When the ride ended, she was lifted again. The kid slid her
body onto a soft pile of clothing among the boxes in the garage. He pulled an
old coat over the top, creating a cave that emanated the sweetness of old
ladies who frequently powdered themselves—a light rose motif that played
ironically well in the deep recesses of Rainbow’s ancestral brain. The pizza
kid lifted her head to help her lap water from a hubcap. He broke bits of
pepperoni and crust into bite-sized pieces and left them where her tongue could
reach them. Much later, she heard him practicing his orations like songs. Like
monks chanting in the distance, they were a comfort.
Soon, I knew everyone would be going back to their lives on
this sunny Saturday. I could hear the chanting was beginning to break up, but I
could hear some leftover “Ollie, Ollie, oxen free,” in the background. From her
nest, Rainbow smiled in her sleep, despite her pink cheeks and sweaty forehead.
I did what I always did to prolong human contact: asked questions. “What do you believe?’ I asked, in a library
voice, even though it seemed the spiritualist could not be disturbed. As
someone who’d always slept restlessly, I watched with a pang of envy.
“About her?” He reminded me of one of Apatow’s goofy
buddies, but in a sweet-enough way that I bit back the smart remark, say, “No,
about the climate crisis!” that my brain, let alone my mouth, hadn’t started
forming. I noticed his eyes had warm hazel glints. I reminded myself that I
couldn’t just climb into someone else’s life, not unless I could rouse the
half-formed characters on my hard drive at home. Tony warmed to being consulted and rubbed his
chin thoughtfully. ” Now, I’m no
scientist, but it seems to me that nobody ever went wrong backing up his
girlfriend. Right? If she thinks she’s magic, then fine…she’s magics to me.”
Damn, that did it. My
vision swam in front of me as my eyes flooded and I was suddenly grateful I
didn’t have to account for my softness in print, though I stopped short of
calling it a weakness, as I imagined an editor might if it saw print. Rather
than fish my handkerchief out of my stuffed bag, I wiped my eyes with a brown
paper napkin that smelled like pizza. I bit my lip, snuffled and shuddered,
reminding myself of my last day at the newsroom the month before. I’d injured
my lip biting it so I wouldn’t howl like a dog at what still felt like the loss
of my life. I hadn’t even unpacked the box from my desk, aside from moving the
coleus cutting in a bottle I’d brought to brighten the place and water it.
Putting the photos and knickknacks back in my place made it all seem too real
and too obvious that I wasn’t a fresh-faced graduate “ going places”, though I
told myself I was saving time on moving to my next office, which, thankfully, I
stopped short of calling my “next challenge” but I thought it once or
twice. At least, the plant was still
doing well.
I even told the same
lie about the heat, just beginning then, and my allergies. There seemed to be a
greater chance that Tony and his friends might have believed me, or maybe they
were just nice. “I’m kind of a wreck,” I admitted. “I lost my job and I don’t know what to do
next. This is the first day in a week
that I haven’t worn something with a drawstring in it.” Maybe young men did not
understand how far of a fall that was.
Maybe Rainbow would. Tony wet a
napkin and dabbed it on her face, but she finally stirred when the sun went
behind a cloud.
“it will be okay,” Tony
said, as I babbled some more about allergies and give him his second unneeded
earful of the afternoon. I only believed
him for a moment, but suddenly it seemed like enough. “If it’s not better by
Monday, I’ll make a doctor’s appointment.” I may not be able to commit to much
more than a vanishing writing style, but I held my allergic schtick like a lost
lover. I was just about to tell myself
to shut up and worried I had spoken, when something clapped me on the back so
hard, I might have died if I still chewed gum like in college.
“Hey,” Andrea said. “I thought that was you…getting everything
you need?” One day I hoped she would have learned her own strength. It would leave a more feminine impression
than the blouse she wore with the unnatural nosegays of blue flowers printed on
a black background and frilly details on the sleeves. She looked past Tony in
his olive-green shirt and pizza nametag like he wasn’t there. I pretended I had telepathy and tried to tell
him not to say anything as she offered him a polite hello devoid of interest. I
didn’t have powers, I felt sure, but something worked because Tony just kept
cleaning up, quietly and surprisingly efficiently. I felt as proud as if I’d
taught him to read, but all the same I waited until he went off to chase down
some litter before I replied.
“I’m not working today,”
I said, lightly, like a woman used to enjoying life. “You know freelancing,
though…it never stops. You have to take your breaks when you can. “I was
completely bored by my own triteness. I might as well have asked her about her
haircut, though she’d worn the same severe and possibly dyed bob since we were
competitive as wide-eyed freshmen. I hated that she’d thought she’d won since
she’d switched from print to broadcast. Probably for some other reasons, too,
though life had not helped matters by making sure I saw her often when I felt
at my worst. I patted my hair and pretended that I beautified something.
“Yeah, I heard about The
Gazette…tough break.” Maybe she was sincere, but I never trusted it so I noted
her spreading pit-stains with a tiny satisfaction. We exchanged industry horror stories/ news of
classmates for a while, before I noticed Rainbow waking up or coming to. She
smiled and I got a sense for what she’d be like in happier times. “She’s not
back yet, is she?” Young as she was, she was too old to sag with a
Christmas-morning kind of disappointment so I kept my answer brief. “Your sister? No.” I wondered what Andrea was
thinking and said “Well,” and brushed my hands on my pants several times. I couldn’t make my frenemy disappear.
“It’s going around,” I
replied to Andrea, after perhaps a beat too long after Rainbow said “My vision
felt so real!” For once I felt a flicker of irritation and had a sense of what
it would be like befriending someone so impervious to time and space, even if I
should be glad to have an excuse not to do the whole “It’s tough out there, but
I’m strong,” song and dance with a former(current?) rival.
Andrea tucked a piece of hair
behind her ear and said “I hate it when that happens!” in a voice so loaded
with snark it felt like she’d elbowed me in the ribs. It seemed hard to believe then, but I’d once
found Andrea so hilarious that we even found stuff to laugh about during a
“Reporting On Public Affairs” class that met at 8 AM on Mondays, Wednesdays and
Fridays, even without being part of the rowdy contingent that might have shown
up altered from the night before. A few times, we sat in the hall to we could
collect ourselves and think about the Corporation Commission or whatever
serious project we sacrificed mornings to. Those times had not been significant
in one way, yet I looked back on them fondly. Now, I wondered how much of that
good-natured humor had been littered with potshots…there was some reason why I
felt small around her at more at ease looking back over our relationship.
Rainbow and Tony both
thanked me for coming and I felt like a kid at the end of an animated movie
when the lights came up, knowing I had to let our shared imaginary world go,
but not wanting to. Rainbow’s hand was clammy as she shook mine. “Good luck
finding your sister,” I said. Andrea snorted. “You don’t believe all that
nonsense, do you?” People were sure asking me that a lot lately and I didn’t
have a good answer anymore. “I could ask you the same question.” I straightened
up, hoping that good posture would help her not notice that my voice sounded
tiny and the response itself had an “I’m rubber, you’re glue” quality at best.
Even as I said it, I knew
it was a lie anyway. Andrea was a cynic
about everything except her charming ne-er-do-well father and all of the
alcoholics she dated to recreate his unpredictable magic. I wondered if she remembered how often she
had confided in me in ladies ‘rooms about them and then decided she wouldn’t.
“Me?” Andrea asked, with a laugh that was more like a brushoff. “Nah, I’m just on the local freak beat. Although it’s very sad about the sister of
course.” She exaggerated a serious face and the hate in love/hate overwhelmed
the old love. It was just a moment, but the clarity of my anger felt welcome.
“I think you’re the one who needs to be careful. Boundaries are so important when you’re…in
distress.”
Consider the source, I
reminded myself, then wondered if that thought ever calmed anyone. “I’m not in distress. I have irons in the
fire.” I wondered when I started sounding like my father and forced myself to
think about what my “irons” really were. I could wear a tight green t-shirt and
bartend at the Irish pub near my house…I could compete for jobs with people
half my age as well as other laid-off reporters, or tutoring? Some irons. I tried to look competent and maybe like I
was going to put some samples together that very night, and then sort out my
closet.
My frenemy had her
own bull to sling. “Y
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