Orbital

Six Down to Earth

As I reach across the table and grab a petal off an Outback Steakhouse Bloomin’ Onion and dip it into the sauce, my mother shakes her head at me.

“David, why are you wearing that hat and those ridiculous sunglasses indoors? It’s already dark enough in here.”

“He thinks it makes him look cool,” says my Dad as he butters a thick piece of bread.

“Trust me, it’s better if I keep them on.”

“Can I get you any refills?” asks the waitress.

“Have you met my son, the astronaut? Maybe you saw him on TV?” says Dad, trying to embarrass me.

She stares at me and scrunches her nose. “Is that on HBO? Because I only get Netflix.”

“No. It’s a web series,” I reply.

“Oh.” She looks at me like I just burped the alphabet and walks away.

“Sorry, big shot. Your fifteen minutes are up,” replies dad.

I point to my stomach. “You know. I was actually shot.”

“Don’t say ‘you know,’” admonishes my mother. “And the doctors said it missed all your vital organs.”

“I was shot in space. In a shoot out with Russian terrorists.” My voice begins to rise like I’m a teenager.

Mother inspects her silverware for the twelfth time. “Well, you always wanted to be an astronaut.”

“He was going to be a school teacher,” my Dad points out.

Mom’s voice grows very cold. “Don’t remind me.”

She’d gotten me a job in her school district. A job I quit weeks later when I found out iCosmos was going to hire me as a human guinea pig with the chance of being an astronaut.

She drops her knife on the table. “All of our students were watching when you launched. If I’d known you were going to be pulling some stunt, I wouldn’t have done that.”

“Mom, my friends died up there.”

“Well, that’s too bad. But weren’t you always saying what a hard-ass Bennet had been towards you?”

I stare at the table and think about the complex relationship I had with him. “He was trying to prepare me for the worst.” And the worst happened.

“Maybe if you…” she starts to say.

“Don’t even go there.”

I can see Dad is still trying to figure out all the loose ends. “I still don’t understand why they chose you. You never expressed any interest in the military or working for the government.”

“What are you talking about? I tried to join the Air Force and the Navy.”

“Yeah, but that was only because you wanted to be a pilot and meet girls,” says Mom.

“There’s not a lot of women in the vacuum of space,” I reply.

“Stop being a sexist.”

I can’t even. “The zero-gravity shootout was easier than this.”

“It wasn’t zero-gravity. It was micro-gravity,” Mom replies. “And I think you’re exaggerating.”

I let the conversation drop and eat my salad. When our entrees come to the table, Dad looks up from his plate.

“The Sullivans are going to Europe for vacation.”

“I went to space,” I mumble.

“What was that?” asks Mom.

“I think that’s great.” I’m not even sure if I know who the Sullivans are. My parents have moved twice since I left home and I have no idea who their neighbors are.

“When are you going back to space?” asks Mom.

“I don’t know. I’m on indefinite leave.”

“They’re probably not too happy that you stole one of their rocket ships,” she replies.

“Probably not, Mom.”

“What else have you thought about doing?” asks Dad.

“Uh…I don’t know. I was kind of hoping that I might be able to keep piloting or work on the US/iCosmos station.”

Mom suddenly gets interested in the conversation. “I saw a documentary about that the other day. I had no idea how big it was going to be.” She turns to my father. “Over a thousand people could live on it at one time. And it’ll spin, creating artificial gravity.” She looks back to me. “That would be great if you could work up there.”

“Finally, I’ll get your approval.”

“We’ll see,” she replies then cuts into her chicken.

“Don’t listen to your mother. We are proud of you, David.”

Mom swallows a bite. “If I wasn’t proud of you I wouldn’t have had all the televisions in the school district watching your launch.”

It’s a trap. That may sound like a compliment, but wait for it…

“But we saw how that turned out.”