by Sarah Lotz
She sighs.
Snookie needs his nap now. It’s time for you to go. I’ve said my piece.
Before I leave, I ask her how she feels about Len now, and a spark of anger flares in her eyes.
I haven’t got room in my heart for Len any more. I haven’t got room for anyone.
She kisses the top of Snookie’s head and I get the impression she’s forgotten I’m still here.
You’d never hurt me, would you, Snookie? No. No, you wouldn’t.
PART SEVEN
SURVIVORS
APRIL
Lillian Small.
I was living a strange half-life. Some days Reuben could communicate as clearly as I’m talking to you now, but whenever I brought something up about our old house, or one of our old friends, or a book he’d particularly enjoyed, a worried expression would fill his eyes, and they’d dart about as if he was desperately trying to access the information and coming up empty. It was as if the time before he woke up was a blank. I decided not to push him. This is hard to talk about… but the fact that he didn’t seem to recall our past together or even get our ‘Paris Texas’ joke any more–that was almost as painful as the days when Al was back.
Because some days Al would be back. I knew immediately when he woke up if it would be a Reuben or an Al day; I could see it in his eyes when I brought him his morning coffee. Bobby took the whole thing in his stride, acted the same towards Reuben whether he was himself or Al, but it took its toll on me. That uncertainty; not knowing what I was going to be facing each morning. I only asked Betsy or called the care agency in to help when I was sure it was going to be an Al day. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Betsy, but I couldn’t forget the way Dr Lomeier had reacted when Reuben spoke to him. I couldn’t bear the thought of what those lunatics would say if they found out about Reuben. They still wouldn’t leave us in peace. I can’t count how many times I had to hang up the phone when I realised it was one of those religious putzes, begging me to let them talk to Bobby.
And… even when it was a Reuben day, he still wasn’t quite himself. For some reason he’d developed an addiction to The View, a show he loathed before he got sick, and he and Bobby would spend hours watching old movies, though Reuben was never much of a film buff. He’d also lost interest in the news channels, even though there were all those political debates going on.
One morning, I was in the kitchen, making Bobby’s breakfast and steeling myself to wake Reuben, when Bobby came rushing in. ‘Bubbe,’ he said. ‘Po Po wants to go for a walk today. He wants to go out.’
Bobby took my hand and led me into the bedroom. Reuben was sitting on the bed, attempting to pull on his socks. ‘Are you all right, Reuben?’ I said.
‘Can we go into the city, Rita?’
That’s what he’d started calling me: Rita. After Rita Hayworth! The red hair, you see.
‘Where would you like to go?’
Bobby and Reuben exchanged glances. ‘The museum, Bubbe!’ Bobby said.
The movie Night at the Museum had been on the night before, and Bobby had been fascinated by the scenes where all the exhibits came to life. It had been an Al day, so I doubted anything about the film had seeped into Reuben’s consciousness, which was a relief as halfway through it, Bobby said, ‘The dinosaur is like you, Po Po. It’s come to life just like you did!’
‘Reuben?’ I said. ‘You think you’re up to going out today?’
He nodded, as eager as a little child. ‘Yes please, Rita. Let’s go and see the dinosaurs.’
‘Yeah! Dinosaurs!’ Bobby joined in. ‘Bubbe? Do you think they really existed?’
‘Of course, Bobby,’ I said.
‘I like their teeth. One day I’ll bring them back to life.’
Bobby’s enthusiasm was infectious, and if anyone deserved a treat, it was him. Poor little boy had been inside for days, although he never complained, not once. But the more time we spent out and about, the more likely it was that something might happen. What if we were recognised? What if one of those religious fanatics followed us and tried to kidnap Bobby? And I worried that Reuben’s strength wouldn’t hold out. His mental faculties may have been improving, but physically he tired easily.
But I put all those fears aside, and before I could change my mind, I called a taxi.
We ran into Betsy as we were leaving, and I prayed that Reuben wouldn’t say anything. Of course I’d had a million close encounters of this type, and part of me longed to talk to someone about it–I hadn’t told a soul, other than the sterile Dr Lomeier, that is. I mouthed ‘doctor’ at Betsy and she nodded, but Betsy’s smart, and I could see she knew I was hiding something.
The taxi managed to find a spot right outside our door, a blessing as I could see a few of those meshugeners with their offensive billboards gathered around the park, even at nine in the morning.
Mercifully, the taxi driver–another one of those Indian immigrants–didn’t recognise us, or if he did, he didn’t let on. I asked the driver to take us over the Williamsburg Bridge so that Reuben could see the view and oh Elspeth, I did enjoy the journey! It was a lovely clear day, so the skyline looked like it was posing for a postcard and the sun bounced off the water. I pointed out all the sights to Bobby as we zipped through Manhattan, the Chrysler building, Rockefeller Plaza, the Trump Tower, and he sat glued to the window asking me question after question. That trip cost a fortune, almost forty dollars with the tip, but it was worth it. Before we went into the museum, I asked Bobby and Reuben if they wanted a hot dog each for breakfast, and we sat and ate them in Central Park like regular tourists. Lori had brought me and Bobby here once–not to the museum, but to the park. Bobby had been grumpy that day, and the weather was freezing, but I still remember it fondly. She hadn’t stopped talking about all the commissions she was getting; she was so excited about her future back then!
Even though it was a week day, the museum was full and we had to queue for quite a while. I started feeling anxious that we’d be recognised, but most of the people around us were tourists–a lot of Chinese and Europeans. And Reuben was starting to look tired; beads of sweat were popping on his brow. Bobby was full of energy; he couldn’t keep his eyes off the dinosaur skeleton in the foyer.
The man at the ticket counter, a chatty African American fellow, did one of those double-takes when I approached him. ‘Don’t I know you, ma’am?’
‘No,’ I said, probably a bit rudely. After I paid and turned away, I heard him call, ‘Wait!’
I hesitated; worried that he was going to point out who Bobby was to the whole museum. But instead he said, ‘Could I offer you a wheelchair for your husband, ma’am?’
I could have kissed him. Everyone always says that New Yorkers are brash and self-involved, but that’s just not true.
Bobby was tugging on my hand. ‘Bubbe! The dinosaurs.’
The vendor disappeared and came back with a wheelchair. Reuben sank into it immediately. By now I was really getting worried about him. He was beginning to look confused, and I was concerned that Al might have decided to sneak back to cause trouble for us.
The ticket man guided us towards the lifts. ‘Go on, son,’ he said to Bobby. ‘You show your grandparents the dinosaurs.’
‘Do you believe that the dinosaurs come to life at night, Mr Man?’ Bobby asked him.
‘Why not? Miracles do happen, don’t they?’ And then he winked at me, and I knew for sure that he knew who we were. ‘Don’t worry, ma’am,’ he said. ‘I’ll keep quiet. You go on and enjoy yourselves.’
We went straight up to the floor that housed the dinosaur exhibits. I had it in my mind that we’d take a quick look for Bobby’s sake, and then head straight home.
I told Bobby to stick close to me, there were crowds everywhere, and it was quite a struggle pushing our way into the first room.
Reuben looked up at me and said, ‘What am I? I’m scared.’ And then he started crying, something that he hadn’t done since he ‘came to life’, as Bobby put it.
&nb
sp; I did my best to settle him. A few people were staring at him and the last thing I wanted was to draw attention to us. And when I looked up, Bobby was gone.
‘Bobby?’ I called. ‘Bobby?’
I looked for his Yankees baseball cap, but couldn’t see it anywhere.
The panic hit like a tidal wave. I left Reuben where he was and just ran.
I pushed past people, ignoring the grunts of ‘Hey, lady, watch it,’ icy sweat pouring down my sides. ‘Bobby!’ I shouted at the top of my lungs. Images kept flashing through my head. Bobby being taken away by one of those religious types, kidnapped and made to do all kinds of terrible things. Bobby lost in New York, wandering around and…
A woman guard came rushing up to me. ‘Calm down, ma’am,’ she said. ‘You can’t shout in here.’ I could tell she thought I was deranged, and I didn’t blame her. I felt like I was losing my mind.
‘My grandson! I can’t find my grandson.’
‘Okay, ma’am,’ she said. ‘What does he look like?’
It didn’t occur to me to tell her who Bobby actually was–that he was the Bobby Small, one of The Three, the miracle child, or any of that nonsense. All of that just went out of my head and I’m glad I didn’t–the cops would have been called immediately and no doubt the whole thing would have been front-page news the next day. The guard said that she would alert the staff at the entrances and exits, just in case, but then I heard the most beautiful word in the whole world. ‘Bubbe?’
I almost fainted with relief when I saw him skipping up to me. ‘Where you been, Bobby? You frightened me half to death.’
‘I was with the big one. He’s got huge teeth like a wolf! But come on, Bubbe, Po Po needs us.’
Can you believe it, I had forgotten about Reuben, and we hurried back to the exhibit hall where I’d left him. Mercifully, he’d fallen asleep in the chair.
I didn’t feel safe again until we were heading home in a taxi. Thankfully Reuben was calm when he woke from his nap, and while he wasn’t himself, at least I didn’t have to deal with a full-on Al panic on top of everything else.
‘They didn’t come to life, Bubbe,’ Bobby said. ‘The dinosaurs didn’t come to life.’
‘That’s because they only come alive at night,’ Reuben said. He was back. He took my hand and squeezed it. ‘You did good, Lily,’ he said. Lily–he’d called me Lily, and not Rita.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked him.
‘You didn’t give up. You didn’t give up on me.’
Then I did cry. I couldn’t help it, the tears just flowed.
‘Are you okay, Bubbe?’ Bobby asked. ‘Are you sad?’
‘I’m fine. I was just worried about you,’ I said. ‘I thought I’d lost you back in that museum.’
‘You can’t lose me,’ Bobby said. ‘You really can’t, Bubbe. It’s impossible.’
This is the last recorded IM conversation between Ryu and Chiyoko.
Message logged @ 20.46, 03/04/2012
CHIYOKO: I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIEND!!!!! How could you do this to me?????????? www.hirotalksthroughandroid/ tokyoherald I hope they paid you well. I hope it was worth it.
RYU: Chiyoko! I swear, I swear it wasn’t me.
CHIYOKO: MC is furious. Android Uncle is threatening to take Hiro back to Osaka. There are reporters everywhere. I will die if I lose him. How could you do it????
RYU: It wasn’t me!
CHIYOKO: You have ruined my life, NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN.
RYU: Yoko? Yoko? Please. Please! IT WASN’T ME.
Devastated after Chiyoko blocked him from messaging her, Ryu went on the 2-chan Single Men’s ‘Broken Hearted’ message forum under the avatar Orz Man, starting the thread: ‘Loser Geek Needs Help.’ Almost immediately, his story went viral, catching the imaginations of the board’s inhabitants, and eventually attracting millions of hits.
Translation by Eric Kushan, who notes that American shortcuts and slang have been used to approximate the Japanese net slang used on the boards.
NAME: ORZ MAN POST DATE: 2012/04/05 01:32:39.32
Need some advice from u Netizens please!!! I need to reconnect with a girl who is blocking me from contacting her.
NAME: ANONYMOUS111
Why’d she dump u Orz?
NAME: ORZ MAN
She thinks I betrayed a confidence, but it wasn’t me. _|7O
NAME: ANONYMOUS275
Been there dude but need more info.
NAME: ORZ MAN
Okay… this may take a while. I’ve been talking to this girl online, who I’ll call the ice princess. She’s way above my level, so u can imagine how amazed I was that someone like her would spend time with a loser like me. We were getting on well, talking every day and sharing stuff, u know? Then… something happened. A… let’s call it a story was leaked that made her family look bad and she thought it was me and now she has blocked me from messaging her.
I don’t want you guys to think I’m a loser. But it hurts. When she stopped taking my messages, it was like my stomach was made of glass and then it shattered.
NAME: ANONYMOUS111
‘Like my stomach was made of glass.’ That’s beautiful, Orz.
NAME: ANONYMOUS28
I’m cryin here.
NAME: ORZ MAN
Thanks. I’m in a bad way. It hurts like a physical pain. I can’t eat or sleep. I keep reading our messages over and over again. I spent hours today analysing every single word we’ve ever shared.
NAME: ANONYMOUS23
Ouch!!!! U gotta learn that women are only there to cause u pain, Orz dude. Fuck them.
NAME: ANONYMOUS111
Ignore 23.
Been where u r Orz. Is there any hope you can reconnect?
NAME: ORZ MAN
I don’t know. I can’t live without her.
NAME: ANONYMOUS23:
What does she look like? Is she hot????
NAME: ANONYMOUS99
NAME: ORZ MAN
I’ve only seen her once. And not in person. She looks a little like Hazuki Hitori.
NAME: ANONYMOUS678
Hazuki Hitori from the Sunny Juniors? Ba-doom! Orz, yr taste is good, dude. I’m in love with her too.
NAME: ANONYMOUS709
Hazuki???? Arrrrrr-oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooo
NAME: ANONYMOUS111
Keep your lust in check, Netizens.
Orz, u need to go and talk to her in person. Tell her how u feel.
NAME: ORZ MAN
It’s not as easy as that. This is embarrassing. U guys… I still live with my parents and I’m kinda housebound.
NAME: ANONYMOUS 987
It’s cool. I also live at home.
NAME: ANONYMOUS55
Me too. Big deal.
NAME: ORZ MAN
Not what I meant. I haven’t left the house in um… a while. I haven’t even left my room.
NAME: ANONYMOUS111
How long is a while, Orz?
NAME: ORZ MAN
U guys r going to judge me!!!!
Over a year. _|7O
NAME: ANONYMOUS87
Meatspace can be a fucker. Here’s a tip, Orz. If u don’t want to go to the bathroom then keep old plastic water bottles under yr desk for emergencies. What I do when I’m on a gaming binge.
NAME: ANONYMOUS786
LOL!!!
Good advice, 87!
NAME: ANONYMOUS23
Netizens. Orz here is a hikikomori.
NAME: ANONYMOUS111
Orz socialises on the net, which means he is capable of human contact. He’s just a recluse not a proper hikikomori.
[The thread is briefly disrupted by an argument about the true nature of a hikikomori]
NAME: ANONYMOUS111
Orz, you still there?
NAME: ORZ MAN
I’m here. Listen… sorry for wasting yr time. Writing that makes me realise… What would she see in me anyway? Why would she even look at such a loser?
Look at me… No job, no cash, no hope.
NAME: ANONYMOUS111
Is yr princess dead? No. Then there is always hope. Netizens, this man needs our help. Time to suit up.
NAME: ANONYMOUS85
Get the weapons loaded.
NAME: ANONYMOUS337
Train that princess in your sights.
NAME: ANONYMOUS23
Locked and loaded, SIR!
NAME: ANONYMOUS111
First, we gotta help Orz get out of his room.
NAME: ANONYMOUS47
Orz. Some good advice:
1. Clean yrself up so that u look as presentable as possible. No bed hair or pimples.
2. Go to Uniqlo and get some good clothes nothing flashy.
3. Go and see The Princess.
4. Offer to buy her dinner.
5. At dinner, tell her how you feel.
That way, even if she cuts you off, you will have no regrets.
NAME: ANONYMOUS23
Orz might not know where she lives if they’ve only been talking online. He said he has no money so how can he buy new clothes?
NAME: ORZ MAN
Thanks for the advice. I don’t have her address but I know she lives near the Yoyogi station.
NAME: ANONYMOUS414
There is a good pasta place near there.
NAME: ANONYMOUS23
Pasta for a first date? Go Yakitori, French or ethnic then u have a talking point.
[The thread diverts into a discussion about the best place to take a first date]
NAME: ANONYMOUS111
It’s not a first date. Orz and his princess are cyber soul mates.
Netizens, yr missing the point. First Orz has to clean up and get out of his room.
NAME: ORZ MAN
You really think I should try and see her in person?
[A chorus of ‘yes’, ‘do it dude’, ‘what have you got to lose’ etc., follows]
NAME: ORZ MAN
Okay. You have almost convinced me! Now the practicalities…
I think I can get some money but not much. The princess lives in a different prefecture so I need somewhere to stay while I search for her house. Can’t afford a hotel. Any suggestions? Any of u stayed over in a net cafe? Is it an option?
