Left-Handed Engineers From MARZ
The restless Reginald weekend

---

Zephyr had his whole weekend planned out. On Saturday he would watch television, and order a pizza from the local delivery joint that would feed him and Reg all day. On Sunday he would read a book, and after that he'd watch more television. He wasn't going to even think about Monday until it arrived.

"Dances With Wolves" was on. Zephyr watched it until the slow pace bored him, and then channel-surfed through several really bad sitcoms and TV movies. He watched the news, but when it started talking about parents of autistic children trying to sue the doctors who vaccinated their children, Zephyr moved on in disgust. He just didn't want to know.

Reg came out of the den and stood beside his easy chair. "Let's go to work," he suggested.

Zephyr blinked up at him. "No!"

Reg didn't move. A minute later he said again, "Let's go to work."

"Reg, it's Saturday. The office is closed. We can go on Monday."

"We can go now," Reg insisted. "Let's go to work."

Zephyr grumbled to himself. Reg was right, technically; they had worked after hours often enough in the past. But not this time; Zephyr had his plans, and he was going to stick to them. "Build something downstairs," he told Reg.

Reg didn't move. He stared at Zephyr and waited.

"What?" Zephyr grumbled.

"Let's go to work."

"No."

After a while, Reg gave up. He tried again later that afternoon and that evening, but Zephyr refused to budge. He had his plans.

On Sunday morning he was woken up by Reg standing over him. "It's 7:31:09," Reg said. "Let's go to work."

"No," Zephyr replied groggily, and pulled the covers up over his head. Maybe if Reg couldn't see him, he'd leave him alone. It seemed to work; he heard Reg leave the room.

He was woken up again by the smell of smoke. Maybe he was just dreaming, he thought... but the smoke alarm soon informed him otherwise. He leaped out of bed, caught his balance before crashing into the wall, and rushed out into the kitchen. Reg sat at the table, wearing a dress shirt and sweatpants, poring over a stack of project notes. Behind him on the stovetop a fire in the frying pan spewed smoke.

Zephyr grabbed the fire extinguisher from the corner by the pantry, tucked the canister under his right arm, and yanked the pin out with his left hand. Pushing the lower handle up with his left palm, he coated the range surface with white foam. Then he reached over and shut off the burner, grateful that he had conditioned himself for just such an occurrence years ago.

Reg still sat unfazed at the kitchen table. Zephyr coughed and replaced the extinguisher. "Hey," he said over the continuing whine of the smoke alarm, placing a shaking hand on Reg's shoulder. "Why are you setting the kitchen on fire?"

Reg looked up at him.

"Fire," Zephyr said, pointing to the mess on the stove. "What were you doing?"

Reg blinked at the puddle of foam that was just starting to ooze over the edges. "I..." he began, and then he looked at Zephyr optimistically. "I will make Zephyr happy. I was making some eggs for you. But it wasn't over-easy."

Zephyr softened in spite of himself. How could he stay mad after that? Reg trying to make him breakfast, and a pun on top of it all. "Thanks, it was very sweet of you." He put an arm around Reg in a gesture that Reg would be more likely to understand than words alone. "You're the best, really. But Reg, we have one problem. Hear that sound? That's the smoke alarm. We need to train you to leave the house when you hear that sound."

Reg gave him a puzzled look. Zephyr nodded meaningfully and pointed toward the door. Reg moved to the door. Zephyr let him go, and followed a few feet behind him. He noticed that Reg had one sock on and called him back before he went outside.

"Hey, come back now! I put the fire out already! Just leave the door open."

Reg propped the front door open and returned to the kitchen and his notes. Zephyr shut the cat into the bedroom until the smoke cleared and the alarm shut itself off and he could close the door again.

"We need to get you more properly dressed," Zephyr mused as he surveyed the damage. "And how about if I make you some... uh..." The stove needed a good mopping and scrubbing before it could be used. "...want some corn flakes?"

They didn't have any milk. Grocery shopping would have to go on the list of things to do that day. Zephyr really hated grocery shopping; maybe he could put it off until midnight, when all the other weirdoes went shopping. He poked around in the pantry for something else he could make, and found a microwaveable macaroni and cheese dish. Gotta love those instant meals, he thought as he zapped it, heated some frozen vegetables, and divided it between the two of them.

After Reg ate, he gathered his notes. "Let's go to work," he said.

"No," Zephyr replied. "Tomorrow we work. Today we rest."

Reg stared at him for a minute. "Let's go to work," he repeated.

"No," Zephyr said.

Reg looked at his notes. He pushed his plate away and spread his notes out in front of him. Zephyr stood up and cleared off the table. The adrenaline in his system had dissipated, leaving an aching tiredness throughout his body. He considered cleaning up the stove, but decided he'd do it later. He wondered if going back to bed was a bad idea. His compromise was to camp out in the easy chair for the second day in a row, a blanket draped over him in lieu of proper clothes. Part of him wanted to comply with Reg's wishes and spend the day at the office... but no. He had his plans and he was going to stick to them. No thinking about work until he absolutely had to be there. No thinking about Marsh and all the things he and Marsh had discussed and how their friendship had changed over the holiday. No pondering Marsh's references to the failure of the company. MARZ Inc. wasn't going to fail, not because of him or them or anyone. Their client base could have been bigger, but they had only formed the company that summer, and things could potentially get better. Maybe for everyone to get to know each other would be a good thing. Maybe there was nothing to worry about.

He read one third of a novel, some bestseller from years gone by that he'd gotten secondhand. Then he sorted through the backlog of mail and read an industry magazine. Then he skimmed through a free community newspaper, went back to the novel, and finally got around to cleaning up the kitchen. He made some soup and ate it in front of the television. Reg alternated between doing nothing and doing something and occasionally asked to go to work. But Zephyr held stoically to his plans. No work.

Six o'clock rolled around, and as Zephyr gathered up his energy to make supper, Reg sat on the couch with his shoes. He turned each shoe in his hands for a full minute before slipping it onto each foot. 3 jumped up beside him; he gave her a few scritches and then stood up and disappeared into the garage. Zephyr watched the whole process curiously.

But when he heard the garage door activate and the Buick's engine start, sitting around suddenly became no longer an option. Zephyr bolted up, shouting, and dashed as well as he could dash into the garage.

"Reg! Wait!" he cried, the cold concrete stinging his bare feet. Reg hit the brake and looked at him expressionlessly, waiting. "Just wait. I'll... I'll go with you. And you can't go out like that anyway. God, Reg, you're still wearing... okay. Shut off the ignition and we'll get ready and then we'll go together."

Reg didn't move.

"I promise," Zephyr assured him. "Come inside and I'll get us ready and I'll go with you. I promise."

Reg pulled the car up into the garage again and followed Zephyr back into the house. Zephyr grumbled to himself about how ridiculous this all was, but... he should have anticipated it, he knew. Reg wasn't a child, and given enough time, he tended to prove it. He gave Reg a fresh set of clothes to put on, including matching socks. He figured something casual was all he required, but for some reason his instinct told him to don a sport coat and slacks as if it were a regular work day. Then he grabbed their respective jackets and they drove to the office together (stopping to pick up Chinese take-out on the way).

Upon arriving, Zephyr realized he hadn't thought to bring his book. He turned on the radio, dimmed the lights, and stretched out on the sofa next to his desk. Below him, heavy machinery hummed soothingly.

Previous * Next * Archives * Home