****
Commercial flying made him nervous. He was convinced breathing the recycled air propagated to the inevitable cold or worse. The attendant led him to his seat, an aisle seat. She smiled.
“Thank you,” he mumbled.
“Hey, bud,” the chubby man next to him greeted.
“Hello,” Heisler replied, disingenuously.
“I’m Victor,” the man said with an extended hand.
“Apologies, Victor, I don’t shake hands…I’m a Doctor, you see.”
Naturally, most people made the assumption that Doctor meant Physician then made the following correlation; the guy works with sick people, and he works a lot, maybe in a hospital, and he doesn’t want to get sick from others’ germs. It was a phenomenon Heisler enjoyed observing.
“Guess you can’t afford to get sick, huh?”
Heisler smirked. “Guess not,” he answered, turning his attention to a folder.
Inside it were papers regarding behavioral studies on apes in captivity. He read for most of the flight. Once his eyes started the twitchy dance of fatigue, he attempted to relax by observing those around him.
Behind him, a couple conversed over planning a child. At least they’ve waited until they’re stable. I just don’t understand how so many people bring children into this world when they’re barely able to care for themselves. Ahead of him, a young man peered through the window, oblivious of anything else. Others spoke amongst themselves, falling to the need of passing time with idle chatter, or introducing themselves to strangers, which they were never to see again. Like my friend, Victor, Heisler thought, looking over to the aging man. Victor smiled, his face wrinkling as he did so.
“What’s on your mind, friend,” Victor asked.
“Why?”
“Oh, no reason…I just thought, you know….”
Heisler looked him over, never taking his eyes away. Victor grew uncomfortable. Twice, he turned away then looked back. It wasn’t too long after that that landing instructions came on.
“It was uh, a…pleasure,” Victor mumbled.
Was it? Heisler wondered. Minutes later, off the plane and weary, he spotted an old friend. Johnny rushed over, smiling; he was wearing a tan suit. It complemented his ebony skin.
“Good to see you. How was your flight?”
“Long. Let’s just get out of here,” Heisler snarled.
Johnny patted him on the back. Walking away, Heisler scrutinized the individuals meandering about the airport.
“What do you think they’re doing with their lives?”
“Who?”
Heisler responded with an aggravated motion of his hand, indicating he meant the obvious—everyone.
“I don’t think about it, man. How about you? You holding up okay?”
“Of course,” Heisler answered.
Making it to the parking lot, they piled into Johnny’s black Sonata. He didn’t turn the key. Instead, he looked at Heisler, who smacked his lips and tried not to give Johnny the attention he was craving. He still didn’t start the car. Once Heisler fidgeted, Johnny smiled.
“How long I been knowing you, Steven?”
Heisler shook his head. “Johnny, I had a long flight. Just take me home.”
“Come on, now. I know when you get like this, it’s because you’re stressing over something. A man’s mother dies, that’s got to be disturbing.”
“It’s fine. Can we go, please?” Heisler whined.
“Yeah, we can go,” he answered, starting the car.
They exited the parking lot and pulled out into the night. Orange lights swept over the windshield as Johnny flew down the interstate.
“How’s the work? I heard you built that cat.”
“We’re just starting, really. I’m working on the next step, something real…a real change.”
“Oh yeah?” Johnny grinned.
Heisler gauged his friend. “That makes you happy?”
“What?”
“You’re happy about a project for which you have no investment,” Heisler accused. “I don’t understand.”
Johnny shook his head in dismay. “You’ll never understand people.”
“You’re right. I’ll never understand the need to feel like part of a whole, to fit in, blend in, meet likeminded people,” he air quoted. “Do you know why my team is working so well together?”
“Why’s that?” Johnny was sardonic.
“Because we’re all different. Different outlooks, different professions, different likes…versatility, Johnny. Versatility. We don’t need to be around one another. There’s no…emotional attachment. We work on a project. Then we move on,” he explained. “Like animals. They don’t look for each other to, to…go and hang out. They just live. A dog doesn’t get sad. A dog doesn’t need a funeral.”
“First of all, dogs run in packs, so your argument is crap right from the get go. Second of all, my dog, Petey, was sad as shit when his favorite toy fell apart,” Johnny argued.
“How did it fall apart?”
“He chewed it up,” he said with an air of contempt.
“Right. He chewed it up…because of a biological need, which you deprived him of when you domesticated him. In the wild, a dog chews a stick. When it breaks, he isn’t sad about it…I don’t think Petey was saddened by destroying his own toy…no. I think the dog simply developed a longing for its true nature; surviving nature,” Heisler clarified. “Look at it this way; people, when removed from their natural order, develop psychological problems. You take an adolescent boy and lock him in a basement; he’s going to become deranged, not because of a lack of toys, but because he’s been limited to such a small fraction of what his interpretive systems require.”
“You ever own a dog?”
“No, Johnny. I never owned a dog.”
“You ever raised an adolescent?”
“No, Johnny. I never raised an adolescent.”
“Then what do you know?”
“I never drank bleach, but I don’t need to, to know it will burn,” Heisler fired back.
“Think about it from the bleach’s perspective,” Johnny jested. “It’s never been inside of a man, but life inside one, might be better than inside of a bottle.”
“Now you’re just being difficult,” Heisler grinned.
“There’s a smile.”
Mom
Johnny and Heisler pulled into the driveway of the aging two story—Heisler’s dad’s house. Why does he need everyone around him to be happy? There’s more to life than grinning like an idiot. The doctor’s thoughts were cut short. His dad, an old man with a scruffy ring of hair around his head, stood in the doorway. He wore a flannel robe.
“Johnny, thanks for bringing back Steven in one piece,” he greeted them.
“He’s a piece of something, all right,” Johnny joked.
The old man embraced his son before turning to Johnny, “Staying over?”
“Not tonight, Mister H. I’ll see you both Friday,” he answered then pulled away into the night.
The father and son entered the humble home. At the dining room table, they spoke.
“Coffee,” Mister Heisler asked.
“No, I need to get some rest.”
“I’m glad to see you,” he said, wrinkling his face with a smile.
“Me too, Dad…how, how are you?”
Mister Heisler nodded a bit before answering, “I’m dealing. Your mother and I were married for forty years. What am I supposed to do know?”
“And this is why I won’t marry. Now that your wife is gone, you feel like you have nothing. No reason to live. No achievements…I don’t mean for this to sound harsh,” Heisler said.
“Stop it, Steven,” Mister Heisler growled. “I have achievements. I have you, you little…tin-man, and I’m not saying I have nothing to live for. I’ll always remember your mother…I can’t understand why you’re afraid to feel.”
“It isn’t a question of fear, Dad. It’s a question of necessity.”
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“Just like old times…at least, that’s comforting.”
Silence prevailed while the two stared at the table. The wall mounted clock ticked incessantly.
“So, Johnny said Michelle is coming to stay for a bit,” Heisler started.
“Yeah, your cousin is a nice gal…her lifestyle choice is a little peculiar.”
“It isn’t a choice. She’s only attracted to women. There isn’t anything she can do about that…and since there’s no real need to procreate at this point, it isn’t even a biological discrepancy,” Heisler clarified.
“If people don’t have kids where is the world going to be in fifty years?”
“Right where it always is; spinning around the sun.”
“Get some rest, Steven,” Mister Heisler chuckled. “Thanks for coming down.”
“Yeah…night, Dad,” he said and gave his father a hesitant pat on the shoulder.