Oswaldo "Ozzie" Guerrero greets his identical twin brother at the man's spacious home, forty-six kilometers west of Houston Texas, only to find out the truth regarding their dear mother ... now languishing out back in a remote version of a modern era nursing home. He must finally confront the harsh reality regarding his origins as a human being.
Yet the encounter has a similar profound effect on his superstar sports legend identical sibling Praxedis "Ranger" Guerrero. The man can't help noticing how strong and virile Ozzie looks after 24 years in space.
Oswaldo "Ozzie" Guerrero greets his identical twin brother at the man's spacious home, forty-six kilometers west of Houston Texas, only to find out the truth regarding their dear mother ... now languishing out back in a remote version of a modern era nursing home. He must finally confront the harsh reality regarding his origins as a human being.
Yet the encounter has a similar profound effect on his superstar sports legend identical sibling Praxedis "Ranger" Guerrero. The man can't help noticing how strong and virile Ozzie looks after 24 years in space.
Hello and welcome back to Season Two of Twin Paradox. I'm King Everett Medlin and what you're listening to is a SciFi trilogy I wrote four years ago under the pen name Purple Hazel. Twin Paradox follows my first podcast series entitled Deathwalker Colony, which is now a full length novel available for purchase on Amazon, along with the first two books in the Rijel 12 Series, the Rise of New Australia and Return of Anarchy. Go online and check 'em out!
In this next chapter, Ozzie Guerrero must confront the harsh reality of his origins as a human being. He greets his identical twin brother at the man's spacious home, forty-six kilometers west of Houston Texas, only to find out the truth regarding their dear mother ... now languishing out back in a remote version of a modern era nursing home. Yet the encounter has a similar effect on his superstar sports legend identical sibling Praxedis "Ranger" Guerrero. The man can't help noticing how strong and virile Ozzie looks after 24 years in space.
Twin Paradox is a SciFi series encompassing three full length novels, all of which can be found on Amazon.com. You can go online and purchase them, or, if you prefer, listen to me read them to you. So let's keep going. Ladies and Gentlemen, Part 6: Legends and Impostors. Chapter 31: Been Away a While.
There he was. Práxedis “Ranger” Guerrero was now standing in the doorway, leaning on the doorknob just a little and revealing traces of a slight wincing in his eyes as he did so. He was smiling nevertheless; clearly glad to see his identical sibling.
“Well pussy; you finally came back,” he said with a grinning smirk, “after all these years, eh?”
Ozzie was so excited to see him, he laughed and exclaimed, “Brother!” Then he dropped his duffel bag and stepped forward to give his twin a hug; squeezed him tight, with one arm over his shoulder and one around his waist. Ranger hugged back, all the while gasping in pain. It was his back again. Always his back. Knifing, stabbing, annoying pains. Always unexpected too. He never knew just what was going to aggravate his old sports injuries. Ozzie detected this and released quickly.
“Oh sorry. I heard about your condition. Pretty bad, huh?” To this Ranger scoffed bravely.
“I’ve lived with it so damn long I really don’t give a shit no more. Never mind that, anyway. Git in here outta this damned heat. Whew. It’s gonna be a scorcher again t’day I bet.” Ozzie reached down and grabbed his duffel bag, then followed his brother inside.
Ranger shuffle-stepped and slid across the smooth hardwood floors in his crimson red house slippers, causing a sound similar to two pieces of sandpaper being rubbed together. On the toes of each was printed the interlocking “OU” helmet logo from his college sports team. That gave Oswaldo a bit of a laugh as he trailed behind.
“Hey … nice slippers ya’ got there Práxedis,” he said playfully, "wish I had a pair." His twin snickered at hearing his brother use his real name with him for the first time in so many years.
"Had 'em a while," he commented. "A fan sent 'em to me." Ranger then led him into the den.
“Well here we are. Ya’ like it?” asked the retired megaballer with a proud smile. He’d been cleaning and dusting throughout the morning anticipating Ozzie’s arrival. “There’s a second bedroom right down that hall over yonder if ya’ wanna dump yer luggage somewhere. And if ya’ wanna go ahead ‘n change into some civilian clothes I’ll fetch ya’ somethin’ to eat if yer hungry.”
By then Ozzie was in awe, looking around the room at all the amazing sports memorabilia. It took only moments for the question to sink in. Hungry? Of course he was! Eating real, authentic American food had by now become Ozzie’s favorite pastime.
“Eat? Hell yes!” replied Oswaldo. “I’m starvin’! Why? You gonna cook for me, bro'? When’d you learn how to do that?”
Ozzie asked this as he turned and headed down the hallway to the spare bedroom. Ranger leaned on the countertop to take some of the pressure off his back and chuckled. Raising his voice slightly as Ozzie proceeded down the hall, he reacted to his brother’s apparent naivete about modern food preparation.
“Man, you have been away a while haven’t ya’? Well then, let me bring you up to speed. First off, ain’t nobody cook no more. Haven’t ya’ heard? We all got them fancy Galactic Age food processing systems these days. Just type in whatever you feel like eatin’ ‘n the silly thing makes it for ya’.”
By now Ozzie was several steps down the hall and checking out the two spare bedrooms. One had been converted into an office, decorated in University of Oklahoma colors and with pictures from Ranger’s college days. There was a Sigma Phi Epsilon fraternity paddle on the wall too, signed by all the brothers in the frat house. By way of comparison the second room was a rather nicely decorated bedroom with a large bed and pillows arranged neatly over a goose down comforter. Ozzie thought to himself privately, “Definitely got a woman’s touch, that’s clear to see. But I sure don't see one.” Maybe his brother had a little wife somewhere he figured. “Diddun see no pictures of a wife ‘n kids when I came in,” he further concluded, “House is too damn clean for a family with children anyway I reckon. Nevertheless he chose to refrain from asking his brother about something personal like that – at least for the time being. Might not like the answer. Instead Oswaldo dumped his big duffel bag onto the mattress and unzipped it down the middle to pull out some fresh clothes to wear. Upon hearing his brother rattling on about “modern” automated kitchen processors he paused momentarily before firing back a response.
“Food replicators? Ah yeah … I know about ‘em. We had ‘em on the Santa Maria!” yelled Ozzie up the hallway. “Really elaborate ones too! Big ‘ole things.” He began looking around the room at the decorations, the nightstand, the chest of drawers with a d'oyly laid over the top and a small statuette of a mariachi serenading a lovely señorita with his guitar, sombrero turned up in the old Mexican vaquero style. “I guess after buildin’ the one for our ship, they musta started sellin’ ‘em to consumers!” Meanwhile he started rifling through his bag to pick out some cooler clothing.
But Ozzie’s response only made Ranger more curious about his brother’s recent past. Seemed like as good of a time as any to see if his biologically much younger twin wanted to talk about it – especially given all the recent controversy he’d heard about in the media. To his relief, Oswaldo seemed amenable.
“Man … so you’re really a God-dang astronaut! Well fuck me runnin’ uphill!” laughed Ranger, as he programmed into the house computer system a hot steaming bowl of seafood gumbo for his brother. Simultaneously pulling up the order code on a nearby digital device, this took some time as he continually interrupted his own train of thought to speak, raising his voice so that Ozzie could hear him across the house.
“Ya’ know … I got that Email last night when I got home from the stadium! Some ‘ole gal back in Germany ‘r somethin’, I don’t know. Funny-lookin' last name. Wondered what the hell it was at first! So yer an … inn-sign it said? What’s that … like some kind o’ officer or sumpin’? In Space Programme? Am I gettin’ that right?” By then Ozzie was stripping out of his sweaty khakis and shirt, looking for a hangar in the closet.
He yelled back down the hall, “That would have been Monika Steckel! She’s one o' yer fans by the way!”
Instinctively, Ozzie neatly folded his trousers over a coat hanger then hung them in the closet, which had no other clothing inside save for a couple of winter coats and a neatly pressed tuxedo – stored pristinely inside a dry-cleaning bag as though it hadn't been worn recently. “It’s pronounced ‘enn-sunn’ not ‘enn-sign’ by the way. ‘N yeah, that’s my current rank. I got field-promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade during the mission but they busted me back down to Ensign when we got back. You probably heard about all that stuff goin' on with the ship and Cap’n Stehter by now diddun ya’?”
Sure enough, this was not a touchy subject for Ozzie. Ranger chuckled as he finished programming his meal selection, adding in some jalapeño cornbread just for kicks and a glass of Shiner Bock beer to wash it down. Not a bad pairing, he surmised.
“Oh yes!” Ranger replied, relieved. “That was real fucked up, wuddun it? So were you mixed up in all that shit with them folks gettin’ high durin' the voyage?” Being dead-set against drug use - especially after his experience tracking down their mother and what with the unsettling revelations about her own past - Práxido braced himself for a strong reaction. To his delight, Oswaldo was quick with a negative response.
“Pffft, hell no,” Ozzie scoffed. “Nah, I didn’t mess with any o' that crap. Ain’t healthy.”
Ranger heaved a sigh of relief and a happy chuckle as his brother continued.
“Yeah, I pretty much growed up on that ‘ole ship ... the whole time we was up in space. Folks took care ‘o me when I was younger, let me tell ya’. Kept me on the straight ‘n narrow, they did. Them folks protected me.”
“Well that’s good to hear Oz,” observed Práxido, “Mighty good to hear.”
Now finished with the programming of his brother’s meal, and grabbing a beer for his guest, he then shuffle-stepped across the kitchen to the den, making his way toward the hallway leading to the spare bedroom.
“And how ‘bout you?” asked Oswaldo, redirecting the conversation. “I read a bunch o’ articles ‘bout ya’ back in Darmstadt ‘fore we got our Shore Leave. Lotsa stuff out there goin’ ‘round about ya’. You seem to ’ve turned out alright though. Nice house for one thing. Really nice place ya’ got here as a matter o’ fact!”
“Yeah I guess I did okay,” replied Ranger, making his way down the hallway. “And thanks … yep, it’s pretty cool livin’ here. Not too big ... easy to get around in. By the way - I whipped up an order for ya’ fer lunch. Got me a recipe program from that place called Gumbo Jeaux’s in Houston. I hope yer hungry fer gumbo.”
“Mmmm. Ain’t never had it. What’s gumbo?” asked Ozzie. Amazingly enough, even though he was born and raised in and around the Houston area, he had no concept of the famous Cajun delicacy.
“Seriously? You shittin’ me? Never had gumbo?” chuckled Ranger. It amazed him to think about how his brother had been taken away so many years ago and now had returned after years living on a spaceship. “Well, trust me, you'll like it,” quipped Ranger. “Most ever-body does.”
Ozzie suddenly felt the urge to ask him something a little more personal. His house – this room even – it looked barely lived in. Was Ranger living alone? It was time to find out.
“Hey Práxido, uh, where is everyone? I mean ain’t ya’ got a wife ‘n kids by now? Some ankle-biters runnin’ around? Where’s the missus? Where’s the Trouble and Strife?” These were cockney terms he’d learned from Shamiso and rather archaic, but Ranger understood what they meant – the Wranglers had to play more than a few away games over in England against the London Red and Whites. After games, Ozzie usually had no problem hooking up with English women at the pubs and nightclubs of the city. Many used those same expressions when talking to him back in his hotel room. Wife and kids? God, how many times he’d been asked that by reporters and the like. Nonetheless Ranger handled the question bluntly as he arrived at the guestroom doorway. There was no need to be tactful regarding his opinions on marriage.
“Ah nah. Got nuthin’ like that. Used to date Tory Richards … the country music singer? But that dried up after a bit. She wasn’t quite ready to follow through on any kind o’ permanent collaboration if ya’ know what I mean? Besides, us megaballers - we make so damn much money, and at such a young age, some of us. Gettin’ married and settlin’ down with the kinda lifestyle we lead? It just don’t work out. Never does. ‘N there was plenty of chicks out there ready ‘n willin’ to tie the knot with me over the years, let me tell ya’. But I been careful ‘o fallin’ into that trap. I figger they’d divorce me a couple or three years later and try takin' half ma’ money … the bitches. That's what they'll do, too. Seen it happen umpteen times to guys I played with.”
Ozzie smirked and shook his head, snickering at his brother’s cynicism. He’d never thought of it quite that way. Famous people like his brother – they’re only human. People can and will take advantage of them if they’re not cautious. Especially young, attractive gold diggers who have what it takes to snare a rich husband. Ranger was just too wise to get "snared" it would seem.
“So no. It’s just me … ‘n the dogs of course,” he then said. “I’m sher you heard from them when you was walkin’ up the driveway.”
By now he was leaning against the door jam holding an ice cold beer while his brother was changing clothes. It was time to drop the bomb.
“And uh … Ma-má,” he added timidly. “She lives with me too.” Then he very casually set down Ozzie’s beer on a nearby dresser while he braced himself for his brother’s reaction.
Ozzie’s jaw dropped. Did he just say what it sounded like he said? Ma-má? That’s clearly what it was - no doubt about it. He didn’t say mother, mom, mommy, or momma. He said it just the way they would have been taught to say growing up in an Hispanic household. Only they’d never been in an Hispanic household. They’d never been in any household. Or had they? He didn’t really know – didn’t remember. Didn’t have any idea where they’d been raised after the authorities came and took them away.
Emotions began to build inside of Ozzie as he stood in his Space Programme-issue boxer shorts, starting to shiver now that he was inside and the interior climate control was set to such a low temperature. Could Ranger be referencing their very own mother? Was she still alive? Was she … here?
“Wait … you said 'Ma-má' juss now, didn’t you?” asked Ozzie, starting to become upset. “You mean … she’s alright? Whuh - ,” and for the first time in literally years (probably a decade), Ozzie Guerrero, Ensign Oswaldo Guerrero, the big tall muscular astronaut, one of the heroes of the mission to Kapteyn B, the man who’d impressed two successive captains as well as his direct superior Lt. Kelvin with his dedication and resolve, actually began to choke up like he too was going to cry. His identical twin hadn't anticipated this.
Ranger at first smiled proudly. Finding his mom had been something he’d diligently pursued and accomplished. But no one – not a single soul in the sporting world besides his long-time mentor Coach Dusty Kenefick knew a thing about it. No reporters were ever invited to his home for interviews. No fans who followed his career discovered his little secret. And neighbors who knew full well they had a sports legend living nearby? They didn’t care. Only the nurses who occasionally showed up to tend to his mom did. And they’d never be interviewed by a sports journalist, would they now?
No. No one ever found out about the honorable thing Ranger Guerrero had done, nor even one juicy detail about how he’d saved the woman’s life, got her to rehab, got her off heroin, and lovingly provided for her the past eight years. Didn’t even share this with teammates. To the world, Ranger Guerrero was just one of those legendary members of the Dallas Wranglers famed “wild bunch” who’d won so many championships and division titles. Nothing more. But when he saw how it was affecting his much younger-looking, much healthier, much leaner and upright-standing twin brother, he couldn't help feeling sorry for the guy. His expression changed from a playful grin to a patient smile.
“Yes Ozzie. She’s here. And she’s just fine. Kinda messed up, but .…”
He noticed Oswaldo’s ongoing spiral and trailed off for fear of upsetting him further. This was obviously more than the man could bear; and with no preparation beforehand for the stunning news. It wasn't fair - even if the truth had to be told one way or another. Problem was, there just wasn't any better way of going about it.
Ozzie shook his head with mouth agape. He sat down on the bed and sighed, tears welling up in his eyes. The revelation had hit him hard - he never would have thought it might affect him so! Always figured he and his brother were unwanted orphans; sent to Katy Boys Farm because their parents didn't love them - that or they were deceased. It was easy then; the rest of the boys were orphans as well. That said, growing up on Santa Maria he'd met young adults who'd lived with their families all through high school. Made him jealous whenever he'd hear their stories about 'moms' and 'dads'. That's why it'd been so much easier to assume his mother and father simply didn't exist. He'd been wrong.
Ranger shuffled over to sit down next to him, and groaned as he crouched to seat himself. He normally utilized a cane to get around the house when he was by himself. He’d left it in the hall closet when Ozzie arrived. Now he had to use clenched fists planted on the mattress while he lowered himself. The pain was intense as he shifted around trying to get comfortable.
“Hey … (groan) … it’s okay. Seriously bro’. She’s been with me several years now,” continued Ranger, trying not to grimace. Meanwhile Ozzie was filled with the urge to see her immediately, sobbing as he spoke – with that kind of boyish blubbering men do which sounds so unnerving.
“So … (sniff) … she’s here right now (sob)?” asked Ozzie desperately. “Where?” He then started to stand, but Ranger reached up, wincing as he did so, to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“She’s out back,” he said. “She’s okay.” This confused the man.
“Out back (sniff)?” clarified Ozzie with growing alarm. “Out in the fuckin’ yard (sob)? What’s she doin’ there; playin’ with the dogs ‘r sumpin’ (sniff)? Why ain’t she come in to see me yet?” Ozzie couldn’t help himself now, he was so devastated. Happy she was alive - happy she was safe living with his rich twin brother - but keenly aware something wasn’t right. Why the hell, if their Ma-má was now living here, wasn't she waiting at the front door when he got there? he wanted to ask. It would have been a logical question.
“Relax brother,” said Ranger, “Believe you me, she’s well taken care of. Ain’t got nothin’ ta’ worry about. I got a little cottage for her … out by the dog kennel. Come on, I’ll show ya’.”
This was even more baffling. A cottage? Why a cottage? Ozzie stood up and quickly threw on some casual walking shorts that Monika had purchased for him back in Darmstadt.
“Shit yeah; I wanna see!” he exclaimed, balancing on one foot while he slipped on his pants. It’d been hard to find something that would fit his enormous frame and still be fashionable, so they’d had to look around town before he left. Unfortunately the style of clothing he was displaying was rather more European than American. Too fancy for southeast Texas.
Ranger struggled to his feet as well, leaning on the nightstand at one point for support. Ozzie failed to notice this because at the time he was so distraught over the shock of finding out his mom was alive. He yanked up his shorts and stood up straight.
“So whaddya mean by 'cottage', brother (sniff)?” He asked this as he carefully zipped up the paisley-printed purple, magenta, orange, and pink cotton pleated shorts. Ranger meanwhile got a good long look at his brother’s attire and held himself back from bursting out laughing, they were so silly-looking.
“Well, it’s not really a cottage, Oz. I just call it that. It’s technically a Granny Pod. That’s what the manufacturer calls 'em,” explained Ranger. “They make ‘em up in Virginia. Basically a free-standing elder care facility with 24-hour professional monitoring. A nurse visits each day to check up on her. In fact, this mornin’ I had breakfast with her right ‘fore you got here. She knows yer comin’ home today too by the way. Real excited about it. Expectin’ to see ya’ tomorrow.”
Something about that sounded rather odd. Ozzie cocked his head to the side.
“Expecting me … tomorrow? Wait a second bro'. Whuh-why can’t I go see her now?”
Ranger sighed deeply as he fought to stand up straight. Ozzie almost reached out to offer him an arm for support, but feared it would embarrass him. As Ranger grunted and gasped with pain, he began to explain everything to his twin sibling, no longer holding back.
“Well ... (nnnngh). See, our mother … has a form of dementia,” he began. “Can’t remember much o’ nuthin’ from her past. Has a hard time remembering much o’ anythin’ else neither. Can’t retain information without me tellin’ her repeatedly over consecutive days and weeks. So, I kinda … helped her along the past several years, if you know what I mean?"
“With what (sniff)?” asked Ozzie. “Memory?” To this his brother nodded with a look on his face as though he was trying to put things in a way his brother might accept without getting further upset.
“Yeah,” replied his brother, but then clarified, “Memories actually. Plural. I been plantin’ stuff in her mind fer years.”
“Memories o’ what?” clarified Ozzie. “You said you found her several years ago right (sniff)? What’d ya’ hafta help her remember?” He was sobbing only occasionally now.
“Everything Oz. Clean slate. I pretty much taught her brand new ones,” Ranger replied, as he winced while attempting to stretch and loosen himself. “Basically I didn’t want Ma-má thinkin’ ‘bout bad things she did when I was younger. Wanted her to believe she was there for me growin’ up. I mean hell, she couldn’t recall a thing after we sent her to rehab.”
“Rehab?” retorted Ozzie, now with a look of concern. “God (sniff). Was she an addict?” Ranger nodded with his eyes blinking. It was no use concealing what he knew.
“Yep. Heroin … among other thangs. The file on her … the one them folks had up ‘ere at Social Services … hmmph … you wouldn’t believe it. Found the two of us lyin’ on an old mattress in some ‘ole drug house – one of them places where folks go to shoot up you know? Ma-má ‘d come back after scorin’ some drugs … get high on smack ... pass out 'n sleep with us in between. How in the hell she kept us alive and fed, ain’t nobody knows. Guess that’s why we’re so damn tough, I reckon.”
Ozzie looked deflated … like the air had been let right out of him. “Good God, brother. I never thought it could be that bad. Never really thought much at all, I guess. So what does she do every day? Why can’t we go see her right now?” Ranger shook his head.
“Nah. Not now. She’s restin’. See, I been workin’ on her for years, gettin’ new memories planted in her head. Tellin’ her things I did. Tellin’ her things she did with me as a kid. Things that didn’t really happen ya’ know?”
He then reached over to the dresser to hand Ozzie’s beer to him.
“Then this mornin’ I knew you was comin’, right?”
Ozzie took the beer from him and swigged a big gulp from it.
“So I tried tellin’ her you were back … and that you was comin’ to see her tomorrow. Had to go through that whole drawn-out process of explainin’ the situation so she wouldn't freak out. And come t'morrow? I’ll have to do it all over again. Takes three or four days to get a memory to stick, ya’ understand? You bein’ with me tomorrow mornin’; that should be enough to make it all add up for ‘er. But … I gotta say … it’s still iffy. Most of all, we don’t wanna upset her, see? It’s her heart ya’ know? All them years drinkin’ and druggin’.”
Ozzie shook his head.
“Wow. This is really fucked up bro'. I mean it too. ‘N while we're at it, thank God you went out and found her when you did – that’s all I gotta say ‘bout that. God bless ya’.”
Ranger smiled, nodding humbly. Then he added, “Yeah. Little baby steps. We’ll get her there, you and me, don’t worry. She gonna have both her boys with her now … helpin’ her out.”
Next he shuffle-stepped over to a chest of drawers nearby where he had some clothes from when he was younger. He grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt for Ozzie to wear instead of the bizarre walking shorts he’d brought from Germany.
“Here Oz, let me do ya’ a favor ‘n get ya’ sumpin’ better to wear now that you're in Houston. Them shorts ya’ got on there … they ain’t gonna cut it in this town I’m afraid.” Ozzie looked down at his colorful walking shorts and blushed.
“Yeah. Sorry Práxido,” he said, “That German lady helped me pick these out back in Darmstadt. Kinda flashy fer south Texas I reckon, huh?” At this, both brothers chuckled like teenagers. Ozzie sniffed and wiped his eyes. This seemed to have broken the tension. However there was still something else occupying his brother's mind - something he hadn't brought up yet. Seemed the former megaball star still had questions.
“I sure did a lot better findin’ her than I did findin’ you, though,” said Ranger, changing the subject. He tossed the jeans and shirt onto the bed for Ozzie to change into. Instinctively his twin stripped out of the ridiculous pants he was wearing and grabbed the blue jeans to put them on. Ah, blue jeans! he mused to himself. He hadn’t worn a pair of them since he was a child walking around Disney Universe with Shamiso and Young-Min Jo. Had forgotten how comfortable they were.
“Whaddya mean by that? You mean you went lookin’ for me? Really?” asked Ozzie. He was still standing there bare chested, muscles bulging. Ranger scoffed.
“Pffft! Tried, yeah. Tried everything. Tried ever-where. No one knew a thing about you. No records on ya’ nowhere. It was like you’d never existed. No one at the Katy Boys Farm would admit to it neither. Couldn’t tell me nothin’. It was crazy. I’d visit and they’d say ‘hey Ranger … welcome back’ - like I was family ya’ know? Only when I’d ask for records on you they’d say ‘nope … sorry, can’t help ya’.’ Like they was brushin’ me off ‘r sumpin’. Not even coach Dusty said he knew what happened to ya’. Never figured out why. But I gotta tell ya’, it always sounded real suspicious the way they acted whenever I’d inquire as to yer whereabouts.”
Now it was Ozzie’s turn to drop the bomb. Time to tell what he thought he knew - of how it all might have gone down 24 years ago when he’d been taken away by those nice young staffers from Space Programme. He started rolling his eyes and nodding with the realization of what likely occurred. Way back in his memories he recalled conversations with people at Space Programme and then later among crewmembers aboard the Santa Maria.
“Uh ... I think I know why Práxido,” he interjected embarrassedly. “They got paid off. The orphanage I mean. B.J. ‘n Kelvin told me ‘bout it years ago and I barely remembered until now. God, I’m sorry for what you went through. Really I am. Friends of mine on the crew … they told me the orphanage got a big fat chunk o’ change for keepin’ it hushed up. Said folks was bought off so to keep ‘em silent... I'm guessin' Coach Dusty, too.”
“Whu …. (sigh)? Well juss why the fuck would they go ‘n do sumpin’ stupid like that?” asked Ranger, perplexed. He was leaning back against the wall while Ozzie finished zipping up the jeans and grabbed the shirt he’d been given to change into. “I woulda been proud of ya’. Really I would. I mean I am proud of what you accomplished, now that I know ‘n all. An astronaut? Hell, all I ever did was run up and down a football field and knock the shit outa motherfuckers for money. Wuddun nothin’ but a gladiator. But you? Shit. You’re … yer in goddam Space Programme fer Christ’s sake. Ma-má is gonna be proud o’ ya’ too!”
“Thanks bro’. I appreciate that,” said Ozzie. Of all the people in the world to pay him a compliment like that … a sports legend? This meant more to him than anything else he’d experienced since returning to Earth. That said, it wasn’t half as cool as being mistaken for the famous ball player the night before at the bar, he had to admit.
“But I gotta tell ya’ brother,” continued Oswaldo, “It sure was a good time last night bein’ mistaken for you constantly ... instead o’ some ‘ole astronaut back from outer space. Man it must be funner ‘n a barrel o’ monkeys bein’ a bona fide superstar.” His twin formed a wry smile.
“They did huh? Thought you were me last night? Where, at the airport?” asked Ranger.
“Ever-where I went, bro’,” laughed Ozzie, pulling the shirt over his muscular frame. “Airport, the hotel, the hotel bar … even the cab driver this mornin’. Couldn’t go take a piss without some dude slidin’ up and sayin’ ‘hey there Ranger!’ It was weird at first let me tell ya’, but … kinda enjoyed myself, ta’ tell ya’ the truth. Never told nobody I wasn’t you. Was havin’ too much fun.”
“Well … can’t blame ‘em, you know?” admitted Ranger. “You look just like I used ta’ … back when I was a rookie. I mean look how buff you are? That’s what we used to say when we were kids, remember? When someone was all muscled up?”
Ozzie pondered this question. Tried remembering the things they used to say so many years ago when they were youngsters. However, he initially disagreed with his twin’s recollection of things.
“Bowed up … 'bowed up' was what we used to say … at least I think, anyway.” Ranger shook his head.
“Mmmm … no Oz. Wuddun that. 'Bowed up' meant you was ready to hit somebody … or getting’ ready ta’ fight.” Ozzie wiped his eyes once last time and laughed.
“Oh yeah, yer right. I remember now. Buffed up. Buff. That’s it, yes.”
“And shit, lookin’ at ya’ right now?” Ranger continued ranting, “Guys I played with up in Dallas; they’d easily think you were me - especially from ‘bout five years ago, before my knee surgeries and back problems started slowin’ me down. I mean, this here (he gestured toward Ozzie with his hands in a thrusting motion like he was handing someone a loaf of bread) … this is just what I used to look like. Or something like it; let’s be honest. Come to think of it - I believe yer even bigger ‘n stronger. Hell … just look at them muscles!”
“Seriously?” grinned Ozzie. “You really think so? You think I’m that fit?”
“Sure,” chuckled Ranger. “But how did you do it? All them years up ‘ere? I figgered y’all just sat around on that spaceship and cruised through the galaxy sittin’ on yer fat asses. Not so, huh?” He said this with a mischievous grin, now realizing his brother had recovered from his earlier melancholy.
“Oh no, not me,” replied Ozzie. “They had a gymnasium on board. I could work out every day if I wanted to. Usually did. Knew if I didn’t, my muscles would atrophy and I’d be too weak to handle any kind o’ trouble might come up on the ship.” Fancy words uttered by his twin brother only served to remind Praxedis of Ozzie's superior intelligence.
“Att-roh-fee. Yeah I reckon I heard that word before,” joked Ranger. “Thinkin’ I done did some o’ that already since I retired last season. Stood around so much on that sideline. And even that hurt, ta’ tell ya’ the truth. It’s my back most of all. They seem to be able to fix ma’ knees - for a while anyway. But … ma’ back just aches and burns ever-day. All day most o’ the time. Can’t sleep some nights. Makin’ me feel old, brother.” Then he smiled sheepishly. “Gotta say though. Wish I could be out there again. Crazy as it sounds I kinda do. God help me, I miss it sometimes.” He then added with a sigh, “Of course they’d never take me seriously if I tried coming back. Not now.”
Then, for some reason, while Ozzie nodded and smiled whimsically, Ranger got a change of expression on his face, and looked like he was thinking deeply. Something had crossed his mind and began to inspire a rather daring thought.
“You know …?” he began, “It’s kinda got me thinkin’ ‘bout sumpin’.”
Ozzie stood up straight and looked at him curiously. However Ranger never finished that train of thought. Ozzie’s eyebrows remained raised as if to say, “What? What are you trying to say?” But Ranger caught himself before uttering something which might be taken the wrong way, given the circumstances. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.
“Ah Nuthin’. I’s just thinkin’ that’s all. Thought I had an idea for a minute. Forget it….”
This concludes tonight's podcast of Chapter 31, Been Away a While. I hope you enjoyed it. Watch for Chapter 32, which I'll be posting very soon.
Also, and don't forget, my latest full length novel, Deathwalker Colony, is available for purchase right now on Amazon.com, along with the first two books in the Rijel 12 Series: The Rise of New Australia and Return of Anarchy. A link to these is included in the transcript for this episode. Go online and check 'em out!
I'm King Everett Medlin. Thanks for tuning in.
https://www.amazon.com/King-Medlin/e/B07KTGTX1W%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share
https://www.facebook.com/KingEverettMedlinAuthor/?modal=admin_todo_tour
https://twitter.com/kingemedlin