Chapter Twenty-Six

as soon as i left elizabeth’s house the next morning, I decided

to head straight to Opal. Actually, I had decided I was going to do that long before I left Elizabeth’s house. Something Elizabeth said had hit a nerve; actually, everything she said hit a nerve with me. When I was with her I was like a hedgehog, all prickly and sensitive, as though all of my senses were alert.

The funny thing is, I thought all my senses had been alert already, as a professional best friend they should have been, but there was one emotion I hadn’t experienced before and that was love. Sure, I loved all my friends, but not in this way, not in the way that made my heart thud when I looked at Elizabeth, not in a way that made me want to be with her the whole time. And I didn’t want to be with her for her, I realized it was for me. This love thing awakened a group of slumbering senses in my body that I never even knew existed.

I cleared my throat, checked my appearance, and made my way into

Opal’s office. In Ekam Eveileb there were no doors, because nobody here could open them, but there was another reason—doors acted as barriers,

they were thick, unwelcoming things that you could control to shut people in or out and we didn’t agree with that. We chose open-plan offices for a more open and friendly atmosphere. Although that’s what we were always

taught, lately I had found Elizabeth’s fuchsia front door with the smiling letter box to be the friendliest door I had ever seen, so that shot that particular theory to hell. She was making me question all sorts of things.

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Without even looking up from her desk, Opal called out, “Welcome,

Ivan.” She was sitting behind the desk, dressed in purple as usual; her dreadlocks were tied up and scattered in glitter so that with every movement she sparkled. On each of her walls were framed photos of hundreds of children, all smiling happily. They were even covering her shelves, coffee table, side-board, mantelpiece, and windowsill. Everywhere I looked were rows and

rows of photographs of people Opal had worked with and become friends

with in the past. Her desk was the only surface that was clear and on it sat one single photo frame. The frame had sat there for years, facing Opal, so that nobody ever really got a chance to see who or what was in it. We knew that if we asked, she would tell us, but nobody was ever rude enough to ask. What we didn’t need to know, we didn’t need to ask. Some people just don’t quite get the gist of that. You can have plenty of conversations with people, meaningful conversations, without getting too personal. There’s a line, you know, like an invisible field around people that you just knew not to enter or cross and I had never crossed it with Opal or anyone else for that matter.

Elizabeth would have hated the room, I thought as I looked around.

She would have removed everything in an instant, dusted it and polished it until it gleamed with the clinical glow of a hospital. Even at the coffee shop she had arranged the salt and pepper shaker and the bowl of sugar into an even quadrilateral triangle in the center of the table. She always moved things an inch to the left or an inch to the right, backward and forward until they stopped nagging and she could concentrate again. Funny thing was, she sometimes ended up moving things back to exactly the way they were in the first place and then convincing herself she was happy with them. That said a lot about Elizabeth.

But why did I start thinking of Elizabeth just then? I kept on doing that.

In situations that were totally unrelated to her, I would think of her and she would become part of the scenario, I would suddenly wonder what she

would think, how would she feel, what would she do or say if she was with me. That was all part of giving someone a piece of your heart; they ended up taking a whole chunk of your mind and reserving it all for themselves.

Anyway, I realized I had been standing in front of Opal’s desk, not saying anything, since I walked in.

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“How did you know it was me?” I finally spoke.

Opal looked up and smiled one of those smiles that made her look like

she knew it all. “I was expecting you.” Her lips looked like two big cushions and were purple to match her robe. I thought of what it felt like to kiss Elizabeth’s lips.

“But I didn’t make an appointment,” I protested. I knew I was intuitive, but Opal was in a league of her own.

She just smiled again. “What can I do for you?”

“I thought you’d know that without having to ask me,” I teased, sitting down in her spinning chair and thinking about the spinning chair in Elizabeth’s office, then thinking of Elizabeth, what it was like to hold her, hug her, laugh with her, and hear the little breaths she took while she slept last night.

“You know the dress Calendula was wearing at last week’s meeting?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how she got that?”

“Why, do you want one too?” Opal asked with a glint in her eyes.

“Yes,” I replied, fidgeting with my hands. “I mean no,” I said quickly. I took a breath. “What I mean is, I was wondering where I could get a change of clothes for myself.” There, I’d done it.

“The wardrobe department, two floors down,” Opal explained.

“I didn’t know there was a wardrobe department,” I said in surprise.

“It’s always been there,” Opal said, narrowing her eyes. “May I ask

what you need it for?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “It’s just that, Elizabeth, you see, is um, she’s different from all my other friends. She notices these things, you know?”

She nodded slowly.

I felt I should explain a bit more. The silence was making me uncom-

fortable. “You see, Elizabeth said to me today that the reason I wore these clothes was because it was either a uniform, I was unhygienic, or because I lacked imagination.” I sighed thinking about it. “The last thing I am is lacking in imagination.”

Opal smiled.

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“And I know I’m not unhygienic,” I continued. “And then I was think-

ing about the uniform part.” I looked myself up and down. “And maybe

she was right, you know?”

Opal pursed her lips.

“One of the things about Elizabeth is that she too is dressed in uni-

form, she wears black, the same stuffy suits all the time, her makeup is a mask, her hair is always tied back, nothing is free. She works all the time and takes it so seriously.” I looked up at Opal in shock, just realizing something. “That’s exactly like me, Opal.”

Opal was silent.

“All this time I was calling her a gnirob.”

Opal laughed lightly.

“I wanted to teach her to have fun, to change her clothes, stop wearing a mask, change her life so she can find happiness, and how can I do that when I’m the very same as her?”

Opal nodded her head lightly. “I understand, Ivan. You’re learning a

lot from Elizabeth too, I can see that. She is bringing something out in you and you are showing her a whole new way of life.”

“We caught Jinny Joes on Sunday,” I said, softly agreeing with her.

Opal opened a cabinet behind her and smiled. “I know.”

“Oh, good, they arrived,” I said happily, watching the Jinny Joes floating in a jar in the cabinet.

“One of yours arrived too, Ivan,” Opal said seriously.

I felt my face redden. “You know she got six hours of undisturbed

sleep last night.” I changed the subject. “That’s the first time that’s ever happened.”

Opal’s expression didn’t soften. “Did she tell you that, Ivan?”

“No, I saw her . . .” I trailed off. “Look, Opal, I stayed the night, I only held her in my arms till she fell asleep, it’s no big deal. She asked me to.” I tried to sound convincing. “And when you think about it, I do it all the time with other friends. I read them bedtime stories, stay with them till they sleep, and sometimes even sleep on their floor. This is no different.”

“Isn’t it?”

I didn’t answer.

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Opal picked up her fountain pen with a great big purple feather on the

top, looked down, and continued with her calligraphy writing. “How much longer do you think you’ll need to work with her?”

That got me. My heart did a little dance. Opal had never asked me that

before, it was never a matter of time for anyone, it was always a natural pro-gression. Sometimes you only had to spend a day with someone, other times you could be there months. When our friends were ready, they were ready, and we had never before had to put a time limit on it. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh.” She was nervous, fidgety. “I’m just wondering. As a matter of in-

terest . . . you’re the best I have here, Ivan, and I just need you to remember that there are lots more people that need you.”

“I know that,” I said rather forcefully. Opal’s voice had all sorts of

tones I had never heard before, negative ones that sent blue and black colors into the air and I didn’t like it one bit.

“Great,” she said, a bit too perky for her and she knew it. “Can you

drop these by the analysis lab on your way to wardrobe?” She handed me

the jar of Jinny Joes.

“Sure.” I took the jar from her. There were three Jinny Joes inside, one from Luke, one from Elizabeth, and the third was mine. They sat on the

floor of the jar, resting from their journey in the wind. “ ’Bye,” I said rather awkwardly to Opal, backing out of the office. I felt as though we’d just had an argument, even though we hadn’t.

I made my way down the hall to the analysis lab, holding the lid of the jar closed tightly so they wouldn’t escape. Oscar was running around the lab with a look of panic on his face when I walked to the entrance.

“Open the hatch!” Oscar yelled to me while passing the door, arms out

in front of him, white coat flapping like a cartoon character.

I placed the jar away from danger and ran to the hatch. Oscar ran to-

ward me and at the last minute jumped to the side, fooling what was chasing him so that it raced straight into the cage.

“Ha!” he exploded, turning the key and waving it at the cage. His fore-

head was glittered with perspiration.

“What on earth is that?” I asked, moving my head closer to the cage.

“Be careful!” Oscar shouted and I jumped back. “You are incorrect in

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asking what on earth it is, because it’s not,” Oscar said, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief.

“It’s not what?”

“On earth,” he replied. “Never seen a shooting star before, Ivan?”

“Of course I have.” I circled the cage. “But not up close.”

“Of course.” He added an overly sweet tone to his voice. “You just see

them from afar looking so pretty and bright dancing across the sky and you make your wishes on them, but”—his tone turned nasty—“you forget about

Oscar, who has to gather your wishes from the star.”

I looked at Oscar apologetically. “I’m sorry, Oscar, I really did forget. I didn’t think stars were so dangerous.”

“Why?” Oscar snapped. “Did you think a burning asteroid millions of

miles away, which is visible from earth, is going to shoot down to me and kiss me on the cheek? Anyway, it doesn’t matter, what have you brought to me? Oh, great, a Jinny Joe jar, just what I needed after that ball of fire,” he shouted loudly at the cage. “Something with a bit of respect.”

The ball of fire bounced around angrily in response.

I stepped away from the cage. “What kind of wish was it carrying?” I

found it hard to believe that this burning ball of light could be of any help to anyone.

“Funny you ask,” Oscar said, showing it wasn’t funny at all. “This par-

ticular one was carrying the wish to chase me around the lab.”

“Was that Tommy?” I tried not to laugh.

“I can only assume so,” he said angrily. “But I can’t really complain to him because that was twenty years ago, when Tommy didn’t know any better and was just starting out.”

“Twenty years ago?” I asked in surprise.

“It took that long to get here,” Oscar explained, opening the jar and lifting out a Jinny Joe with an odd-looking implement. “It is, after all, millions of light years away. I thought twenty years was doing rather well.”

I left Oscar studying the Jinny Joes and made my way to wardrobe.

Olivia was in there being measured.

“Hello, Ivan,” she said in surprise.

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“Hi, Olivia, what are you doing?” I asked, watching as a woman mea-

sured her tiny waist.

“Being measured for a dress, Ivan, poor Mrs. Cromwell passed away

last night,” she said sadly. “The funeral’s tomorrow. I’ve been to so many funerals, my only black dress is worn out.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said sadly, knowing how fond Olivia was of

Mrs. Cromwell.

“Thank you, Ivan, but we must keep going. A lady who needs my help

arrived at the hospice this morning, and now I must focus on her.”

I nodded, understanding.

“So, what brings you here?”

“My new friend Elizabeth is a woman. She notices my clothes.”

Olivia chuckled.

“You want a T-shirt in another color?” the woman who was measuring

asked. She took a red T-shirt from a drawer.

“Em, no.” I shifted from foot to foot and looked around at the shelves

reaching from floor to ceiling. Each of them was labeled with a name and I saw Calendula’s name underneath a row of pretty dresses. “I was looking for something a lot . . . smarter.”

Olivia raised her eyebrows. “Well then, you’ll have to be measured for a suit, Ivan.”

We agreed to make me a black suit to go with a blue shirt and tie, be-

cause they were my favorite colors.

“Anything else, or will that be all?” Olivia asked me with a twinkle in her eye.

“Actually,” I lowered my voice and looked around to make sure the

woman was out of earshot. Olivia moved her head closer to mine. “I was

wondering if you could teach me the soft-shoe shuffle?”

Date: 2015-04-20; view: 395