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Then it hit me: I could replicate that—kind of. I mean, the video game industry had created a healthy variety of battle combat games. Surely something in those would not only entertain him but also hopefully be a pleasant reminder of home. I figured as long as I didn’t pick a game where you shoot enemy aliens, it would be a fun time for both of us.
There were just two problems with this idea. One: I didn’t own a game system. Ryan took that in the divorce. And two: I’d have to leave Q’on here by himself to go out and buy one.
I debated my options the whole time Q’on was feeding our prisoners. When he got back, I’d finally made up my mind to go into town and get a game console as a present for him. I didn’t like the idea of leaving him alone, but the notion of bringing him with me to potentially be seen was equally unappealing. My car didn’t have tinted windows, and even if we put him in Ryan’s hat and coat, someone was going to notice the fact that his face was purple.
After some discussion explaining why he couldn’t come along to the store, Q’on settled down on the couch with a book, sulking, while I finished getting dressed and grabbed my keys.
Traffic wasn’t too bad heading into town, but once I got to Rochester proper things ground to a halt. I guess everyone was out doing their Christmas shopping, which didn’t bode well for me finding what I was looking for. Every wife and mother out there was going to be on the hunt for the same console. When I reached the third electronics store with no luck, I finally got frustrated enough to grab last year’s model and a handful of war games for it. A poufy-haired Karen bitched at me for snatching the last one, but I ignored her hate. She should’ve gotten up earlier or had more coffee. When it came to Christmas shopping, only the fit survived.
On the way home, I thought I caught a sleek black SUV a few car lengths back, changing lanes whenever I did. I worried that the AARO was on my tail, but either I was just being paranoid, or I lost it, because by the time I got away from Rochester traffic, it disappeared.
Maybe it was just a coincidence.
When I got home, Q’on watched with keen interest as I opened the boxes and started getting everything set up. He read the descriptions of the games as I worked, and by the time I was done, he had picked one out to try.
“This one,” he said, handing me the box forOlympus Fallen. “I wish to fight your gods.”
“They’re not our gods anymore, not really. But they were for a time.”
His brows knit together in confusion as I put the disc in the console. “Your gods changed? On Xalan, our gods have been the same for millennia. For as long as we have existed, so have they. I cannot imagine our gods changing over time.”
I shrugged and sat back on the couch with my controller as I gave him the other one. “Humans are fickle beings. We don’t much stick to any one thing for terribly long. Even Christianity has changed over the years. If you landed a thousand or even a few hundred years ago, you might find very different values, and you would encounter a different interpretation of who and what God is. But enough of that. Let’s just play.”
I was a bit rusty after the divorce, but I quickly picked back up on the nuances of the controller and breezed through the gameplay tutorials with my character.
Q’on, on the other hand, was a bit slower to understand.
“How is it that pressing this X makes the person on the screen punch? Would it not be better training to use my muscles to punch instead of pressing buttons?”
“Well, they have games that are kind of like that, but they’re not as cool as this one. I thought you might like the graphics and the story better with this system. That, and most of the motion-activated games were out of stock. This is kind of a crazy time of year for shopping.”
“Why is the time insane?”
I ignored his misunderstanding of my phrasing. “Christmas. It’s the biggest holiday of the year for us. People all over the world, Christian or not, buy gifts for their friends and family. Then they exchange the gifts on a certain day. It’s supposedly the day of Christ’s birth, but there’s a lot of heated debate over when that really happened. Anyway, people go out to the stores in droves to get the best gifts.”
Q’on frowned. “I do not have a gift for you. Can I go to the store next time you go to acquire one?”
I patted his knee with my hand before going back to killing the gorgon I was battling in the game. “Don’t worry about it. Christmas has sucked for me ever since Ryan cheated on me and we got divorced. I don’t hold much stock in sappy holiday feelings anymore.”
“Sappy?”
“Wholesome. Lovey-dovey. Sweet.”
“Those sound like good words. Positive emotions, positive feelings. Why would you say them with such contempt?”
I huffed out a sigh and left the dead gorgon to go rescue Q’on’s character, who had aggroed three monsters at once. “Look, I know the bitter divorcee is a terrible cliché, but it is what it is. Ryan hurt me, and it’s going to take time to get over that, even with you here now.”
He grunted and waved the controller around, as though that would move his character better. “Ryan cannot hurt you anymore. He is bound in the shed.”
“Emotional wounds take longer to heal than physical ones. He might not be able to do any more physical harm, but the mental damage he already did is still there.”
Despite my aid, Q’on’s character died as the monsters focused on him. He growled and tossed the controller on the floor with such force that it busted open. I winced at the thought of going back out in the holiday crowds to get a replacement, then thought better of it and decided Primo shipping would have to do. He would just have to wait a day to play more. His own fault, really, for throwing a temper tantrum.
“Q’on, that was the only spare controller that came with the game. Now only one of us can play at a time. I bought this so we could have something to do together.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. “It is a stupid game. I don’t see how I am supposed to hone my battle skills by pressing buttons. This does nothing to improve a man’s prowess. Is this how your ex practices his battle skills? If that’s the case, I see now why it was so easy to overpower him.”
“He was easy to overpower because he was drunk and angry. If he had been sober—a rare occurrence, but if—you might have had a real fight on your hands.”
