Bewilderment

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ROBIN WAS PHILOSOPHICAL, WALKING HOME. It’s still the experiment, right? Whatever happens, we’ll learn something interesting.

I wasn’t sure if he was consoling me or educating me in the scientific method. I couldn’t concentrate. I was thinking of all the legitimate scientific research that might be shut down between now and Election Day, on no better grounds than political caprice. We were, as Marty said, in uncharted waters.

“It’s temporary. They’re just on hold for a while.”

Do they think the training is dangerous or something?

The maples were too orange. My mail notification sounded. I could smell winter on the air, two thousand miles and three days away. Robbie tugged at my sleeve.

This isn’t because of Washington, is it?

“Oh, no, Robbie. Of course not.”

He twitched at the tone in my voice. My mail bell dinged again. Robbie stopped in place on the sidewalk and said the strangest thing. Dad? If you went to sea or to war… if something happened to you? If you had to die? I would just hold still and think of how your hands move when you walk, and then you’d still be here.

After dinner, he asked me to quiz him with flash cards of state flowers. Before bed, he entertained me with tales from a planet where a day lasted only an hour, but an hour lasted longer than a year. And years had different lengths. Time sped up and slowed down, depending on your latitude. Some old people were younger than young people. Things that happened long ago were sometimes closer than yesterday. Everything was so confusing that people gave up on keeping time and made do with Now. It was a good world. I’m glad he made that one.

He shocked me by kissing me good night, on the mouth, the way he always insisted on when he was six. Trust me, Dad. I’m a hundred percent good. We can keep the training going by ourselves. You and me.