I sigh as I feel Steve's increasing irritation with the man in front of us. His face is a mask and he gives nothing away. I look at the poor orientation and mobility student I had found through posting on craigslist. The poor sod actually thought he was getting through to Steve. Come to think of it the way his voice got one octave higher and he said his words slower when talking to Steve made me really uncomfortable. I check myself to make sure I am not just feeling what Steve is projecting.
"There you go, buddy. Good job!" He encourages Steve condescendingly when he navigates one of the obstacles he had set up around the apartment.
Nope, I was definitely irritated by this idiot. Steve seems resigned to get through the session so I bite my tongue until I see out the instructor 45 minutes later. I smile and thank him as I hand him his 40 dollars. "Don't call us, we'll call you", I mutter as I shut the door.
I hear Steve give a mirthless chuckle at that.
He is doing so much better than when I first pulled him out. In the three weeks we've been back in Seattle he has figured out the apartment, how to use his powers to keep from bumping into stuff and is more communicative and present. Anything can set off a dark patch though. Last time it was when we were channel surfing after dinner and I paused on a report about the terrorists who had gone on a rampage and destroyed Seattle. I lifted my arm to change the channel but he stopped me. We watched the whole thing and heard from people who wanted 'freaks' locked up and who thought that Andrew and Matt were abominations and, my personal favourite, a punishment from God to smite the godless city of Seattle. Steve went to bed after that. He didn't speak to me for 2 days but I could feel him calling to Matt willing him to answer. I just hoped that this hadn't set him off.
"Okay, so craigslist isn't the best place to find medical professionals. Noted. We'll find someone better. I've actually been working on a fake ID for you. I just need a social security number" I don't add that I kind of need someone roughly our age to die first so I can snag it but from the way he raises his eyebrow I know that he picked that up. He is much better at closing off his thoughts than I am.
"It's okay. He's fine" He sighs sounding exhausted. He grips his cane tightly playing with the chord that holds it together when it is folded. We ordered it online 2 weeks ago. Since then we've been trying to find someone who could teach him how to use it. I looked up some of the basic stuff online. All the freelancers we've managed to find have either been sketchy, scary or incompetent. What Steve really needs is a new identity so we can get him into a proper rehab facility.
"Let's go fly" He suggests.
I agree readily. We've worked out a system. If we both relax enough we can be so connected that he reacts when I do and moves when I do. He changes into a jacket and scarf- he hardly ever asks for my help anymore. He grabs his cane and we head outside. He sweeps it in an arch ahead of him. He is enjoying the sun on his face and the fresh air but, as always, he is battling with feelings of despair. I admire Steve he isn't really one to give in no matter how bleak the situation is. He is a fighter. I steer him away from a pile of rubbish next to an overturned trash can. He smiles at me.
"Switch to sighted lead?" I offer.
Instead of answering he finds my elbow and grabs on. He still has his cane out sweeping arcs to locate drop offs or changes in terrain. We've been trying to figure out a land version of what we do in the sky but it doesn't work as well. My brain is too noisy and cluttered down here. So is his. I lead him down to an abandoned corner of an abandoned lot and we take off. He flies ahead; we realized it doesn't really make a difference if he is ahead. I feel my brain clear out. The awful paper I had to rush to get in on time, the cute guy in my feminist discourse tutorial who smiled at me once but hasn't looked at me since; it all washes away. The cold is invigorating but more than that is the rush, the weightlessness, the carelessness of flight.
I feel Steve laughing. Every now and then I get a sense of what he must have been like before all this; carefree, popular, with an easy smile and an open heart. With every little bit of independence he is becoming more and more like the old Steve. Which is good since dark and broody suits him about as well as the funny t-shirt and sweat pants he had to wear on our trip back to Washington. My phone buzzes. I hover mid air to check it warning Steve that I have stopped.
He doubles back toward me when he reaches the limits of his "vision"- when he has flown as far as he can trust me to see for him.
I set my phone to alert me when a match came up at the registry. An African American kid around our age died in a car accident. I yell at Steve that we need to get back. Once we get back to the flat I put the kettle on and grab my laptop while Steve heads to the shower. Committing identity fraud isn't one of my prouder moments but once you know what you are doing it is almost ridiculously easy. I wouldn't call myself a hacker- I hadn't used my computer skills for anything but coding until all this happened. The trick is not to find someone who is as similar to the person you are stealing for as possible. This is why undocumented immigrants pay so much to assume new identities. The risk of being caught is much lower the less you change. Then you have to be careful to grab the identity before the death is registered. This one was just entered so I change his social security to a fake one (it doesn't matter- they don't check the social security numbers of dead people) next I log into the court registry and bypass the security to apply for a name change. The most important thing is the social security number which I have. I swear the online affidavit and soon a new person exists.
Steve comes into the living room while I am finishing up. A book that is lying in his path flies out of his way and smashes against the wall. A page comes loose.
"You are going to have to learn some finesse. It would be nice if you could protect your toes and not destroy ALL my stuff" I say evenly.
"I'm working on it. I'm also starving- any thoughts about dinner?" He asks. Living with a boy has sent my food bills through the roof. He needs constant feeding. Still, I think as I put the finishing touches on my masterpiece, we do have a reason to celebrate.
"Why don't we go out? We can celebrate the fact that you are officially a registered person- complete with convenient back story and social security number. And your name is still Steve." I tell him.
"You did it?" He asks and I know instantly that he didn't know that I would be able to do it.
"I'm going to ignore the fact that you doubted my ability to deliver and I am still going to buy you dinner Steve Monterey" I tell him.
"Like the cheese?" He asks incredulous.
"Oh crap! It's the first thing that came into my head that started with an 'M'" I laugh.
"I guess I'll get used to it. How about we order in? I am way too tired to deal with the world" He says.
"No problem", I reply easily.
In truth, I am worried about him. He doesn't leave the apartment unless we're flying and he hasn't had any interaction with anyone but me.
"Please learn to think quieter" He groans.
"Sorry" I apologise sheepishly, "But seriously Steve, I saw this thing on campus. It's a Braille class. They are doing it to promote Braille literacy among Blind youth. That could be good- learn to read Braille and meet some people?" I suggest.
"I'll think about it" He grunts moving to turn on the TV. We've been watching movies a lot. Especially the ones Steve has already seen. I know better than to push him.
Half an hour later I am in my pyjamas next to him on the couch finishing off my green curry and trying not to stare at Steve devouring his pad thai.
"So who is the guy in feminist discourse?" He teases waggling his eyebrows.
I am about to ask how he knows about that but instead I sigh.
"When he said Hi to you in class the other day I could feel your excitement all the way from over here"
"We should really think of some rules" I say to myself.
We are both thinking of the same situation, what if one of us brings someone home?
It's a good sign that Steve is thinking about girls so I try a different tact.
"You could meet some girls on campus. If you learn braille you could take some classes next semester?" I suggest.
"And how would we pay for that?" He grumbles sarcastically.
"We just would. I could get a job? Look this isn't a perfect situation Mr. Monterey but you are here. You should get on with it"
I can feel the frustration in him about to bubble over.
"Just say it" I say resignedly.
"Aren't you even a little bit curious about why that is? I came back to life! Do you hear how insane that sounds? Why aren't you freaked out by this? Why did this happen?" He screams at me.
"I don't know. I have been looking. I can't just google "shiny rock alien resurrection" and come up with answers" I say apologetically.
"We didn't even try to figure it out. We just messed around with stuff in our town" His voice is tinged with regret.
"We're going to figure this out. I don't know how or when but I promise we will. But in the meantime- you are here. You need to try and be here" I reply.
"I am trying" He sighs.
"No you aren't. I hacked your school records. Steve Montgomery wasn't the kind of guy to just half ass things. You have to really try" I pick up our plates and head to the kitchen to wash them.
We don't speak for the rest of the day and I can hear him calling out for Matt. This time I don't tune out instead I join him. Willing Matt to answer and I can tell what has been bothering him all this time- he is there. I can feel him, he can hear us and the d-bag is just choosing not to answer. I smile to myself as I realize that he doesn't know what I can do. I clear my mind and relax into bed before completely tuning into him. I have only done it once so I have to really focus. Suddenly I am connected. He is drinking a bowl of soup in a noisy market. I cannot really focus on the specifics of his surroundings but I need to do something as impactful as possible. His hands reach for the bowl to take another sip. I spill the hot liquid down his shirt and send the bowl flying across the floor. His shock shakes loose our connection. I feel something warm trickle down my nose and head to the bathroom to get a cloth to staunch the nose bleed. Even as the cloth is saturated with my warm sticky blood and I begin to feel lightheaded I am still smiling. Worth it.
I have a class that I haven't done the reading for yet so I get up fairly early and head to the kitchen for breakfast. I am in the middle of buttering my toast when Steve walks out of the second bedroom fully dressed.
"Hey. I was thinking we should go try to sign up for a rehab" He says shyly.
"Sure" I mentally cancel my class. It's just a lecture; I can still attend the tutorial later in the week.
"You don't have to cancel your class" He sighs.
"I want to. This is more important. Do you want some breakfast? I'm having toast"
"How did you do that last night?" He asks finding the table that we occasionally eat at and taking a seat.
"I don't know I can just do it" I answer putting in some toast for him.
"He spoke back last night"
"Yeah? What did he say?"
"Cussed you out for spilling soup on him and then went silent again. At least it is something" He smiles when I slide over my toast so he can eat it while it's warm. I can get the next batch.
"It's a start" he shrugs as he digs in to the toast.
Four and a half hours later we are standing outside yet another government office and my enthusiasm for project Steve Monterey has begun to wane. We had to get a medical report confirming what we already knew; that he was blind. The over-worked doctor said he could fit us in later in the month for scans but since we needed the report for state assistance for re-hab he would just come up with an explanation. Steve responded to all the questions charmingly and easily while I stood there, thought nervous thoughts about the penalty for identity fraud and kicked myself for us not rehearsing answers earlier. I cannot believe that we could just present a blind guy and no one would ask any questions at all about how he was blinded. Moronic oversight on my part.
Where I am panicked and jittery Steve is calm and purposeful. The lady we just saw, Janine, calls us back into her office.
"Okay so I am going to give Aisha your schedule for your occupational therapy, braille classes and mobility classes. I tried to get you the most rigorous schedule since you said you wanted to finish as soon as possible but if any of it proves to be too much you can cut down" She explains as she hands me the schedule.
Steve says thank you and smiles and Janine swoons. She is young and eager to help which is good for us but I am pretty sure she is going to get conned, realize it and freak out.
We are conning her- Steve's thought jumps into my head.
We won't get caught- I reassure him immediately. I almost instantly consider all the ways we could get caught. I hope he didn't catch that. I look at his knowing smirk. He caught that.
I missed something Janine said to us.
"Sorry?" I turn to her and smile apologetically.
"I was just telling your cousin that he should look into some assistance programs that exist for disabled college kids when he is ready" She smiles at Steve encouragingly and her eyes shimmer with wonder at his courage.
"Definitely. He's smart so once he is finished at rehab we can come back and talk about it" I tell her.
This, mercifully, marks the end of our long morning. Steve can start tomorrow thanks to Janine's eagerness to please. We step outside and I take a deep breath.
"How about some lunch?" Steve asks.
I turn to him with an eyebrow raised before deciding not to raise the fact that for nearly a month he has been a housebound agoraphobic. His face is still turned to me expectantly so he didn't get that. I am getting the hang of thinking quietly.
"Welcome to the world. What do you want to eat?" I ask.
"Burgers" He is certain and his eyes wide with childlike anticipation. And burgers it is.