I am Gideon: Chapter #14

OUTED.

I was with Azar for most of a year, I think.  Through sizzling hot sidewalks and icy wind blowing trash down the street.  We became friends, in a way.  I sat with him and we would talk, and I learned more from him than I realized.  I could understand that the letters on the menu meant phaselus soup, stew, soaked bread, fried eggs with biscuits.  I knew that those symbols on signs in the window meant “Help Wanted” or “Contaminated, Enter at Your Own Risk.”

I asked Azar about that last one, and he said it meant that someone who was carrying a disease worked there and that people should use caution when patronizing that establishment.

“But…” I started, and then thought better of it.  Best not turn over a stone best left unturned.

“But what?” he asked.

I just shook my head.  “It just seems a little unfair unless they’re contagious,” I said, which was pretty much what the part of me that wasn’t screaming in fear, was thinking.

“People are easily frightened,” he said, and went back to his bookkeeping.

I learned to recognize the crews that came in off the haulers, both short and long-distance ships, and I wondered if someday I’d get to see one.  Azar gave me days off once in a while and I tried to go see them once, but I was turned away because I didn’t have flying papers – couldn’t even get close to the space port.  “Passenger ships are over that way,” the guard grunted, and pointed with a finger that had food on it from his lunch.

My stash of credits was growing little by little. There was a store in an alley that had stacks of used clothing, and I bought a jacket, and some better footwear.  I had a change of clothes, even a warm blanket with only one hole in it, and that was in one corner near the foot.  I thought about travel, but I was content where I was – talking to the crews, hearing their stories, joking with the regulars and the locals.  I wondered if maybe, someday, I’d take over the business when Azar retired.

Then, one day I saw a familiar, very unwelcome face come in, another even more unwelcome face hanging on his arm.  Civilized face, with good teeth.  Clean shaven. Gold Declivian eyes and a slit for a mouth.  The man who had raped me while I screamed and my mother laughed, and she was with him.  Even more terrifying than their appearance, was the fact that neither of them seemed particularly drunk.  They might actually be able to think, and if they could think, they could recognize me.  Why I was surprised, I have no idea.  I was in the same city, not far from where I’d been “raised.” I suppose the miracle was more that at least one of them hadn’t come in sooner, but at that point, all I felt was overwhelming panic.

I spun around and bolted toward the kitchen, running into Azar in the process.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, “You look like you’ve seen the devil himself.”

“Worse,” I managed, “It’s my mother! And the man who raped me!” Dear Creator, how had that fallen out of my mouth?  “And… I’m afraid they’ll recognize me.”  I could feel tears on my cheeks.

“They won’t,” he said quietly.  “Go tend to the laundry.  I’ll come and get you when they’re gone.”

Apparently, while I was tending the laundry, Azar casually stopped by their table, and casually engaged them in conversation, and because my mother has absolutely no filter, it came out with oily ease that she was a prostitute, and yes, she had a son who helped her in the business – the men just loved him – but he’d got sick or something and they’d come and took him and maybe he’d died because she didn’t think she’d ever seen him again.  Or maybe she had.  Couldn’t remember.   Sure wish he’d come back. He was a real money maker.

When the place was empty for the night Azar patted a chair and I came and sat down.  I could see by the look on his face that my time here was coming to an abrupt end.

“You never told me,” he said quietly. My mouth opened, and he raised a finger, “Don’t bother lying, Gideon.  I had a chat with your mother.”

“I wasn’t going to lie,” I choked.  “She sold me, over and over, for a long time.  I was little.  I couldn’t help it.”

“And then they took you away.”

“Yes.”

“To the hospital.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s where you learned to make beds and stack the dishes that other people have to eat off of after you’ve touched them.”

“Yes, but I’m not… I have a paper that says I’m not…”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said.  “People are easily frightened. I’m sorry, You’re through.”