Left-Handed Engineers From MARZ
Zephyr's conflicts

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“Ready?” Connor asked as he appeared in Zephyr’s office doorway.

“Just a minute.” Zephyr turned away from him and back to Reg, who sat at his own desk poring over some chart. It was almost noon and their 2:00 appointment was a two-hour drive away, which meant that he and Connor would be gone until around 5:00. And he could have kicked himself for not making Reg eat lunch yet. It had slipped his mind, and getting someone else to help never worked. Or at least, Zephyr assumed it wouldn’t work.

“Go bug Marsh for a car, Connor. I’ll be right there,” Zephyr said. Connor dashed off in that impossibly energetic way of his. Zephyr waited until Connor was out of sight down the hall.

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a Power Bar. Portia had suggested them for Reg. It looked suitably boring and tasteless, Zephyr mused, but its newness might be a problem. He’d probably have to get Reg accustomed to the concept before the thing became an option.

But it was worth a try. Maybe he could hurry up and get Reg to eat it before he and Connor left. He stood up and sidled around the desks, and put a gentle hand on Reg’s shoulder. “Hey, man, time for a break.”

“Wait,” Reg said without looking up.

Zephyr held the Power Bar in front of them where Reg could see it. “Look. This is for you. It’s a kilocalorie bar. Eat it now so you won’t run out of kilocalories.”

“Wait,” Reg said.

“No, do it now. I have to leave in a minute, and I’ll be gone for five hours. I won’t be able to give it to you until after that.”

Reg took the bar and put it on the desktop beside him.

“No, Reg,” Zephyr said as patiently as he could. “Consume it now. Right now. Stop working and—“

“Wait,” Reg said.

“You need to eat. Your body needs fuel. If you don’t get kilocalories, you’re going to get tired, and I won’t be here to help you.” The last thing Zephyr needed was conflict before hitting the road. Long trips made him so anxious that he couldn’t afford these little added stresses. Why couldn’t Reg just follow his instructions and make everything easier?

Reg swiveled in his chair to face Zephyr. “I’m not stupid,” he stated, blinking at Zephyr’s chest, which was eye-level to him.

“I know that.”

“You forget sometimes.”

“No, I don’t! I just… I get used to you not doing certain things, and I stop thinking about why. And you don’t—“ Zephyr caught himself falling into defensive mode and caught himself before he could say something careless. “I’m sorry, man. I don’t mean to.” He bent down in an attempt to meet Reg’s eyes, and more or less succeeded, although Reg showed no sign of noticing.

“I’m sorry,” Zephyr repeated.

“Just because I…” Reg hesitated and started over. “If I can’t… I…” He blinked and didn’t try to say any more.

“I’m only trying to do my best,” Zephyr explained. “And you know me, I’m not very good at that. Nothing I do is ever meant to hurt you. I just occasionally screw up trying to help you. I’ll try harder, but—“

Without warning, Reg reached out and grabbed Zephyr by the waist. As he stood up, he drew Zephyr nearer. Zephr forced himself to relax; he knew from experience that if Reg sensed any resistance or tension, he’d hold Zephyr in his iron grip until it was gone. And Connor would be returning any minute. Besides, it was nice to be held like this. Someday, perhaps, he’d teach Reg to avoid it in the workplace, but he appreciated it for what it was worth – Reg’s way of saying that everything between them was all right. Life was good… even if Zephyr’s nose was getting squished up against Reg’s bony clavicle.

After a while Reg let him go, and as he turned away he saw Connor waiting again in the doorway.

“Dammit, quit sneaking up on me like that!” he admonished the intern. He was grateful Reg had already turned back to his work, because the tension was certainly piling up now. How long had that kid been standing there, and why was he smiling? Zephyr briefly considered belting the insolent little brat… big brat… but, no, Connor wasn’t a child. He was, however, someone Zephyr was about to be stuck in a car with for a two-hour drive, and there was nothing Zephyr could do about it. So he slung his bag over his shoulder (with so much momentum it nearly unbalanced him) and stormed past the big hulking Connor. “Come on…”

“Zephyr?” Connor asked.

Zephyr spun around in the hall. “What?! Are we going or not? Get your butt in gear!” He continued furiously on his way, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge Mariluz or Oscar as he passed them. Connor followed, and when they got out into the parking lot, Connor unlocked the passenger door first.

Zephyr tossed his bag into the back seat (and winced as it went clank) and got in. The air wasn’t that cold, but it made him shiver anyway. Connor started the ignition and backed out. He left the parking lot at the breakneck speed of 30 mph, and Zephyr’s heart threatened to go on strike.

“Are you all right?” Connor asked.

“Yah.”

“What did I do wrong?” Connor asked.

Zephyr didn’t answer. He didn’t think he could.

“Whatever it was, I’m sorry.”

God, could the kid truly be this clueless? “You didn’t—“

Connor slowed down and pulled into the drive-through lane of the local donut shop. “What is wrong?” he said. “Please tell me. I don’t know what I did.”

“It’s not… it’s not what you did. It’s what I did.”

“What did you do? Cream and sugar, right? Two large coffees, both regular.”

Zephyr tried to answer… what had he done? Nothing particularly earth-shattering. He was overreacting, wasn’t he? Not that that was unusual, but he really had no right to fall apart over a couple of trivial little things. So Reg was offended and Connor had caught them hugging and now he was trapped in a car with him. When Connor started acting all unnerved… but he wasn’t. Connor was acting like he always did. Puppylike and humble. And helpful, Zephyr thought as he found a large coffee being placed in his hands.

“You mean kissing Reg?” Connor inquired as he maneuvered back onto the street with one hand.

“We didn’t kiss!” Zephyr shot back.

“Oh… well… whatever. I’ve seen you guys kissing before. If that’s what you’re so upset about, don’t bother. Hey, I brought a CD, and it’s not the Butthole Surfers this time! I think you’ll like this one. It’s the Grateful Dead.”

“The ol’ potheads themselves,” Zephyr grumbled.

“You don’t like them? I’m sorry, I thought you would.”

“Nah, stick it in. They’re all right.” And so was Connor, Zephyr thought. Now if only Zephyr could train himself to stop being such a jackass, everyone would be happy. Or at least everyone would be less likely to be driven away by him… no, he should know better by now. If Reg had tolerated him for eleven years, they probably had a few more years of togetherness ahead of them. And Connor seemed to have pretty good jackass tolerance, too.

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