by Daphne Lamb
“Are you sure there’s no better way to phrase that?” I asked.
“Not on a day like today, ma’am,” he said, then gestured to a group of rather beautiful-looking people under a green arrow. “That’s our green group. I don’t want to say VIP, but they’re more noted people who we’re taking to a special place where they should get better treatment than everyone. I think I saw Tom Hanks over there somewhere.”
Bruce folded his arms. “Clearly this is the category I was meant to be in.”
I smiled at him. “Thank you. Can you tell me how I might get in touch with a family member?””
“Move along,” the guard said.
Bruce gave him a fake smile and then quickly stashed the bracelet under his shirt. He nodded calmly. “Oh well, we tried.”
“You heard the man,” I said. “We hoped for better, but in the end, it’s the yellow group. Does this mean I get to find the bathroom now?”
“I’m not going to be a yellow,” he said. “I am an actor. Actors choose who they are, and today I am green.”
I patted him on the back. “Well, if a better color means a path to the bathroom, then I’m in,” I said. “Whatever it takes.”
He smiled. “It’s so great to have you back.”
“Is it?”
I considered this moment, here and now, to utter the words, Bruce, I think it’s time we saw other people, when an official poked me. I turned and faced him.
“Yellow, maybe?” I shrugged. “Can you direct me to the nearest bathroom?”
“Depends on what color group you’re in,” he said. “Yellows are all the way over on the other side, but there’s a line. Greens get to use this close one.”
He pointed to a smaller line leading to a unisex bathroom.
I gave him my best smile. “I must be a green then,” I said. I went to turn toward the bathroom, but he stopped me, pointed at my pants.
“What’s that sticking out of your pocket?”
My yellow bracelet peeked out, damning me. “Oh. This yellow thing.”
I laughed awkwardly and then set out on a trek for the bathroom with a line that snaked the length of the floor. I went to the end of it and closed my eyes, trying to think of other things to distract me from the pain in my bladder.
Bruce ran up to me. “What are you doing here?”
“I have to use the bathroom,” I said as the line shifted slightly forward. “They won’t let me use the green bathroom.”
Bruce rolled his eyes. “This is stupid. It’s green or nothing. What’s the bathroom like? Any of the cast from Compton PD there?”
“I didn’t get a chance—”
He grabbed my hand, and we rushed over to the other side of the quarantine where they handed out those green bracelets.
“Excuse me,” I said to a covered guard, breathing hard. “We were supposed to be in the green group, but it seems there’s been a mistake.”
I stared at that bathroom. I just wanted to go in and have one less thing to worry about already.
The guard took off her covered helmet, revealing a surly woman wearing a lot of makeup. She shrugged. “Your point being?”
I handed her the bracelet. “May we please be green?” I asked. “And may I use your facilities?”
She snorted. “Y’all out of luck,” she said. “Move along.”
She waved us away before I thought of something. “Wait!” I said. I reached into my bag and pulled out Debra’s bottle of nail polish. “It’s the hottest color this fall.”
She pointed at it, her eyes wide. “Where’d you get that?”
I shook my head. “Does it matter? I’d be willing to part with it for a place in the green group.”
She snatched the bottle and my yellow bracelet out of my hands. “Get over to the distribution line. Tell them Donna sent you.”
“Thank you!” I said, pulling a bewildered Bruce along.
“What was that about?” he asked.
“You heard the woman,” I said. “Doesn’t matter.”
We went up to the distribution line that was moving forward and then someone handed me a green bracelet and one to Bruce.
“Weren’t you and your sister registered in yellow?” the man in the hazmat suit asked Bruce.
“Donna sent me,” he said.
“We’re not brother and sister.” I said. “We don’t look that much alike.”
“Do we?” he murmured.
Bruce and I nodded simultaneously. Just in case. They pushed us along, and Bruce stared wistfully at the other groups.
“Maybe we should aim for the blue group,” he said.
Debra came up behind us, out of breath. “Whatever you do, do not go into the bathroom set aside for the yellows. There’s no toilet paper, and I had to impale someone’s foot with my heel just to use the sink to wash my hands.”
“Noted,” I said, uncomfortably switching my weight between feet.
“What are we doing?” she asked.
“Getting our green bracelets,” I said.
She made a face. “Ew, do you know who’s a yellow?”
We caught a familiar sight no more than ten feet away from us. Steve Harks, an A-list celebrity seen in movies where things exploded. The only reason I remembered Steve’s name was because as soon as Bruce saw him he whispered madly, “Steve Harks. Steve Harks, Steve Harks.”
I’ll say this—even with a week of hardship and whatever misfortunate circumstances—the man was drop-dead gorgeous. My jaw dropped a little as I tried hard not to stare. Debra, on the other hand, made no secret about it. She looked like a fourteen year old, eyes wide and shining. She jabbed me with her chipped and polished fingernail and heavy cocktail ring. I turned to her.
“Should I go introduce myself?” she asked. “This is how people come together, meet and fall in love, right?”
“Can’t hurt,” I said. “Who knows where we’ll be tomorrow.”
“Oh, my god,” she said, fanning herself with her hand. “What do I even say?”
“You could say hello,” I said. “Or tell him about how you were in high school when he was born.”
She covered her mouth. “I really liked him in that one thing,” she said. “The one where he played that guy…what’s it called? You know the one. He wore a suit.”
I turned to Bruce, thinking for some reason that he would find Debra just as amusing as I did. But he gawked just as hard at Steve Harks as she did.
“You okay?” I asked.
“That’s Steve Harks.”
“That’s what I keep hearing from the two of you,” I said. “Stars! They’re just like us.”
“Do you think I should tell him about my play?” Bruce asked.
“The one that’s been cancelled indefinitely,” I said. “Can’t hurt.”
“I’ll bet he could help me out. Think of the networking I could be accomplishing.”
“I doubt he’ll come to your play.”
He broke his gaze with Steve and looked at me, hurt puppy eyes. “Why would you say that?”
“Sorry. I just thought you were joking.”
“Why would I be joking?” he asked. “If he came to my play, he’d be really impressed. He’d probably have a part for me in his next movie.”
“Aren’t we getting a little bit ahead of ourselves?” I asked. “Are we even living in world where they make movies?”
His face turned stony. “I should have known.” He turned away.
“What?”
“You’re being sarcastic and unsupportive again,” he said. “It’s like how you think every play I’m in is called Death of a Salesman.”
“That’s not true. You just always play a guy who’s sad and wears suits.”
“What about The Happiest Millionaire?” Bruce asked.
“My mistak
e,” I said. “You made me believe you were a very happy millionaire.”
“No!” He mouth was getting tight, the way it does when he gets annoyed. “I was the guy trying to marry the millionaire’s daughter! And he wasn’t happy. Remember?”
“So why was it called that?”
“Called what?”
“This isn’t the point. What you’re forgetting is that the world ended a week ago and none of this matters.”
“Whatever,” he said, staring piercingly hard at Steve. “It’s not important. If it was one of those fighting housewives from that show you like, I’d introduce you.”
“See,” I said. “You say that, but the fact that the only thing you’re focused on at this moment in time is Steve Harks says differently.”
He sucked in his breath. “He’s in the yellow group. How could someone that important be there?”
“What?”
He fingered his green bracelet. “Dammit. He’s a yellow? I would have two things to talk to him about instead of this stupid green group!”
I looked at him. “Are you wishing you stayed a yellow? Maybe not as useless a group as you thought?”
It took him a moment to answer, but then he came to. “No, no, no,” he said quickly. “Of course not.”
“Great,” I said. “Wait for me. I’m going to use the bathroom.
He still stared after Steve Harks as he disappeared into a crowd of fellow yellow wearers. He looked as if he was about to cry, so I patted his shoulder.
“I’m sure they’d probably give you back your yellow—”
“No, it’s okay,” he said. “Better this way. You and I are together. Certainly not thinking about trading your bracelet I guess.”
Finally, he met me in the eye and smiled. It wasn’t convincing, but I decided to take it and move on.
“I’m glad,” I said. “It’s been a long week.”
Robert came up behind me. “Get me signed in, will you?” he asked. “I’m going to try to make some calls, so I’ll need a green bracelet.”
“I don’t know if they’ll let you do that,” I said with a heavy sigh. “And I’m pretty sure the phone is just for whoever works here.”
“Trust me,” he said. “There’s a phone somewhere around this place, and I’m going to use it.”
He disappeared into the crowd and I smiled at the overtired worker behind the table with the bracelets.
“Hi,” I said. I could feel the eye roll behind her covered helmet. “I don’t suppose you saw what just happened. Just to save us some time.”
“He needs to personally get his bracelet and sign in his information,” she said in a voice that was either boredom tinged with hatred or hatred with a side of soullessness. “It’s our way of taking a census on survivors.”
“I understand,” I said. “Completely. But could you just make an exception just this once? I probably know his information better than he does.”
“If I make an exception for you, I’ll have to do it for everyone.” She shrugged. “And I don’t want to talk to everyone.”
“Don’t think of it as an exception!” I said, trying to make my voice gentle and amiable. “I’ll say nothing but great things about you, and assure whatever new government that’s about to spring up that if anyone can be counted on to keep order in a new society, it’s you.”
The woman was silent, and I was unable to see what her facial expression was to see if I had gotten through to her.
“And that’s it?” She shrugged.
“Well, obviously, we don’t have a new government yet, so I don’t know who I’d talk to.”
“I need something tangible.” She pointed her heavily gloved hand toward my bag of hastily put together supplies. “What do you have?”
“Probably nothing,” I said.
Bruce nudged me. “Ask her if she can get me back into the yellow group.”
“Shhh!” I said, opening my bag. “Not much.”
Bruce watched Steve wistfully. “He’s doing magic tricks for kids,” he said.
I turned and looked. There was Steve Harks pulling handkerchiefs out of his sleeve.
“I can do two magic tricks,” he said. “He and I have two things in common now so I should be with that group.”
“Open it wider,” the woman said, standing, peering into it.
I obeyed her as she stuck her hand in. A tube of lip gloss fell out onto the table and started to roll off the edge. She caught it and held it up to the bad lighting above as if it were Indiana Jones’ golden idol.
“I keep this and call it a deal,” she said.
“But that’s my favorite,” I said. “And the color’s probably discontinued.”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself. You had your chance.”
“Wait,” I said. “So you would have let me get my boss into his color group or any favor for you for this lip gloss?”
She turned her head away. “Snooze you lose. Now it’s mine. Next!” She waved me away.
Robert waded through the crowd. “Son of a bitch!” he yelled. “Next person who coughs on me is getting a royal ass kicking.”
“Wait!” I rolled my eyes. “Fine,” I said. “You can have it. Just give me the bracelet.”
She smiled smugly through that helmet and handed me the green bracelet. “What’s his name?”
“Robert Jamison,” I said.
“Birthdate?”
“Uh,” I said. “Robert?”
“Nope!” Robert said, coming up behind me. “It’s October third something.” She handed me the bracelet, which I then handed to Robert. He frowned at it. “Is this the only color they come in?”
“You’re in the green group,” I said. “It’s how you can be found later on. You also get a better bathroom.”
“Later on what?”
Myself and the guard shrugged as Robert turned to Bruce and pointed at him.
“Is this the guy who used to deliver breakfast burritos to the office?”
“That was one time, and he happened to be in the area,” I said. “But this is Bruce. My boyfriend.”
“I thought you were dating that guy with the hat,” Robert said. “Came every day with a salad.”
“That’s the cafeteria delivery guy,” I said, trying to ignore the alarmed look on Bruce’s face. “I don’t know his name.”
“But he came to see you every day.”
“To deliver my food,” I said. “At lunch.”
Robert raised an eyebrow. Bruce seemed confused.
“Can we just say that this is Bruce, my boyfriend, and move on while you put on your bracelet?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Waste of time if you ask me.”
“What about me?” Bruce asked.
The girl behind the table stared at my now lost tube of lip gloss, which I was immediately regretting losing.
“I’m using the bathroom,” I said. “Enough is enough.”
“Attention visitors,” screamed a woman with a bullhorn, standing on empty crates. They too were clad in a hazmat suit and headdress, giving them an eerie sense of authority.
At the sight of her, everyone shut up and stared in awe.
“If you have been classified into a group, please find your color group’s bus outside, ready to take you to your new destination,” she said. “So don’t even try to use the bathroom.”
Before I could hit the door of the bathroom, two guards approached. One gave me a stern shaking of the head.
“God, another bus?” Robert asked. “Those seats were not made for those who haven’t had a spinal adjustment in a while.”
“There’s a business idea,” I said.
“Oh my God,” He snapped his fingers. “You may just have something there. When all of this is over, we make friends with a chiropractor. Put together for me some pr
ojected numbers and a possible prototype when we get back to the office.”
“Good plan.”
“Seriously,” he said. “Write that down.”
I opened the palm of my hand and fake wrote it in the air. “How do you spell chiropractor?”
His face was super serious. “I don’t know why you’re making jokes. That’s a great idea, and you’re just not getting it.”
I grimaced slightly but smiled. “My mistake.”
“Really not the kind of team spirit we pride at Mitchellwide Insurance.”
One of the hazmatted figures approached us.
“Do you have a color group?” he asked.
I nodded. “We’re in the green group.”
“Stay here,” he said. “We’re letting yellows go first and in the buses headed toward that spa that’s been turned into quarantine.”
“Come on!” Bruce said. “Are you kidding me?”
Robert snapped his fingers. “We’ve got to get better buses,” he said. “I don’t think my joints can take it.”
We watched yellows get on the bus, then a group of greens before us. Then we were allowed onto one with what looked like the windows shot out of it and a weird smell inside.
“I take it back,” Robert said. “The other bus was better. There better be a seat in the back for me.”
I looked around, wondering why Robert and I were the only ones standing around. Steve walked slowly with five other people, all clamoring for his attention, one of which being Bruce.
“I’m doing a play right now,” he said, practically jumping up and down for his attention. “It’s called Honky and really tackles the issue of racism in America. You would have really liked it.”
Steve didn’t seem to be paying attention, just unraveling strings of what was left of his sweater.
“Bruce?” I asked.
Maybe he heard me, I don’t know. I just watched him try to follow Steve onto the bus and then get steered away from it and toward the bus I stood in front of. Steve’s bus pulled away, and Bruce threw his hands up.
“I was originally a yellow!” he shouted. “Doesn’t that count?”
Defeated, he wandered back to our area. He seemed sheepish about it, but I smiled, anyway.