Chapter 10
As the day progressed, Sam observed Brenda sneaking nips from her flask at regular intervals, and he began to realise that it might have been more of a problem for her than she’d been willing to admit.
But, on the other hand, it was of some benefit to him that she had spent the day on the tipsy side. She seemed not to notice his slip-ups as he clumsily navigated his way through his role as Bobby, and it made things a little easier on him. He decided to count it in his painfully short list of ‘things actually going right.’
By the time the afternoon came, the two of them were in the kitchen, with Sam chopping vegetables as Brenda prepared a beef roast.
Sam’s mood hadn’t improved, but he was doing a masterful job at hiding it as he forced a smile, scraping the chopped veggies into the oven tray around the meat.
“You know, you never helped me cook a roast before,” Brenda observed, roughly pouring marinade over the meat with a careless flick of her wrist. “What did I do to earn this?”
“Well, I just thought it was about time I started helping out a little,” Sam said, rinsing his hands off at the sink. If there was one thing that got him ticked off, it was men that thought they were above housework. He was going to raise the bar for Brenda. She didn’t have to put up with Bobby’s crap.
“Sure, sure,” Brenda said, laughing. “Now that you’re about to leave, you’re all about helping me, huh?”
She took up the glass of red wine she had been sipping at throughout the preparation, and took a generous drink from it.
“Ah, it’s not like that, Brenda,” Sam said defensively. “I just don’t want you to think you should just be expected to pick up the slack all the time. It’s okay to expect a little help once in a while.”
Brenda wiped her hands clean, and moved in close to Sam, sliding her hands over his body.
Here we go again, he thought grimly.
“Hold on, we need to get the food cooking, right?” he deflected, waving a hand towards the roasting tray still on the counter. “It’s gonna take a while so we’d better get it on now.”
Brenda planted a kiss on Sam’s lips before turning around. “Yeah, yeah. Yeesh, you spend a half hour in the kitchen and suddenly you’re tellin’ me how to cook.”
“I’m just your… assistant, that’s all. Here to help.”
Brenda giggled. “My big boy helper. So who’s gonna help me cook when you’re off at war, Bobby?” She bent over, loosely thrusting the tray into the oven, and stumbled as she righted herself. “And who’s gonna help me with the baby?”
“Baby?!” Sam took a step back. Al certainly hadn’t said anything about a baby. Surely he would have said something.
Brenda covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide. “Oh, jeez. Bobby, I didn’t mean to tell you that way.” She moved her hands to her stomach. “I’m—I’m pregnant. Two months along. You’re gonna be a Daddy!”
Sam took a moment to compose himself, and forced a wide grin onto his face. “That’s… that’s great. Honey.” He extended a hand to her, placing it over hers on her belly and meeting her eyes, managing a genuine smile. But his eyes shifted to her wine glass on the counter, and the warm expression faded from his face. “Uh… maybe you’ve had enough to drink tonight, huh? It’s bad for the baby.”
“Bad for the baby? Says who?” Brenda said, narrowing her eyes.
Sam winced. It was 1970, wasn’t it? Fetal alcohol syndrome hadn’t been identified just yet.
“Says—says the military doctor I saw during training. That’s what he told me.”
Just believe me, dammit.
Brenda stepped back from him. “Why would a military doctor know anything about pregnancy?”
“He used to be an obstetrician, okay? Just trust me, it harms a developing baby if you consume alcohol. Any amount of alcohol. You need to go cold turkey, Brenda.”
Brenda stared him down for a moment, her face blank until the cogs in her mind finally began to turn and her expression soured.
“How could you?” Eyes filling with hot tears, she grabbed at her wine glass, furious. “I can’t believe you turned the fact we’re having a baby into some kind of commentary about my drinkin’. This was meant to be one of the happiest moments of our marriage!”
“Are you kidding me?” Sam snapped. “I’m only trying to help you, and your baby. ”
“Oh, now it’s my baby?” Brenda threw her drink in Sam’s face. “Bobby Deleon, you truly are a fink!”
As the red wine cleared from Sam’s eyes and dripped to the floor, Brenda snatched up the open wine bottle, and stormed away out of the room. A moment later, a door slammed somewhere further in the house.
Sam wiped his face with his hand, groaning. Behold: his reward for trying to help; a face full of spite and tannins.
Guess I’ve learned my lesson, he thought, taking a cloth and rubbing himself dry. Why do I even bother?
* * *
Sam smiled at Marsha as she squeezed his hand, and the pair entered the dome. The many faces—perhaps thirty all up—of the communards of Moonstone Ranch turned to watch him, eyes lit up.
Danny had called a meeting, wherein there would be a communal discussion of Sam’s many ideas.
With his additional foreknowledge of the drug raid, he was sure that if he explained it right, he’d be able to convince everyone to dispose of their illegal substances. They saw him as some kind of messenger from the stars, so they would have to take him seriously.
Danny was waiting for him at the stage, sitting on a chair with his arms folded and a frown on his face as the congregants cheered Sam’s arrival.
Sam waved as he passed through the enthusiastic crowd and stepped onto the stage, leaving Marsha at the front of the group.
“Alright,” Danny said, standing from his seat, “Al here has some radical ideas for this place, and in the spirit of the commune, I’ve called this meeting so that we may discuss and vote on each proposal. As always, comrades: one person, one vote. That includes me and Al. No special treatment, even for star children.”
“That is entirely fair,” Sam said with a smile out at the crowd. “I look forward to hearing your thoughts, everyone.”
“First item of business, this schoolhouse idea of yours. Tell us more, Al.”
“Well,” Sam said, puffing up his chest, and making eye contact with Mike, who was standing against a woman Sam assumed to be the boy’s mother, “I know a lot of you are concerned about schools teaching children to conform to rigid social rules, but I believe that teaching children to read and write, and do basic mathematics, will give them the basis they need to really, uh, stick it to the man. After all, you can’t oppose a rule you can’t even read. Right?
“All I’m proposing is a classroom where the kids that live here can learn these things under the auspices of a volunteer teacher. Somewhere with books for the children to read, and desks to write on.”
Danny stepped forward. “My thoughts on classrooms are well-known,” he said, lighting a cigarette, “and so I’m proposing nixing the idea of a new structure. I think if the kids learn to read, that’s groovy—but don’t fence ’em in. Let them roam, I say. Do we have any other opinions, comrades?”
Marsha’s hand rose.
“Marsha has the floor,” Danny said, gesturing to her.
“Thanks, Danny,” Marsha said, turning to the crowd. “Listen, everybody. Al has come here from another world just to help humanity move into the next stage of human evolution, man. If he says we should do something, I say let’s do it!”
Cheers rose from the communards, and in the corner of Sam’s eye he saw the tip of Danny’s cigarette glow bright red as he inhaled.
“Listen,” said Danny, “I know this… star child visitation… is very exciting for you all, but I want you to decide with your logic, not just because one guy says so, you get me? We’re no damn Manson Family here.”
“Well, my logic says let’s do it,” Marsha persisted. “Education for the young’uns is something a lot of us have been talking about since kids started showin’ up here.”
“Right on!” cried one of the crowd as she rose a fist into the air. “Teach your children well!”
Then someone else broke out singing the Crosby, Stills & Nash song just name-dropped, and the singing voices soon grew to roughly half of the crowd.
“Alright, alright,” Danny shouted. “That’s enough. I see this is a passionate issue for many of you. I suppose we should vote on it, then.” He pointed to the far right of the stage. “Al, you stand over there, and I’ll go to the opposite side. All those opposed to the proposal, move to my side and all those for the classroom, you go to Al’s side.”
He held up his arm. “Now split!”
Sam beamed with pride as he watched the vast majority of the communards shift to his side of the dome, leaving only seven audience members with Danny.
“Well, looks like that’s settled,” Danny said, sighing. “Next item, Al?”
Sam stepped back to the centre as the crowd reformed as a mass.
“Well, I have a few small improvements regarding hygiene in the kitchen and outhouses…”