by Misty Simon
He snorted again. “I could be friends with your cousin Phoebe, too, if you’d ever let me meet her.”
“Yeah, not going to happen.”
“Then I want fairies. Plural.”
My hands crooked into claws.
He apparently saw the move, because he backed up. Then promptly fell over the arm of the couch and onto the hardwood floor below.
It appeared he wouldn’t crack when dropped on the floor. Hee-hee.
I peered over the edge of the couch and saw him rocking back and forth on his round butt, his cone hat scraping the floor. “Can’t get up?”
He glared as best he could. “Your assistance is required.”
“Is it now?” I put my chin on my hand and pretended to think, mirroring his earlier posture. “Well, it seems you may need to make some concessions if you want me to help with your…predicament.”
His eyes narrowed. I thought he might have been trying to give me the Stare of Containment, but it wasn’t working this time either. I really needed to come up with a better look.
“What do you want?” he gritted out between clenched teeth.
“I want you to give up the fairies.”
“But I am nearing my sexual prime! I need a woman!”
“Whatever. That’s none of my concern.” And ick, it really wasn’t. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Having fun?” I admit it was mean of me, but really, when was I ever going to get another chance like this? And yeah, I planned on turning him over. I’d probably even get him a fairy or two for the back yard. Eventually. Hey, I already did the clothes thing, and that was supposed to have been enough.
“I’m three hundred and twenty-five years old. I only have a handful of years left before I…ah…atrophy.”
“Is that what they call it nowadays?” Three hundred and twenty-five years old? I’d just have to, um, deal with that later. Overload impending.
But I was done having fun with him. The night was moving on, and I still wanted to find out how to control this ball. I couldn’t count on Phoebe being gone all night, even if she was having dinner at my parents’ house without me. “I will work on getting you a fairy, one fairy, but you have to help me in the meantime. I need to be able to use this ball. Plus, you had already promised to help if I got you clothes. And I got you clothes.”
“Fine, one fairy, and I’ll help you as long as you promise.”
“I do.” I lifted him by the head and stood him back on his feet.
He brushed himself off and did his rendition of the ferocious scowl.
“You know, you may want to work on that look. I don’t think it’s nearly as intimidating as you think it is.”
“I don’t care for your tone. Now, go get me my clothes. We will then discuss the other matter after I change.”
I hustled into the kitchen and grabbed the bag with the doll clothes in it. No, I didn’t think he was going to love them, but at least it was something. The clothes weren’t really that bad, but they certainly weren’t what he’d been seeing on MTV, either.
I brought the bag back into the living room. I handed it over with a flourish, then just as quickly snatched it back. He would not be amused if he saw the pictures of the little eighteen-inch baby dolls frolicking along the top of the packages’ cardboard backing, or coming out of the head of cabbage.
“Hey!” he yelled to my retreating back.
I slammed the door to my room and locked it. I began ripping off backing and undoing all the many pieces of tape and those little wire twist-ties that manufacturers use so you can’t get the freaking things out of the packaging. Surely it shouldn’t be this hard. But I hadn’t opened toys in years and years.
I had no nieces and nephews. My parents’ friends hadn’t even had children when I was younger. But eventually the rhythm of freeing all the clothes from their packaging took over, and in under ten minutes I had three sets of clothes laid out. I hadn’t been able to find any shoes for Arrol, so the booties would just have to do. I hoped he liked his new little jeans and the hoodie I’d picked up for a song in the kids’ aisle. It said Phat-tastic. I thought he’d be suitably impressed.
Please let them all fit over his round body.
I came back out into the living room and almost tripped over Arrol. He’d been incessantly knocking the whole time I’d been in the room, but I’d successfully ignored him. Now I led him back over to the couch and had him sit down.
“Close your eyes,” I said.
“No.”
“Close your eyes, so I can give you a big surprise.” I was reaching here. I wanted him to be happy, but I also was proud of the trouble I’d gone to for him. The least he could do was play along.
“Not gonna happen.”
“Close your eyes, you dratted little man.”
He stared at me for a second, not even blinking. He must have seen something in my face because he slowly lowered his eyelids, still looking at me.
“Thank you. Now, I’m going to put some stuff out, and I hope you like it.” Why did I continue to try to delude myself that Arrol would ever be even marginally happy? It was a sickness.
“What on earth are these?” He fingered some of the cute little pants and one of the striped shirts.
Of course, with his smile, I couldn’t really tell what exactly he was thinking, but I hoped he wasn’t about to tear the clothes up.
“I bought them for you today. I have absolutely no talent in sewing, and I thought you wanted something to go with your tool belt. So I got you these.” And they were cute, if I did say so myself.
He looked them over, picked up one of the cute shirts with a tiny Izod alligator on it, and then put them all back down. He was quiet for a moment. Too quiet for Arrol. Then he looked up with a gleam in his little beady eyes. “They will be adequate.” He sniffed and turned away.
“Adequate?” I yelled the word.
He turned back. “Yes, adequate. Now I would like to move on to the food portion of the evening. I have a powerful thirst for another Corona.” He turned away again and stalked off.
End of discussion, I guess. Little bastard. I’d forgone more art supplies to pick up this little ensemble, and I got no thanks.
“Let’s get back to the ball.”
He headed toward the kitchen, skirting around the rest of the clothes I’d purchased.
I should have let him stay in the little forest ensemble forever.
“I am in need of pizza and Corona. I will speak somewhat of the ball while we eat. Then we will need to go outside to do other portions.”
“Fine.” I softened a little. So what if he didn’t like the clothes? I had tried, and he was going to help me with the ball. I shouldn’t have expected too much to begin with. Then I wouldn’t have been disappointed when he turned out to be a jerk. I forced myself to look away from him and said, “Sounds good to me.”
“I’m so happy you approve.” He stalked off around the end of the couch and grabbed the remote control. The television flipped on, and jazz music blasted from the speakers.
I ignored him as I took the cordless phone into the bathroom and dialed the pizza place. I spoke to Erma for a minute, uncharacteristically cutting her off when she wanted to gossip. Hustling back out to the living room, I shut down the circa 1974 episode of Let’s Make a Deal and grabbed the ball.
“I’m ready; let’s go. The pizza will be here in twenty minutes. Start talking.” I threw myself back onto the couch and pulled him up next to me.
“Let me see the ball.”
A possessiveness gripped me. No one else had touched the ball since I had purchased it and taken it from that metalled-up teenager. I gripped the dark wood sphere to my chest. Arrol held his hand out. I couldn’t seem to make myself hand it over. What was wrong with me?
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, flapping his upturned hand at me. “I need to see the ball to ascertain which variety it is.”
I wanted to hand the ball over. I really did. I just couldn’t seem to release it. �
�Help me,” I said, begging. “I can’t let it go.”
He donned a miniature pair of half glasses from one of the many pockets on his tool belt. “I’m going to move in toward you, but I won’t take the ball. Do you understand?” He peered at me through the slightly wavy glass. “Say something, human, or I won’t be able to help. I think there is more going on here than I originally realized.”
That didn’t make me feel any better. But I nodded my head to let him know I understood. I sat frozen, waiting for him to come to the ball since I couldn’t seem to take the ball to him.
“I’m not trying to get fresh with you,” he said as he scrambled up onto my thighs.
Exasperated, I said, “I’m fully aware of that. You’ve already told me how repulsive I am.”
“Not repulsive,” he said almost absently as he got down on his hands and knees and got face to ball at my chest. “Just not my type. I doubt I appeal to you in the way you want this Toby character downstairs.”
I gasped. How did he know?
“I know because you are almost always unguarded when you think of him, and that broadcasts your thoughts to me. Do you not remember our conversation?” He looked over the top of the ball, then bent down to get a better look at the see-through glass and the cube. “Can you lift it up a little?”
I lifted the ball with leaden arms. “I can’t seem to get it to turn.”
“Force it to your will. Clear your mind and focus on making the ball yours.” He placed a small hand on mine and tried to help.
I felt it turning. I imagined fluffy white sheep, and clouds over a blue sky. I imagined the fluffy sheep joining the clouds in the sky and becoming a blank white sheet in my mind. It was very mystical, you understand.
Just as long as I didn’t imagine the sheep pooping, I should be safe.
Anyway, the blank sheet must have done the trick, because I turned the ball up with little resistance. Arrol gasped when I had the see-through window pointed to the ceiling.
“What?” I said, snapping my eyes open and trying to see what on earth was gasp-worthy to Arrol.
“It’s…ah…it’s nothing. Didn’t I just hear the doorbell?”
“I don’t have a doorbell.” I tried to get a look at the viewing window, but Arrol shook the ball and stood up on my thigh.
“The door, then. I’m sure I heard someone knocking at the door.” He backed away and sat on my knee.
I wished his face would do something other than smile. I couldn’t tell at all what he was feeling. It was disconcerting, to say the least. A knock did sound on the door at that moment, and I stared at Arrol.
He lifted his shoulders in a shrug and hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Better go get that.”
I raised my eyebrows in disbelief, but he shrugged again, and whoever was outside my door gave another knock. “Oh, all right, I’m going. But you have some explaining to do when I get back.” I trudged to the door but turned back with my hand on the knob. “Hide.”
“Like you have to tell me that.”
“Then do it.” I opened the door, not knowing what to expect. The way my life was going lately, it could have been a banshee, or the pizza boy fondling his crotch.
It was the pizza boy (no crotch fondling, thankfully). “Hey, Danner, more pizza, huh?”
“Um, yes, can’t get enough of your pizza.” I grabbed my wallet and prepared to fork over another twenty.
“You having a party?” he asked, looking over my shoulder to my empty apartment. Well, empty except for Arrol, who I hoped was well hidden.
“Nope.” Rummaging around my Metallica wallet, I searched for the twenty I knew I had put in there earlier in the week. Please, let me find the twenty. I would be completely embarrassed if I couldn’t pay for my pizza or a tip.
“Awful lot of pizza for one person.”
My gaze shot up to him and narrowed. I was in no way a small woman, but even I didn’t think I could eat a whole pizza. Then again, he didn’t know I had a gnome in the house who could eat eight times his weight in pizza. Don’t even get me started on the way that creature had completely depleted my poor Oreo supply. “I have a friend coming over soon. In a few minutes, actually.”
“Okay.” He lifted his eyebrow at me, sounding like he didn’t believe me.
I thrust at him the two twenties I’d finally snatched out of my wallet. I needed to get this kid moving. He might think he wasn’t demanding to be told exactly what I was doing, but the ingrained desire made the words rise to my tongue. He needed to go before they spilled out. Don’t get me started on explaining myself all the time. It’s a long discussion. “Hey, thanks. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”
“I hope so,” he said.
Yeah, I’m sure the tip I’d just given him was enough for him to want to come out every day.
I closed the door, detoured to the kitchen for the beer, and went back to Arrol. “So tell me what was wrong with the ball, and tell me now. I don’t want any of your hemming and hawing, or talking around me, or you will get none of this pizza.”
Chapter Fourteen
The little man stopped me in my tracks. He had on the new jeans and the hoodie I liked so much. I thought about mentioning how nice he looked, but I didn’t want him to ruin the moment for me. He may have seemed nonchalant, but I’d bet my favorite Guns-N-Roses concert T-shirt that he was actually really pleased. Score one for Mommy Danner. Hmmm, that didn’t sound right.
Cracking open his Corona, Arrol licked the cap and put it down next to his empty paper plate. “I haven’t eaten in nearly a hundred years. Do you really think you can starve me out?”
I ignored my need to jig with happiness over the clothes and waved the open pizza box under his nose so he could get a good whiff of the yummy cheese, pepperoni, bread, and red sauce.
He wiped at the corner of his mouth with the hem of his sleeve. He couldn’t take his eyes off the pizza. His little round face with its pudgy nose followed the path of the box. I had him even if he didn’t want to admit it.
“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what you saw on the ball?” I took a piece of the pizza, put it on my paper plate, and lifted it to my nose for a deep inhale. Damn, that did smell good.
He turned his head, crossing his arms and tapping his foot.
“You can fight it all you want, but this pizza won’t be hot forever. It’s so good hot.” I took a gooey bite and flavors exploded on my tongue as cheese hung out of the side of my mouth. Fan-freaking-tastic.
Just his eyes rolled back over to me.
I continued chomping and umming and ahhing. It was damn good pizza, but I would have done it even if it was terrible. I was not above food bribery to get the info I wanted.
His head turned my way, slowly. I was afraid we were about to have an Exorcist moment, but it stopped at a normal angle.
I moaned and chomped some more.
I could almost feel the moment he broke. His hands trembled, his little legs vibrated, and in one swift motion he had a big chunk of pizza stuffed in his mouth.
“I’m going to expect information for that piece.” I put the rest of the slice on his plate.
He nodded and settled in with his food. I hadn’t watched him eat before, so this was a completely new experience. I won’t try to describe it, since I’d have to use words like “devour” and “maul” and it might put you off your own food.
But when he was finished with his sixth slice, I was ready with a fork in case he thought he was getting the last one. I wasn’t above stabbing him in the back of the hand if he tried to take it.
“Now, talk,” I said, keeping the fork at the ready. “You ate almost all the pizza. You’ve avoided the subject long enough. I want answers, and I want them now.” I sounded like some kind of bad interrogation in a crime show.
He at least had the grace to take a paper napkin and wipe the carnage from his mouth. He sipped at the bottle of beer, let go a huge belch, and settled back into the cushions, moving back and forth until h
e looked good and comfortable.
Now if he would just get on with it. The night was moving on, and I still had no answers. Phoebe could come strolling in any minute. I’d asked her to call first, but there was no guarantee she would actually do it. Especially when it would be so much more dramatic for her to burst in unannounced. That was more her style than the whole consideration thing. So boring, according to her.
“There are several different kinds of balls,” he began.
I took another bite of pizza, settled back myself, and prepared to listen.
“Some of them are commercially made. Affirmation balls, spiritual, love. They even have this one sarcastic ball that will tell you it doesn’t care when you ask it a question.” He rubbed his little hands together in glee. “It’s very much like yours truly.”
Yeah, I definitely didn’t have a need for a caustic ball when I had my very own little sarcastic gnome.
“By the way, love the new hair.”
My hand automatically went up to the much shorter hairdo.
“You let a weed whacker have a crack at your head?”
“Oh, I’m laughing on the inside.”
“I’m sure your hair is sobbing with you.”
“Can we please just get back to the ball? I have questions I need to ask it, and it’s not responding.” And I wouldn’t be distracted from his original panicked look when the ball had rolled up. “What did the ball say that made you blanch like a floured turtle?”
“The ball is not your average ball.”
“That’s vague enough to mean nothing. Now start spilling.” I didn’t have any more pizza to withhold, but I could certainly take away his beer. And… “If you want me to even consider getting you some kind of companion, I suggest you start talking.”
That got him moving. “All right. You have several kinds of magic balls made for general entertainment. No one really expects them to answer the real questions of life.”
I wasn’t going to look ignorant by disagreeing with him.
“When someone asks the ball a question, you get one of twenty answers. Stuff like ‘my sources say no,’ ‘signs point to yes,’ ‘ask again later.’ ”