Infiltrator

'Am I that transparent?' John asked with a grin.

'Transparent? As in obvious, self-evident, unsubtle? Nah!'

'Unsubtle? Moi? I never even looked at Consuela last year.'

'She wasn't worth looking at last year.'

'Harsh, Mom. True, but harsh.'

Sarah grinned; she'd missed bantering with him.

'So when is this asado?' she asked.

'Next Saturday.'

'No problem,' Sarah said. 'I couldn't get away myself before then.' Maybe he doesn't want to go camping, she suddenly thought.

They'd always done some wilderness stuff to keep their skills sharp, or maybe just to keep from getting bored. But John was getting older now; he was of an age to want to make his own choices about how he'd spend his time. And who he'll want to spend time with. I suppose it's more healthy for him to want to spend time with his friends and cute girls than with his mother. The proper thing to do, she supposed, was to let him choose the time and place for their trip, if he wanted to do it at all.

'Can we bring Luis along when we do go?' John asked, watching her face.

'Absolutely,' she said, relieved. 'Provided his folks don't object.'

'If we wait a bit and let them get sick of him first, they shouldn't.'

Sarah chuckled. 'You know too much about human nature for a sixteen-year-old,' she observed, only half kidding. 'You guys figure out where you want to go and we'll do it.' Sarah gave him a brief glance and a warm smile. 'It'll be fun.'

After a moment she asked, 'Does he have any equipment?'

'I doubt it,' John said. 'They're not much for the great outdoors in his family. I suspect his mother thinks camping is declasse.'

'I suspect his mother thinks I'm declasse,' Sarah said.

John shook his head. 'I doubt she knows what to think of you, Mom. I mean she's lived in Villa Hayes all her life. To her you're the ultimate in exotic. Like, wow, you can drive a truck!'

'That's so unfeminine!' Sarah drove on, grinning.

John gave her a weak grin. 'Fortunately, she's not invited.'

'What about Consuela? She invited, hmm?'

'Well, Mom, while that would make my vacation and while she'd certainly be more than welcome, I think it's more likely that her parents would adopt me. Or even you.'

Sarah laughed and shook her head. 'They do protect their girls.'

'Mom?' John said after a moment. 'Didja ever notice how we both say 'they'?'

She glanced at him.

'I mean'—he shifted around in his seat until he was facing her—

'wherever we are we're not… native, I guess. Not in the States, not here either, not anywhere we lived. There's us and there's them. When do we get to be a part of them?'

For a few moments Sarah looked straight ahead and just drove. Then she

shrugged and tipped her head a bit.

'I dunno. I guess when we feel comfortable with the people around us.' She shook her head'. 'There's no easy answer to that one, John.' Sarah flicked a glance at him. 'I wish there were, hon. But there isn't. Although'— she wrinkled her forehead—'and don't take this the wrong way, all right? But it is common for people your age to feel alienated.'

John rolled his eyes. 'Mom! Cut me some slack here, okay?'

'What I mean is that your feelings of alienation might be more pronounced right now and that you should take that into consideration. Even if everything in our lives was perfectly normal…'

'You mean if my father wasn't from the future and we'd never even heard of Terminators, never mind had to run for our lives and save the future?'

She tightened her lips. 'Yes,' she said evenly with a quick sidelong glance.

'That's what I mean. You know where I'm going with this?'

'Uh-huh.' John sat forward again and waved a hand. 'It's one of those phases I'm going through.'

'No, that's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that the situation may be more painful because of a phase you're going through.' After a somewhat hurt pause she said, 'I've never brushed you off, John. I'm not about to start now.'

'I know, Mom. I just wish—' He stopped, too tired to go on.

'I wish, too, hon.'

They were almost home when he brought up what was really bothering him.

John watched his mother from the corner of his eye while he pretended to look at the road ahead. She looked worn. Her face had settled into a sort of irritated-looking softness. The result of trying to look blank while playing against the odds for half a lifetime, he supposed.

He turned to look out at the passing landscape. Since the Terminator had shown up, revealing the truth of his mother's lonely struggle, he'd been in awe of her strength. Now, with the future assured, thanks in large part to her efforts, he was watching that strength crumbling away from lack of purpose. He understood, and sympathized. How often had he lain awake contemplating a future that held no particular place for him?

Frustration, loneliness, and sheer boredom were taking a toll on both of them.

Sometimes the urges they prompted in him frightened him. But his mom seemed to actually be giving in to those urges. If there was one emotion he'd always recognize in himself and in others it was fear, and right now he was genuinely afraid for his mother.

So the question was—too scared to do anything about it? John shifted in his seat.

Was he willing to watch her slide down that same slippery slope that beckoned to him out of fear, or misplaced empathy?

'How long have you been drinking?' he asked abruptly.

Startled by the suddenness of the question, Sarah's mouth opened. She closed it without speaking and they drove on for a full minute in silence. She could feel

his eyes on her. 'Since I was about fifteen,' she said. 'That's when I had my first beer.'

'You know what I mean, Mo—'

She turned to look at him, frowning. 'John, don't try to parent me, okay?'

Hastily turning forward to steer the Jeep around a major pothole, she went silent for a minute. 'Today it just sounded really tasty to me to have a little cana in my iced tea. I don't do it every day and it wasn't that much anyway.'

'Mom, it almost knocked me off my feet!'

With a grin she said, 'It is potent. But there was maybe a tablespoon in there. I don't do it all the time, but once in a while I like a little. Where's the harm?'

Sarah glanced at him. 'I don't get drunk, John, if that's what you're worrying about.' yes, that is what I'm worrying about. Aloud he said, 'When did you start drinking it?'

'When did you drink enough of it to recognize the taste after one swallow?' she countered.

'Hey, I'm a teenager. We have our ways.'

Sarah sneaked a glance at him. He was trying to be cool, but she could see he was uncomfortable and unhappy. 'I had a really bad cold last winter, it just wouldn't go away. One of the drivers brought me a flask and said to add it to my tea. It'll clear it right up, he said.' She turned to John. 'And you know what? It did.'

'Musta been that pure alcohol running through your veins,' John muttered. 'Or maybe it was the nicotine.'

'Sheesh! No smoking, no drinking! Do you want me to join a nunnery or hire a chaperon?'

He looked at his lap, and then returned to staring out his window. 'Sorry, Mom,'