by Parker Connell
I’m eating a peach while I write this. It could be a plum or a pear. I eat apples but only in slices. The fruit I’m eating while I’m writing is what I call a hand fruit. Apples are considered hand fruits too but I only like them cut up in slices. Oranges I eat in slices also.
The peach or plum is juicy. Nectarine, maybe I’m eating a nectarine. The juice is running down my wrist and forearm. I need a napkin. I don’t want to get my keyboard sticky.
One week ago I received a letter from the State Government. The State Government is different from the federal government, but you still don’t argue with the State Government. The letter says that on September 22nd I get to donate a portion of my skin to help a gloried member of the state Citizenry. His name is Laurence Parsons. My name is Henry Canane. The letter didn’t tell me how much of my skin Laurence was to receive but the state designated a therapist for me. Her name is Dr. Inez Boffonio. Dr. Boffonio told me they usually take less than fifty percent of whatever organs are offered, but they round up in the case of organs like kidney, lung, eyeball. I asked if they take hands too and Dr. Boffonio said hands aren’t organs but that they do take hands sometimes, as needed.
Today is September 19th. I went to Dr. Boffonio’s office in the City on the 17th. I wanted to go in on the day I got the letter but her office was closed until the 17th. There is a nice sandwich shop in the same building as the state therapist's office and I had a ham and swiss on locally sourced wheat bread. Montana has very good wheat for making bread. This is something the State Government likes us all to keep in mind. Citizens and people of Montana both can take pride in the hard work and dedication of our gloried wheat farmers.
Dr. Boffonio suggested that I had to write a journal of my feelings about donating my skin to help gloried Citizen Laurence Parsons. I told her I was worried it would hurt and that I would miss work due to my recovery.
“The state does not compensate volunteer donors for time lost due to the surgery,” Dr. Boffonio said.
I told her I understood that. I also told her I didn’t remember volunteering to help Mr. Parsons.
“All people are automatically signed on for Volunteer Donation by the State Government when they register to vote,” she said, she was very kind when she said this. Her office had fresh flowers and small potted plants sitting on shelves behind her desk. The shelves also had books on them too.
I told Dr. Boffonio that I have never voted before. People aren’t allowed to vote. Citizens get to vote. I think she probably already knew that but I wanted to make sure me and her were on the same page.
“Your vote is cast for you every two years. The State Government registers and votes for you so you don’t have to take off work or worry about making it to a polling station,” she said.
I told her that’s a sensible idea. I wouldn’t know who to vote for anyway. I live in a very small town and politicians never come to see us. They run these ads at the end of every year but my brother showed me how to block ads on my computer. Someone told me once that it’s my right even as just a person to have free TV but it does not work in my town. The Networks have to provide tv to everyone as a public good. The mountains surrounding the town block the antennas from getting any shows and that means there’s no Network TV and no ads for me to see.
“What is your brother’s name? Blocking advertisements isn’t illegal but it isn’t something the State Government encourages,” Dr. Boffonio said.
I told her my brother is a Citizen and he told me he was allowed to help me on account of I’m not allowed to be a Citizen only due to a technicality. Dr. Boffonio nodded and made a note on a pad of paper on her desk. She also had a picture frame on her desk. I could only see the back of the picture frame.
“Who is the picture of in your picture frame?” I asked her.
“My husband. He is also a therapist,” she said.
“Does he work in this office too? I think it would be nice to work with my wife. I do not have a wife but if I did, I’d like to work in the same place as her. Then I would always have someone there that I like to be around.”
“He works someplace else. Do you like your job, Henry?”
I told her I like my job very much. I work the cash register at a small grocery store. Sometimes I stock shelves and when my boss is sick or busy I get to put out the produce. When I do that, I think of myself as a green grocer. I had a book as a little boy where a orange and white cat with brown spots on his eyes wore a black apron and owned a fruit stand. That’s where I first heard of someone being a green grocer.
“Is that what you always wanted to be?” she asked without looking up from her little pad of paper. Her pen was scribbling quickly. Dr. Boffonio also has bad handwriting. This made me feel connected to Dr. Boffonio.
“No. I wanted to be a Citizen like my dad and my brother. My dad was in the army and my brother also joined the army. My dad died in another country. They told us that he was a hero and that he had been an important man in the war that was happening back then.” I said this with pride.
“Why didn’t you join the army?”
That isn’t an easy question to answer. I tried to join when I turned fifteen, but they said I needed to stay in school a little longer. My friend Nick came with me and he got accepted even though he is the same age as me. I tried again the next year and they told me I still needed more time in school, but when I came back to school in the fall they said I was as good as I could get and that I should get a job for myself. Nick became a Citizen but he died on a boat somewhere.
“Is that when you started working at the grocery store?”
“Yes. It is my first and only job. I have worked there for twenty-one years and I only take a sick day when my boss makes me.”
“That’s a very fine record, Henry,” Dr. Boffonio said. I thanked her for saying that. I am proud of my attendance record and my boss always calls me Mr. Reliable.
I had wanted to ask a question ever since I got into Dr. Boffonio’s office and it seemed like this might be a good time.
“I would like to ask a question.” I said. Dr. Boffonio told me to go ahead. “Why does Laurence Parsons need my skin?” I didn’t want her to think I was looking for an excuse to not donate my skin, so I added: “Out of curiosity–I am always interested in the lives of gloried Citizens. I am not looking for an excuse to not donate my skin.”
“I understand,” she said and her face and voice told me she was telling the truth. “Citizen Parsons rescued three young children who were trapped in an orphanage that caught fire.”
“He is a real hero!” I said. This was exciting! I was not excited to voluntarily donate my skin when I first got the letter from the State Government, but now the thought of my skin helping a gloried hero like that was very exciting.
I told Dr. Boffonio that I would never be brave enough to run into a burning building.
“Citizen Parsons was already in the orphanage when it caught fire. He was volunteering his time to inspire the orphans to become valued persons and essential workers,” she said.
This man, Laurence Parsons, keeps sounding better and better. Helping children, especially ones who don’t have moms or dads, is one of the most honorable things anyone can do. My mom was a teacher when I was little and that always inspired me to look out for little kids and help them when I can. I’ve never done anything as heroic as Laurence Parsons, but he’s a Citizen and I’m just a person, so it’s understandable that I wouldn’t be as heroic as him.
“Before you go in for surgery, it’s very important that you keep up positive thoughts and appreciation for your State Government. Studies show that patients who understand the good work that the State Government and our gloried Citizens do recover much faster and with more success.” Dr. Boffonio said. She was forceful with this idea.
I told her that made sense but that I didn’t understand how I was supposed to do it; I told her I didn’t want to make a mistake and have a bad recovery.
Dr. Boffonio said I should follow a link in an email to a program where I can write down my thoughts. I’m using this program to type this journal now. Dr. Boffonio said I could write about anything I want but she said it’s usually best to stick to the surgery, the State Government, your feelings about them, and maybe the days leading up to the surgery day.
Well I didn’t get this program set up until three whole days later, so I have some catching up to do.
I finished my hand fruit and washed my hands. I think I will be able to do this journal faster because now I can use both hands. I learned home-row two-hands typing in keyboarding class before school got too hard. I have kept up this skill by using the internet to chat with friends and people from other places. Tomorrow I’ll eat my hand fruit before I do the journal but right now I am getting tired.
The reason I couldn’t get into this program until yesterday was I needed my brother’s help to get it working. My brother is named Ian Canane. Ian is a Citizen and he is very smart. He was even in Military Intelligents. Unlike Dad who was a normal soldier or a grunt. Even though my brother cannot type home-row two-handed like me anymore, he is much better at making the computer work. When my brother came over, I had made him a breakfast sandwich: one egg over-medium with two pieces of thick cut bacon in a X over the egg and a slice of American cheese melted on top of that. I don’t usually use American cheese but it is the best for melting on bagel sandwiches. I used a cream-cheese-with-chives spread on the toasted plain bagel. We started selling these bagels at the store and I wanted to try them. I had already eaten my sandwich while I waited for Ian but it was still plenty warm when I gave him his plate.
He thanked me, he is very polite, and he ate his sandwich while I told him what the program was for and about how I would be having surgery on September 22nd.
“That’s Friday,” he said, “this Friday. Jesus, Hank. Did you tell them I was your brother? They must have made a mistake.”
“No,” I said. My brother calls me Hank. He is the only person who does, so I don’t mind. It’s like a special nickname between brothers. I just call him Ian. His name is already short enough. I told him that they knew about him and that it was okay because Laurence Parsons is a hero. I said I would be proud of helping Citizen Parsons. Ian didn’t like that, but he ate his sandwich and got into my computer chair.
I live in a small house on a mostly empty street in town. There are other houses on my street but the people who live there either live other places most of the year or died and their kids are having trouble selling them. My great-grandpa owned the house I live in. I don’t have any kids so I guess it will just be empty when I die. I don’t want to sell it to someone. Even though I am not a Citizen, my brother fixed it so I can own a house. He says it’s “grandfathered” in since technically my great-grandpa wasn’t a Citizen, but he would have been, since he was in one of the big old wars. A person getting to own a house was a landmark case for Montana, the newspaper said.
“Did you tell Melody you won’t be working for a few weeks?” Ian said while he followed the directions in the email from Dr. Boffonio. I watched over his shoulder to see if I could follow but he worked much faster than I could have.
I told him I didn’t think it would be that long. It is only perhaps fifty percent of my skin. He turned my computer chair around to face me. He had his stern face on. This is one I have made sure to memorize and understand. It means to really listen up.
“Fifty percent of your skin, Hank, that’s like from your belly button down. Imagine they took off all the skin on your stomach, ass, your prick, and your legs like a pair of footed pajama pants.” He didn’t raise his voice at me but he is very good at making sure I understand that he is frustrated with me.
I told him I hadn’t thought of it that way. I just thought of it being less than half, which means it’s more than half full! But now that Ian had told me the pajama pants metaphor, I did become concerned. I told Ian about what me and Melody talked about.
Melody is my boss. She owns the store. She is only a few years older than I am but she is much more successful. She is a Citizen because of her family’s money. I worked for her dad until only a few years ago, but Melody chose to keep me at the store because I’m Mr. Reliable.
I told Melody about how I was chosen to volunteer to donate my skin to a Citizen named Laurence Parsons. She told me that she knew Citizen Parsons and made a face I couldn’t read or understand. I told her I would go into surgery on the morning of September 22nd so I would need the day off on Friday and probably Saturday too. The store is closed on Sunday and my usual days off are Monday and Tuesday.
“I will put you down for sick time. Are you sure that’s all you need? Four days doesn’t seem like enough recovery time. Have you talked with a doctor?”
I told her that I had talked with Dr. Boffonio who is a therapist, but Melody said she meant had I seen the surgeon, anyone to help me prepare for the surgery.
I told her I hadn’t talked to anyone else. I told her I hadn’t even talked to my brother yet about this because Ian was at a specialist in Salt Lake City.
Melody told me I should take all of next week off. She also asked if she could call anyone to get the surgery date moved, she said I should have had more time to prepare, but I told her I didn’t want to bother anyone. I don’t know what I would even do to prepare. I’ve never had my skin removed for donation before.
Ian agrees with Melody but I told him it was okay. Ian said he would drive me to the hospital and wait for me until the surgery is over. He said he would make sure and remember everything the doctor says since I will be all drugged up from surgery. I thanked him and said that he didn’t have to take a whole day off from his job to take care of me like that, he could just drop me off and pick me up. He said that he hadn’t been going to the office much since the incident.
The incident is when my brother lost his arm. It happened at his office inside the parking garage when a crazy person stole an Army Jeep from the Army base up the road. This was in the City, not in town. My brother lives and works in the City. This crazy person stole an Army Jeep and tried to crash it into the office where Ian works to kill people or to destroy the stuff in the building. Ian told me the Army Jeep was filled with explosives and gasoline. He said if the guy wasn’t so crazy, he might’ve done it too. But the crazy guy got confused and drove into the five-level parking structure. Ian was heading back into the office from his lunch break and the Army Jeep hit him.
They made my brother Ian Canane a gloried Citizen. Me and Mom were very proud of that. An important man in the State Government gave a speech about Ian. He said that, because of the size and density of Ian’s bones, Ian’s forearm was able to do enough damage to the front wheel mechanisms that it prevented the crazy guy from attempting to jump his Army Jeep off the top of the parking structure. The important man said that if the crazy guy had done the jump that his office was one of the offices that would have been blown to bits. Mom cried by the end of that speech. Ian accepted the medal the State Government gave him and wore it around his neck all day at the banquet. I had to wear a suit which was okay. I think I looked handsome and Mom said I definitely did too.
I’ve never seen my brother wear that medal again. Even when I visit him and his family in the City, he doesn’t have the medal displayed anywhere. Colleen says she is having it put in a frame with some of Ian’s other Army medals. He jokes about putting it down the dispose-all.
I told Ian that Dr. Boffonio said hands aren’t organs but she’s heard of them doing hand donations. I suggested maybe he could get a voluntary donation from some person like how Laurence Parsons gets new skin.
My brother said, “Sometimes when it’s hot or about to rain or I’m really stressed, it feels like I’m clenching my left fist really hard. It hurts. I can feel my nails digging into my palm. I can feel the muscles in my fingers locked and there’s nothing I can do to open it. Colleen wakes me up most nights ‘cause I’m punching the mattress about a foot and a half from the end of my nub. Even that doesn’t make the feeling go away. I’ve been meditating and that helps with a lot of the stuff with my arm and the whole thing. Colleen and me are talking to a counselor. Did Mom tell you about that? I asked her not to, but you know how it is. It’s been working. We do the work and the kids are opening up too. What if I get some other guy’s hand and it works? I've seen some videos online, they got the nerves all connected and you can move and feel and everything, but what if I still get that clenching feeling? What if, even though I’ve got this new hand, I still feel my old hand clenching like it’s trying to crush a diamond. I don’t want to steal someone else’s hand and then it turns out I’ve still got my same problems.”
I told him that it wouldn’t be stealing. Laurence Parsons isn’t stealing my skin, either, because after I got told about my donation, I learned about what Citizen Parsons had done, about how he had saved three orphans who were trapped in a fire at the orphanage.
“Jesus, Hank, who told you that? Yeah, he got some kids out of the fire, but he pretty much started the thing. I can’t believe they are going to take your skin and give it to Parsons. He was the only one in that bedroom that night with those kids. I’m going to call General Andreesen tonight and get this whole thing called off. Laurence Parsons can suffer while he waits for the clone cells, he doesn’t need to be back out there with my brother’s ass skin on his chest and thighs.”
I told Ian that I didn’t understand what he was trying to say, but that it was okay, that I don’t need him to worry anyone or make Citizen Parsons wait any extra amount of time. I’m very happy to donate my back and ass skin. I will have to think of a new way to sleep and use the computer while I recover. Maybe the doctor will have a suggestion for that.
Ian and I agree that I shouldn’t donate my hand to him. I said it would be too weird to recognize my hand there connected to him. We both laughed at that and I hugged my little brother and he told me to call him if anything changed, if I wanted to cancel this or give myself a couple extra days to prepare. I don’t think I know what people mean when they say prepare. They are usually very urgent about preparing and I never know what I am supposed to be doing, so I don’t need extra days to do something I don’t know how to do, thanks for asking. I am glad Ian is going to stay and talk to the doctor after the surgery. I admit I don’t have a good memory and I am worried about how to recover from this surgery. I don’t want infections.
I go in for surgery tomorrow morning and since I’ve been writing this journal at night, this is the last time I'm going to write. After I’m done, I’ll probably just send it in. Dr. Boffonio says that someone will read it tomorrow morning to determine how likely I am to recover from the surgery. I hope this will tell them something helpful.
I went to work today like normal and opened the store. Ever since the hotel closed in the mountains everyone has been moving to the City to work. Melody pretty much had to finally train me to open up the store. It’s not so hard but I get it, most Citizens don’t trust people with money–but I got special circumstances.
If you have to work in the City, you pretty much got to live there, ‘cause winters are so bad and they don’t have any snowplows that work, everyone says, but I just walk to work, rain or shine or snow. Just means I got to put on boots. But it’s not snowing yet. It does get colder in September, but I don’t think we will get snow until October. By then, maybe I’ll probably be all healed up!
Ian is staying over at my house tonight. He even picked me up from work, even though it’s only a short walk. He is staying in my spare bedroom. I keep my spare bedroom very plain so that anyone can stay there and not feel out of place. I got the idea from staying at hotels. If someone wanted to live with me, they could do anything they wanted with my spare bedroom.
My friend Katelyn stayed in my spare room this summer. She visited for two weeks. Sometimes I called her Katie and she said she didn’t mind. Me and Katie made lots of plans to go out and see things, like where the old Yellowstone Park used to be, but it was very rainy the whole time, instead we just stayed in my house and watched movies. Katelyn is a painter and she showed me how to paint the rain.
I asked Katie if she wanted to come and live in my spare bedroom since we have so much fun together.
“Oh Hen, I have to get back to my job. There’s nowhere for a person to work here.”
I told her she could work at the store with me and then we could hang out all the time. She laughed, but it wasn’t a mean laugh. I told her that the offer would always stand.
My brother brought snacks from the City. I told him he should’ve come to the store. We have a very good selection of snacks on Aisle 3 and I get a discount. He said he got some stuff that my store doesn’t carry.
We watched a movie and ate snacks. I grabbed one of his cheese puffs.
“Careful, that one’s kind of weird. It’s pizza-flavored,” Ian said, and I told him that pizza-flavor snacks are always the bomb. We both laughed and I was right, the pizza-flavored cheese puffs are very good. I think I will tell Melody about them and see if we can get them in the store.
Ian went to bed early and told me I should too. He also told me not to eat any more food tonight. He told me that when they put you in surgery, sometimes if there is food in your stomach you can throw it up and it’ll go in your lungs and you drown in throw-up. I promised I wouldn’t eat anything, but I have to stay up because I need to finish my journal.
Ian asked if he could read it but I said I think it’s supposed to be confidential. He made a face that was very serious but I told him I wanted to send it in myself. Maybe they can give him a copy at the hospital but I don’t think they will.
I don’t know if Dr. Boffonio is going to read it, but I want to thank her for all her help and for helping me understand the good thing I am doing. Maybe one day they will let me meet Citizen Laurence Parsons and I can thank him for all the good things he has done. Maybe Citizen Parsons will thank me for my skin donation.
I think I’m very excited for the surgery tomorrow. It might be hard for me to get to sleep, but Ian is right that I need lots of rest. I want to recover quickly and I want my recovery to go well.
Yours truly,
Henry Canane
______
Parker Connell
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