The Fraud

by H. Claire Taylor

  “Couldn’t sleep,” The Captain replied, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

  “What kind of an excuse is that for just creeping around Melono’s room?” Notmie felt justified in his interrogation, considering the matter involved one of his female family members.

  “What do you mean? It’s not a bad excuse! It’s probably better than yours! What’s your excuse?”

  Notmie suddenly realized he didn’t have a strong argument. Change of subject.

  “Why couldn’t you sleep?” Notmie asked.

  “I don’t know if you’ve realized this yet, Notmie—probably not—but I’ve had a lot of information thrown at me in the past twenty-four hours. I was just pleasantly on my way to my Caped Avenger conference when you decided it would be a cool thing to hit me with your ride. I could be perfectly content right now hitting on hot babes in spandex outfits if you hadn’t done that! But I should be asking you the same question. What are you doing here?”

  Notmie shrugged. “About the same thing. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Why not?”

  “Room was too shiny.”

  As if that was a half-adequate answer, Captain Alex strode (actually, it was more of a gambol) over to Notmie and put a friendly arm around his shoulder.

  “She’s quite the Sleeping Beauty, ain’t she?” he asked, staring blissfully at Melono’s disgruntled-looking figure tossed on the bed.

  “Are you being sarcastic? Because I’m really not good at picking up on sarcasm, and frankly, Cap’n, I think she looks like a train wreck right about now.”

  The Cap’n allowed himself a long sigh, as if inhaling a hardy cigar, then gave Notmie an uncharacteristically hard pat on the back.

  “Yep,” he mused, “she’s a babe, all right.”

  Notmie experienced a sudden surge of protective instinct. “Cap’n! She’s my cousin!”

  “Psh, so? She’s not my cousin.”

  That was true. Notmie couldn’t counter.

  Luckily, he didn’t have to, because Captain Alex had woken up Sleeping Beauty, who was snorting away some forgotten dream and attempting to open crusted eyes that just didn’t want to budge. Her sleepy gaze landed on the other two, and for nearly ten seconds she just looked at them with her swollen-faced expression before screaming, kicking her legs under her and slamming her back against the headboard as fast as possible to get away from the intruders.

  “What in the Sam Hill are you two doing in my room?” she demanded once she’d realized whom she was facing.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” they replied in unison, shrugging.

  “So you morons just decided to come in here and watch me sleep? Do you realize how strange that seems to me?”

  “We couldn’t… sleep?” Notmie repeated for lack of better justification.

  He was promptly hit on the arm by Captain Alex, who, it should be noted, had nothing better to say.

  “Forget it. What do you two want from me?” Melono stared at the two expectantly. Then it hit them: they didn’t have the slightest idea why they were here.

  Notmie was the first to speak.

  “My room was too shiny, and then there was a hidden door that came out of the wall, so I followed a corridor and found myself here. Honestly, it was just a weird accident.”

  Melono seemed to buy it. She turned to Alex to hear his story.

  “Erm.” He seemed caught off his guard. “Me too. Whoa! Isn’t that weird? Heh…”

  Melono’s harshness faded. “I should have known something like this would happen at Larry’s house. He’s very eccentric. It probably has a bigger significance, if I’m not mistaken. Notmie, show me where you came in.”

  Notmie walked straight to the door in the wall, which was still slightly ajar. He opened it to show the passageway behind it. He did a quick game show gesture to the door that might display the next item up for bids before putting his hands on his hips thoughtfully.

  “So, what significance do you think this has?” he asked.

  Melono paused for a second and, nodding her head in agreement with her own thoughts, she continued.

  “Alex, where did you enter from?”

  Alex, looking unusually like a deer in headlights, quickly fell into a jumble of words including and rhyming with “er.”

  “It was right over there.” He waved his arm vaguely.

  “Where now?” Melono rolled her eyes. “Alex, please be at least slightly specific in your gesturing.”

  Captain Alex wandered over to the wall perpendicular to where Notmie’s door was and pointed.

  Melono stood up out of bed and walked over to the wall to examine it. There didn’t seem to be a door, at least, not one that she could see.

  “It was really here? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Of course I’m sure!” Captain Alex spat.

  “Where’s the blasted door?” Melono softly spoke, more to herself than the others.

  “It must have concealed itself, like that door in the room of mirrors after we enter it,” Captain Alex concluded.

  “But wait,” Notmie said. “Isn’t your room on the other side of the hall? Wouldn’t you have to go across the hall if you came over here?”

  The Captain looked angry, trapped, and betrayed, and said something about, “There were some stairs. I went up and over…” though not even Notmie bought that.

  There was also the suspicious fact of the bedroom door being slightly ajar. But whether it was because she didn’t really want to admit what The Captain’s lie might mean about how he entered her room, or because she was still sleepy, Melono let The Captain’s weak explanation slide, and continued on with her assessment.

  “Well, it must mean something,” she concluded. “Larry never does things in vain, and because he has a prophetic mother, he is quite good at planning out things ahead of time.”

  Captain Alex shrugged. “Symbology has never been my thing. I’ve never been very good at finding meanings other than the immediate one.”

  “It’s okay, Cap’n,” Notmie comforted. “I totally understand. I remember getting a score of three on a symbology test in English class. I got ten points from winking at the teacher.” He grinned.

  “If you got the ten from winking, how’d you only get a three?” The Captain asked.

  “Eh, I don’t know how it all figured out. Math was never really my thing.”

  “If math wasn’t ‘your thing,’ and symbology wasn’t ‘your thing,’ Notmie, what was ‘your thing’?” Captain Alex smiled innocently.

  But before Notmie could respond to Captain Alex’s question, Melono finally spoke up.

  “Fellas, guys, please stop right where you are. Symbology is something different from what you’re talking about. What you mean to say is symbolism.”

  Notmie shrugged. “Po-tay-tow, po-tah-tow.”

  “No, it’s not like that. Symbology is the study of symbols, as in literal things like crosses and pentagons and what they mean to certain cultures. Symbolism, which is what you’re talking about, is referring to metaphors and symbols in the more figurative sense,” she corrected didactically.

  “Who cares?” Captain Alex said, “Plus, symbology just has a better ring to it.” He let the word roll off of his tongue. “Symbology…”

  “I agree with The Cap’n, Melono. Maybe you should lighten up.”

  “Maybe you should smarten up. Anyway, as far as symbolism is concerned, I think I’ve figured out what Larry wanted us to pick up from this.”

  Now Melono was the one smiling.

  “Well?” Captain Alex asked. “Come out with it, Melono. What on Earth could Larry want us to get out of this? Don’t just sit there all… all-knowingly. Share your thoughts!”

  Melono was never easily angered by people’s harsh words. After all, she used to be a police informant, and that line of work comes with plenty of verbal threats (and cool toys). But what was relevant to this situation was her experience with people using harsh words toward her.

  Sleep was still linge
ring over her mind, casting a foggy grayness over everything, yet she had still been able to decide what Larry was hinting to them. Amazing, that even when she had just woken up and was still not at the top of her game she could figure out things faster than the other two put together. She gave a contenting yawn before continuing.

  “It should be obvious, don’t you see? Larry’s implying that the ways you came here represent the ways you’re going to have to find your answers. Notmie, you’re going to have to face danger—hence the dangerous spikes on the walls—and revisit the past, or where you came from, because that option is still open to you, whereas, Alex—”

  “Please, Melono, stop referring to me by my slave name.”

  Could he—was he really—yes, Captain Alex was really serious.

  Melono looked at him incredulously. Even for a man who wore a cape and called himself Captain Alex, this was unbelievable.

  “Alex, you can’t be serious. Where on earth did this come from? What—I mean, you’re not even black! You were never a slave, and as I recall, your mother gave you that name, not a master.”

  “Actually,” Notmie snuck in, “his mother originally gave him the name Brodie, but the kids called him Booty, so he changed it to Alexander—his middle name—then he shortened it to Alex.”

  Melono flashed Notmie a disapproving glare for further aggravating the situation. “Alex… Brodie… Alexander… whoever you are, it doesn’t really matter because neither you, nor your ancestors were ever slaves.”

  Captain Alex didn’t back down, but rather seemed to inflate with indignation.

  “I’ll have you know, I do have ancestors who were slaves! I’m an octoroon!”

  “No way,” Notmie replied, shaking his head and chuckling, “now you’re just being stupid, Cap’n. Firstly, there’s no way an octopus and a raccoon can mate. Secondly, if they did, it wouldn’t turn out looking like you. Well, maybe a little like you, but… nah, nah. It would look totally different.”

  In spite of their debate, Captain Alex and Melono shared a brief disbelieving glance before turning their attention to Notmie.

  “Wow, that’s really stupid, Notmie,” said The Captain, “really, really stupid.”

  Melono decided to take a less harsh approach.

  “Notmie, when Alex said he was an octoroon, he wasn’t implying some sort of hybrid, animal lineage. He was just using a really, really outdated and somewhat offensive term that means he’s an eighth black.” She waited for some signs of understanding to appear on Notmie’s face, before turning back to Captain Alex.

  “Alex, is that true? Are you really an eighth black?”

  “Does Lithuania make the best capes?” asked Captain Alex, wearing a particularly smug look.

  Exasperated, Melono’s shoulders began to sag, heavy with the lack of progress they were making.

  “Alex, what does that have to do with anything we’re talking about right now?”

  “Wait,” Notmie’s brow was furrowed in a look of complete concentration as he stared at Alex’s cape. The others watched in stunned silence as Notmie’s left eye began to develop the slightest twitch.

  “I think… it’s a figure of speech, in which case, the Cap’n is confirming that he is, indeed, an octo… thingy by comparing the obviousness of his answer being a ‘yes’ to the obviousness of the answer to his question about Lithuania making the best capes being a definite ‘yes’ as well.”

  Notmie’s knees buckled and he fell over with a crash, bang, thud.

  The others stared at him, shocked, but not because of the sudden loss of control in his legs, but because he had just said something smart.

  Melono stared blankly at the air in front of her. “How—how did I not understand that when Notmie did?” The humiliation and bewilderment in her voice was unmistakable, like a college mathematician who just had a kindergartener solve a problem he’d dismissed as impossible.

  Captain Alex seemed stunned as well and stared at Notmie crumpled on the floor for a full twenty seconds before he finally spoke his mind.

  “How did he know that the answer to my rhetorical question about Lithuanian finely-handcrafted capes was a yes?”

  From the floor, Notmie asked, “Is either of y’all going to ask if I’m okay or if I need any help, or am I just going to have to regain the use of my joints on my own?”

  “On your own,” mumbled Captain Alex, before bending down to help Notmie to his feet. “Speaking of which,” The Captain said once Notmie had stabilized himself by gripping the bedpost, “is there some sort of random knee-buckling health condition that you wish to inform us of, Notmie?”

  Notmie thought about it. He thought about it hard. So hard, in fact, that his left knee buckled. He steadied himself again. “Not that I knew of before now, but it seems to be—and I know you’re going to make fun of me for saying this—but it seems to be thinking hard that does it.”

  “But look on the bright side, Notmie,” Melono said consolingly, “at least now you know that you have some sort of capacity to think. You just did about ten times more than Alex or I ever thought you could do!”

  Okay, so she wasn’t that great at consoling.

  “That’s true, Notmie!” The Captain added. “You just proved you can think properly! And only at the small cost of having your knees buckle!”

  Notmie nodded, hesitantly agreeing. “Well, really, at the cost of my knees buckling and my head being bashed on the nightstand and now having this throbbing pain in the side of my head, which I can only assume”—Notmie touched his hand to his head, then brought it down to eye level—“is the place that all this blood is coming from.”

  His eyes crossed and he collapsed to the floor.

  Melono was the first to react.

  “Holy smokes! Alex! Go get Larry! I don’t know where he is, but find him and tell him Notmie’s bashed open his head! Hurry!”

  But Captain Alex remained where he was, staring at the blood that was slowly staining everything it touched.

  “Alex! Alex! What are you waiting for? Go!”

  Captain Alex fainted.

  * * *

  When Notmie awoke, he was pleasantly surprised to find that his head didn’t hurt at all, that is, once he realized who he was, where he was, and the last thing he remembered happening. He was staring at the ceiling of a room that he had never been in before. As unsettling as that may sound, it wasn’t a particularly fancy or special room. It was simply wooden floors, some paintings on the walls, and a window looking out on something Notmie couldn’t see from his horizontal angle in bed.

  Notmie was relieved to realize that there was finally some electric lighting in the place. No need to create ambiance in this room; it was straightforward and upfront. Judging by the light coming in through the window, it was either dusk or dawn.

  He lifted his hand to his head and felt a thick bandage covering his crown and forehead. He tried to sit up, got dizzy, and then laid back down again. He tried to sit up again, got dizzy, and then laid back down once more. But on the third time, he sat up and got dizzy, but instead of lying back down again, he flopped facefirst onto the floor with a thud and lay there, motionless—not unconscious, mind you, just motionless—less than a foot from the door, until he heard footsteps approaching from outside the room.

  As the doorknob turned, he didn’t realize what was coming until a second before it happened, which also happened to be a second too late. The door swung open, or rather, it would have swung open were it not for Notmie’s head sitting motionless on the floor. The door struck him and bounced back into Melono’s face as she attempted to sprint into the room. Two separate but equal howls were heard, one from pain and one from shock.

  “Notmie! Oh, man! I didn’t know you were on the floor. Why are you on the floor? Never mind. I heard a thud from downstairs and I came as fast as I could. I figured you might finally be awake, but the others didn’t think so.”

  Notmie moaned, rolled onto his back and looked up at the two Melonos that his
crossed eyes could see. Both were standing over him and looking down with confusion and pity.

  “What others? How long have I been sleeping?” He could barely get the words out through the pain behind his right eye.

  “Larry, his mother, and Quiche’awn. We’ve been waiting forever for you to finally wake up and—”

  “Wait. Wait. Who’s that third person? Is it a friend of Larry’s? Where’s Captain Alex?” Notmie’s head pounded with each word.

  “Oh, right, I’ve gotten so used to it by now, I nearly forgot. Captain Alex changed his name to Quiche’awn.”

  Notmie wasn’t sure what was going on here, but something was fishy. Maybe it was another weird dream he was having. He hoped it was another weird dream he was having.

  “Dude, Melono, please tell me you’re kidding. Why on earth would Captain Alex change his name to Quiche’awn?”

  “Well, he had apparently been dealing with some guilt for having denied his African American heritage for so long, so Larry suggested he change his name to something that would undeniably embrace the modern culture of his people. We brainstormed for a while and came up with some different things—I personally liked Cedric, but Quiche’awn said it didn’t feel right—until, while we were reading off names of various pro-football players, we stumbled upon one that Quiche’awn really took to. You ever follow the Cowboys, Notmie?”

  “No. I hate cowboys.”

  “No, not just any old cowboy. I mean, like, the Cowboys. America’s team? The Dallas Cowboys? Still doesn’t ring a bell? Okay, well anyway, we were looking at the roster, reading off names, and when Larry read the name Keyshawn, Alex, as he used to be called, immediately took to it. Of course he insisted on changing the spelling, so rather than K-E-Y-S-H-A-W-N, it was spelled Q-U-I-C-H-E, like the French food, then apostrophe A-W-N. He thought, given our recent understanding of the situation, it would be more appropriate. So, now he goes by Quiche’awn, and I think it would be best if you referred to him that way rather than ‘Cap’n’ like you used to.”

  Notmie rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, hoping the pain in his head might subside.

  He remained on the floor, staring up at Melono—there was only one of her now—and asked, “Okay, so how on earth did Capt—Quiche’awn convince you to suddenly start calling him something different. Why are you so open to this? It doesn’t seem at all like you—or the you I’ve only known for a couple of days—to just start following along in his weirdness.”