432: Accountability

Hearing a voice in the living room, I went in to see what C.W. was up to. I heard him say, “I’m not here to judge you but to help you.” There was a silence, and he said, “That’s the judgment of people worse than you, sweetheart. You are the only person on Earth with whom you must deal. Now you go on and try to think things through better from now on.”

I turned the corner as he clicked my cell phone off and sighed. He had taken a shape that he uses from time to time now. I call it “Eddie the Empathizer.” He was in the shape of a young man, maybe in his thirties, with close-cropped hair and a slight stubble of beard. He wore a “ZZ Top” tee shirt and neatly pressed jeans with sandals. A pair of what we used to call “hippie glasses” rested halfway down his nose.

He didn’t look at me.

“What’s up?” I said. He turned and stared as if he had no inkling I had been there.

“It’s getting worse,” he said.

“What’s getting worse?”

“Word’s getting around that they can talk to me and get information without being told they are going to burn in this Hell that your species has thought up. Tell me,” he said, “just where in the he…, uh, … heck did that nonsense come from? I asked the Galilean and he said some writers just made it up for dramatic effect.”

“Maybe, but what about it?”

The phone played “This Land is My Land.” He grimaced and answered. “Eddie here.” He listened, then said, “Yes, I remember you.” He listened again, longer this time. When he spoke, his voice was firm. “Now you remember what I told you, don’t you?” He listened. “So you just can’t wait, is that what you are telling me? You just can’t wait?”

He listened, looked at me, shook his head with a sad look, and then spoke. “Once more,” he said, “it can happen any time, the first, the second, the fifteenth, … any time. It can happen in any position. Holding your breath won’t work, I don’t care what they told you in the locker room.” He smiled, “No, eating spicy food won’t work either. There are pharmaceuticals that work, but they are getting harder to purchase. Did you read the information I sent?”

He listened. “Yes, they work most of the time and are easy to buy. They are also easy to forget about when he gets aroused and wants things to feel natural for him.”  There was silence, then, “There are other considerations, and some of these can make you die. Do you understand? Die. Do you know this boy?”

There was a long silence. “Tell you what you do,” he said, “you take him down to an attorney’s office and have an agreement drawn up where he will promise to pay in full for an accidental baby’s care. Have it witnessed by your local Sheriff.”

Another smile. “No, I don’t imagine he would either. That should tell you something. You think about it.” He clicked off.

“The hormones in your species are among the strongest and most virulent in the Galaxy,” he said, just as the phone exploded in song. He didn’t respond, but said to me, “It’s a losing battle.” Then he pressed a button on the phone. “Eddie,” he said again. As the listened, his face seemed to elongate. Finally, he spoke. “When did you find out?”

He listened for what seemed like an eternity. “Now quit your crying,” he said. “We need to work this out. Can you report the boy?”

He listened and shook his head. “Really?” he said. “Captain of the football team? Why are they exempt from accountability?” He listened, then said softly. “College. I see. Why did you allow him to do this to you?” There was a pause. “Did he really threaten to do that?” 

He took a deep breath as he listened to the phone. I felt I was intruding and started to leave. He motioned for me to stay and spoke. “What about your parents?” After a moment, he said softly, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” I thought I saw an eye moisten. “Now, you hush, maybe we can arrange for adoption.” He stopped suddenly and listened. “I see,” he said, “what would the other race be?”

So they tell an alien
and stranger. Why? - C.W.

He listened again, “No stop it,” he said in a clear voice. “No one will judge you except yourself,” repeating what I had heard him say before. He listened and said, “There is no such place. I’ve been over this entire Galaxy, and I can assure you of that. Cut that out. Franklin Graham is a lonely, unhappy, and evil man. What he says means nothing." 

The caller must have broken in, for he stopped and listened. “I know,” he said at last, “that you are all alone, and have no means with which to attend college yourself right now, but you might someday. Would you like that? Maybe a family when the time comes?” He listened, smiled and said. “I thought so.”

I couldn’t bear it anymore and slipped out as I heard him say, “Now child, you are going to have to make the greatest decision you will ever make it your life …”

It was then that I realized I had tears in my own eyes.

See also:

Delta Dreaming

All Hat No Cattle

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