“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head again. “Let’s keep trying.”
He walks over and picks up the other ball. Then he flings it high in the air. I try to stop it but of course it just falls.
“Maybe tomorrow,” I say.
Henri nods and looks at the ground. “Maybe tomorrow.”
I am covered in sweat and mud and melted snow after our workout. Henri pushed me harder than normal today and came at me with an aggression that could only be steeped in panic. Beyond the telekinesis practice, most of our session was spent drilling technique in fighting—hand-to-hand combat, wrestling, mixed martial arts— followed by elements of composure—grace under pressure, mind control, how to spot fear in the eyes of an opponent and then know how best to expose it. It wasn’t Henri’s hard training that got to me, but rather the look in his eyes. A distressed look, tinged with fear, despair, disappointment. I don’t know if he’s just concerned about progress, or if it’s something deeper, but these sessions are becoming very exhausting—emotionally and physically.
Sarah arrives right on time. I walk outside and kiss her as she’s coming up to the front porch. I take her coat from her and hang it when we’re inside. Our home-ec midterm is a week away, and it was her idea to cook the meal before we’ll have to prepare it in class. As soon as we begin cooking Henri grabs his jacket and goes for a walk. He takes Bernie Kosar with him and I’m thankful for the privacy. We make baked chicken breasts and potatoes and steamed vegetables, and the meal comes out far better than I had hoped. When all is ready the three of us sit and eat together. Henri is silent through most of it. Sarah and I break the awkward silence with small talk, about school, about our going to the movies the following Saturday. Henri rarely looks up from his plate other than to offer how wonderful the meal is.
When dinner is over Sarah and I wash the dishes and retreat to the couch. Sarah brought a movie over and we watch it on our small TV, but Henri mostly stares out the window. Halfway through he gets up with a sigh and walks outside. Sarah and I watch him go. We hold hands and she leans against me with her head on my shoulder. Bernie Kosar sits beside her with his head in her lap, a blanket draped over both of them. It may be cold and blustery outside, but it’s warm and cozy in our living room.
“Is your dad okay?” Sarah asks.
“I don’t know. He’s been acting weird.”
“He was really quiet during dinner.”
“Yeah, I’m going to go check on him. I’ll be right back,” I say, and follow Henri outside. He’s standing on the porch—looking out into the darkness.
“So what’s going on?” I ask.
He looks up at the stars in contemplation.
“Something doesn’t feel right,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Okay. Let’s have it.”
“I don’t know how much longer we should stay here. It doesn’t feel safe to me.”
My heart sinks and I stay silent.
“They’re frantic, and I think they’re getting close. I can feel it. I don’t think we’re safe here.”
“I don’t want to leave.”
“I knew you wouldn’t.”
“We’ve kept hidden.”
Henri looks at me with a raised brow. “No offense, John, but I hardly think you’ve stayed in the shadows.”
“I have where it counts.”
He nods. “I guess we’ll see.”
He walks to the edge of the porch and places his hands on the rail. I stand beside him. New snowflakes start falling, sifting down, specks of white shimmering on an otherwise dark night.
“That’s not all,” Henri says.
“I didn’t think it was.”
He sighs. “You should have already developed telekinesis. It almost always comes with your first Legacy. Very rarely does it come after, and when it does, it’s never longer than a week later.”
I look over at him. His eyes are full of concern, and creases of worry traverse the length of his forehead.
“Your Legacies come from Lorien. They always have.”
“So what are you telling me?”
“I don’t know how much we can expect from here on out,” he says, and pauses. “Since we’re no longer on the planet, I don’t know if the rest of your Legacies will come at all. And if that is true, we have no hope of fighting the Mogadorians, much less defeating them. And if we can’t defeat them, we’ll never be able to go back.”
I watch the snowfall, unable to decide whether I should be worried or relieved, relieved since perhaps that would bring an end to our moving and we could finally settle. Henri points at the stars.
“Right there,” he says. “Right there is where Lorien is.”
Of course I know full well where Lorien is without having to be told. There is a certain pull, a certain way that my eyes always gravitate towards the spot where, billions of miles away, Lorien sits. I try to catch a snow-flake on the tip of my tongue, then close my eyes and breathe in the cold air. When I open them I turn around and look at Sarah through the window. She’s sitting with her legs beneath her, Bernie Kosar’s head still in her lap.
“Have you ever thought of just settling here, of saying to hell with Lorien and making a life here on Earth?” I ask Henri.
“We left when you were pretty young. I don’t imagine you remember much of it, do you?”
“Not really,” I say. “Bits and pieces come to me from time to time. Though I can’t necessarily say whether they are things I remember or things I’ve seen during our training.”
“I don’t think you would feel that way if you could remember.”
“But I don’t remember. Isn’t that the point?”
“Maybe,” he says. “But whether or not you want to go back doesn’t mean the Mogadorians are going to stop searching for you. And if we get careless and settle, you can be assured they’ll find us. And as soon as they do, they’ll kill us both. There’s no way to change that. No way.”
I knows he’s right. Somehow, like Henri, I can sense that much, can feel it in the dead of night when the hairs on my arms stand at attention, when a slight shiver crawls up my spine even though I’m not cold.
“Do you ever regret sticking with me for this long?”
“Regret it? Why do you think I would regret it?”
“Because there’s nothing for us to go back to. Your family is dead. So is mine. On Lorien there is only a life of rebuilding. If it wasn’t for me you could easily create an identity here and spend the rest of your days becoming a part of someplace. You could have friends, maybe even fall in love again.”
Henri laughs. “I’m already in love. And I’ll continue to be until the day that I die. I don’t expect you to understand that. Lorien is different from Earth.”
I sigh with exasperation. “But still, you could be a part of somewhere.”
“I am a part of somewhere. I’m a part of Paradise, Ohio, right now, with you.”
I shake my head. “You know what I mean, Henri.”
“What is it that you think I’m missing?”
“A life.”
“You are my life, kiddo. You and my memories are my only ties to the past. Without you I have nothing. That’s the truth.”
Just then the door opens behind us. Bernie Kosar comes trotting out ahead of Sarah, who is standing in the doorway half in and half out.
“Are you two really going to make me watch this movie all by my lonesome?” she asks.
Henri smiles at her. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says.
