by
Robert Alan Silverstein
14
years I'd been drifting in space.
Lost. Alone.
So tired of contemplating the mysteries of the universe.
So tired of thinking about why it all went so wrong.
I stared out into the empty void and I wished that I could
hope again.
I wished that I could believe that I would find someone. That
I wouldn't be so alone.
"Uh,
what am I, chopped liver?" Bo snorted.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Yeah. I got you, buddy. But
you're not real."
Bo. My supposed bhodisatva-sidekick. Spirit guide sent to
lead me to enlightenment. Ha! What a load of crap.
"Hey,
I never said I was anything more than a figment of your imagination,
pal. The rest is on you."
True enough. But can you blame me? Remember, I've been drifting
through space. Alone with only my thoughts for 14 years. You'd
have dreamed somebody up, too. But then again, I bet your
dream-companion wouldn't be a wise-cracking poser like I got
stuck with.
"Only
what you've made me, dude."
I sighed again. I do that a lot.
"What
am I going to do, Bo," I said through yet another pathetic
sigh as I turned to face him, tears struggling to stay in
my eyes. "I'm not young anymore. I didn't accomplish anything
great. I didn't figure out the Big Questions. I didn't get
the girl. And it's too late for happily ever-afters."
"Is
it though?"
"Um...isn't
it?"
"You
want to find someone? Find someone!" Bo sneered, and he stared
down the retort I was about to snap back, daring me to refute
his proclamation.
"Um...ok?,"
I meekly squeaked. "But how? Remember. Alone. Ship disabled.
Lost in space. Ring a bell?"
Bo smiled. The sneakiest conniving type of Bo-smile. "Well.
Hey, lookie-there," he smirked pointing behind me.
I turned around slowly. Very slowly. Somehow I knew what I
was about to see.
Yep, another spaceship. Heading my way. Uh huh.
"No
way, Bo. It's not real."
"Or
is it!" Bo countered with a chuckle. "And whoa! Nice-looking
pilot. Woman of your dreams. And look at that, age appropriate,
too! She's been off exploring the mysteries of the universe.
Waiting for some deep-thinker like you to share her journey..."
"Not
real..." I sighed, because he was right, that's exactly who
I saw staring out through her spacecraft's viewport. I watched
as her eyes widened when our gazes met, and a smile slowly
crept across her lips. Beautiful kissable lips.
I shook my head and turned back to face my imaginary friend.
"Not real, Bo!" I glared.
"Or
is it," he chuckled again.
"Do
you need assistance?" my craft communicator crackled with
the voice of an angel.
I blinked. Hope was sneakily trying to creep into my brain.
So I shook my head and tried to rattle some sense into my
muddled thought-processes. "Not REAL!" I muttered.
"Can
you hear me? Do you need help?" the crackle repeated.
"Well,
do you need help?" Bo smirked.
"But..."
"Your
ship's disabled. You've been floating aimlessly in space for
14 years. Real. Not Real. What do you have to lose!"
Crazy logic. But then again, what did I have to lose?
I turned back to my console and looked out at the spacecraft.
And stared at the woman of my dreams. "Yes, please," I gasped,
as I gazed into her beautiful eyes, no longer caring if she
was real or not.
She smiled and I watched her lips move as the communicator
crackled again, "Permission to dock."
"Permission
granted!" I exclaimed.
She skillfully pulled up alongside my craft.
"Well,
that's my cue," Bo declared.
"Huh?"
I stammered as I stared at my reflection in my viewport glass,
running my fingers through my messy curls, trying to make
them behave. So I didn't look like some crazy guy that's been
aimlessly drifting in space for 14 years.
"Three's
a crowd, and all, you know?" Bo continued.
"Wait,
what?" I gasped as I turned to face him. Bo might just be
an annoying figment of my imagination, but he's all I had
for the past 14 years. "Don't leave me, Bo," I pleaded.
"Sorry,
gotta go. But. I'll be back," he arnold-schwartzenagered.
And then I was all alone.
Except my hatch was opening. And there she stood. "Permission
to come aboard," she asked with that wonderful smile.
Next
Chapter
©
2023-2024 Robert Alan Silverstein
