ready should the weather present. Private meetings rooms were available, probably because all of the hospital residential rooms were double occupancy, consisting of beds, dressers, and a small shared bath. The place smelled of old people, urine, cleaning solvents, and death. She tried not to invade people’s privacy, but doors were open and bed ridden people complaining, crying, or just otherwise miserable were inescapable. One guy yelled at her.
“Could you get the nurse! I pooed myself and need to be cleaned!” he demanded. His call light was on.
“I’ve been waiting over an hour.”
Lestelle stopped a passing tech.
“Excuse me, he needs help,” she said.
“We’re short staff, today,” the tech said, trying to move past and disengage from the conversation.
“Then maybe you need more Droids,” Lestelle said.
“We need a lot of things, Miss…”
Lestelle handed her a business card.
“I’m his lawyer. Please see that he gets attended to before I leave. And please note, I am legally obligated to report any suspicion of neglect,” Lestelle said.
“And if there is any evidence of retribution against this patient I will make sure none of the staff has licensure to work in a care facility again, are we clear?”
The tech swallowed.
“I will personally take care of this matter, as soon as I administer this med pack to another client.”
“Thank you,” Lestelle said. She proceeded directly to her mother’s room, purposely shutting her eyes to the needs both real and perceived. Her mother was in the second bed, a media device playing, but she stared at the wall, vacantly.
“Hello, Mother,” Lestelle said.
Fana turned her head, her eyebrows drawing together, her eyes narrowing.
“Come to gloat?”
“No, I came to show my concern,” Lestelle said.
“If you had any ability to care, you would have become a Doctor and not a lawyer,” Fana said.
“So what happened again? Your looks failed you here, so you’re whoring yourself out on a planet where the feminine competition is nonexistent?”
“Yes, I’m employed off world,” Lestelle said, a weak smile playing across her lips.
“At least your sister cared enough to check in on me,” Fana continued.
“I wonder how long I would have suffered with a broken hip before you came to see if I were even alive.”
“There are Droid companions that can call emergency services,” Lestelle said.
“I didn’t give birth to Droids,” Fana said.
“And Droids cost money. Insurance, maintenance.”
“They have Droids for that, too,” Lestelle offered.
“And I sent you money.”
“All of which I returned,” Fana pointed out.
“I know,” Lestelle said, pulling up a chair.
“Still single and brooding over the fact your sister is more beautiful than you are?” Fana demanded.
“You really think I’m that shallow?” Lestelle asked.
“Well, you are a lawyer,” Fana pointed out again.
Lestelle faked a smile, nodded.
“Why are you even here?” Fana demanded.
“I’m wondering that myself,” Lestelle said.
Fana turned her head and stared at the ceiling.
“I suppose you can’t help it. You’re just as selfish and whorish as your father ever was,” Fana lamented. She licked her lips.
“The service in this place sucks. If I wanted to die of thirst, I would have stayed broken on my own kitchen floor.”
“Mother,” Lestelle said.
“There’s water on the table in arms reach.”
“I don’t want water,” Fana said.
“I would be happy to fetch you some tea, or maybe juice,” Lestelle offered.
“That’s the best your brain can come up with?” Fana asked.
“I doubt you can partake of alcohol in this place,” Lestelle said.
“Don’t tell them. I thought you lawyers were supposed to be clever, sneaky, bitches. Oh yeah, that’s why you farmed yourself out cheap on a foreign planet,” Fana said.
“Alright, well, I’m going to leave now,” Lestelle stated, standing up.
“Any additional insults you’d like to deliver while I am here in person to collect?”
“You are so weak,” Fana said.
“That’s why he dumped you, you know.”
“You’re right, Mother,” Lestelle said, sadly.
“I’m sorry I disappointed you. I’ll try not to bother you again.”
“Just like your dad, show up when it’s convenient, and disappear again,” Fana said.
“You must have liked him for something. You did procreate with him,” Lestelle said.
“I’m sure he drugged me,” Fana said.
“That would explain your poor looks and low IQ.”
“Goodbye, Mother,” Lestelle said.
Lestelle escaped the room, her mother calling her names as she left. She paused just out of sight to listen, shed a few tears, and then pushed on down the hallway. Letha rounded the corner and nearly ran right into her. She opened her arms to offer a hug, but Lestelle put up a hand, forcing her to hold back as if she were actually using the Force.
“I’ve missed you,” Letha said.
“Yeah? I still don’t want a hug,” Lestelle said.
“I see you’ve been talking to Mother,” Fana said, indicating the tears.
“It really wasn’t a conversation,” Lestelle said.
“You understand she is sick, that she can’t help it,” Letha said.
Lestelle assessed her sister’s statement and the seriousness of her delivery gave credence that Letha actually believed it.
“You always make excuses for her behavior. I doubt she has a diagnosis for a mental illness, but even if you’ve finally gotten one, I would like to understand why she isn’t taking meds, or how the symptoms of this supposed illness comes with selective abuse to a specific person,” Lestelle said. She interrupted her sister’s potential response with a hand that said she wasn’t finished.
“Now, I’m here just for a couple days. I would like to spend one night at the house…”
“It’s still your home,” Letha said.
“It was never my home. It was just a place I lived,” Lestelle said. Letha frowned.
“If you feel that way, why even stay one night?”
“I’m not coming back,” Lestelle said.
“It’s just closure.”
Letha shrugged, frowning.
“Are you still holding a grudge because I married your boyfriend?” she asked.
Lestelle smiled.
“Slept with him behind my back for months, announced it only because you got pregnant, and then married him,” Lestelle pointed out.
“But no, Letha, there was never a grudge. He chose to be with you. It’s that simple.”
“Still, it must have been painful,” Letha said, trying to make a connection.
“I think mother has poisoned your ear towards me, because you think I’m either too shallow, or hold no emotions,” Lestelle said.
“It’s bad enough you didn’t hear my hurting then, when it was fresh and appropriate to emote such feelings, but that mother and your father supported you and the relationship, actively dismissed and disparaged me into suppressing my point of view as if it were too legalistic to point out that it was wrong for you to have slept with him or actively engaged him in any way other than to say ‘no, you’re in a relationship with my sister, end that first and then we’ll talk,’ but that’s not how it played out, was it?”
“I loved him,” Letha said.
“I know,” Lestelle agreed.
“And you want me to negate that, deny that the best thing that happened to me, to my life, was him, and our children?” Letha asked.
“I’m not asking you to do anything,” Lestelle pointed out.
“Why can’t you just be happy for me? Why can’t you admit that perhaps he loved me more because you’re an emotionless, robot,” Letha said.
“Our dad…”
“Your dad, my step dad,” Lestelle corrected.
“Our DAD was good to us, to you,” Letha said.
“You’re right. I never wanted for food or material comfort,” Lestelle agreed.
“And you left home, chose a lesser career path because you intended to pay your own way instead of accept Dad and Mom’s help,” Letha went on.
“Conditions,” Lestelle corrected.
“You didn’t even come to the funeral!” Letha said.
“He deserved better than that.”
“I was 150 light years away! You had the funeral before I could physically get here!” Lestelle snapped.
“I asked mom to delay four days, but did she tell you that? No. I’m sure she didn’t.”
“No, she didn’t,” Letha said.
“Try not to believe everything you hear about me,” Lestelle said. Lestelle went around her sister, but Letha touched her arm.
“Are you happy,” Letha asked.
Lestelle considered the question, considered the way it was delivered. Her half sister wasn’t evil, she cared, but there was nothing here.
“I am, actually. Thank you for asking, Letha.”
“Will we ever be close?” Letha asked.
Lestelle laughed.
“No,” she said, and walked away.
♫♪►
Lestelle continued to hear her sister’s voice play out in her head, “Why even stay one night?” There was no way that she would disclose the truth: she wanted to make sure she wasn’t leaving something important behind. Specifically, she was looking for her poltergeist. No one had ever believed her that it existed and the only reason her mother didn’t take her to a psych hospital for having potential signs of psychosis, hearing things and seeing things that no one else did, was because that said something more about her mother than her. Mother was always afraid that people would talk, or perhaps they would see how emotionally abusive she was to her first born. Potential physical evidence for a poltergeist included her homework being deleted, but step father never found any evidence of either computer malfunctions or tampering. Step dad attributed it to human error; her mother’s explanation oscilated between calling daughter stupid to accusing her of self sabotage. On the nights her homework mysteriously disapeared, she had to repeat homework assignments, staying up all hours to re-accomplish what she thought was already perfect. In addition to missing homework, things would mysteriously fall off the shelves and break. Mother accused her of breaking things, accused her of not understanding the value of material possessions, and consequently limited her acquisition of possessions.
For the second time that day, she found herself alone in the house. It felt weird, almost anticlimactic. It was dark out, thanks to a canopy that extended over the back yard, allowing the pool lights to ghost a pastel, bluish green tint to the ceilings and walls. A small droid filtering the pool gave a sense of movement to the light, as ripples decorated the surface of the water. She climbed the stairs, stairs she had climbed a thousand times going towards her only refuge. On command, the door slid quietly open and her heart sank. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but still, there was a sting of disappointment. All of her stuff was gone. In its place was a child’s bed and toys, most likely for Letha’s most recent child, as well as pictures of all four of Letha’s children. Her first thought was to go see if Letha’s room was untouched, but she told herself there was no point, no need to confirm what she had always suspected: Letha was the preferred child.
Lestelle sat down on the edge of the bed. It rolled beneath her, revealing itself to be a water bed. She sighed. She had wanted a water bed, but was told they were too heavy for her room and too much maintenance. Besides, she would just break it and get water everywhere. It was time to leave. Only one final thing to do: burn the house down was an actual impulse, but she decided on calling out to the emptiness.
“Are you here?” Lestelle asked out loud. Her voice didn’t echo, but it broke the stillness in interesting ways, like a rainbow across a dark cloud.
“I have no intentions of coming back here, so if you’re real, or still here, I would like some token. Break one of these toys?”
Nothing happen.
“Please, tell me I wasn’t crazy,” Lestelle said.
Still, nothing happen. No words. No whispery background thoughts that could even be intimated to be words. No light touch.
“I need you,” Lestelle said, genuinely sad.
An apparition appeared. It had form and shape and an aura, and had a presence that was much more than a hologram would have had. Lestelle screamed and jumped up to flee and then stopped herself.
“Preston?” she asked.
“Oh. Damn it! You scared the crap out of me.”
“You sounded like you were in need,” Preston said.
Lestelle sat down on the bed.
“I’m sorry. I am feeling really emotional,” she said, and allowed herself to cry.
Preston sat beside her on the bed, his hands in his lap. He didn’t acknowledge the crying, but instead studied the room.
“I don’t remember all of these toys being here,” he finally said.
Lestelle stopped crying, turned to face Preston, one foot remaining on the floor, the other leg folded in a half lotus position. She considered the kiss in the dark and how familiar the embrace had seemed. She studied him as he studied the room.
“You?!” Lestelle said.
Preston returned to the present. Eyebrow up, he asked, “Yes?”
“It was you?!” Lestelle said.
“You’re just now figuring that out?” Preston asked.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lestelle asked.
“I thought you knew,” Preston said.
“I didn’t know. When did you know?” she asked.
“I knew the moment you kissed me in the interrogation room,” Preston said, shrugging.
“I assumed it was mutal enlightenment.”
Lestelle shook her head.
“I don’t understand. All these years I thought I was crazy, but it was you and you’re real,”she said.
Preston smiled, nodded in agreement, tapping his chest over his heart. Lestelle smacked him. His smile went away.
“I’m confused,” Preston said.
“Why didn’t you make yourself visible like this before?!” Lestelle demanded.
“I was a novice and didn’t have the skill set,” Preston stated.
“In the beginning I was doing good to move objects remotely. Pushing buttons on the keyboard was a little easier…”
She smacked him again.
“What the hell was that about? Deleting my homework? Breaking things?”
“You were always so serious,” Preston said.
“I was trying to get you to lighten up.”
“Or maybe I was tired, physically, staying up hours because I had to rewrite stuff, and tired emotionally from being ridiculed!” Lestelle said.
“No one believed me.”
Preston nodded. Out of nowhere, Lestelle went to slap him again but he blocked.
“Please don’t hit me,” Preston said.
“Why were you even here? You were spying on me? Was that how you got off as a teenager, spying on girls?” Lestelle asked.
“There is a lot to that question and I don’t know how to approach it,” Preston said,
thoughtfully.
“I am not sure why I was drawn here initially. I sensed loneliness. Or, maybe, that was what I was feeling. Like attracts like. I yearned for companionship, someone to talk to, someone to love me, and I found you, and I felt a rapport. Maybe I imagined a rapport. And you were definitely beautiful, and intelligent, so I can’t deny I was naturally obsessed with that, but I don’t think spying is the appropriate term, because privacy is an artificial construct that doesn’t exist in the real world.”
“The real world?” Lestelle asked.
Preston faced her, mirroring her body posture, one foot remaining on the floor.
“You understand that though I am not a Jedi, I hold a particular paradigm that regards the most essential qualities of life as being invisible, that the matter that comprises our bodies, our worlds, is merely illusion, nothing more than shifting sand that is here one moment and then gone. It’s survival sandbox, it’s a game, a school; we come here to learn, to play, and to grow. There is no privacy in this world or the next because everything is light.”
“I don’t believe that anything other than this world exists,” Lestelle said.
“You believe in love,” Preston said.
Lestelle laughed.
“No, I don’t,” she said.
“If you didn’t, you would be less disturbed by your family’s behavior towards you,” Preston said.
Lestelle’s shoulders slump and she leaned into him, her head on his shoulder.
“You witnessed some of it,” Lestelle said.
Preston closed his arms around her.
“I never felt adequate here,” Lestelle said.
“Never?” Preston asked.
Lestelle pulled back enough to look him in the eyes.
“Sometimes, when I knew you were here, I felt safe. I felt hope that things might be better,” she said.
Preston nodded.
“It was a joy for me to be here. I admired how you persevered, that you continued, regardless of how others treated you, to speak your mind with kindness. You held to your personal boundaries without capitulation. You are amazing, Lestelle, and so much smarter than you give yourself credit for. And, I dare say, more spiritual than you imagine.”
Lestelle wouldn’t have chosen ‘spiritual’ as a word describing her attributes, but hearing him say so seemed accurate. She sniffed and wiped her eyes.
“You remember the game we invented?” Lestelle asked, suddenly smiling. Preston frowned.
“The one where you had me lifting stuff?”
“It’s how I knew you were intelligent,” Lestelle said.
“You followed directions. Float that toy car over there.”
Preston gave a bemused look.
“You remember where this game ends, don’t you?”
Lestelle blushed.
“I would ask you to lift me,” she said. She frowned.
“And then you would be gone for about a week.”
Preston blushed.
“There is no other way to say this, but to say it. Every time I lifted you, I had an extremely intense orgasm, and it took me a while to recover sufficient energy to travel to you. And it was so frustrating because I would wake up in my body and still wanted more. Some of those moments were my darkest hours, because the loneliness that unfolded around me after such intense intimacy was almost unbearable. I have discovered that when you invest that kind of energy in a person, it is better to wake up beside them than alone, somewhere else. Not complaining, though, as that time alone provided the will power to master remote projection. I guess I owe you a thank you.”
Lestelle hugged his neck and kissed his lips softly.
“I have a secret. Every time you lifted me, I had a turnover,” she said.
Preston seemed surprised.
“Really?” he asked.
“Why would I make that up?” Lestelle said.
“I never had an TO with Drew, but with you, every time. And you were my first TO. I’ve had others since, but never as intense as ours, just different. Yours was like a full body, every cell lighting up, and I would call that spiritual, or mystical. I don’t believe in soul mates, but you could provide a convincing argument that I would be hard pressed to debate.”
Lestelle scooted away from him and laid her head down closer to the head board, her arms open, palms up. The bed rocked with the excited repositioning.
“Go ahead,” Lestelle said.
“Lift me again.” Preston laughed.
“Are you sure?”
She leaned up, propping herself with her elbows.
“Absolutely. If you want to. Do you want to?”
“Oh, hell, yeah,” Preston said.
Lestelle laid down again, stretched her arms and legs and then shook them out.
“Okay, lift away.”
“May I make a request?” Preston asked. Lestelle leaned up.
“Something wrong?”
“Nope. I fully intend to lift you, perhaps higher than I have in the past,” Preston said.
“Okay,” Lestelle said, not quite sure where he was headed, but how could she not at least entertain a request considering what he was willing to give.
“What’s would you like?”
“If our time together is as intense as it was in the past, I’m afraid I might not be able to visit again for a couple of days, and was wondering if we could do it the old fashion way first,” Preston said.
Lestelle smiled.
“Come here,” she said.
Preston crawled closer to her, over her, hovering above her as the bed slowly rocked with his movement. He liked the way she moved as the water shifted within the matress, the way her eyes maintained focus on his, her face glowing.
“Kiss me,” Lestelle said. Preston complied.
♫♪►
“We’re not taking Freya,” Corissa insisted.
Preston fronwed, looking sympathetically towards his Droid. The emotions he detected were most likely his own projections. He nearly pointed out that Pink appeared to be going, as it was following Ten.
“Freya, guard duty, please,” he directed.
Freya nodded and headed back towards the tram.
Ten bounded up the ramp.
“I’ve got shotgun!” she yelled, heading for the co-pilots seat. Nolasco and Kiesha showed up.
“May we ride with you into town?” Nolasco asked.
“You’re not taking the Tie?” Preston asked.
“I’m too old to be cooped up in a Fighter for that long, figured we’d catch a transport back,” Nolasco said. He was pretty sure Preston wasn’t buying the excuse but before he could detour the investigative querry he was certain was to follow, Kiesha bailed him out.
“I requested a more comfortable ride, Preston,” Kiesha said.
“Oh, okay,” Preston said. He followed them up and Corissa hit the control that brought the ramp up and closed the door. Jodeen was already strapped in.
“Teach me to fly this?” Ten asked.
“Sure,” Preston said.
“No,” Corisa said.
“Why? I was flying by her age,” Preston said.
“A simulator?” Corissa asked.
“Yeah, well, technically,” Preston agreed.
“Get her a simulator,” Corissa said.
“Up, go sit next to Jordeen.”
“But I thought ship controls were shielded,” Ten began.
“Ten, go strap in,” Preston said, interrupting her. Ten frowned, but complied.
Corissa pulled the checklist out of a compartment by her seat and began reading it just slightly out of sync with Preston going through the start up sequence. He turned on the fuel pump to the Auxillary Power Unit. He then spun it and lit it. As soon as the RPM’s, temp, and pressure stabilized he turned on the first of four fuels pumps. He spun engine one and lit it. There was a
loud ‘boom’ and the ship shook. Corisa stopped reading.
“Why didn’t you tell me it did that?” Corissa demanded.
“That’s normal,” Preston said, dismissing her concern. He pointed to the engine instruments.
“RPM’s green, pressure green, temperature, well, sort of green…”
Corissa’s eyes scrutinized the array of sensors, but said nothing. Preston gave her a smile, but didn’t add his cliché: ‘nothing bad is gonna happen.’ He started fuel pump three and then lit the engine number three. There was no resounding boom, but the engine went live.
“Number three is missing the normal ‘boom,’” Corissa pointed out.
“Yeah,” Preston said, serious.
“Would you mind fixing that later?”
Corissa went to the next page of the manual. Preston activated fuel pumps two and four, which fed the corresponding engines. He directed the engines downwards as Corissa was seeking the precise rotation degree and throttled up. The ship shook as it lifted off the tarmac. Corissa closed the book, put it back in its compartment, and then crossed her arms in front of her chest, clearly pouting.
“Do you do anything by the book?” Corissa asked.
“I actually didn’t know there was a book till you pulled it out,” Preston offered.
Corissa rubbed her forehead, sighed, and turned on the weather radar. It reflected what she could see visibly, clear skies. She logged into a weather satellite to verify that they still had good weather all the way to their destination. Their altitude would take them well over the few thunderheads that were between them and the spaceport they were headed to.
“Can we buy a shielded music player?” Ten asked.
Corissa considered.
“Probably have to special order that,” Corissa said.
“I miss my tunes,” Ten said.
“I can pick you one up at Axilla,” Nolasco said.
“Ten, your tunes are still with you,” Preston said. They looked at him.
“What?” Ten asked.
“Cl