Something Made of Vacuum

“We have a lot of weird restaurants in this city,” Fred Friedman, Helene’s father, said. “Little places that have fusions of two kinds of cuisines you never heard of. Last one I heard of was one of the colony planets, I think Prester John, plus French.”

“Somebody from Prester John emigrated back to Earth to start a restaurant?” Tom said, raising his eyebrows.

“Fat chance. I don’t actually know, but I think the place I’m thinking of was started by an Earthman who found a book of recipes from Prester John, but never actually went there,” Fred said. “However, they didn’t do so good. There’s kind of a prejudice against off-planet stuff. Anyway, I was going to say, this is really good. I mean really good. If you’re going to stay here, you could start a restaurant with authentic Moon Man cuisine and I bet it would make money. You’d just have to call it something else.”

“People here don’t like Moon Men either?”

“They don’t like the planets because they’re draining out economy,” Fred said. “I don’t think most people have ever heard of Moon Men – I don’t think I ever did, until right now – but if it sounds off-planet, I bet they won’t try the food. You understand, I’m not prejudiced. I get along with everybody. Besides, if you move here, you’re automatically an Earth man.”

“Dad, he can’t stay here,” Helene said. “People die early from living on Earth.”

“People die early,” her mother Deborah said dreamily, “from eating food like this. Tom, is this really the kind of sauce you people regularly put on vegetables? I mean, it’s delightful, but how do you all avoid getting fat? I’m sure I’ve eaten half a pound of these and probably gained a full pound doing it. I don’t even know how that’s physically possible but I can feel it just the same.”

“Well, it’s not exactly the same sauce,” Tom said. “We use a sticky sauce that holds everything together into balls, although it tastes about the same. I just couldn’t find the ingredients here. But we have an advantage besides the lunar gravity – we get our blood-lipid readings taken continually. Even if you don’t notice your own blood getting too much fat, somebody else is sure to mention it to you.”

“He’s right about that,” Helene said. “You think you get fat-shamed for eating a hamburger? In Tom’s village, total strangers will come up and tell you what was wrong with the lunch you ate an hour ago, before you even met them. I mean, that’s like a conversation starter for them.”

“From what Helene tells us about Moon Men,” Fred said, “I kind of wonder what you do talk about? I mean, just in Chicago we have the Forest Preserves, we have city parks where people walk dogs, we have waves crashing on the beach from Lake Michigan, we look up at the Moon in the night sky. You don’t have any of those things.”

“Fredrick Friedman, you old stodge,” Deborah said, “the last time you were in the Forest Preserve it was when your union had a beer party, and you never got out of the picnic grove. You only go to the park when the grandkids come over, which is maybe twice a year. This apartment is six blocks from Lake Michigan and we haven’t been there once this summer, and the last time you noticed the Moon I told you, ‘Look, honey, the Moon looks nice,’ and you said, and I quote, ‘Yeah.’”

“Come to think of it,” Helene said, “the Moon’s up now and we can see it from the window. Tom, do you want to try to look?”

“Why shouldn’t he look?” Deborah asked.

“He had some problems with agoraphobia – you know, fear of open spaces? He’s used to having his head covered with a helmet, or being in air town where they have a dome,” Helene said.

“Air town?”

While Helene was explaining that to her parents, Tom rose quietly and walked to the window that faced east. The sky was dark, and the Moon was just rising, still orange from touching the horizon. Tom watched a moment, then returned to the table. “Are you okay, Tom?” Helene asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Night is easier for me anyway.”

“The Moon looks beautiful from here, doesn’t it?”

“Actually, it does,” Tom said. “I didn’t think it would be that bright from the ground, under all the atmosphere and all. You know, the dust is really a dark gray color. It is smaller than I thought it would be. When you see pictures from Earth, they always make the Moon look bigger.”

“What do you Moon Men go look at when you’re on vacation?” Fred asked. “Mountains or something?”

“We don’t,” Tom said. “The truth is, we don’t like the Moon much. We like living there, but the actual rock, it’s not worth much.” He looked at Helene. “It’s a lot more fun to look at your daughter. I like doing that. I kind of am here on vacation, and she’s the scenery.” Helene smiled and looked away.

They ate dessert, small round loaves of Mexican flan with carmelized sugar topping, which Tom had baked to a crispy top in the broiler. Helene and Tom cleaned the table and expected to go sit in the living room, but her parents both stood to leave. “I’m sorry, honey, we have to get home,” Deborah said. “Tom, thank you for a wonderful dinner. I hope we’ll see you again.”

“Thanks,” her father said. “Great food, Tom. Helene, love you, sweetie.” They left.

“What was that all about?” Tom asked. “I mean, I’m not sure I know about smells. Do I smell bad?”

“No, no, you’re fine, especially since we took that shower together before dinner,” Helene said. “Actually, you smell real good. No, it’s just, my parents always do this to me.”

They went into the living room anyway and sat on the couch. “Is this something horrible, like your parents don’t actually like you?” Tom asked.

“Not that. It’s just, they’ve always said they don’t want to get too close to any of my boyfriends because then it bothers them when the boyfriend goes away.”

“How many boyfriends have there been, that you introduced your folks to?”

“Four … no, five, counting … counting this one guy in high school who didn’t know he was my boyfriend because I never told him. I’m not confessing to being a slut, Tom. I’m confessing to being really sucky at relationships. I keep trying to make it work and it never does, and my mother and father decided they couldn’t keep up with me. If I ever get married, they might go all crazy and maybe stay to have a beer with us or something.”

“Is that why you became a traveling salesman?”

“Probably. I mean, I had reasons to go for that career and it turns out I’m good at it, but yeah … I like to have reasons to leave, any time I need one.” She looked directly at him. “Can you go outside, do you think? We could sit outside, there’s a bench in front of the building. It’s romantic to look at the Moon together.”

“Okay.”

Helene retrieved the sweater she had loaned him, saying “It’s fall. It’s not real cold yet, but you probably want this after dark.” She took his hand and led him outside. They sat facing the street, next to a tiny garden of flowers. The Moon, a little past full, had risen more and become silvery-white. “It’s nice that it’s cool and the mosquitoes are gone,” Helene said. “A lot of times in the summer, you can’t sit out here for more than a minute.”

“Boy, that sounds icky,” Tom said. “That’s something that would sure take a lot of getting used to. I’ve never had to deal with bugs, never even seen any except in books. Every tourist who comes into air town gets fumigated for them, and of course Moon Men don’t have them at all.”

He looked at the Moon, then shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but it just doesn’t do much for me.”

“Do you see the face of the Man in the Moon?”

“Nope. I’ve heard of that, never did understand it.” He said, “This is nice, to be out here. Trees on the street, grass, cars go by every once in a while, people on the sidewalk. Air town doesn’t have night, you know. This is a new thing for me.” He took a deep breath.

“Come to the window, sweet is the night air!” Helene said.

“Um?”

“An old poem,” Helene said.

“Do you know, as much as we like music, Moon Men don’t really do poetry much. Just in school, actually.”

“Why is that, do you think?”

“I don’t know. We have song lyrics, but they’re always love songs. I guess it’s because nature is totally non-sensual for us,” Tom said. “We’re so rich some ways, and so pathetic other ways.” He shivered.

“Do you want to sit on the steps, under the awning?” Helene asked. “It’s sort of like having a roof overhead.”

“No, I’m good,” Tom said. “But hey, I want to look up, but I’m feeling unstable. Will you hold me so I don’t fall over?”

“Of course.”

Tom stood, and craned his neck to look directly upward. Helene stood with him and put an arm around his shoulders. It was a clear night, with a few clouds overhead reflecting the city lights. He said, “It’s hard to see with the streetlights and all. There’s one, two stars. Three, unless that’s Jupiter or something.” He turned around, Helene standing protectively next to him. “There’s two more. Helene, there are five stars in the sky, plus the Moon.”

“Chicago is a big city. Lots of lights. Also the moonlight washes out some stars.”

“I don’t really want to criticize, I just want you to know that the Moon has some advantages, too.”

“Tom, seeing the Night sky from Sinus Amoris … that will stay with me the rest of my life. I’ve never seen anything like that,” Helene said.

Tom shivered again. “Honey, you’re getting cold,” Helene said. “It’s not bad out here, it’s just you’re used to air town, where the temperature is exactly the same all the time, aren’t you?”

“Never thought about it much, but I guess you’re right.”

“Do you want to go in?”

“Not yet.” He turned and kissed her, then said “Okay, now we can go in.”

“No, we can’t,” Helene said. She kissed him in return. “Okay, fair’s fair. Now let’s get you inside.”

When they went back into her kitchen, Helene glanced at the sink and stifled a scream. “Tom! Spider!”

“What is it?”

“Spider on the sink. I hate spiders! Kill it for me, please! Grab one of the paper towels there. No, not a regular towel, then I’d have spider gook all over it. Yeah, that one.” Tom wadded up a paper towel and slammed the sink once, twice, over and over while the small black spider scuttled this way and that. Finally he squashed it, folded the paper towel and wiped the sink with it, then discarded the towel.

“Yuck,” he said. “Turns out I hate spiders, too. I just didn’t know it until I saw one. Do they get in here very often?”

“No, no, hardly ever.”

“Okay, so now you’re supposed to throw yourself at me and say ‘You saved my life! Take me!’”

“We already did that scene,” Helene said. “Try to keep up, dear.”

Tom led her back to the living room couch and they sat again. “I’ll tell you what I’m trying to do,” he said. “I’m trying to force the issue. Look, we’ve got one bad alternative where you move, or another bad alternative where I move, or a completely horrible alternative where we split up and we both lose. But we’ve got to do something. So let’s pretend I just saved your life, so you throw yourself at me and move to the Moon and you can tell yourself ‘I made the sacrifice but I did it for the relationship.’ Or you do something like … I don’t know … something that makes me say ‘I’ll make the sacrifice and live on Earth, because I’m doing it for the relationship.’ I mean, there’s no sense in both of us being heartbroken, when we can have a marriage where one of us feels resentful and the other one feels guilty. Even that’s better than splitting up, right?”

“You sure sure know how to sweet-talk a girl, Romeo,” she said. “Usually when a guy tries to talk a woman into something, it’s to get her into a bed, not into a box. You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to sweet-talk you into bed. To sleep. That’s what we need right now.”

“Now that you mention it, it’s been a long day, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” Helene said, pulling him up and embracing him. “But I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I’m glad you came here, even if it’s going to end up hurting both of us. Now come on, we need sleep.”

* * *

When she awoke in the morning, Helene was alone in her bed. She sat up and called “Tom!” without results. She searched the apartment, then put on a robe and went out into the building hallway.

Tom was sitting on the front steps, under the awning. It was raining gently. Helene went out and sat next to him. “Tom,” she said, “you scared me, leaving me like that.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said. He glanced at her, but turned back to watch the falling rain. “I woke up and looked out the window, and I couldn’t help myself. I had to go out, and I didn’t want to wake you. But, look at it. I had to be here. It’s rain.”

“Rain is nice,” Helene said. “I like rain, as long as I’m under the awning and not out in it.” She looked at him and realized the water on his face was not rain. He was crying. She put her arm around his shoulders.

“Smell the air,” Tom said. “Isn’t that delicious? I’ve never smelled air like that. I mean, I’ve smelled good smells and bad smells in the air, but this is the first time in my life I ever smelled air that smells good, itself. Does that make sense?”

“Don’t they spray water on the crops, in air town?”

“I’ve never heard of that, it sounds wasteful. But if even if they did and even if I was there, it wouldn’t smell like this and it wouldn’t have the gray sky and this light and you wouldn’t hear it hit the sidewalk and for sure, nobody would waste enough water to make puddles. Come on, let’s go stand in it.”

“Tom, kissing in the rain is one of the standard romantic things to do, but not in a bathrobe,” Helene said, smiling. “It would get all soppy. You wait here while I go get my clothes. I won’t be long.”

“Are all women practical like that, during romantic moments?”

“Just the hopeless romantics,” she said. “If I were more practical, I would have gotten dressed first. You wait here.”

When she came back out, Tom gestured toward the street and said, “Look how the wind moves it. Little ripples that you can see where the rain hits the ground, heavier and then lighter. This is … I don’t have any words for what this is.”

“This is a very ordinary rain storm on a very ordinary residential street in a pretty ordinary city,” Helene said. “The only thing really special is you, dear. Out in the rain with you, now.”

They walked two steps forward, stood on the sidewalk and kissed. “Do you know,” Helene said, looking up at him, “I have never actually done the romantic-kiss-in-the-rain thing with anybody before. Just didn’t happen to come up. I’m glad it was with you. I love you.”

Tom said, “I love you. But we’re getting wet and it’s cold, so let’s get back under the awning. How about a kiss under the awning? Ever had one of those?”

“I’ve lived in this apartment for seven years. Quit while you’re ahead, darling.” They sat back down on the steps.

“Helene, this is my second day on Earth. Look, don’t get me in trouble for saying something else is wonderful besides you ...”

“I won’t play that trick on you, Tom. Really, I won’t.”

“This rain is … I’m crying again. I can’t help it, between you and this air and the gray morning light, my heart is bursting. If this is ordinary, what is the rest of the Earth going to do to me?” He suddenly turned to her and said, “Your Mom said Lake Michigan is six blocks from here. When does it look most beautiful?”

“Sunrise, I guess. That’s what everybody says, anyway. I saw the sun rising over the lake a couple of times in college, but not since then. And yeah, now that I remember, it was pretty nice.”

“Take me there at sunrise.”

“Okay. But Tom, it’s not that urgent. The sun rises once a day, around these parts.”

“I need to see something so beautiful I can’t stand leaving it,” Tom said. “I just figured this out. I suppose it should be the Grand Canyon or the Swiss Alps or Paris. One of the big tourist things that are supposed to be super-super beautiful.”

“Tom,” Helene interrupted him, “I’ve never seen any of those things myself.”

“And I don’t need to see them. The lake, the forest thing ...”

“Forest Preserve.”

“Yeah, that. That stuff will be enough to knock me over. Don’t you see, when I see those things, it will be impossible for me ever to leave Earth, so I don’t have to make a decision. I stay here, I marry you, nobody has to feel resentful or guilty. I am a goddam genius at emotional logic. Problem solved.”

“Tom,” Helene said, “you don’t have to marry me to get a day at the beach, or a walk in the woods. Anyway, I’m not sure I want to introduce you to a chick who might be a rival to me, even if it’s Mother Nature.”

“This is the way out of our dilemma,” Tom said. “I fix it so I can’t leave, nobody has to make a sacrifice and we live happily ever after. It’s perfect.”

“You haven’t actually asked me to marry you yet.”

“Oh,” Tom said. “Helene, will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“It is so hard,” Helene said, raising her voice to an invisible audience, “to get men to remember their lines. Let’s try this scene again, dear, and this time, stick to the script. Ready now? Lights, camera, action.”

Tom stood, took her by both hands and led her the two steps back to the sidewalk. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. “Helene, I love you more than I can say. I mean literally, I can’t say it. We’re all supposed to be the big human relations experts on the Moon, but when I really need to say what I feel, I suddenly realize I don’t know anything about love. Or Earth, or you, actually. I just want to spend the rest of my life learning.”

“I don’t know anything about love either. That’s good. That’s why I was still single when you came along. Tom, I love you and I don’t need anything or anybody to confirm that. I know.”

“I will always love you. So now I’m really asking, and I know it’s a real question because all of a sudden I’m scared to death of what the answer might be. Helene, will you marry me?”

“Yes. Also yes for the next time you ask me.”

“I get to do this again? I like doing this. This whole idea gets better and better.”

“I’m counting on it. Years and years, you and me, getting better and better.”

They kissed again, and presently had enough sense to come in out of the rain.