Homesick

The Andersons’ living room was like the setting of a storybook, though Sally couldn’t be sure of the genre. The rustic, wooden furniture spoke of covered wagons and potbellied stoves. Absent, however, was the smell of fresh leather, horse-tack decorations on the wall, and Colt 45s displayed on the mantel. The scene lacked even the customary trophy buck head on the wall. No, the décor said “homestead,” but the context was left up to the observer. Sally’s best guess now rested somewhere between a colonial hearth and a settler’s farmhouse. Fortunately, the details didn’t matter. It was a home based on comfort, not demanding excessive thought or understanding. It was a place to rest, and it perfectly matched the laidback, farm-boy style Scott always gave off. The flower print couches were threadbare, sagging, and timeless, as were the easy chairs, whose arms had been worn down to the stuffing. This was a place where anyone could feel at ease. An old-fashioned television sat on a plywood plank suspended by cinderblocks as if to say “Why spend money on an entertainment center?” Personifying the spirit of the house, an old Saint Bernard lay curled up on a throw rug in front of a dark fireplace. The dog didn’t see Sally, of course, and didn’t move except to chew at his paws from time to time. Scott could have afforded to live very differently, but that wouldn’t have been him. He and Carrie didn’t have expensive tastes and, though they weren’t actually farmers, they tended to imitate the simple, practical lifestyle their parents enjoyed.

On the wall above the fireplace was a portrait of Scott with his arm around the beautiful redhead that was Carrie. Something about Carrie always made her seem older than she looked, or look younger than she was. Even after having three children, she had a figure most women would kill for and a young, almost girlish face. But her eyes spoke of wisdom and old world experience. Carrie was a practical woman, and one almost anyone would come to for advice. She had never gone to college and may not even have finished high school, but she forgot nothing she learned and managed to become an authority on just about everything.

Sally daydreamed out the window until the red pickup bounced over the dip at the end of the driveway and hovered to a stop. She could hear Carrie barking out orders to her teenaged daughter and her son. The girl had the most beautiful blonde hair Sally had ever seen, and was just beginning to fill out the overalls she wore. She carried the baby for Carrie, while Mike, who must have been about nine, struggled with a bag of vegetables. As the parade reached the door, the dog finally woke up and joined the picturesque hullabaloo. The scene was so unlike Sally, but so very much like Scott.

“Mercy!” Carrie said when she saw Sally. She quickly navigated her bags of groceries to the floor and guided her children inside.

“Who are you?” the teen asked.

“That’s Daddy’s friend, Emma,” Carrie said. “She’s a captain!”

“The lady captain’s here?” Mike groaned. “I wish I could see!”

“You will,” Carrie scolded. “You run along and get your glasses. You know you’re not old enough for the operation yet. I told you!”

She looked at Sally, as if trying to read her face. Then she turned to the girl. “Emma, I’ve got to talk to Captain Buds now, so why don’t you take these into the kitchen and get started on supper. Put Toddy in his crib and find Mike something to watch.”

Emily was obviously mature for her age and a natural leader. Soon the room was quiet.

“I wish I could offer you something, Captain. I was so happy to hear you brought Scott back from the planet. We’re all jumping for joy here! ’Course it would’ve been nice if we’d known he was down there in the first place! The neighbors are planning sort of a get together in town this weekend. Perhaps you could . . .”

Sally put up a hand, effectively quieting the mood. “Mrs. Anderson, I’m not sure what they’ve told you, but there are things you need to know about Scott.”

“Oh?” she asked. “They said he was hurt when you brought him back, but you stitched him up good and proper.”

“Yes, that’s true, and his injuries are healing. But he’s still very ill. It wasn’t the physical damage that was really the problem. It’s his mind.”

Carrie looked at her quizzically.

“Carrie, Scott’s been brainwashed. He’s been conditioned through some sort of neural electronic restructuring technology__”

“Wait a minute!” Carrie stopped her. “Neural what? What’s this all about?”

“I’m sorry.” Sally sighed. “They used some kind of machine to change the way he thinks. He may not even remember you.”

Carrie’s face dropped.

“They didn’t tell you that, did they?”

She shook her head with a tight expression. Then she looked at Sally the way a wife looks at her husband’s doctor. “Can you change him back?”

“I don’t know, but he’s in good hands. We have a specialist from California working on him right now. She’s helping him while he’s on the ship. I think she knows what they did, but this is the first time we’ve encountered this kind of damage. It may take some time and you may not hear from him until we reach Earth.”

She stared at Sally and then began to pace the room. “I always knew Scott was going to get bit if he kept sticking his hand in the lion’s cage! Ever since we got married his mom kept at him not to take so many fool chances!”

“It was my responsibility, Mrs. Anderson. He was following my orders.”

She looked back at Sally. “I’ll bet he was the first with his hand up when you asked for volunteers, wasn’t he?”

“I suppose he was.”

“Well, there y’are!”

“But I __”

“Look, you brought him back, didn’t you? No sense you beating yourself over the head about it.”

“I’ll have Dr. Poole talk to you about his condition.”

“Thank you Captain,” she said with a stiff smile. “He’s had problems before. He’ll manage, I’m sure. He’s a tough one, that’s why I married him. Good stock!” she said with confidence that wasn’t really there. “You go on now. I’ll tell the children.”

Then the room morphed again, not into Sally’s quarters on the ship, but her bedroom in The Netherlands. Jackie stood now where Carrie had been.

“That was good, Sal! Tell it to her just like that. Just leave out the technical stuff and don’t keep apologizing so much. This isn’t about you, it’s about him. Also, drop the ‘Mrs. Anderson’ crap. Call her Carrie!”

Sally sat down heavily on the couch, visibly drained. “At least I got through it without crying this time.”

“Carrie’s a strong woman. You know her.”

She smiled. “You captured her mannerisms perfectly. I guess I’ll have to add actor to your endless list of talents.”

“She’s a typical American Midwestern farm wife, Sal. She’s used to standing on her own two feet. She’ll get through this! And, besides, it’s not like Scott’s dead, is it?”

She shrugged. “I guess that depends on how you look at it.”

Jackie sat on the couch and put her arm around her. “Dead is when somebody you love isn’t coming home ever again. Dead is being gone like I thought you were. Scott’s coming back. Maybe he won’t be the same for a while, but there’s a chance he’ll get better. Try to take the world off your shoulders before you get hunch-backed!”

Sally laughed.

“I wish I’d saved some of that Frangelica for you, not that you could really appreciate it from there. But it would taste good at least.”

Sally sighed. “I guess I could use a drink, but it’s probably better I can’t have one. I want to be sharp when those aliens come onboard tomorrow. I don’t want them to get another crack at Scott.”

“And I don’t want them to get another crack at you!”

“Don’t worry; self-preservation will be uppermost in my mind tomorrow.”

“That’s not good enough!” She faced her with a hard stare. “This is no intellectual puzzle. It’s not another debate with that Space Commission guy. This is survival! You need to get in touch with your animal side. Watch like a wolf, listen like a rabbit, and be ready to fight like a leopard! Don’t think about playing fair and don’t worry about killing them if you have to.”

“Killing them? That doesn’t sound like you, Jackie.”

“It is if it involves protecting you,” Jackie said with no visible hesitation. “Animals kill to protect their young, their mates, and themselves. That’s how they survive. Civilized people don’t like to think about killing because it’s usually not necessary. This time it is. Don’t be a diplomat. This may be the only language these people understand.”

Sally took her hand. “Don’t worry. Ian and I have an understanding about that. We’ll do what we have to.”

“Well, don’t forget it for a second! I’m not going to tell you your job and I know you feel you have to do this, but I need you! If you have to kill them to come back to me, do it! I know it’s selfish and it’s against our beliefs, but these people don’t deserve any sympathy. If a lion was about to pounce on you, you’d shoot it, wouldn’t you? Even if it’s an endangered species?”

She nodded. “That would be the easy part. I could kill them. But I think I’d enjoy it too much. That sickens me. To kill in self-defense makes a certain amount of sense, but to take pleasure in it . . . Maybe I’m afraid of them. Maybe I’m afraid of me. I don’t know which is worse. If I had to kill them, I’d want it to be because they were a threat, not because of hate.”

“Well, it sounds like they’re beneath contempt and dangerous at the same time, so I can see your dilemma.”

Sally laughed. Then she grasped Jackie’s shoulders. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Let’s hope neither of us has to find out.”

She then retreated to the warmth of Jackie’s hug, feeling her petite body against her and enjoying the smell of her hair. She wished she could hide there forever.