Archie of Outlandish

by Lynnette Kraft

  When Gemma Perrelli saw that she, once again, had Archie’s attention, she wasn’t shy about going right back to her question. “Do you always eat your breakfast underneath the table?”

  Archie stood a little taller. “Yes, I do, actually. Lunch and dinner as well.”

  Ms. Perrelli expressed confusion. “Why?” she asked with a mocking chuckle.

  Archie put up a finger. “It’s kind of a long story. Maybe we’ll leave that one for another time.” Putting his finger down, but leaving his hand in the air, he nodded once and left it at that.

  Ms. Perrelli replied, “I would actually love to hear your story. I am a journalist, after all.”

  “Yes, a famous photojournalist, I hear,” answered Archie.

  “You’ve never seen my work?” she asked.

  “No, but please don’t take it personally,” he said putting his hands up as if conceding. “I live a quiet life.”

  “Hm,” she said almost without realizing. After a moment of silence she continued. “I understand you write the observation column for Stay Afloat.” Before he had a chance to answer, she interrupted with, “Isn’t that an adorable name for a newspaper?”

  Tallie jumped in. “I know. Isn’t it great?”

  Ms. Perrelli didn’t answer Tallie. Instead she asked Archie another question. “What is an observation column anyway? I’ve never read one.”

  Archie looked serious. “What, you’ve never seen my work?”

  She was obviously not amused by Archie’s mockery.

  Archie was surprised (and maybe even a little impressed) by his outburst of unrehearsed sarcasm and wondered if Tallie’s presence had induced his sudden courage.

  It wasn’t until his father cleared his throat that Archie felt foolish and forced a serious expression. “I . . . I’m sorry. What was your question?”

  “Your observation column?” she asked impatiently.

  “Oh yes. Well, I was already writing personally about things I was observing, mostly on the beach, and my mother and father were very fond of my little pieces so they suggested I submit one for publication. The editor was impressed and suggested creating a column. I’ve been writing the column for two years now.”

  “I would love to read some of your work. Would you mind?” she asked.

  “If you’d like to, though I’m sure it’s amateur compared to what you’re used to.”

  “Maybe we could meet later today?” she questioned.

  Archie nodded. “How about the front porch at two this afternoon?”

  “All right. Where is The Front Porch?” she asked.

  “Oh, no. I mean, on the front porch,” he said pointing toward the door. At this point, Archie wasn’t trying to be sarcastic, but Ms. Perrelli looked annoyed and sighed.

  She put her hand out and shook Archie’s hand firmly. “I’ll see you at two o’clock then, on your front porch.”

  Shaking her head, she turned to leave. As she exited the front door, Tallie turned and smiled at Archie and whispered, “Are we still on for tonight?”

  From under his umbrella, Archie smiled and nodded.

  “Bye, Archibald,” Tallie whispered again.

  “Good-bye, Tallie.”

  He stood at the door and watched as Ms. Gemma Perrelli and the blond-haired, green-eyed Tallie walked away.

  The table on the porch had a large, low-set, yellow-and-white-striped umbrella. At two o’clock Archie waited there for Gemma Perrelli with a pot of tea and strawberry scones (his mother’s suggestion). When he saw her approaching, he stood (although hunched over) and put his hand out for shaking—but a bit too early.

  Hoping she hadn’t noticed, he put his hand back down and waited until she was on the porch before offering his hand again.

  “Hello, Ms. Perrelli.”

  Shaking his hand, Gemma said, “It’s nice to see you again, Archibald.”

  “Yes,” said Archie as he offered the chair across from him with a slightly shaky hand before sitting back down.

  “Well, I see you’re right where I left you . . . under your umbrella. Quite low, too,” she said, looking up and seeming irritated by the short distance between her head and the umbrella.

  Archie put his hand on his clump of hair and fiddled with it. “Yes, well, this is where I live . . . under umbrellas.”

  She looked up at the umbrella and then looked back at Archie. “Tallie told me a little about your issue after we left your house.”

  Archie said lightheartedly, “Oh? So now you know I was born with some uncanny desire to see things a little closer to my eyeballs?”

  She lifted one side of her mouth into a smile. “I’m sorry for being so blunt in asking about it when we met earlier. I’ll admit, I was caught a little off guard by the table . . . and the umbrella and . . . well, I’m also a bit impulsive. Certainly not known for my reserve.”

  “I know it’s an odd presentation,” Archie replied.

  “How old are you, Archibald?”

  “Twenty. Just.”

  “I thought you were young. I like young people! There are so many unexplored places in a young person’s life.”

  Archie examined Ms. Perrelli a little more closely. “Don’t you consider yourself young?”

  “No. No. I’m not young,” she said shaking her head. “After reaching thirty I think I actually felt youth leave me. You wouldn’t believe the effort it takes just to complete a day.”

  Archie was stunned by her confession. “Considering your success, I’m very surprised to hear you say that. Don’t you like your work?”

  “Oh, I don’t hate it. It’s just what happens when you’re past your prime.”

  Archie perked up. “I completely disagree!”

  “That’s because you’re twenty.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Archie replied. “It’s because I’ve lived with parents who have never lost their passion. My mother would convince you your theory is wrong. Her love for life is astounding. And she’s a chef because it adds joy to her life. She’s older than you, and she certainly isn’t past her prime.”

  “Yes,” she admitted, “there are a few like your mother. I didn’t mean to sum up all of humanity. It’s rare, though. I work with young people because the energy they exude is what keeps me going. It reminds me of who I once was.”

  “That’s why you work with Tallie?” Archie asked.

  “Oh, yes! Tallie is just discovering life. She has endless enthusiasm.”

  “Yes, she does,” he said in almost a daze.

  Ms. Perrelli looked at him with suspicion, and Archie quickly turned the conversation back to her. “And you don’t? Have enthusiasm?”

  “Well, I try,” she replied.

  “Why only try?” he asked.

  She folded her hands in front of her. “I watched everyone around me reach a place where they seemed to lose something, so I think I always expected it would hit me at some point.”

  “Why didn’t you resist it?”

  She looked at Archie with narrowed eyes but didn’t respond. Archie decided to move a slightly different direction with the conversation. “Well, at least you’ve found success. Did you always know you wanted to be a photojournalist?”

  She laughed. “Success. Yes, I have had success, but, no, actually I studied horticulture in college.”

  Archie looked surprised. “Well, that was a step in an entirely different direction.”

  “Yes, I guess it was. It’s just the door that opened for me, and it was at a time in my life when I was trying to establish myself. You know, I was having a hard time getting people to take me seriously.

  “While I was in my second year of college, I met a man who taught me to use a camera. I enjoyed it as a hobby but began to get attention when I won a national photography competition. My career just sort of took off from there. The money
was good, so instead of finishing college, I made it my full-time career. I’ve been at it for about ten years now.”

  “But you aren’t happy?” asked Archie.

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  Archie didn’t know what to say.

  Ms. Perrelli broke the silence. “Now enough about me! Did you bring some of your writing?”

  Archie nodded, picked up a book from the chair next to him, and placed it on the table. “Here are some of my recent articles.”

  She pulled the book toward her. “And to think I expected a stack of newspapers.”

  “You probably did. But I’m a bit particular about things. I like them sorted just so.”

  “You probably don’t want me taking your book for the night though, do you?”

  “Could you return it tomorrow?”

  “Sure.”

  “That will be fine then,” Archie answered.

  She opened up the book and read for a few minutes while Archie stared off in the other direction.

  “Who encouraged your writing? Was it a particular teacher?”

  Archie looked back at her. “My mother. She’s always been my teacher.”

  “You mean you never went to school? Was it because of your . . . problem?”

  “No, not at all. There are no public schools in Outlandish.”

  “Really! Why is that?”

  “It’s because Outlandish has very few children, at least as residents. They come with their families in the summer, but then they go back home when school begins.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Yes, well, a school has been discussed, but most of the residents are happy to teach their children at home. The few who can’t, or don’t wish to, take their children to a neighboring community for school. Nobody really complains.”

  “Do you feel like you missed out though?”

  “On what?” Archie asked.

  “Well, on . . . oh, you know, the things that happen while a child is in school?”

  “I’m not aware I missed out on anything. My life has been just as it was supposed to be. I’ve always had an insatiable appetite for learning. It’s been quite easy for me . . . and for my mother . . . I think. I’ve learned so many marvelous things!”

  “But did you have any friends?” she asked.

  Archie was surprised by her question. “Of course I’ve had friends. I’ve spent most of my time with the regulars in my mother’s restaurant. I’ve always been able to relate to adults, even when I was young. But I did have young friends as well. One of them is Luke Pindabrook. Have you heard of the Pindabrooks?”

  “No. Should I have heard of the Pindabrooks?”

  “Well, as a photojournalist, you should probably meet the Pindabrooks. They’re fantastic magicians. Really, I’m sure you would be impressed.”

  She seemed a little excited. “Will you introduce me?”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll look forward to it.”

  “So tell me more about you, Archie. Oh, I’m sorry—Archibald.”

  Archie put his hands up in surrender. “Ms. Perrelli, I do prefer, Archibald, but honestly, almost everyone calls me Archie, so you might as well, too.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “I only called you that initially because I heard your father say it.”

  “Yes, Father and Mother both refuse to call me by the name they gave me. It really makes no sense at all.”

  Ms. Perrelli laughed. “Well then, Archie, since you’re being so agreeable, I guess I should be as well.”

  Archie didn’t know what she meant.

  “Go ahead and call me Gemma.”

  Archie straightened his back and said precisely, “Not . . . Ms. Perrelli?”

  She laughed and revealed a very white set of teeth between her painted red lips.

  Her laughter helped Archie relax a bit. He added, “Because I just want to make sure you aren’t acting on impulse.”

  She laughed again. “Oh, I did say that, didn’t I? That was good, Archie.” But then her laughter grew so loud Archie actually felt a little embarrassed for her.

  When she finally quit laughing, Archie chuckled a little, just so she wouldn’t be self-conscious about the dramatic change in atmosphere. He picked up his tea, took a drink, and said, “So what has Tallie put you up to? I don’t suppose you want to take pictures of me as well?”

  Gemma wiped away a laughter induced tear. “It’s not often a photojournalist comes to a town called Outlandish and finds a man who lives under an umbrella.”

  Archie squinted one eye. “No, I don’t imagine you come across that combination every day.”

  Gemma smoothed her hair with both hands. “When Tallie told me about you, and that you did some work for the local paper, I only hoped you would provide me with some connections to the community. That was why we came to see you in the first place.

  “You see, I came to Outlandish looking for something interesting . . . no, exceptional really, but when I saw you under the table and then Tallie told me about your problem, well, you became the thing I became curious about. So, yes, I would love to photograph you . . . at work, at play, under your table, under your variety of umbrellas . . .”

  Archie shook his head casually.

  “And why not? Your story would be beautiful told through photographs.” She spread her hands out as if displaying something. “Picture this headline, Under Umbrellas—The Man from Outlandish.”

  Archie set his tea down, put his hands on the table in front of him, and looked at Gemma. “Let me ask you. If you lived under an umbrella because you had a panic attack every time you looked up at an open space, would you want the world to know?”

  Gemma frowned. “Well, I’m surprised to hear you say that. You seemed so confident until you said that, regardless of your problem. Why do you suddenly seem as if you want to hide it?”

  “I’m not trying to hide anything, but I’m fairly certain the temptation to hide will quickly arise once my story is out and everyone who sees it tries to come up with a solution to fix me. You can see that?”

  Gemma did not surrender easily. “Do you ever feel like your umbrella will keep you from experiencing life the way you want to?”

  “No, not usually.”

  She continued. “It does limit you some though, doesn’t it?”

  Archie shifted in his chair and looked down for a moment. When he knew what he wanted to say, he lifted his head and spoke. “Ms. Perrelli . . . Gemma. If you were born with a set of undesirable circumstances, say you were born deaf or blind or perhaps you were born with a heart defect or born missing a limb, would you prefer to see your life as limited or would you hope to thrive within those boundaries?”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Gemma said. “I guess I would hope there could be a miracle cure for me and I would be able to live a normal life.”

  “But what if there was no miracle cure and you were destined to live with those things? How would you want to view your life under those circumstances? ”

  “I suppose I would just live with them and do the best I could.”

  “There’s your answer, and that’s where I am. I was born needing an umbrella, and I have never lived a limited life nor will I have a limited future. My life might be different than yours, and I realize my scenario is uncommon, but it is only a limiting circumstance if I allow it to be.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said. “I think you would still like your miracle.”

  “I’ll admit, I find your perspective a bit alarming,” Archie said. “Is it that unfathomable to think that I might be happy as I am?”

  Gemma seemed to be ignoring Archie. “Well, what if we might be able to work out your miracle? Would you be willing to try a little experiment?”

  “What kind of experiment?” Archie a
sked hesitantly.

  Gemma looked squarely at Archie. “What if this inability to live away from your umbrella might be remedied?”

  “And so it begins,” said Archie, throwing his hands in the air.

  “Noooo, Archie. It’s not what you think. I’m very good at problem solving, and I like coming up with ideas. Wouldn’t it be worth a try, at least?”

  Archie shook his head. “You know nothing of my situation, but you think you can find a miracle cure? I spent years of my life in therapies and eventually made the decision to accept my circumstances. Not every life looks the same, Ms. Perrelli. Different doesn’t mean less significant or with less potential.”

  Gemma persisted. “But what if together, we could go beyond science and therapy and just come up with a practical solution for your problem? Aren’t you even willing to try?”

  “No, I’m not. Have you not heard a single word I’ve said? You keep referring to it as my problem, but I assure you, it’s no longer a problem.”

  Disregarding Archie’s words once more, Gemma added, “But what about your future? How do these umbrellas fit into your future, Archie?”

  Archie immediately thought of his mother’s answer to him when he had questioned her about the possibility of falling in love. So he repeated his mother’s words. “My life, thus far, has been lived one day at a time. And so will my future be.”

  “But what if? Will you always ask yourself that if we don’t try?”

  Archie had had enough.

  “Ms. Perrelli, I’m sorry you’re not satisfied with your life, but I don’t want to be your experiment, and I’m very surprised at your inability to see that I am truly content.”

  Archie began to gather his things. Gemma said, “You know, I was born with an unusually short frenulum and had trouble with my speech for years, but with persistence and—”

  Before Gemma could finish, Archie breathed in deeply and said calmly, “Ms. Perrelli, I’m pleased to hear you have overcome some of your troubles, but the answer is still, and always will be, no. I understand some people might want to fix me because they think I suffer, but please believe me when I say I’m not trying to change. Everyone faces difficulties. I’m happy with who I am.”