Left Handed

15

The ship swayed in the sea, synchronous to my throbbing head. I know it makes some people sick but to me the rocking was soothing. I opened my eyes. Sunlight flooded through the windows.

I thought of last night. I had gotten fucked up. Wasn't there some point to that party? I was sure there was. Something I should have gotten out of it. Problem was, I couldn't string together two cohesive thoughts.

I still had my clothes on. That was good. It meant I probably didn't have sex unless the person decided to simply shift everything to the side. The thought made me smile. Then it made me shudder.

There was a knock on my door.

"What?" I croaked.

"It's me, Jorge," Jorge said. His voice sounded just fine. Some people...

Oh, yeah. Jorge. Maybe that was the thing I was meant to do. Talk about objectification.

What now? I probably looked horrible. Well, fuck that. Men can't expect to knock on the bedroom doors of women at all hours of the morning and expect us to live up to their fantasies. Anyway. He must know that I haven't been up yet. We're on a boat after all. I wondered where he slept though, poor bastard.

"Go away," I said.

"Alright," he said. There was a pause. Then, "I'm coming in."

Oh no. I pulled the blankets over my chin as the door swung open.

Of course he looked gorgeous. Life is unfair. He carried two steaming coffee mugs in each hand. His hands trembled slightly. He placed one on the bed stand and sat down on the bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"What? Are you my doctor?" I retorted.

He laughed. I picked up the mug and sipped the coffee. It was strong and bitter. No milk. No sugar. Exactly what I needed right now.

"And why are you laughing at me?" I asked.

"You are strange, Tracy. I like it," he said. A warm feeling crept up my body, over my neck and my face. I suspected it wasn't from the coffee. It sounded so offhand. Sometimes I wonder if boys even realize what they say. Or if they think before they speak. Or if they think at all. Probably not with their brains.

This was the first time a dude said that to me. Of course he didn't say that he wants to marry me. It did sound, however, like it was more than buddy-love.

Fuck it, I decided. Might as well go out guns blazing.

"I'd kiss you now," I said. "But my mouth tastes like a rat gave birth in there."

He guffawed. Then he squeezed my hand and said, "I'll let you freshen up. I'll be outside on the deck."

So I did. I took a shower, brushed my teeth. And so on. I don't think you're interested in my morning routine. Before I went outside, I put my headphones in just in case Bo wanted something.

Sure enough. He said, "Finally! I hope you enjoyed yourself. Listen. I need to be charged. My energy cells are running kinda low."

"Oh. I thought you run on anti-matter," I said. I read about anti-matter in some comic or sci-fi book. It sounded pretty nifty at the time.

"You wish. That's a piece of technology y'all have to come up with on your own."

Aha! So it does exist. Interesting.

"Alright. How do I do this?" I asked. He ran me through the routine of unscrewing my arm and plugging it into a phone charger.

"So...even the aliens run with USB-c, huh?" I asked as I undid my prosthetics. It was really quite simple: the prosthetic arm attaches to my own stump just above the elbow with a strap and is additionally screwed on with a  turn and pull mechanisms like they have on things like walking canes and stuff. I immediately lost my balance though.

"Steady there," Bo said. "You see that little plastic hatch? Pop that open and stick in a cable. We should be good in an hour."

"An hour? That's very fast."

"Yeah, well."

And that was the end of the discussion. I wondered if he was pissed off with me for getting pissed yesterday. Probably not.

Now came the very difficult part. How to conceal my stump? I rummaged around for a large, billowing hoodie and pulled it over my other clothes. It was really hard. Remember I have no training in this at all. I got Frzzzbo right after losing my arm. I managed after a while. I left my left arm inside the hoodie and let the sleeve flap around.

Then I stepped out on the deck. I hadn't noticed yet but it was around noon and the sun was out: blue skies for miles. We were back on our dock in town.

All the kids of last night were gone. Only Jorge remained, sitting on a deckchair, arms behind his head.

"Hey," I said and smiled.

"Hey," he replied. He stood and walked over to me. "Are you cold?" He nodded towards my empty sleeve.

"Yeah," I said. I was so nervous.

Then he hugged me. It was nice.

Then he realized that there's something wrong with my anatomy. I saw the realization in his eyes. It was nicen't.

"What..? How...? I saw...it?"

I backed away from him. My lower lip started trembling. I felt my eyes getting moist.

He closed the distance between us.

"No," he said, "Stop. It's not your fault."

"I know it's not my fault," I said angrily. "Why would you even say that?"

Now it was his turn to back away. He lifted his hands defensively. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I said, "Just go. I'll call you tomorrow."

He stood there a moment, looking at me. There was pain in his eyes and I was about to give in. But I didn't. I turned around and went up to the bridge. I heard him leave.

Up on the bridge I found Natasha.

"Take us out, please," I said.

"Where do you want to go?" she asked. I like her.

"Take us anywhere away from here."