Terry’s
Arrival
Terry slept
through most of the night. He desperately wanted to see this new place, this
latest in his mother’s whirlwind world of impulsive meandering across the
country side.
The
previous year was spent in Poteet, Texas. That followed Tuba City, Arizona, on
the Navajo and Hopi Reservations. Before that was Greeley, Colorado, Denver
Colorado, Phoenix, Arizona and a parade of cities in Texas, with names like
Dacator, Corpus Christie, Agua Dulce, Beeville and Houston, where he was born.
But, he reminded himself, he never actually lived in Houston. He was just born
there. That was the way his life was, never being from wherever he was.
The names
of cities rattled in his thoughts like loose gears in an old lawnmower. He
could hardly focus on this new place. Washington? The Evergreen State? Green?
Terry liked green. Everywhere he had lived until then was some form of desert,
at least to his thinking.
Terry loved
trees and dreamed frequently of living where they were plentiful, lush and
spread amply across the countryside. Evergreen State? Washington? That meant
trees to Terry, so he dreamed of trees as his eyes grew heavy. It was night,
somewhere in Idaho or Oregan or Wyoming. Terry had lost track of the
whereabouts of the car.
Sitting in
the front passenger seat of his mother’s car, a Chevy she had purchased in
Poteet, Terry looked over to his mother’s robotic stare that pierced the
windshield. Driving was something his mother did with an iron resolve. If she
got drowsy she would make a stop at a convenience store, a gas station or a
café and gulp down a couple, or three, cups of coffee. It was like watching a
mechanic attach a hose to the opening in the side of a car and clamping down on
the trigger. The spiked scent of gasoline rustled through his brain, then it
mixed with the smell of coffee. Terry shivered at the thought of his mother
gassing up, clutching the steering wheel with clenched fingers and blasting the
headlight glowing road with the cosmic blade of her eyes. The image of Gort,
the alien robot in the film The Day The Earth Stood Still dropped into his
thoughts. Terry shivered again.
That is
what his mother reminded him of, Gort, an alien robot. He was the spawn of an
alien robot, a robot hell bent on destroying the world as he knew. What was it that the woman needed to
say to Gort to prevent it from destroying the earth? “Klaatu barda nikto.” That
was it! Terry and his friend Greg spent an entire night memorizing the line
after being frightened into quivering heaps of eleven year old bags of flesh.
That was four years previous, when he lived in Denver. “Klaatu barda nikto.”
Terry took
another look at his robot mother and hissed, soft enough to hide beneath the
ambient noise of the car, “Klaatu barda nikto. Klaatu barda nikto.” Then he
fell deeply into sleep.
When the
car stopped, Terry awakened, but kept his eyes closed. He could hear his mother
open the door, and slam the door shut. He could hear his two sisters breathing
in the back seat. Opening his eyes he needed to bring his hands up to block the
rising morning sun.
Terry could
hear his mother’s footsteps pacing around the car. It sounded like gravel was
beneath her feet. He whispered, once again, “Klaatu barada nikto,” then he sat up slowly and turned his
head to look out of the passenger side window.
“Desert,”
Terry said to himself, “another dang desert. Not a tree in sight.” Then Terry
noticed a house on the driver’s side of the car. There was one tree on the
north side of the house shading the driveway. There was a hill past the tree
with a small water tower rising up against a clear sky.
“Klaatu
barada nikto,” Terry said once again, to himself. He liked the sound of the
words, like cuss words, but they weren’t cuss words, so he could say them
without getting in trouble. “Klaatu barada nikto,” he repeated, then simply
“Klaatu. What the “Klaatu” is this? No trees?” He was still whispering, sure
that his mother couldn’t hear him, even if she was a robot. But then he thought
again. He knew that she had ears that could hear the most infinitesimal sounds.
Maybe she really is a robot he thought.
“What did
you say?” said Torry, his thirteen year old sister in the back seat.
“Nothing,”
said Terry, “I’m just looking out at our new house.”
“New
house?” said Maria, Terry’s eleven year old sister, directly behind him. It was
obvious she was struggling to wake up.
“I guess we’re
here,” said Terry, “in another desert.” Then to himself, “Klaatu barada nikto.”
“What did
you say,” said Torry again, “Why are you whispering?”
“I’m not
whispering,” objected Terry, “I’m just breathing.”
“Where’s
mom?” asked Maria.
“She’s
outside walking around the house,” replied Terry.
“I want to
get out,” said Torry, pulling on the door handle and pushing it open. Torry and
Maria climbed out of their respective doors and slammed them.
“Klaatu
barada nikto,” whispered Terry, “maybe they are both little robots too. Surely,
I’m the only human in this family.”
