A bend in space-time (Season 2) - The Umbrella Academy

Chapter 9: Childhood's end

Chronological markers: this scene fits like a deleted scene from season 2. It takes place during the flashback at the beginning of episode 3, in the months preceding the 02:40 scene in San Francisco, some time after the previous chapter.

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Thursday, May 30 1963 - 1:12pm

Beyond the small balcony at the back of the store's first floor, the vast neighborhood of shacks and narrow gardens extends into the urban areas of Dallas that people here only cross on the highway. A frontier zone of low cinderblock walls, tin roofs and bushes. Barbecues gleaming in the sun, a constant reminder that this is Texas. On my lap is the last bite of my lunch: a peanut butter sandwich. I don't know why I prepared it, as I hate it: sometimes it gets to me these days, and that's all I can eat. I even felt like adding marshmallows to it once, which makes no sense at all. And it's no longer a cup of coffee by my side, but a whole thermos.

On Monday, I started working for Metroplex Radio & Electronics, Lloyd's parents' family business, which is kindly known in the neighborhood as 'Merelec'. In three days, I've learned to solder circuit boards, which is an interesting complement to the energy I can feel flowing through the components. I'm doing pretty well, especially if I can see the circuit diagrams. I think I've even managed to get a radio receiver's audio amplifier working on a demodulator, before I've even soldered the two together: just by a flow of energy from my fingers. You get the little satisfactions you can: mine are connecting with people and machines, that's just how things are. Lloyd thinks that perhaps it's all about energy after all.

He, actually has three stores to manage: the one here, the one in downtown Dallas, and the one - in the process of opening - in Houston, in the southern part of the state. I'm allowed to live in the tiny upstairs bedroom of the Glen Oaks store. Lloyd, on the other hand, returns to the family residence every evening - not so far from Kitty's, though less fortunate - and he may leave for several months to the south soon. Klaus hasn't called yet, but I spoke briefly to Jill. They're staying at the estate of a man named Ken Kesey, who entertains San Francisco's elite with LSD. I've got the number, she's got mine. I hope it will work out that way.

I don't spend much time walking in the neighborhood. I'm mostly learning to deal with Mrs. Thompson, the neighbor across the street who - once again - doesn't like me, with the suppliers, including Mason in plumbing, and with Brian: the owner of the hardware store next door at 165-167. The guy who didn't hire me, but who's now happy to have someone fix his toaster. Every Tuesday, this clever little device breaks down - with insolent regularity - and it's always ready on Thursday.

I eat my last bite, then I bend down to pour myself a shot of caffeine from the thermos. And just then, I see a young silhouette pass by on the nearby balcony, making me briefly gaze over the gap separating us. There, beyond the two antique railings gleaming in the June sun above the concrete, Brian's young apprentice is settling into a camping chair in a checkered shirt. With a corned beef sandwich, and a volume of Arthur C. Clarke's 'Childhood's End'. A 50s anticipation book: one of the few styles I like.

He has chestnut hair, straight eyebrows, the high cheekbones of the people here. And blue eyes, shining under a forehead too smart to work in this hardware store. You can tell he'll be strong and tall. I give him a sidelong glance because I know he's spotted me, and I sigh because I don't have much time. But I lean over the edge of the balcony as he opens his book to its very last pages.

"You already know that the Overlords aren't ill-intentioned aliens, I suppose," I say, amused, taking a sip of my coffee.

He smiles as he looks down at his page, and I suspect it's not Brian he's talking with about his SF literature. He leaves the book open on his knees, bites into his sandwich, and nods as he finally looks at me.