The Universe is a Very Big Place

by APRIL ASHEIM

  "What? Why?"

  "If you ask me," said Bob, still gazing at Lanie. "He senses another rooster in the chicken coop. You never know what a man is capable of, if his territory is threatened." Bob’s eyes gleamed and Lanie giggled.

  As if Sam had been waiting for this introduction, the front door flew open and Sam’s red face appeared.

  "Well, hello, Spring. Nice of you to come home. Anything interesting happen today?" He was advancing toward her, his head poised in ram position, his hands clasped behind his back, a bag marked Discovery Store dangling from his fingers.

  Lanie and Bob paused to watch, looking uncertain about what they should do.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Oh, I think you know what I’m talking about."

  "Spring?" Lanie was puffing up, and Spring knew her mother would step in if given the word.

  "I’m alright, Mom. Why don’t you go over to Bob’s for a while?"

  Lanie and Bob exchanged glances. Bob took Lanie’s hand and gave it a delicate squeeze. "Perhaps we’d better go. I will make you some iced tea." Lanie gave Spring a worried look, but followed Bob out the back door towards the back gate.

  Spring’s heart thumped wildly inside her chest. He knows about Trevor.

  "I followed you today. I saw you at that boy’s apartment," Sam said. He continued to advance and Spring backed up against the counter. When he reached her he tossed a business card on the counter; the one John had left with his address.

  "I don’t know what you are talking about."

  "Oh really? The boy who was here the other night to return your lost earring. Did you lose it in his couch cushion?"

  Spring gulped. "John? You saw me with John?"

  "Yes, my dear. I did. Now come clean and I might take it easy on you. Lie to me and you’ll be sorry."

  "I wasn’t with John."

  "I knew you’d say that. That is why I brought this!" Sam reached into the sack and produced a box labeled Amateur Lie Detector Test. "Now, sit down."

  "You want to administer a lie detector test on me?"

  "You have two choices. Take it. Or we are through."

  Spring sat down obediently, her knees shaking as he hooked up wires to her arms and head. She didn’t know why she was acquiescing like this. Why she was letting him lead this and have his way?

  "Okay, three questions. Answer these three and I will leave you alone. Deal?"

  Spring nodded, the wire near her eye pushing into her skull.

  "First, we have to do a couple of test questions to determine the accuracy of your statements. These do not count towards your three. Is your name Spring Rainbow Ryan?" Spring nodded that yes, it was, but he gave her a look that let her know she needed to speak the answer. "Yes. My name is Spring Rainbow Ryan."

  Sam looked to see how the machine measured that response and was satisfied with the answer.

  "Do you have twin daughters?" Sam looked at her impatiently, wanting to hurry the preliminary questions along in order to get to the real ones.

  "No. I do not have twin daughters." Spring emphasized the word daughters and Sam nodded.

  "Good. This thing works. You pay a little more for quality. Okay let’s make this official. Here we go. First question. Did you see John Smith today?"

  Spring took a deep breath and looked at Sam. "Yes, I saw John today."

  The bars on the detector moved and Sam nodded. "At least I know you aren’t a complete liar. Next question-did you have sex with John Smith today?"

  Spring shook her head at him. "No. No, Sam, I didn’t. I promise!"

  Sam scratched his head as he looked at the test. "Fine. Even if I know the true nature of woman you can’t argue with science. Last question: did you kiss John Smith today?"

  Spring wanted to fling the test at his potato head, but she calmed herself. She didn’t want a false reading just because she was angry. "No. I did not kiss him. We talked. That’s it. Happy now?" The lie detector confirmed that Spring was telling the truth.

  Sam slumped into his chair, looking mystified. "Did you..."

  "You asked three, that’s all you get." Spring removed the wires from her body and threw them onto the table.

  Sam was stumped. For a moment, Spring thought of confessing everything to him. Her shameless chase of a man she had loved years ago, but who no longer wanted her. But what was the use? The Universe, which was supposed to have given her at least one true love, had really given her none at all. The feeling settled over her like a soggy blanket on a damp night. She had been a fool to have believed that love, real love, existed anywhere other than fairy tales and romance novels. Heroes don’t really come dashing in to save you at the last moment. Not when there were beers to drink and internet porn to surf.

  She looked at Sam again and wondered what it would be like to spend her life with him. Certainly not glamorous or even romantic. But practical.

  Sam smiled weakly, apologetically. "Sweetie," he said. "Then why did you go over to John Smith’s apartment?" His eyes were large and hopeful. He was begging for a reason that made sense. Any reason and he would let it go.

  "He left something here. I returned it."

  Sam nodded. She was feeling guilty about her deceptions and knew he didn’t believe her, but he would accept it. For now.

  "I love you, Pooks," he said, hugging her to his side.

  "Do you?" she asked, the question genuine.

  "Of course I do. I may not love everything you do or wear or say, but I love you. Fundamentally. And isn’t that the most important part?"

  Spring nodded and let her chin settle into his bony collarbone.

  Spring, come home! Emergency!

  Sam was texting her on the cell phone. Sam never texted her, stating that impersonal electronic communications was barbaric and uncivilized, and his message worried and annoyed her all at once. She was already late to work and she briefly debated whether or not she should call him. As she sat at the stop sign on her way to work, she spun her car in the opposite direction and dialed.

  "What’s wrong?" she said.

  "Your mother’s crazy, that’s what’s wrong! She keeps screaming about putting a curse on the neighbor. I would stay but I have to meet with Grandma Rosemary’s lawyer today."

  Spring put her foot on the gas and was home within the minute. Lanie hadn’t put an actual curse on anyone in years and something must have really rattled her to make her want to do it. As she pulled into the driveway she witnessed Lanie running around in the front yard, still in her pajamas, pointing to the purple house next door.

  "Mother, what’s wrong?" Spring asked, trying to catch Lanie’s attention as she darted hysterically about the yard.

  "That witch is trying to take your kids!" Lanie bounced emphatically. "She can’t have hers so she wants yours!"

  "What? What are you talking about?" Spring lowered her voice in an effort to calm her mother down. "No one’s going to take Blaine and Shane, Mom. Understand?"

  "I’ll put a curse on you so big it will make Armageddon look like a trip to SeaWorld!" Lanie hollered to the house next door, then turned her attention back towards Spring. "The She-Bitch wrote the state and said you were an unfit parent, living in a sinful household. The state worker was here earlier. I saw the letter! Who else do you think would do that?"

  Spring considered the boy’s teacher, Ms. Droll, and even Jason.

  "I’m not the most popular woman in the world, Mom. It could have been someone else. Let me talk to her okay? Before you do something you may regret."

  Lanie nodded, a nod that was out of breath and labored, and Spring wanted to hug her mother. She was crazy but at least she cared. Spring strode towards the neighbor’s house and knocked carefully on the door, not believing that anyone would answer. But after just a few low taps the door swung open and Mistress Zara spread her arms out to greet her.

  "Come in."

  Spring was not sure what to expect inside, but she guessed it would resemble the sock motif in the front ya
rd. Instead, the home was neat, clean, and simple. Except that there were pictures of a little boy––the same little boy––everywhere Spring looked. Many times, even the same picture. A blue-eyed, tow-headed, angelic child, a few years older than her own twins. Spring guessed it was Zara’s son who had been killed in a car accident.

  "Mistress Zara," Spring began, hesitantly. "Did you write Child Protective Services and tell them I was an unfit parent? My mom thinks you did. And if you did, can you tell me why?" Spring looked around the room, the blue eyes of the child watching her every move. It unnerved her. Mistress Zara said nothing. A familiar-looking black cat hopped on Zara’s lap and purred contentedly as she stroked it. Spring tried one more time.

  "I know I’m not conventional. But I do try and do what’s right for my kids. They have food. They have a roof. They have some stability. I just wanted to show you for myself that I’m normal. Kind of. And I love them."

  Again, there was only silence and the purring of the cat. Spring realized that Zara was not the writer of the letter. The lady could barely communicate. Spring stood up and nodded an apologetic farewell as she made her way to the door.

  "I didn’t write the letter." Zara spoke, scarcely more audible than the purring cat, as Spring’s hand slid over the doorknob. "I know what it’s like to lose a child. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, even your crazy mother. Tell her that."

  Spring met Zara’s eyes and noticed they had changed. The cataracts that had seemed to cloud and block them had moved aside for a moment. Spring could see the violet beauty of her eyes and witnessed for a moment the woman she must have been years ago, before some reckless driver took her son. Spring nodded, an understanding from mother to mother. Mistress Zara, in that moment, could possibly be the sanest person Spring knew.

  "He was beautiful," she said, scanning the pictures on the shelf nearest her. "You were lucky to have him in your life."

  "I still am," said Zara. "He comes by every night and we play Parcheesi."

  "It was her, wasn’t it?" Lanie asked, fanning herself by the pillar that held the front porch up. She had her T-shirt tied up in a knot near her breasts, exposing her abdomen, and sweat trickled down every available inch of her belly.

  "No, Mom. But I think you two could actually be friends if you gave her a chance."

  Lanie snorted, uninterested, and Spring got back into her car.

  "Oh, by the way. I think I know the whereabouts of Bob’s cat. I don’t think she’s ready to come home anytime soon, though."

  Lanie glared at Zara’s purple house as Spring drove away.

  When Lanie had finally calmed down after what Spring called her 'episode,' she stretched out on the sofa, flipping through the channels until she found The Young and The Restless. She marveled at the way the actors stayed the same age, decade after decade. No Egyptian Pharaoh had been so well preserved.

  When she had called Bob to tell him about the whereabouts of his cat, he had been very upset. She could hear the little man wheezing through the receiver and she did her best to comfort him. What he needed, she had told him, was a new pet. Something smart and obedient, that couldn’t leap fences to look for greener pastures. Perhaps a pot-bellied pig.

  He was averse to the idea at first, but when she explained to him her End of Days theory, he, being a practical man, saw her logic. That warmed her heart. She was beginning to grow very, very fond of him.

  Lanie tried to watch her soap but it was annoying. The plotline had not changed at all since she had last watched it, well over a decade ago. She turned down the volume and went for her tarot deck. She had a tickle in her throat. Despite her good fortune with Bob and the pig, there were still problems. Spring was an emotional wreck. Someone was trying to take away the twins. And Sam was one shell shy of the nut farm. Lanie shuffled the deck, said a quick prayer to the Universe, and pulled out a card. A real witch only needed one.

  A young woman sat shackled at the feet of a terrible horned monster. The woman had the key to her chains but refused to use it. The Devil card.

  Lanie scratched her head and asked her spirit guides for advice. But they were unusually silent today.

  Spring drove this time with Sarah in the passenger seat, carefully stitching away at the tattered Casey costume. "Wonder if Betsy Ross looked as intent as you do?" Spring teased.

  "If Betsy could sew condoms, the whole history of our country might have been changed," Sarah answered thoughtfully, sucking on her finger where the needle had pricked her.

  "I think I’m going to run away," said Spring, rolling through the backstreets of Phoenix. The little gas tank on her dashboard blinked red indicating that she would soon be out of fuel. She ignored it.

  "Take me with you," said Sarah, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. "I’m beginning to have serious doubts about my life, lately. I dress up like a prophylactic for a living and I caught my husband with another woman...and neither thing phases me. Something is seriously wrong here."

  Spring gasped, shirking her attention from the road to Sarah. "Albert and another woman?"

  "Yep. In the parking lot of the Burger Barn. I was in the drive-thru and I thought, hey, that looks like Albert. Then I thought, hey, that is Albert...and up popped the head of this other woman. I didn’t even flinch. All I could think was, 'good, at least it saves me the trouble.'"

  Spring shrank back. "It didn’t bother you?"

  "Well, I also thought, ‘that son of a bitch better not have spent my money to buy her a burger,' but other than that, no, not really." Sarah shrugged and continued to sew. The needle and thread was not really working on the rubber, creating more tears in it than it resolved. "Look, Spring, all done." Sarah held up the costume for Spring to examine, and the poor thing was stitched up so badly Spring couldn’t contain her laughter.

  "We will have to rename him Franken-Penis," Sarah said, throwing Casey into the back seat. "Who knows, maybe Kimberly won’t notice?" said Sarah, and both women laughed.

  Spring pulled into the office parking lot. "I need a few minutes. Cover for me?"

  Sarah nodded. "Take your time. I will keep the beast at bay. After the few days I’ve had, Kimberly doesn’t threaten me at all."

  Spring circled the block several times, dodging in and out of midday traffic. It was hot but she didn’t turn the air conditioner on. It seemed like too much effort. "Fuck!" she said, slamming her open palms against the steering wheel. "I’m such an idiot. What did I think would happen when I ran into him? Did I really think he would confess his undying love for me and beg me to marry him?"

  Yes. Yes, as a matter of fact you did think that.

  Spring pulled into a city park and watched as small children played in the sprinklers while their mothers chatted with one another, shading themselves from the sun with newspaper. She didn’t remember one time that she had played in a sprinkler as a child. What had she done as a child? Traveled the country with her crazy mother on the carnival circuit. Rode Ferris wheels. Ate corndogs. Babysat her little sister. Watched her father leave. But she didn’t remember any parks. She had visited 48 states and they had never, ever been to a park.

  Where the fuck were all parks?

  She was tempted to get out, run with the children through the sprinklers, splash the women with their overdone hairstyles, reclaim her childhood, and scream to the Universe that although it had taken her one true love from her, she wasn’t going to give up. She was going to fight.

  You’re not going to lick me!

  She wanted to challenge whoever the hell was in charge. She would be goddamned Scarlett O’Hara. Adversity bubbling out the bazoonga, and she a cool-headed shot that would as soon kill someone who tried to take from her as look at him.

  But she was not Scarlett. Scarlett’s strength came from caring for herself. The cruel, heartbreaking truth was that nice girls were not heroines. Nice girls sacrificed their lives for other people, allowing someone else be the protagonist in their story.

  Sprin
g thrust the car into reverse and headed back to the office to face Kimberly.

  Spring had not seen Kimberly since the Monday following Sarah’s accident at the parade. She had called in several times the previous week and mercifully, on the days she had come in, Kimberly had been away at a training workshop. But Spring could not delay the meeting forever. The day of reckoning had come.

  Kimberly, of course, was livid. Her hair, though not attached directly to her head, had the good manners to stand on end for her. "What have you done to Casey?" Kimberly held up the costume for Sarah and Spring to inspect, and Sarah had to stifle a laugh. "That was an eight hundred dollar puppet you blew!" With that Sarah could hold it in no longer and burst out laughing while Kimberly scathed in response.

  "We tried our best to fix it,” Spring said. "What did you want us to do?"

  Kimberly snarled and Spring watched the woman’s entire scalp crawl. "You get to explain this to Jane," she said, snapping her fingers at the women. "I’m not."

  Sarah, finally calmed enough to respond, crossed her arms and gave Kimberly a flippant look. "No, Kimberly. You explain this to Jane. I’m done with this whole nutty place." She grabbed her purse, as casually as if she had announced that she were going on her lunch break, and left the room, leaving Spring and Kimberly to stare at one another, open-mouthed.

  "Did she just quit on me?" Kimberly asked, and Spring shrugged, her eyes following her friend as she disappeared down the hallway. "Nobody quits on me." Kimberly moved quickly to follow Sarah, leaving Spring in the office alone.

  Kimberly reappeared a few minutes later. "She quit. I can’t believe she quit." Kimberly walked over to her desk and stared at the monitor that was not turned on. "I guess you get to play Casey from now on. Lucky you."