London from My Windows

by Mary Carter

  She snuck her phone into her lap and texted Jasper. Can you come get me?

  A few seconds later she heard a little chirp. She loved the little chirp. Where are you?

  Just outside Buckingham Palace.

  Are you having a laugh?

  I’m having a panic attack.

  I’m so sorry. In court. Call Queenie. Wow. He was texting her from court? Ava felt bad. And important. Wait. Did he wear one of those wigs in court? Ava would love to see that.

  “No mobiles on the bus!” a girl yelled. “Miss Maggie, Miss Ava is using her mobile.”

  “Ava. Put that straight away and sit properly in your seat,” Miss Maggie said.

  “But I was just about to text Queenie.”

  “Straight away!” Ava complied. She was afraid not to. Miss Maggie had transformed into a wicked witch right before her very eyes. Ava’s fear of whatever was out the window dropped a degree as she concentrated on Miss Maggie’s dangerous expression. Ava wondered if she presented that during the interview. It could wither a cactus. Maybe Ava could hire this woman to follow her around all day and scare the bejesus out of her. Ava didn’t like Miss Maggie glaring at her, so she did something that astounded her. She looked out the window. A woman entered the bus, dressed in a navy suit. She was holding a clipboard. She looked regal and professional. Ava made a mental note to buy herself a navy suit and a clipboard. The woman conferred with Miss Maggie.

  “Children, there is a slight delay. We’ll be eating our lunch on the bus while we wait.” The ruckus was immediate. “We want to go home!” they shouted. “No fair!” they shouted. “I hate buses,” they said. “Let’s go to the park.” There were wails, and fist-pumps, and even tears. The pint-sized people were revolting. The woman in the navy suit turned red and glared at Miss Maggie. Miss Maggie’s stern composure buckled. She looked to the bus driver, who shoved his face in a newspaper. Ava glanced down by the driver’s seat. There sat a rubbish bag, empty and waiting to swallow the remains of the girls’ lunches. Miss Maggie turned to Ava with a pleading look. She needed her help. Ava stood up, and faced the rioting girls. She grabbed the rubbish bag and placed it over her head. There was immediate silence, followed by a few giggles. Ava ripped off the bag and, one by one, looked each girl in the eye.

  “Miss Maggie wants peace and quiet right now. And you don’t know how lucky you are. You can go outside, and touch the world. You’re not afraid. You want to explore. You want to run, and jump, and see, and listen, and feel. You don’t want to put a rubbish bag over your heads and hide under the seats, do you?”

  An emphatic group “NO!” resounded through the bus. The woman with the clipboard looked impressed. She even made a note on her pad. What was it? Who is this influential Yank?

  “Good on you, then,” Ava said putting on her British accent. “Chin up, Mind the Gap, keep calm, and carry on!” Ava slipped the bag over her head and saluted. The girls applauded and cheered.

  “Thank you,” Miss Maggie whispered in her ear.

  “Your turn, girls,” the woman in the navy suit said. “Let’s file out one at a time starting with Miss Ava.”

  “Can I bring up the rear?” Ava said. But the woman with the clipboard was physically dragging Ava off the bus. Perhaps she’d gone too far. They thought she was a nutter.

  Oh, God. There was no place to go. An expanse of landscaped grounds, the palaces, and the entryway, all dotted by men in red suits. Like marching nutcrackers. They weren’t allowed inside right away because they were to stay and watch the guards change. Why did the guards have to change? Ava was sure they were perfectly fine as they were. You reaaly want to change? Ava wanted to shout at them. Rebel! Go inside. Ava turned to Miss Maggie.

  “I’d like to go back to the bus now.”

  “That’s not an option,” Miss Maggie said. “Are you ill?” Ava knew Miss Maggie had just zeroed in on the fact that Ava was sweating and shaking. The panic attack was coming. The little dots would be next. Ava didn’t know how to control them once they started. Like a wave, she simply had to let them carry her away. She had no idea if it would be a little wave or a tsunami.

  “Miss Maggie, if we don’t get inside I’m going to have a panic attack. I think I should sit so that I don’t pass out. You might have to call the paramedics.” Ava sat on the ground before Miss Maggie could reply. So many people, all around her, this wasn’t the perfect place to draw attention to herself, and all those eyes on her would make it worse. Much, much, worse. Queenie. She texted Queenie. Help me. Buckingham Palace.

  Are you having a laugh?

  By George, they were all talking alike.

  NO! On the ground while the guards are mounting, Ava typed back furiously.

  Lucky you.

  Please.

  Darling. I have callbacks.

  TELEVISION?

  TELLY!!!

  Break a leg! You can do it!

  He sent her an emoticon of a happy face in a wig with makeup and its tongue sticking out. Who knew they had smiley faces in drag? Oh, please let him get the part. She tried to send him mental waves of joy. Her joy was only temporary. She was stuck here. Alone. A low wail escaped Ava. No, don’t make a scene. Look at you, you stupid girl. You’re in London at Buckingham Palace for God’s sake, surrounded by guards, and children, and stern headmasters, and the royal staff. What kind of idiot doesn’t feel safe here?

  The woman with the clipboard was kneeling down. “How can I help?”

  “Can you take me inside?” Ava said. The woman helped her up, and the crowds parted. Waves of dizziness overtook Ava as step by step they headed toward the grand entrance. The woman flashed some kind of badge, allowing them to skip the line. Ava would have to bring her to the drag club next time. They crossed over the threshold, into the queue for the schools. This was it. She was inside Buckingham Palace. She could technically cross it off her list. Jasper wasn’t with her, but there were plenty of witnesses to prove she was here. And Beverly never actually said Ava had to tour the entire inside of Buckingham Palace, and she certainly didn’t require that Ava enjoy it. As far as she was concerned, been there, done that. The royal commodes and cats could wait for another day.

  “May I ask what is happening?” the woman asked. She sounded kind. Ava wanted to answer, but she was having trouble breathing.

  “Agoraphobic,” Ava managed to spit out.

  “Oh my,” the woman said. “What can I do for you?”

  “Do you have any pull around here?”

  The woman glanced at her clipboard, then looked around as if to make sure no one was listening, then gave a quick nod. “What do you need?”

  “I’d like to hide in the coat closet until a taxi can come get me. And then I’m going to need to wear this rubbish bag and someone is going to have to walk me to the taxi. And if they could also ride with me to the flat and walk with me into the flat, that would be brilliant.”

  The woman stared at her. “Miss Maggie called and told me all about you,” she said. “She thought we should meet.”

  “She mentioned there was someone,” Ava said.

  “I have a son who is dyslexic.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Oh, don’t be. I’m very proud of him.” Using her clipboard for support, she scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Ava.

  HIDDEN NO MORE

  Join the Fight. Support Individuals with Hidden Disabilities.

  “I don’t like support groups,” Ava said. They should change that to “Invisible” so that it sounded more like superpowers. She’d have to mention it if she ever met with them. Which she was never going to do.

  “It’s not a support group; it’s a group that educates others, and refuses to be hidden.” The woman pulled an iPhone out of her purse and scrolled through it. She turned it to Ava. There was a picture of a young man. He was out in the streets of London, with a girl posing next to him. He held a sign: Get Your Picture Taken with a Proud Dyslexic.

  Ava handed it back. She didn
’t know what to think. But the woman was looking at Ava expectantly. She wanted her to react to this grand news. She wanted her to embrace the support group for those with hidden disabilities. She still liked “invisible” better. Their spokesperson could be the Invisible Man. That was kind of funny. Ava laughed. The woman frowned. Ava cleared her throat and posed the question as seriously as she could. “Do they ever meet inside?”

  Once Ava was inside the taxicab she folded the flyer for Hidden Disabilities into little pieces and let it drop on the floor. Not normally one to litter, she just didn’t want it in her possession. She didn’t want to be associated with them. After all, a girl who routinely wore a rubbish bag over her head had no problems staying hidden.

  CHAPTER 33

  Navigate the London Underground (Tube/subway)

  Ride the London Eye

  For a solid week following the Buckingham Palace adventure, Ava didn’t go anywhere. She’d missed her little perch at the windows, sketching, not worrying about the list, or the flat, or Vic, or Deven, or Hillary, or Queenie, or even Jasper. She just wanted to sketch anonymous Londoners from her emerald velvet stool.

  She often lost track of what day it was, but in London she always knew when it was a Friday night. People literally had a bounce in their step. There were more girls in skirts, and dresses, and heels. Around four o’clock traffic was already jammed, as everyone had the brilliant idea to get out early. She wondered what most of them had in store. Who was going to their country house? Who was headed to the Tube to take the train to Paris? The station was only five blocks from her flat. It even had a champagne bar. People were sitting there, this very moment, drinking a glass of champagne, and waiting to zip off to a Parisian café, or nightclub. Ava was okay with the fact that she wasn’t one of them. She wondered what people would think of their lives if they could see them in a series of sketches. Would they be forced to pay more attention to the little moments?

  Although it would be fun to have a flat like this everywhere in the world. A little tree house of a place where you could gaze out at the people going by, sketch their lives for the few minutes you saw them. Ava had just finished sketching a woman with a dog in a handbag when the door opened and then slammed. Queenie was home, and it didn’t sound good. Slowly, Ava put down her sketch pad and pencil and turned around. Queenie stood, red eyed, in front of her.

  “I didn’t get it,” he said.

  Ava stood. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I told you. I needed my lucky charm.”

  “What did they say?”

  Queenie looked away. “That I was too old,” he whispered. He turned back and raised his voice. “Too old!”

  “You’re right,” Ava said. “It had to be the lucky charm.”

  “Why?” Queenie frowned. He was suspicious of her.

  “Because that’s a totally ridiculous thing to say about a man who looks like you.”

  “Are you taking the piss?”

  “Why, it’s like saying you’re too purple.” Queenie considered her for a moment, then flopped on the sofa.

  “I’ll pour you a Scotch,” Ava said.

  “You mean there’s actually some left?”

  “I bought two new bottles.”

  “You had Scotch delivered?” Queenie rose from the sofa.

  “No,” Ava said. “I stopped into a liquor store on my way home from Buckingham Palace.” Actually, she had the driver of the town car run into the liquor store for her, but Queenie didn’t need to get bogged down in the minutiae.

  “You’re cured?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “Amazing.” He was at the bar in seconds flat, and he downed the Scotch. He let it slam down on the bar. “So the flat will be yours, will it?”

  Ava poured herself a Scotch, and took it to the window. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll be able to complete the list.”

  “I don’t know. I hope so.” Now probably wasn’t the time to ask him if she could count the porno for Big Ben and Jasper sitting on the bench for Hyde Park.

  “Beverly would be very happy. And very proud.”

  “So you’re fine with the fact that she left the flat to me, and not to you?”

  “I’ll admit I wanted this flat. I still do. And I never thought you’d be able to do anything on that list. Yet look at you. If you win it fair and square I’ll be happy for you. I’ll feel sorry for me, but I’ll be happy for you.”

  “Hillary vehemently disagrees. She thinks I should let you have the flat no matter what.”

  Queenie shook his head and went back to the sofa. “Hillary has always been a pistol. My sister drank and smoked a lot during her pregnancy.” Ava laughed.

  “I found the decorating book she gave you.” Queenie gasped. “And I took it to her office and shoved it in her face.” He gasped again. It was rather dramatic sounding, and Ava had to laugh.

  “You did not.”

  “I did. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”

  “I’ve been busy with the auditions. You should have kept the decorating book. It had some lovely ideas.”

  “I’d hate to change a thing,” Ava said. “It would be like changing Beverly.”

  “Eventually you’ll make it your own,” Queenie said. Her own. Ava had never even thought about that. “I’m starting to think you have the right idea. After that audition I never want to leave this flat again.” He laid his head on Ava’s shoulder. She liked it.

  “So don’t,” she said. “We’ll both stay here until we have moss growing on us.”

  “Gross,” Queenie said. “And kind of nice too.”

  The buzzer shrieked. Queenie slapped his hands over his ears, and sloshed his Scotch. “We have to do something about that.” Ava grinned. She was thrilled it wasn’t just her. Queenie swore and padded to the door. He tried peeping out the peephole. “It’s Jasper,” Queenie announced. Ava’s heart lifted. Queenie opened the door and Jasper practically fell in.

  “Are you okay?” Ava said.

  “Did you find my lucky charm?” Queenie said.

  Jasper glanced at Ava, then Queenie. “No. Sorry, mate.”

  “You should be,” Queenie said. “I just lost the television show of my career because of you.”

  “That’s not true,” Ava said.

  “It is so,” Queenie said.

  Ava turned to Jasper. “Are you okay?”

  “I haven’t been to bed since my set last night.” Jasper collapsed on the sofa.

  Queenie gasped. “Your set. Your comedy set. Thursday night. Oh, Jasper, I forgot all about it. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as I am.”

  “I’m a horrible person. Not showing up for a friend’s show? That’s only second to, say, losing someone’s lucky charm right before the audition of his life!”

  Jasper put his hand up. “Queenie, I will be eternally sorry. I don’t know what else to say or do.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Ava said.

  “I’m glad you weren’t there,” Jasper said. “I sucked. I failed. I bombed.” He collapsed on the sofa. “I’m beginning to think you have the right idea. I never want to go out again.”

  Queenie gave Ava a long look. “Apparently you’re contagious.”

  Ava brought the bottle of Scotch over to the sofa along with another glass. “What were some of your jokes?” she asked.

  “British politics, the law, women,” Jasper said.

  “There’s your problem,” Queenie said. “You should only joke about what you know.” Queenie and Ava laughed; Jasper did not.

  “I’m sorry,” Ava said. “But all great comedians have failed at one point or another.”

  “Some of them more and longer than others,” Queenie said.

  “Would you like some Scotch?” Ava said, readying the pour.

  “There’s some left?” Jasper said. The door shrieked again. This time both Jasper and Queenie jumped while Ava answered it. There in the hall stood Vic and Dev
en.

  “Oh,” Ava said. “Hello.”

  “You’re a bollocks,” Vic said to Ava. She pushed her way in, dragging Deven with her.

  “What did I do?” Ava said.

  “You made me fall in love with this terrorist.” She swung and smacked Deven in the gut.

  “I’m not a terrorist.”

  “Suspected terrorist,” Vic said. “And then you had the nerve to promise me half the flat if I’d help you with the list, only to snatch it away again.”

  “You promised her half the flat?” Queenie said. Vic looked at Queenie and then Jasper as if just now noticing there were other people in the room.

  “She did,” Vic said. “She’d rather have me than you as flatmate.”

  “That’s not true,” Ava said quickly. “Queenie, that’s not true.”

  “Queenie,” Vic said. “So you’re the bloke with the lucky charm.”

  Queenie gasped. “How do you know about my lucky charm?”

  “Because Ava completely freaked out when she lost it.”

  Oh no. She did not just say that.

  Queenie shot off the sofa and pointed at Ava. “You lost my lucky charm? You? Where is it? Where is it?”

  “Do you have it, Vic?” Ava said.

  “What would it be worth to you?” Vic said.

  Just when Ava thought Queenie’s gasps couldn’t get any louder, he inhaled and then bellowed out a sound like a tuba.

  “Queenie, please calm down,” Ava said.

  “Calm down?” Queenie said. “Calm down?”