I stare down at my food. I can't even recall the last time Silvia and I shared a breakfast table, but she nailed it.
She doesn't seem to notice my surprise, and continues to talk between bites.
“Do you remember when we were eleven, and you wanted to see if you could play baseball with the angel statue? It was posed like this.” She extends her arm above her and cups her fingers. “So you batted the ball at it, and it hit the hand so hard it broke?”
I look at her … and then laugh. “I'd totally forgotten about that.”
She smiles. “You were so scared about my dad finding out. Like, you'd never been scared of him before, but that day you just panicked and ran away. Remember?”
“Yeah, I remember,” I say, feeling less embarrassed than I should.
That was right after my father had given me the low-down, and I had no idea what to expect from Karl.
“I tried to fix the statue with modeling clay.” She cuts into her pancakes. “My mother caught me, so I told her I had been trying to make an impression of the statue's hand and it broke.”
“That's some pretty weird excuse-making.” I shovel in a bite.
“I guess so, but I still have it.”
I look up from my food. “Have what?”
“The impression of the hand.” She grins. “Just a big block of modeling clay with a statue's hand imprinted in it.”
“Why would you keep that?”
She shrugs. “I flipped it over and use it as an ashtray now.”
I shake my head and go back to eating.
I get it. Silvia and I spent more than a decade of our lives side-by-side. Then they began grooming us for our roles. As I was taught I would have to obey, she was taught she owned me. As I was sent out to take on the world, she was kept sheltered in the mansion oasis. And as I met people and learned to pickup women at the bar, Silvia never expanded her horizons. I am the only guy her age she has ever known.
Now her teenage crush has welled into possessiveness. It's tearing her up that she can't yet claim what is rightfully hers.
In her own twisted way, Silvia loves me.
***
Between Albuquerque and Oklahoma City, the desert starts to roll and turn green. We're not exactly in the thickets yet, but it's nice to see grass that isn't a golf course.
Silvia sits forward in her seat, taking three or four puffs on a cigarette before discarding it, eyes wide to note each detail of the hills and towns. “I want to travel every continent. See Europe, Africa, Australia—”
“Yeah,” I say, cutting her off, “and how do you intend to do that without getting on a plane?”
Her hand freezes halfway to bringing the cigarette to her mouth. She shrugs. “Private jet. I think I could handle that.”
“That's expensive, Silv.”
“We can afford it.” She flicks her cigarette out the window.
Just once I would like to see what happens if she finished one. It's like she thinks they're fuses.
“What would you do if you weren't a genie?”
I still, but my heart speeds up. Nervous, unsettled energy.
What would I do if I wasn't forced into servitude? I must have had goals once, before I knew my life had been planned already, but I don't remember what they were. I don't want to remember, either. They won't happen.
Even if Karl died tomorrow, his little swimmer made sure that I had no chance of escaping. I'll go out the same way all of the genies before me: bullet to the head when I'm no longer useful.
I turn on the radio and crank it so we don't have to talk anymore. I just want to get to Doctor Kerr's house so I can go home.
***
We arrive in Oklahoma City in the middle of the night. My legs are numb, my shoulders and back are stiff, and my eyes hurt. My brain is in worse shape. I haven't stopped thinking about Silvia's question the whole damn trip.
What would I do if I weren't a genie?
Anything other than what I have been doing the last eight years. I resent she would even ask, as if it was a dream equally denied to everyone. Like vacationing in the solar system. Instead, I'm the only one who has to stay on this god forsaken planet.
I clomp out of the car and follow Silvia into the hotel lobby.
“One room, please,” she says with a tired sigh.
The clerk punches into his computer.
“Two.” I give Silvia a look, goading her to challenge me.
Her eyes light. How dare the pet defy her.
When the clerk glances at her for confirmation, she purses her lips, then gives a tight nod.
He hands us our hotel key cards. I storm back to the car, yank out our luggage, and stalk to our ground level rooms. I stop at Silvia's door and wait for her to unlock it. As soon as the door clicks, I push past, drop her luggage on the floor, and turn to her.
“Stay in your own fuckin' room.” I point at her. “Got it?”
“I don't have your key,” she snaps.
Tears threaten to break through her face. I do not care.
“I'm sure you would find a way to sneak in. So don't. Just leave me the fuck alone.” I storm toward the door.
“Dimitri!” Her voice is shrill. “Why do you hate me?”
I spin around to face her.
“I'm not like my father!”