Cicada Song

by Bradford Combs

  Chapter 7

  A knock at the door stirred Ellis from his sleep. He eyed the clock and grunted, too groggy to care that he had slept later than originally intended. Then he jumped up as another knock sounded, suddenly aware of his mistake, and pulled on his pants.

  “About time,” Sara said with a grin. Her hair was curled more than usual and the makeup she wore looked as if she were wearing none at all, yet every attractive feature of her face was brought out by it. In contrast to all that, her clothing was nothing more than a white tee-shirt and a loose-fitting pair of pajama bottoms.

  Ellis questioned whether he had woken up at all; and, knowing how dreams like this can end, he prayed that he hadn’t. Then she pulled something from a duffle bag and shoved it into his chest.

  “Get showered and put this on. And no arguments, remember? You promised to do everything I asked.”

  Sara followed him inside and shut the door behind her. He unfolded the clothing and saw a rather embarrassing outfit that looked several centuries old.

  “Hurry up, Mr. Body Odor,” she said, pointing toward the bathroom. “And don’t plan on thanking me until you’ve brushed your teeth. I’d rather not gag.”

  Ellis deflated, realizing that what could have been an amazing dream wasn’t, so he grabbed a towel and entered the bathroom. The shower brought him to his senses, which didn’t really help since all he could think about was Sara; there’s just something about a girl in pajamas. Finished with his shower, he studied the outfit she had brought him with sheer disbelief.

  “Are you serious with this?”

  Chocolate brown trousers with a white cotton shirt seemed decent enough, but the suspenders and long brown boots were a bit strange. And the coat that wrapped around the belly, held by a single button, was just awful. He picked up another piece of fabric and, after studying it, pegged it as a tie. He finally sighed and began putting it all together. Once dressed, he studied himself in the mirror and shook his head. He appeared to have just stepped out of the 1800s.

  With a deep sigh he opened the bathroom door, still fiddling with the tie, but then froze upon spying Sara. She stood quietly with her hands crossed before her. The loose-fitting pajama bottoms and white tee shirt were gone, replaced with a blue gown, the style of which matched his own outfit. Sequins were sewn into the sleeves, cuffs, and a frilly bit of fabric about the neck and chest, and it ballooned slightly from the waist. On her head was an old looking hat with a bit of netting hanging from the brim. Even through this netting, Ellis found himself captivated by what barely hid behind it.

  “You’re stunning,” was all he could get out.

  “I hope you don’t mind my getting dressed here. I was helping my mother with decorations and just ran out of time, and putting your suit together took longer than I thought it would.”

  The only thing he minded was that she had been naked in his motel room and he missed it. Other than that, he found himself perfectly content with just staring at her.

  “No, I don’t mind,” is what he said.

  “Good,” she said firmly. “Mom’s delayed your meeting until later this evening, so you’re all mine. We have a lot to see in 1841 Anderson—the name of today’s theme—and if you’re to be my companion, then I suggest you put this on so we can begin.”

  She spun a black top hat in her hands before holding it out for him to take. He smiled as he reached for it, and their fingers touched along the brim. Not wanting to come across as forward, he accepted the hat without lingering. It wasn’t easy.

  Pushing back his hair, Ellis placed the hat on his head and looked at Sara for approval. She merely stared. A moment passed before she suddenly turned away, her smile fading, but she recovered quickly.

  “Shall we?” she asked, facing him once more.

  Ellis, in gentlemanly fashion, strode toward the door and opened it, allowing her to pass through first. Once outside, he offered an elbow, which she took, but then he hesitated.

  “Okay,” he said through clenched teeth, “now what?”

  “Smooth, Romeo.”

  He attempted to lead her toward his car, but she didn’t budge. When he turned to see what was wrong, she simply smiled and nodded along the building. There, he spied the head of a horse peeking at them from around the corner.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “1841, remember.”

  Not sure what to think, Ellis silently walked toward the horse’s head. As it turned out, that head led to a body, which led to a harness, which led to a carriage. Sitting in the front seat of that carriage was a man whom Ellis had not yet met.

  “That’s not what you were wearing when you went in, Miss Campbell. What will I tell your mother?”

  “Stop it, Riley. He was in the shower.”

  Ellis clumsily helped Sara into the carriage and silently noted the inquisitive glare given by Riley, the carriage driver. The horse carried them off in a slow trot, and Ellis couldn’t help but feel intoxicated by being in such close quarters with Sara. He liked that their hips and thighs touched and noted that he could easily take her hand if she’d let him. If only the stars were out and they were in Paris; if only there were fewer cicadas in the air, interrupting the moment with their incessant chirping.

  Ellis gave a delighted laugh as they entered Anderson’s main drag. The entire town had been transformed overnight. Cutouts of wagons stood alongside the road, giving the illusion of proper 1841 transportation. Everywhere he looked, there were women in funny dresses and men donning suspenders and top hats. A sign propped in front of an old barber salon read President Harrison, Dead after One Month in Office, and another in the library window enticing the public to pick up the newest copy of The Gentleman’s Magazine containing Edgar Alan Poe’s newest work, Murders in the Rue Morgue. Ellis especially enjoyed the sign hanging in the window of a small grocery store. Shown were groceries with their ridiculously low 1841 prices listed beside them. At the bottom of the sign, however, was an additional note reading: Too Bad It Ain’t-Teen Forty-One… Bring Your Wallets.

  Riley pulled to the side of the road and let Ellis and Sara out. There was annoyance in Sara’s expression, and Ellis noted her reluctance to look at the driver, even as he winked before pulling away.

  “And who might that be?”

  “A pain in my butt since I was little. Riley’s the local taxi driver who’s had a crush on my mother since we first moved here. He seems to think a sure way into her heart is by keeping tabs on me. It was annoying when I was a teenager and even more so now.” Sara shook off her frustration and forced a smile. “Anyway, Percy’s is across the street. I thought maybe you’d want breakfast.”

  “What you say goes.”

  “I say you want eggs with sausage and bacon, fried potatoes on the side.”

  “Yes, ma’am. And what would I like to drink with that?”

  “You seem to be in the mood for orange juice.”

  “Well, what do you know?”

  He offered an elbow once more, and they strolled across the street and entered the pub where they had first met. Stan sat at an older piano dressed as a poor man from the 1800s, wearing plaid pants with a stained white shirt, sleeves rolled up past his elbows. A floppy top hat rested crooked on his head, and a pair of suspenders held it all together. He was currently sticking one thumb behind a suspender, showboating as he played a fairly quick song with only one hand.

  A small crowd had gathered around him, cheering this last trick; but, eventually, the song wound down before ending on a finalized note.

  “Cicada!” the crowd shouted while throwing their arms in the air.

  They clapped as Stan playfully waved his upturned hat toward them, looking for tips as a poor beggar should. Then Ellis and Sara caught his eye. Though he gave a concerned pause, he plopped his hat on his head and tilted it toward them with a smile.

  “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” he said politely, “but the precious fingers need a rest.”

  There was a collective sig
h of disappointment as the piano player left the bench.

  “Hey, Stan,” Sara said while offering a hug.

  “Cinderella called…” he started but Sara punched his arm, challenging him to finish his taunt.

  They found an empty table and sat.

  “Looking dapper,” Stan said while glancing over Ellis’ wardrobe.

  Ellis just shrugged and said, “I like the boots.”

  “Makes me want to fish.”

  “We can use your suspenders.”

  Stan laughed gently and Ellis couldn’t help but smile himself.

  “Playing early,” Sara stated matter-of-factly.

  “My people, they never sleep. So what are you guys up to today?”

  Sara shrugged. “We’ll figure it out as we go. When do you get off?”

  Stan laughed and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t. I’m booked all day as one of the attractions. “Percy’s had me learning all this older music for the past month and a half, so here I am. He should let me off the hook every now and then, though.”

  “Care to join us for lunch later?”

  “I break sometime around noon. I’ll find you if you’re in the area.”

  Sara nodded and offered a high-five, which Stan accepted with a smirk. Up until last night, Ellis had considered Stan a ridiculous bully, but now he could see that it was all a facade meant to scare him away. The connection between Sara and Stan was genuine, and he wondered how long they’d been friends.

  “Be good,” Stan said to Ellis with a wink. The double meaning was obvious.

  Stan was greeted at the piano with much applause and a few playful jeers. Ellis could see how much he enjoyed playing to crowds; his smile and countenance were real, and the people loved listening to him. Ellis even noted the two children dancing just behind the piano. Stan ignored them for the most part but would occasionally turn around and offer them silly expressions, much to their enjoyment.

  Ellis sighed beneath his breath. He was glad the two of them had a chance to talk last night and wished this newfound tolerance between them hadn’t begun with his lying about not wanting to pursue Sara. Stan seemed like a decent guy; too bad the truce wasn’t likely to last.