He nodded and handed me the helmet. I slid it over my head not looking back at the house. Why couldn’t she see she was making everything harder on me? I wanted to do what was right for all of us.
The ride to his house passed surprisingly quickly. We turned into a back alley near my house and then suddenly we appeared in his garage still sitting on his motorcycle. Grateful I didn’t have to endure the icy winds for too long, I appreciated his ability to pop in and out of places.
Tugging off my gloves, I stuffed them into the helmet and left them on the bike seat. Morik led me in through the side door and immediately went to the thermostat setting it to seventy five from fifty three.
“It will warm up in a bit. Keep your jacket on until it does,” he said moving toward me.
I nodded and looked around his mostly barren yet tastefully decorated house. “Why don’t you have any of your things here?”
“Things?”
“You’ve bowled, you’ve created shell combs. Over the years, you had to have collected – I don’t know … things. Memories.”
He reached out and took one of my hands in his leading me to the couch. “I keep those hidden away. Neighbors tend to look through your windows. Some of my ‘things’ would raise questions.”
It made sense. Sitting down, I looked up at him and apologized for my mom.
“She has every reason to be mad. She’s right. If I were honest and nice I would release you.”
“You said there’s always a price.”
He shrugged and sat next to me, close, but not touching. Suddenly, I knew that he would be the one to pay. An eternity of isolation. Humans used him to acquire what they wanted and because of his loneliness, he went along with it. What choice did he really have if he wanted contact, any contact, with another being?
“Morik? You mentioned others like you. Why don’t you talk to them?”
He leaned back, resting his head against the back of the couch, thoughtfully looking up at the ceiling through his yellow glasses.
“We are all different. Some are so different it is difficult to spend more than a minute together without becoming extremely agitated. Many of my kind before me are violent and confrontational. Not many were created after me. Most of those who were, already faded into inexistence.” He turned his head to look at me. “Without purpose, they had no reason to exist.”
“The older ones have purpose?”
He nodded and looked away. “Many disasters that befall this world are their doing. They are chaos. Nature is control. Together, there is balance. Long ago, humans began to create their own chaos. The younger ones, no longer needed, ceased to exist.”
“Then, your purpose is to cause chaos?”
He smiled mischievously. “It was, long ago. But I quickly saw what would happen to me and started making deals with humans, creating a new purpose for myself. It was a loophole that few of us could interact with humans at all. Again, just to create chaos. Some of my earlier deals led to revelations that led to revolutions. Humans interested me. Their diversity and persistence were like nothing I’d witnessed before. I wanted to be a part of that. I wanted a reason to exist.”
We sat together quietly, each lost in thought. His own persistence made sense. A two hundred-year-old deal was the only thing keeping him alive.
I tentatively laced my fingers through his and leaned my head on his shoulder listening to the air blow through the vents. Feeling like a rope in a game of tug-of-war, I tried to impartially look at both sides. Morik made the deal because he felt lonely. Mom had flipped out because being with him scared her. Which had more pull on me? His loneliness. I felt the same isolation because of the touch and the consequence of it. Despite my talks with Mom, she didn’t see that I couldn’t accept choosing anyone other than Morik. I understood her fear though. What would choosing him bring me?
Soon the room felt toasty and I sat up to discard the jacket. My movement broke the melancholy mood in the room. He got us both sodas and then dug out a checkers board.
For the next three hours, we talked and played games. After the first game, I insisted he take off his hat and glasses when we were alone. I watched the different colors swirling in his eyes. For the most part, brown dominated them with an occasional wisp of black or green.
Just before nine, I put on my jacket. He gathered me in his arms instantly transporting us to just outside my front door.
“What do you do when you leave me for the night?” I asked idly, not yet wanting to go inside.
He looked uncomfortable for a minute then admitted, “I never really leave.” Raising my eyebrows in surprise, I waited for him to explain. “Most nights, I talk to your Aunt. She doesn’t sleep either.”
“You never sleep?”
“Not since finding you. Before that I did, but never for very long. I don’t need sleep like you do.”
I stuck my hands in my pocket and tried to suppress a shiver from standing in the cold. Leaning against him when we rode kept me warmer than I’d realized.