by Janet Leigh
“How are you today, Mr. Creedy?” he asked in a loud voice.
“No need to yell, son, I can hear just fine.”
“OK, Mr. Creedy,” Eli responded with a smile.
“Whadya say?” Mr. Creedy asked.
Eli rolled his eyes and mouthed, “Hard of hearing,” at me.
I couldn’t help but smile at this comic routine. Eli asked how he was again, this time leaning toward the patient’s right ear and giving me a wink.
“Not so good today,” Mr. Creedy responded, eyes still closed. “My chickens got out last night, and I had to chase them all around the yard to get them back in the coop. I think I pulled something in my neck.”
Eli turned to me. “Jennifer, write down Mr. Creedy says he has neck pain.”
Mr. Creedy opened one eye and looked in my direction. I wrote it down. I watched my brother feel Mr. Creedy’s neck. In one swift motion, my brother took this man’s head and torqued it to the right, making a loud crack.
I gasped, and then everything went dark. When I regained consciousness, my brother and Mr. Creedy were leaning over me. Eli was shining a light in my eyes.
“She’s going to be fine,” I heard him say.
“I don’t know, Doc, she doesn’t look so good to me…kinda green.”
I opened my eyes, squinting at the light. “What happened?” I asked, then turned to Mr. Creedy. “You’re OK?”
“Yes sirree Bob!” he said. “Doc Cloud gives a good adjustment, fixes me right up.”
“Mr. Creedy, this is Jen, my little sister. She just witnessed her first adjustment today.”
“Glad I could help out,” he said and gave me a pat on the shoulder.
Eli helped me get to my feet. “Are you sure you are OK?” He gave me that Cheshire cat smile.
“Very funny,” I said. “You could have warned me. I didn’t know it was going to sound so loud.”
“How about if you work the back desk with Elvira?” Eli asked, keeping a hand on my back.
I thought maybe this was a good idea. I was still a little queasy from my first adjustment experience. Elvira, I found out, was a heavyset Caucasian lady who used to drive a truck. She had a cobra tattoo on her right leg just above her ankle. Elvira was in charge of collections. This meant if people didn’t pay their bills, she would call the deadbeats and persuade them to drag their butts in to make a payment. Apparently my brother thought he needed this service before he opened his doors for business in this town. I watched Elvira make a few calls to verify what the insurance companies would pay. She threatened a lady at Blue Cross because she didn’t like the way she gave Elvira the benefit information.
“Next time I call, you’d better say ‘please’ when you need to ask me somethin’. You don’t just go demandin’ personal information thatta way.” She winked at me and wrote the info down. After she hung up, she said to me, “You just gotta let them know who’s boss.”
Elvira twisted her stringy brown hair up into an alligator clip as if she were donning her battle armor. She activated the speaker on the phone so I could listen to the next call. Learning on the job. The next call was to a Ms. Jones.
“I know you’re on social security, but you forgot to make your co-pay, and you can’t just walk outta here and blame it on dementia.” The patient on the phone apologized several times and promised to pay on her next visit. By the time Elvira was finished with her, the woman was promising to drop by at lunch with her cash payment.
I decided I would use the “kill ‘em with kindness” approach instead of “Attila the Hun.”
I verified a few insurances without the threats and answered a few phone calls. Around ten o’clock a girl named Su Le came in.
“She’s the one who does the real torture, you know, needle sticker,” Elvira told me. I thought I would save learning about Su Le’s job for another day.
We saw several patients, and by lunchtime I had mastered the phones and met many new people. A nice man who worked for the ice-cream factory brought me a gallon of chocolate-chunk ice cream—yum—and another older man asked for my phone number. I think he might have been about eighty years old, but who am I to complain? Paulina breezed in and out of the front office, taking patients back to rooms and being very perky.
Around one o’clock Eli came in carrying scrubs that Paulina had ordered for me. Most of them were brightly colored and covered with flowers, happy faces, or some kind of cartoon character. I scrunched my nose.
“SpongeBob, seriously?” I asked him.
Eli slung an arm around my neck. “The kids I treat love SpongeBob. He’s the new Superman. Let’s go get some lunch.”
I decided this job wasn’t so bad and I could get some cute shoes to go with my SpongeBob scrubs. Maybe Nine West casuals or Malono slides. Who knew the possibilities?
We ate at a little Italian-food place on the opposite side of the downtown square. The people were very friendly, and the food was great. I was on my second piece of Canadian-bacon-and-pineapple pizza when Eli said, “I know this isn’t what you want to do with your life, but look at it as a temporary learning experience.”
“I feel like everyone around me has a plan for the future except me.”
“You’ll figure it out. One day something will happen that will change your life, and you will know it’s your destiny.”
“Is that what happened to you?”
“Yeah, remember when I had that shoulder injury my junior year, and I couldn’t throw the football?” I nodded, remembering how devastated Eli was because of his injury.
“I thought Johnny Stephens was going to take over my position. I really wanted to play my senior year.”
“I remember you tried every type of medicine. The bottles were always crammed on the breakfast table blocking the salt shaker.”
Eli laughed. “Yeah, then Dad took me to a chiropractor. The first time he adjusted me, I felt better immediately. After three weeks of care, I was playing again. That’s when I knew I wanted to study chiropractic.”
I sucked down the rest of my Coke through the straw. “I hope something like that happens to me. I really loved buying shoes, but I didn’t feel like I was doing anything important. I think I just liked the discount.”
“Everyone needs shoes, and everyone also needs chiropractic, so let’s get back to work before I have a line of angry patients.” Eli pulled out his wallet and waved away my attempt to pay my part of the bill. “Today’s on me, because I have half the Coffee Creek football team coming in for school physicals this afternoon. One look at you, and they will be my patients for life,” he said, grinning as he left a tip, and we headed toward the door.
Chapter 7
Gertie and I lived in peace for a few months. She went to school during the day and worked at night in the library, and I worked during the day for my brother. Our paths didn’t cross too often except coming and going. Jake had e-mailed a few times to let me know he was fine and his new job was a little more trouble than he expected…something about difficult employees.
The summer turned into fall, and there was a slow drizzle outside. Fall was always short-lived in Texas. If we managed to get a couple of breezy days, I would feel lucky. The trees would go from bright green to naked in a matter of weeks. If you wanted to see the fall leaves, you needed to look down, because most of the fall color was on the ground. Halloween was right around the corner, and the air was charged with the excitement that preceded costumes, parties, and trick-or-treating. Gertie invited me to a Halloween party on Saturday night at one of the fraternities on campus. Normally hanging out with college guys wasn’t my scene, but my last date had been with Jake. I thought going might inspire me to start dating again.
I had just returned from my Friday-morning duty at the chiropractic office. Thankfully the clinic was only open half a day on Friday, saving me from a whole day of people complaining about their bad backs.
“Hey,” I said to Gertie as I removed my raincoat and hung it on the coatrack next to the door.
“Hey yourself. That’s a real nice outfit,” she said sarcastically.
I was wearing my Friday scrubs, which were a baby-blue color and had big yellow smiley faces all over the top.
I shrugged. “Eli likes us to match, and Paulina picked out scrubs for each day. She felt like the scrubs would put the patients in a good mood for the weekend.”
“I’m feeling happier already.” Gertie smirked. “The shoes are cool.”
I had on my favorite Dr. Martens vintage floral flower boots. They were so awesome. Gertie was on the couch with a book open on her lap, eating a big bowl of popcorn. The rectangular coffee table was loaded down with Twizzlers, gum, M&M’s, BBQ potato chips, and a giant Slurpee. All the basics needed for a midterm study session. An old Marlon Brando movie was playing on the TV. The attack cat was on the back of the couch behind Gertie’s head, stretched the length of a sofa cushion and glaring at me.
“I love these old movies,” she said. “They are so romantic; I want to meet me a Marlon Brando type.”
“Marlon Brando was also the Godfather,” I pointed out. “He killed people.”
“Yes, but he was sexy when he gave the death order.” She threw some popcorn in the air and caught it in her mouth. “So powerful and mysterious and shit, you know.”
Not really, but I went along with it.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Gertie asked.
“No,” I responded quickly, grabbed the last handful of popcorn out of Gertie’s bowl, and sat down next to her on the couch, avoiding the paw that reached out to bat at my hair.
“Why not?” she asked.
“I just think you should get to know the guy before you get all head over heels for him.”
“Don’t you think you can meet someone and just know you are in love?”
“Absolutely not,” I replied, but then Mr. Sexy’s face flashed in front of my eyes. “Damn,” I said as I tried to push it away.
“What was that you said?” asked Gertie.
“I had some popcorn stuck,” I lied.
“There is this guy who works in the library. He’s a stacker,” she said, and I swear I saw tiny little hearts fly out of her mouth and circle her head.
“He’s a what?”
“A stacker. He stacks the periodicals and returns the books to their proper place so the graduate nerds can do their research. I’d like to get him behind the stacks.”
“Gertie, that’s not love, that’s hormones!”
“Haven’t you ever met anyone that you just wanted to jump his bones?” Gertie asked, folding a piece of gum into her mouth.
“No!” At that precise moment, my necklace, which had lain dormant for five years, began to glow. The cat gave a low growl.
“Holy shit, you’re glowing!” Gertie shouted, pointing at my neck.
“Oh my God, Gertie, I have to go outside.” I ran out back. Gertie followed. I trampled across the garden. The door to the outhouse stood open, inviting me inside.
“What are you doing?” Gertie asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said.
“You’re not getting in that thing, are you?”
“Yes, I think I am.” I took the final step and sat down. I grabbed the two handles, whispered “Hanhepi,” and prepared to be whisked away. Before the door could shut, Gertie took a flying leap into the outhouse. The last thing I yelled was, “GERTIE, NOOOO!”
I felt my chest compress but not as badly as the last time. There was a loud crack of thunder, and a screaming Gertie was projected from the outhouse right into the back of a man who was kneeling behind a bush. Gertie, the man, and parts of the bush went tumbling down a small hill. I stepped out, shielding my eyes from the blinding sun. We were in a small patch of trees on top of a rocky hill. Large, red, dirt hills covered sparsely with cactus and other drought-tolerant plants surrounded us. Off in the distance, I could see a small town. Inspecting my apparel, I saw I was wearing some kind of cowboy duds. I had a cowboy hat, breeches, a western shirt over a tight top that was squeezing my boobs up to my neck, and some type of holster. No gun, thank goodness.
I walked to where Gertie had landed. The man was facedown in the dirt with Gertie lying on top of him, face to the sky.
As I approached, I heard him say, “Would you please get off me, lassie?”
I stopped cold. It was him. Mr. Sexy. My heart began to pound, my blood began to boil, and I know steam was shooting out of my ears.
“I’m trying,” Gertie said as she struggled to get up. She was wearing a long brown dress with a high, cream-colored bib neck and black lace-up boots.
I walked over and grabbed Gertie by the hand, helping her stand.
“Jen, what happened?” She swayed slightly, and her voice was a little squeaky, so I put a hand on her forearm to steady her.
Mr. Sexy got up. He was dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt with the buttons open halfway down the front, exposing a tanned, muscular torso. His hair was shorter than before but still curled around his collar in the back.
As he turned, our eyes met, then his gaze dropped down to my chest. I thought, You bastard, checking out my tits. Then I realized around his neck was a necklace similar to mine, except his had a full sun with blazing rays.
“Oh no!” he shouted. “Oh, bloody hell, no! You are my transporter?”
“You are an asshole,” I responded, my face hot with rage. “You left me God knows where. How was I supposed to get home?”
“Why didnae ye tell me you were the transporter?” he asked.
“You two know each other?” Gertie asked, pointing to each of us, her voice stabilizing with curiosity.
“No!” we both said in unison.
“Yes!” Again, it was spoken simultaneously.
“Well, which is it?” Gertie eyed me suspiciously. “And what the hell am I wearing? Where are my clothes? Where am I?”
“Shut up!” Mr. Sexy and I both yelled.
“Don’t you tell her to shut up! You left me,” I said, my lip jutting out into an unpredictable pout.
“You didnae tell me you were my transporter,” he said more calmly.
“Well…I don’t know what that is exactly, but you are a jerk, and I would be happy to transport you to Mars.”
“You tell ‘im, Jen!” Gertie said with encouragement. I gave her a glare.
“OK,” he said, running a hand through his dark, almost black hair. “You really mean to tell me you don’t know what you do? And who is this?” he asked, nodding his head toward Gertie.
Gertie stepped forward. “For your information, I’m Jen’s cousin, Gertrude.”
“She sort of hopped in at the last minute,” I added.
“You cannae bring a friend!” He stomped around. “This is naugh Disneyland!”
“Cousin,” said Gertrude. “I’m family.”
I didn’t say anything, because he looked like he might be angry.
“Who is your mentor?” he asked me.
“My what?”
“The person who taught you aboot your gift.”
I looked confused.
“You mean…no one told you of your gift?” he asked in disbelief.
“Um, nope, the outhouse just got delivered one day after my aint died.”
“Ye aunt?”
“No, aint. My aint left the outhouse to me in her will. I think she tried to see me before she died, but it just never happened.”
“This is very unfortunate.” He sighed. “Ah dinnae ken what to do aboot this situation.”
“Why don’t you start from the beginning so maybe I can understand what is going on.”
“No crap,” said Gertie.
“OK, you have the gift of time travel. It’s passed down from your ancestors. Usually it is passed from a grandparent to a grandchild. But it can pass directly from parent to child. It seems to skip a generation more often than naugh.”
“Oh, this is so cool,” Gertie said excitedly. “We can go in the future and get the lotto nu
mbers, I can see my true love, I can—”
“Gertie!” I shouted.
“No,” Mr. Sexy said. “The vessel cannae travel into the future. We go back in time, and when we have made our capture, your vessel takes us to Gitmo.”
“Gitmo?” I asked.
“You mean Guantanamo Bay, Cuba?” Gertie interjected. “I always wondered what they really did out there. You know you can’t ever believe what you read in the papers.”
“What do you mean by ‘capture’?” I asked.
“I am a defender,” he said. “There are others who can go back in time as well. Some are bad people. We call them brigands.” He sighed, then walked over to my outhouse. “I come back to stop them, and you transport them to Gitmo. See, you have two seats, one, two.” He pointed to the seats.
“So let me get this straight,” Gertie said. “Y’all are like secret agents who go back in time and catch bad guys.”
“Yes, sort of,” Mr. Sexy said.
“Ain’t that the shit. Wait till I tell Momma.”
“No!” he yelled. “You cannae tell anyone. You are not supposed to be here. You have already violated the code.” We stood staring at each other. He looked as if he didn’t know quite what to do or say.
He spoke at last. “It was very careless of your mentor not to tell you this information.”
“Well, she was about ninety years old and died before she could tell me.”
“Ninety? Why was your grandmother so old?”
“I told you, she was my aunt. My great-aint Elma Jean Cloud, and she didn’t have any children.”
“Elma?”
“Yes, did you know her?”
He looked at me thoughtfully. “She waited a long time for you.”
“You’re tellin’ me you have a gift that Aint Elma gave you, and I didn’t get one?” Gertie stomped her foot.