Page 11 of Codi
“All right. Then what?”
“Then they try to eat the other dinosaurs and ninjas.”
Well, that’s morbid.“Can my dinosaur be your dinosaur’s friend?”
“No. This is a T-rex. The T-rex eats your brachiosaurus. See? It has sharp teeth.”
“What if my brachiosaurus doesn’t want to be eaten?”
“Well, that’s just too bad.”
Fair enough. I move the toys around as Lucas invents entire epic sagas regarding these little playthings. I chuckle as our dinosaurs or ninjas collide, Lucas providing all sound effects with gusto. After he loses interest in this game, he moves to another, this time pulling out three different construction trucks: a bulldozer, a crane, and a cement mixer.
He rolls them around on the floor, quite content to play by himself now as I continue organizing a few of his clothing drawers and clean off his dresser. I notice a picture of him and his mother and pause. Denise’s glowing smile could stop New Carnegie traffic, even in a simple photograph.
“Lucas,” I ask, suddenly curious and glancing at the boy. “Where is your father?”
Lucas shrugs.
“Does he ever visit you?”
He shakes his head.
His inability to speak of the absence of one parent tugs at me. Humans are social creatures, and their family groups flourish best when there is a father figure of some kind.
Lucas looks up at me. “Do you have a father?” He asks.
I hesitate, returning to sit next to him. “No. I was made in a factory, or... laboratory, I suppose. I have neither father nor mother.”
“Does that make you sad?” Lucas peers at me.
How to answer that?“I’m a bionic assistant,” I reply. “A robot. I can’t get sad.”
Except I can, and I don’t know how or why. I let those questions linger as we continue to play with his trucks.
I can’t be his father. But I can be here for him.
* * *
Naptime provides me with a lucrative two hours of deep cleaning and organizing on Denise’s behalf. By the time six o’clock rolls around, I have tidied up Lucas’s room, living room, kitchen, and bathroom and have started fresh loads of the boy’s laundry. A simple supper of stuffed bell peppers bakes in the oven.
I hear the front door open, followed by an amazed exclamation. “Oh my god, you cleaned!”
Denise stands there in her scrubs, wide-eyed and mouth slackened. Her hair is a little messier than when she left, and her bright red lipstick has somewhat faded. I look up while putting away a few stray toys, turning to smile at her. “Of course. It’s one of my primary functions.”
“You are the most amazing man in the world,” Denise scoffs in disbelief as she looks around, dropping her purse upright by the door before meeting my eyes. “You did all of this? Did Lucas go down for a nap?”
“Under protest,” I acknowledge with a slight smile, my circuits quickening at her praise, reveling at her appreciation of my work.She called me a man. “But yes.”
“Holy shit, do you know how much I have to fight to get him to lay down for a measly five minutes?” Denise says, incredulous. “How do you do it?”
“Programming,” I reply as she heads to her room, likely to change out of her scrubs. “I haven’t cleaned your room yet. I wanted your permission first.”
“Have at it, if you want,” she calls. “Mostly just clothes thrown everywhere.”
Lucas sits nicely at the counter, surrounded by paper and crayons. When Denise returns, she’s dressed in a simple oversized T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. For a prolonged moment, I can’t help but admire her. No matter what she wears, she seems so utterly beautiful.
She catches me, and I look away quickly. I shouldn’t be staring at my new mistress so shamelessly, but she makes it difficult not to. I want to memorize each and every one of her features, and as I clean off a cutting board of scraps into the garbage disposal, I wonder if her skin is as soft as it looks. This leads me to think perhaps I’ve admired a woman in a similar manner before. It comes to me so easily, and IknowI’m doing it.
