Sausage man? What in the hell is she grinning about? It’s doubtful she’s ever read any of those made up stories in the British tabloids about me being gay. She’s an American and Americans don’t care about anyone but themselves. He paused before answering carefully. “I like sausage, but pepperoni is good, too. I saw a liquor store across the street. You go ahead and order the pizza, and I’ll get a couple of pints of beer. Do you need some money?”
Leah winced. “Yes, please. Oh, God, I hate to ask anyone for money. As soon as we get something to eat and a few… Oh, shit. We have a lot to talk about, don’t we? Crap. I have to call work and tell them I won’t be in tomorrow. Damn, I don’t even have scrubs much less a pair of work shoes. I can probably go to the bank, and hopefully, they’ll let me have some of my money, even if I don’t have my ID or wallet. Shit, I don’t even have a pair of shoes so I can walk into a store to buy a pair of shoes or clothes or, or…” Leah started sobbing uncontrollably. She rolled over and buried her face into the pillow next to her, embarrassed at her loss of emotional control.
“Hey, you,” James said, shaking her shoulder. “One thing at a time, okay? Now, we have a place to clean up and spend the night. You have a phone and can call in for food. I told you, I have money, and it doesn’t bother me to share it. While you’re waiting for the pizza, I’ll get some liquid refreshments.” He gently rocked her shoulder again with the mention of beer. “Then, after we eat, we can take on the rest of the world, okay?”
“Okay.” She sniffed and pulled her face out of her percale-covered hiding place. “I’m just so embarrassed and confused, and don’t know what to do.”
“I heard a wise woman once say that when you don’t know what to do, eat. It makes the brain work better. Besides, you can consider dinner a thank you for giving me my first pillow fight. That was fun. So, make your call, and I’ll be back before you can miss me.”
James got off the bed and had his hand on the door to leave when Leah spoke. “You haven’t even left yet, and I miss you already.” She paused to reflect on what she had just said. “How can that be? I just met you a few hours ago?”
He thought for a moment before opening the door, then turned back to face her. “I don’t know. Weird, huh?” was all he could manage to say before he left.
Ӂ
James saw the old man who he had met earlier outside the lobby. He took a few quick running steps to catch up with him. “Sir, do you know where I could buy some sandals? All of my friend’s clothes burned in the apartment fire. She doesn’t even have a pair of shoes to wear shopping.”
“Come here,” said the man, once again holding James by the arm. “See that big building? It’s called a Wal-Mart. We have lots of them here in the USA. You can get just about everything from food and drink, to clothes and shoes, to video cameras to…well, just about everything but a kitchen sink. But you can get towels for the kitchen sink,” he added with a chuckle.
“And beer?” asked James.
“And beer,” he replied. “I’m going there now. Do you want a lift?”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”
James followed the man to an older, dark-green Jeep Cherokee parked a couple of cars away. He stood outside the left hand door, looked down, and saw the steering wheel. “Oops,” he said, and walked around to the other side of the car. “I think it’ll take a while for me to get used to the steering wheel and driving being on the wrong side.”
“No, we drive on the right side. You drive on the left side overseas. England?”
“Yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is James Melbourne. I just got in at noon today, so I’m still a bit punchy.”
“Mike, Mike Skupnieweitz, a fine Irish name,” the old man giggled as he nodded to the Irish rock band tee shirt James was wearing. “But you can call me Skup. There are quite a few Mikes around, but I’m the only Skup I’ve ever met; except for my father, of course, but he’s gone now, so I’m the only one.”
The drive took a short three minutes. “Okay, here we are. I’ll let you out here while I go park. I hope everything turns out okay for you and your lady friend.”
“Thanks, Skup. Hope it turns out better than okay for you, and your wife, too. Give her my best,” James said, and exited the car.
Ӂ
“Wow!” James gasped involuntarily when he saw how vast the inside of the store was. “Where’s the map?”
“Welcome to Wal-Mart, sir,” said a smiling, gray-haired woman with a white and blue nametag that read Rwanda. “May I help you find anything?”
“Yes, I’ve come for beer and sandals.”
She pointed out the two areas, and said, “Have a nice day now, sir.”
James accepted the shopping cart and nodded farewell. How polite these people seem to be, even if they do have strange names. Does she even know that Rwanda is a country in Africa?
After a quick five-minute shopping trip, James was on his way to the exit, ready to take the short walk back to his motel in the broiling afternoon heat. He noticed Skup at the pharmacy counter, arguing with the clerk. He didn’t want to be snoopy, but his new friend was involved in a major confrontation.
“Sir, your insurance won’t cover this duplication,” the woman said. “You have to pay for it out of pocket. If you don’t have the money, we can’t let you have the pills. That’s all there is to it. I can’t help it if it’s wrong—it’s just the way it is.” She looked over his head, ending their eye contact and the conversation. She huffed, and then looked back at him. “Life isn’t always fair,” she said with exasperation.
James walked up to the woman and asked, “How much is it?”
She looked at Skup as if to ask, ‘Do you know this weirdo?’
Skup said, “It’s $130,” then blinked back the tears and looked down at the tiled floor, embarrassed about the brouhaha he had caused.
James pulled the cash out of his pocket, peeled off two one-hundred dollar bills, and handed them to the woman. He turned to Skup and asked, “Do you have more shopping to do?”
The clerk took the money, stapled the receipt to the bag, and pushed both the medicine and the change to the edge of the counter, not knowing who got which.
“No, this is all I needed,” Skup said, staring incredulously at his benefactor, shaking his head back and forth in amazement.
James took the $70 and the bag of pills, smiled, and said a quick, “Thanks,” to the clerk. He folded the bills, put them back into his pocket, handed Skup the bag, and asked, “Do you think you could give me a ride back to the motel? It’s hotter out there than I’m used to.”
“Be glad to, mate,” replied Skup brightly, placing his hand on James’s arm, leading the way, the two of them strolling out of the store like an elderly father guiding his reticent son.
The Jeep wasn’t too far from the door. James noticed a little blue and white handicapped tag hanging from the rear view mirror. Skup took it down and placed it into the pocket on the inside of his door. “Thank you. You know you didn’t have to do that.”
“You’re right. And you didn’t have to offer me a ride to the store.” James grinned and continued, “Life is sure strange—wonderful, at times—giving you people you need when you need them the most. And if those people just happen to have something you require at the same time, whether it be a ride to the store or money for pain killers, all the better.”
By the end of the conversation, they were back at the motel. James saw a man with a red pizza bag outside the door of his room. He and Leah were arguing about something. “Thanks again, Skup,” he said, and rushed out of the car, the bag of beer and sandals tucked under his arm.
James quietly stood behind the pizza delivery teen, listening to the frustrated exchange. “I told you, I can’t accept $100 bills. Even if you told me I could keep the change, there’ve been so many fake ones floating around, the boss’d kill me.”
Leah looked at James in exasperation. James spoke up. “How much is it?”
&n
bsp; The pimply-faced young man with the ball cap on backwards said, “$12.50, not including the tip.”
“Would you take $20, and I get to keep the hat?”
Time stood still as the kid worked the math in his head. He didn’t appear to be too bright, and was actually mouthing the computation, finally coming to the conclusion that it was a good bargain. “Okay, but don’t expect me to make change. We don’t take $50 bills either.”
James reached into his pocket and pulled out the change from Wal-Mart, gave the delivery boy the $20 bill, then reached over and snatched the hat off his head. Leah took the pizza inside and left the door open for him.
“Thanks,” said the teen, as he walked back to his little white Ford Focus, hand combing his hair, trying to urge his wayward mop down over his high forehead.
James approached the threshold, the doubled white plastic bag in one hand, his new black and gold mesh Caterpillar hat in the other. He bent over into a deep bow, then popped up and placed the hat on his head to make his grand, lampooned entrance into the room. “Do I look American now?” he asked with a sly smile, waiting for her response.
Leah snorted a quick laugh at his exaggerated performance. James placed his bounty from the store on the combination writing desk and dinner table, and used his body to hide the bag’s contents. With a southern accent worthy of any of the Beverly Hillbillies, he announced, “And now, for the greatest woman since Lo-retta Lynn, I got you a present from the Wal-Mart: shoes for my little barefoot princess!”
He reverted to his normal British accent to add, “Well, actually they’re sandals because I didn’t know your shoe size. I figured these would at least get you into a store where you could do your own purchasing.” He knelt down at her feet and saw that the sandals in his hands were tied together by a plastic cord. He bit it in two, urged one of her feet up, and placed a sandal on it.
Leah’s eyes rolled back into her head, savoring, appreciating the romantic gesture. He had to be gay! No straight man was this wonderful, and fun, and sensitive, and well, perfect! “Thank you, milord,” she said in an affected British accent.
James winced at hearing ‘milord,’ but quickly corrected his facial composure. “No, you’re supposed to say, ‘Thanks, darlin’, or something like that. I’m not very good at this.”
“Oh, no; you’re wonderful. I’m just glad I took a quick shower while you were gone and that my feet are clean.” Leah changed to a hillbilly accent, “Now I’m not barefoot and pregnant like all them other girls. They’d be so jealous of me havin’ shoes.”
He heard someone say, “I think you’d look beautiful pregnant,” then realized that it was his voice who had just spoken aloud the words he had been thinking.
“Well, I don’t know if I’ll ever get that way,” she said in a serious tone. “All the good ones out there are either dead, married, or gay.” She quickly changed to a lighter tone, “Hey, the pizza’s getting cold and the beer’s getting hot. You did get beer, too, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did, girlfriend,” he replied with a lisp and a swish of his wrist.
Evidently, she had heard or read the fabricated stories spread by Clotilde that he was homosexual. Well, if thinking that he was gay would make her feel more comfortable with him, he wouldn’t correct her misconception. Besides, he didn’t know if she could handle any more shocks to her system. Better save that one for another day.
*11 The Slumber Party
Leah grabbed two beers from the six-pack and put the rest in the mini-fridge under the bathroom sink. She and James settled down at the table and ate their pizza in a comfortable silence, washing down the excitement of the day with the cold beer. James picked up a slice of pepperoni that had fallen off his third piece of pizza. He held the disc up to the light coming through the curtain gap and suddenly flashed understanding.
The coin. His grandfather—father, he reminded himself—had to wait until he grew up, came to America, and got suckered into buying that ‘historical document’ before he could find out what kind of coin was needed for time travel. And now he, James Ignatius Melbourne, had that same ancient silver time travel ticket in his wallet.
“Are you okay?” Leah asked, apparently for the second or third time. He hadn’t heard her speak, but came out of his daze when he felt her cool hand on his arm.
“I don’t know…well, yes, probably. I think we’ve been putting this off long enough. Are you finished with your meal?” He noticed that she had been playing with, not eating, the last piece of pizza she had taken, and was twisting the aluminum ring on the top of her can of beer rather than drinking it.
“Yes, and done drinking, too. I want to be clear headed when we look at the smartphone. I don’t know if my mother took any pictures, shot videos, or made voice recordings while gone for those ten months, but I do know that I don’t want to look for them by myself. Are you ready?”
James shifted his body a bit, then admitted, “I will be in just a moment. Excuse me, please,” and got up to use the bathroom.
Leah chuckled. It was obvious what he was doing. The bathroom door was closed, but the walls were thin. She could hear what sounded like a garden hose filling the commode. The sound was strange to her. She had had boyfriends in the past, but never lived with another man. Spending the night with Billy a couple of times in the last ten months didn’t count as sleepovers, did they? Nah, neither did this. Gay men were just good girlfriends with extra plumbing.
“Don’t come out yet,” Leah hollered through the closed door. She still had her one-piece bathing suit on under her shirt and it was getting uncomfortable. She pulled the mid-thigh length cover-up off over her head, slipped her arms out of the straps of the swimsuit, pulled it down, wriggled and tugged to get it off, and then tossed the wad of red Lycra onto the chair. She grabbed the shirt and put it back on, still feeling naked since she was now bottomless. She stood in front of the mirror on the dresser and did a quick turn to make sure her butt cheeks weren’t hanging out. Still firm, she thought to herself. Lots of walking everyday assured that. She put both arms straight out to the side and twisted her wrists, loosening her stiff muscles, then looked again. Nope, no pubes showing either—she was dressed decently enough for a gay man. She drew the quilted coverlet down, jumped into bed, called out, “Okay, you can come out now,” sat up, cross-legged, and pulled the sheet into her lap.
James looked around as he came out of the bathroom. “What’s going on?”
Leah pointed to her bathing suit lying on the seat of the straight-backed chair. “Just getting comfortable. Here,” she patted the bed next to her, “and bring your letters and those smartphones with you, would you?”
Leah fluffed and rearranged her pillows, then set the other two against the headboard for him. James, his hands full of papers and phones, put one knee on the bed, then suddenly yelped, “Aagh!”
Leah started giggling. She recognized the barely audible sound: her smartphone had vibrated and startled James. He tossed and caught, then re-tossed the buzzing phone several times with one hand, like it was a hot potato, before finally lobbing it into Leah’s lap.
She quickly picked it up, held it to her ear, and snickered, trying to keep a full-blown laugh from escaping. “Hello? Oh, okay,” she said, suddenly somber. “Yes, I’d appreciate it. Okay, I’ll see you on the 20th. Bye.”
Leah put down the phone and looked at James, still standing with one knee on the bed, wide-eyed, waiting to find out what the phone call was about, his letters and the other smartphone clutched to his chest.
“That was my supervisor,” she said in a monotone, staring through him as if he were a window. “She said I could have two weeks off to get everything back together again, if I wanted. She heard the story about the fire on the radio.” Leah set the phone down in her lap. “Wow,” she added, her voice flat, low, and totally without enthusiasm.
“Here,” James said, and handed her the other phone and letters.
Leah accepted them dispassionately, not awar
e of what she was doing. Her eyes were staring forward, unblinking.
He waved his hand in front of her face, but got no reaction. “Hey, am I supposed to take off my pants, too?” he asked, curious to see if she was even aware of what he was saying.
“Sure, whatever,” she answered mechanically, waving her free hand, as if she were shooing away a slow moth.
“Okay, you asked for it.” James stood at the foot of the bed, right in her line of sight—if she had been focusing. He tucked in his chin and started fumbling with the knotted cord in the swim shorts. He glanced up and saw that she was still off in la-la land. “Come on now,” he pled, “You really don’t want me to bring out the monster now, do you?”
Leah snorted, and laughed, then kept laughing out loud until she was rolling on her side, tears squeezing out from both eyes. “Thanks,” she giggled, “I needed that. Would you grab me a couple of tissues, please?”
James brought the box from the sink, grabbed a fistful of tissues, and handed them to her. A few swipes to her eyes, a hearty honking of her nose, and Leah was back to reality. “James? James?” she called. She looked around and saw that she was suddenly alone. “James,” she cried in terror, “where did you go?”
“Hold on,” he answered from the bathroom. “Now I’m changing.”
“Well, don’t change too much. I like you just as you are,” she replied, suddenly very grateful that he was with her and hadn’t left.
James came out of the bathroom wearing the John Deere tractor boxer shorts the salesman had talked him into buying before he left Heathrow. He grabbed the Caterpillar cap he had bought from the pizza delivery boy. “Now do I look like I’m from America?” he drawled.
Aye, I am a Fairy Page 11