The Son of Every Man

Chapter 8.6

Saturday, August 14th, 1999

"What the hell is that thing?"

"It's a computer."

The kid let his backpack fall and slop over on the floor. "Looks like a giant blueberry." He walked cautiously over. "How much did you pay for this?"

"A lot less than a new kitchen would have cost. And you don't want one of those."

Gabe looked dumbstruck. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Play games. Go on the Internet."

"How?"

"Just got it put in. You do it through the phone line. I called up Timestar and they flipped some switch on their end, and now I have it for thirty dollars more a month. Can you believe that shit? Problem is, no one can call you while you're on it. Look a me, all connected just as you sever yourself from society."

"Why not just go to the library?"

Miguel laughed. "How am I supposed to watch porn at the library, huh?"

The kid glanced sheepishly away. "I don't want to know what you would type in."

"I'm kidding...mostly. Hey, check this out." Miguel pressed the power button. A deep chime sounded and the screen flickered on. He sat himself down in front of it and less than a minute later, had the browser open.

The kid stood still, peering over his shoulder. "What are you going to look up?"

"This isn't a school project," said Miguel. "Think of it more like: Where will I go?"

"There's a whole world represented in there. Our world," Gabe said softly. "Don't you feel a little strange bringing all that noise into your home?"

"It gives me an incredible sense of freedom, if you want to know the truth. And don't forget, it's your home, too."

The kid brushed his hair from his eyes. It was getting long. "I guess it's true that you can only go forward," he said. "You can never go back."

;-;

The sun went down just a couple hours after Gabe's 6 p.m. arrival. Miguel had been sleeping in later than ever before, sometimes until almost noon, forsaking his long-imposed ten o'clock alarm. He had always been careful to preserve his daytime existence, knowing how easily it could slip away with such a late work shift. But he was also sleeping better with the kid nestled beside him every night. Gabe himself confessed he had never slept so deeply in his life. No matter how late they awoke, they did it together. No matter how few daylight hours remained before nighttime returned, Gabe and Miguel exhausted them as a team.

The timing was a blessing. As much as he tried to categorize Monday night's intrusion as an isolated event, he couldn't shake his impression of the strange man as a harbinger of something worse to come. It felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath him, and ever since, he had been struggling to right himself. It didn't help that nothing truly had returned to normal since then, what with Eddie constantly presiding over territory that he had liked to believe was his. But he was actually grateful for that change. The alternative—having to work alone there again—sounded much worse.

Miguel had never been one to remember faces, but this time was different. As he recalled the night, he could conjure the countenance and sly expression of the intruder so vividly that his stomach tightened. He found himself recounting the exchange more often that he wished; it cropped up in his mind unannounced and uninvited, loitering there as Miguel tried to shift his thoughts to other things.

He had so far managed to avoid bothering the kid about any of it. He knew that Gabe's response would be a voice of reason, reminding him that Eddie had only taken the event so seriously out of an abundance of caution; it would be absurd to allow a relatively innocuous visitor to reframe one's entire sense of place and wellbeing. He would echo Miguel's rationalization that what happened was surely isolated, unlikely ever to repeat. And because Miguel could hear these made-up versions of Gabe's reassurances play in his head as if the kid himself had spoken them, there was no need to bother with the real thing.