Belt Buckles & Pajamas Read online

  Stuart looks at his savior, shaking with the enormity of what she is giving them – giving us. “My lady,” he whispers, “you would de-fang the dragon itself.”

  “De-fang, hell,” Violet says, “you’re going to cut off his balls.”

  Violet’s words move us from the reverent awe we felt to sheer joy at the action Andie was proposing. I squeeze Shy Boy’s hand, and even if he doesn’t quite understand what is going on he can sense my happiness and he grins back at me. Pet Shop high fives Kareem, and Andie is smiling at our response to her idea. I never want to leave this room. We can sit here and talk about how wonderful Andie is and what she will lead us to and wave at the library people through the window and feel this utter and complete happiness forever.

  Andie picks up one of the books from the table. “This is how we will start. We have several books and newspapers from the library archives here. I am hoping that we can read through these and find out the names of some of the people who were being cared for. Once we find that out, we are going to make a plaque with all of the names that we can find. That way, anyone who visits the cemetery will know the names of the people who lived back then, and who might be buried there.”

  “How do we know what name belongs to what number?” I ask. “How can we tell we have it right?”

  “Well, Daphne, we won’t be a hundred percent sure. Those records aren’t around anymore. But it isn’t important if we have the exact name and number matching, the idea is that we are going to honor every person we can find who lived here. Their names, their spirits, are what matters. Not whether they are buried under this particular rock or a different one.”

  I accept the truth in her words. I think of Glen and Theodore and the unification of the cosmos and decide a hunk of decayed flesh and old bones really isn’t the point of it all. I think if she is willing to care about a bunch of numbered crazies from fifty years ago then maybe she will remember my name too. Maybe some warm summer evening when a breeze brings a hint of a coming thunderstorm she will reflect on how Daphne was real. I smile, thinking of Andie thinking of me.

  I pick up a newspaper and start looking.

  Twenty-Six: The Hitchhiker

  Other than an incident with Violet and the photocopy machine, we get out of the library without creating too much chaos. And she was right, why would they have a copy machine if you weren’t supposed to see what your butt looked like? Andie was upset with her, but Kareem laughed. I saw Shy Boy put the photocopy in his pocket. I guess I can’t blame him. She does have a cute butt.

  So Kareem has us grab onto the rope and he and Andie lead us back to the van. We did pretty good, we found stories about at least a dozen patients, we have some names to go with those numbers now. Andie was right, it doesn’t matter if they were the exact names of the people in the graves, it matters that we care about who those numbers represent, who they might have been. Because they might have been us.

  So there we are, heading back on the country roads, down to the forty-second bottle of beer on the wall, when we see him. The Marlboro Man, hanging out his thumb like it will catch us flying by and we will twirl round and round until we spin to a stop at his boots. His weathered face and mirrored sunglasses just daring us to pass him by, daring us to avoid the flames of passion and the smell of horses and musk and sweat.

  Violet says, “Stop! For the love of God stop, you have to stop,” and Daphne looks in the rear view mirror at her and says “Are you crazy? I’m not picking up a hitchhiker!” so automatically that she didn’t even think about calling Violet crazy. They try not to use that word around us.

  The cow says, “What if God was one of us?” and Stuart adds, “Yeah, what about that respecting and helping everyone?” and Kareem laughs. We are a quarter mile past him but I still feel his gaze burning through the back of my head. Violet puts her arms across her chest and pouts. The cow moos loudly. Andie slows down and pulls over.

  She puts the van in park and turns around to talk to us. “There is a difference between helping out people you know and picking up a complete stranger, someone you know nothing about. There is a safety concern here that goes beyond being a Good Samaritan.”

  I look through the rear window of the van. The Marlboro Man has his hands on his hips, waiting to see if we are coming back for him.

  “Like the strangers we just spent three hours trying to help?” Stuart asks.

  “That’s different,” Andie says.

  “How?” Violet asks, “Because they’re just numbers?”

  “That’s not it at all. Hitchhikers can be dangerous. End of discussion.”

  I can see how torn she is between doing the right thing, or what she thinks is the right thing, and keeping us safe. She is beyond cute, with her nose scrunched up and her brow furrowed.

  She rests her hand on the shift lever, and we wait to see if she is putting it in reverse to pick him up or forward to leave him and his boots and his mustache and biceps and faded jeans behind. Violet crosses her fingers, murmuring, “Please, please, please, he looks so yummy.”

  Twenty-Seven: Reverse

  Maybe it was because she knew what it was like to be left behind. Maybe it was because she wanted to help everyone and not just us. I think it was because she knew we needed to see her help him, just as she was showing us how to help those forgotten numbers buried in the cemetery.

  I see the shift lever stop on R. I look back through the rear window and the Marlboro Man gets closer not further. The dust rolls up when Andie stops the van a couple feet short of his boots and faded jeans and smile that has opened up many a bedroom door I am sure.

  Kareem opens the sliding door and the Marlboro Man gets in.

  “Where you heading, cowboy?” Violet asks, undressing him with her stare that rests mostly on his belt buckle.

  “Anywhere with you in it, if that’s not too coy,” he replies.

  “That’s not real specific,” Andie notes. “Any particular destination?” she asks as she pulls back on to the road. I can tell she is trying not to look at him. Trying not to be instantly charmed by his good looks, his charisma that pours out and hangs heavy in the still air of the van.

  He pushes his hat up a little on his head, a few brown curls escaping from underneath it. “Well, ma’am, purt much anyplace we arrive together would keep me from any consternation.”

  Violet cuddles up to him. “Aw, leave him alone Andie, can’t you see he’s just happy to be riding instead of walking?” She has a hand half inside his shirt; I see her fingers working on the buttons, trying to expose more of his hairy chest.

  “Especially with the ladies with whom I’m talking,” the Marlboro Man adds. He puts his arm around Violet and pulls her close and smiles so wide you could jump in.

  “What about the guys?” I ask.

  And he turns to me and I see my cowgirl eyes mooning at him in the reflection of his sunglasses and he gives a little laugh and says, “I don’t think we need them for our little party, pretty brown eyes.”

  Kareem looks at Pet Shop who looks at Shy Boy who just looks at me. The Marlboro Man pulls out a gun and waves it around and I scream and Violet looks like she is happy to see it.

  “Great balls of fire!” moos the cow and the Marlboro Man shoots it. Andie slams on the brakes, almost rolling the van as it slides across the road and into the ditch on the other side. “Jesus Christ!” she shouts. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I can’t ride in the car with boys and cows, that just won’t do,” he answers. He opens the sliding door and gestures for Kareem and Pet Shop and Shy Boy and Stuart to get out. “And take this cow that will no longer moo,” he adds, gesturing at where I think the invisible cow lies dead.

  Pet Shop is crying and Shy Boy is sitting uselessly so Stuart and Kareem drag the cow out to the side of the road. Kareem takes Pet Shop and Shy Boy by the hands and leads them out of the van. The Marlboro Man slides the door shut and he sits with Violet on his lap and she is smiling like she is riding a bucking br
onco as Andie pulls away. I look through the rear window at the four guys standing next to the dead invisible cow and then in the rear view mirror at Andie’s eyes and she is taking this remarkably well. Considering that her charges have just been kidnapped by the Marlboro Man and he appears to be a black-hatted cowboy and not a white-hatted one. Not to mention that dead cow. How the hell is she going to explain the cow getting shot on her watch?

  I am personally not that thrilled with the situation. Sure Violet will keep him entertained for a while, and maybe even Andie will go for his rugged good looks and muscular shoulders. But I don’t want any part of it. I don’t want a strong man to pick me up and protect me and be my father figure. I don’t care if he does smell like horses. I realize that I have to stop the Marlboro Man myself.

  Violet says, “Yippee kigh yay!” and Marlboro says, “Let’s roll in the hay!” and I realize I have found his kryptonite.

  I look at him. His eyes sear a brand in me but I refuse to be part of his posse. I stare right back and say, “Hey, Marlboro Man, do you like oranges?”

  The cowboy takes off his mirrored sunglasses and looks at me real mean like and stares but he sees I am not going to say anything more and he loses because there is nothing that rhymes with orange. He puts the glasses back on and gives a little smile like “woman, you just gave away the ranch.”

  We hit a bump and I am drawn out of my wandering thoughts and I tell Stuart that maybe it was a good idea that Andie kept moving that shift lever past R after all. I would have missed the cow. Andie gives me a quizzical look and I say never mind, I was really just thinking that’s all, and she smiles and that’s better than some old cowboy anyway.

  Twenty-Eight: Return Of The Screech Owl

  We decide to walk to the cemetery before supper because we feel really good about helping them and Stuart thinks they should be told that they wouldn’t just be names for very much longer. I feel so happy about not picking up the Marlboro Man and having the cow shot that I hold Shy Boy’s hand the whole time we are walking out there. I don’t even care that I hear the crinkle in his pocket from the picture of Violet’s butt.

  Stuart goes to each and every tombstone. “And you won’t be number three seven dash four three three,” he says as he gets to the last one. Violet gives it her now traditional kiss and we all stand in a circle and think about who they were, who they might have been.

  “Mary Franklin. Shelley Thurber. Norman Jameson. Peter. Zachariah. Meredith Booker.” I recite all of the names I remembered from the library research. “We will remember you. You will be part of us forever.”

  “Glen. Theodore,” Violet adds and I cry a little but they are joyful I love you for thinking of them drops, not I never want to think about them tears. Shy Boy sees how wonderful it all is and pulls my hand toward the front of his pants and I tell him it’s not that kind of happy, and he frowns a little but it’s okay, I understand he doesn’t know the difference. Violet whispers she will help me with him, she will teach me how to make us both happy at the same time and I turn red, but I whisper back thanks Violet I love you.

  Pet Shop starts flapping his arms and hooting and I look up just in time to duck as the screech owl has come back and almost flew right into me. It circles a couple times as Pet Shop hoots at it until it finally decides we must be okay and it lands on a branch of the large tree where he and Pet Shop first became friends.

  Pet Shop walks slowly up to the base of the tree and the owl shuffles a little on the limb but it stays and Pet Shop looks up and just stares at the owl for the longest time. I think I am going to pass out because if I breathe maybe it will fly away and I don’t want it to leave Pet Shop again. The owl lets out a couple loud screeches and turns it head around a few times and flaps it wings. Pet Shop hoots back and twirls around and jumps up and down before letting out this really super loud screech right back at the owl. Well that was a bit much for it I guess because it takes off with that ominous silent glide making me very glad I’m not a field mouse or a rabbit.

  Pet Shop turns to face us and all the color has gone from his face — it is whiter than the pearl white skin at the base of Andie’s throat.

  “What’s wrong, Pet Shop?” I ask.

  “It’s the hedgehog. He has been imprisoned.”

  Stuart jumps up and down frantically. “Oh God no! Not the hedgehog! We are doomed, doomed I say!”

  “Where is he?” I ask Pet Shop.

  “The owl said Doctor Martin has captured him. He never did like the hedgehog.”

  “Doctor Martin doesn’t like anyone,” Violet says. I have to agree with her on that one. Mean old evil emperor hedgehog capturing bastard. “Well, it’s obvious what we have to do.”

  “You mean –”

  “Exactly. I’ll give him a blow job so you guys can free the hedgehog.”

  “Violet, you can’t – he’ll take you away, you know he will.”

  Pet Shop looks at Violet, considering the situation. “She’s right. Anyway, the hedgehog would be most upset if he thought the doctor had benefited in such a way. No, we have to rescue him without granting Doctor Martin any sexual favors.”

  Violet pouted, but in the end she admitted the doctor really didn’t deserve her services. “Well, if we do have to distract anyone, I call dibs,” she states, and we agree that dibs are hers if they come up. No pun intended.

  “Plans,” Stuart states, “we must make rescue plans. I propose we return to the dorm and strategize. One can never strategize too much, you know. That’s why the government controls the food chain, because the farmers fail to meet and strategize.”

  We look at Pet Shop, it is his hedgehog after all, and with his assent we head back. To strategize.

  Twenty-Nine: Strategizing Means Pretty Pictures

  Stuart won’t let anyone else draw on the paper. Kareem got us crayons and lots of paper but Stuart says it won’t work unless he makes all of the pictures because we don’t know how to make aerial surveillance maps, whatever those are. So we sit and watch him draw lines and put X’s and arrows on the paper. Shy Boy grabs one of the crayons from Stuart. I give Shy Boy a blank sheet so Stuart doesn’t get upset, thinking Shy Boy is going to use Stuart’s paper.

  “Fine,” Stuart says, “but we will only use your plan if mine doesn’t work. Mine is Plan A, yours is Plan B.”

  “Attack of the fifty foot woman,” moos the cow.

  Stuart ponders this option, looks regretful and discounts it. “No, I’m sorry, cow, we don’t have one of those. We will have to make do without.”

  He leans over his aerial surveillance map (I assume that is what he has drawn). “Okay, pay attention now. I can only go over this once. Any more than that and the government might track the thought patterns down and decode them. Repetition is not our friend.”

  Stuart points at a big X on the map. “That is Doctor Martin’s office. That is where I suspect the hedgehog is being interrogated.”

  Violet points to some of the squares on the map. “What are those?”

  “His desk and file cabinets. He might have hidden the hedgehog in a drawer. Or maybe in the cabinet under M. Marsupial.”

  “Or H?” Pet Shop asks. I guess Pet Shop can spell. I didn’t know that, he never guesses at Wheel of Fortune.

  “That clever bastard. Yes, we had best look under both M and H.”

  “You don’t show the couch. He could be under the couch.”

  “How do you know there’s a couch in there?” Stuart asks.

  Violet replies, “Stuart honey, I know where every couch is in this place.”

  Stuart accepts her word on that and adds a rectangle for the couch. He colors it in with a blue crayon. He tells Violet it doesn’t matter when she informs him that the actual couch is red.

  “So how are we getting in?” I ask him. “Doesn’t he keep it locked?”

  Stuart looks at his aerial surveillance map. He gets real close, nose to paper, looking for the answer. Face still down near the surface of the table, he turn
s his head to glance sideways at Shy Boy. “Plan B?”

  Shy Boy lifts up his paper. There are a couple stick figures holding hands. Violet says, “Aw, isn’t that the cutest thing you ever saw.” I look closer and see it isn’t the stick boy’s hand that the stick girl is holding and my face turns red. Shy Boy just grins.

  Stuart bangs his head on the table. “No Plan B, we are doomed, doomed I say.” Pet Shop starts whimpering.

  I take the picture from Shy Boy and give him another piece of paper. “Draw something nice, Shy Boy,” I tell him. I’ll be embarrassed later, poor Pet Shop is worried about his hedgehog. I put my hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Pet Shop. Listen, how about we ask Andie? She can go into Doctor Martin’s office without getting into trouble. I’m sure if we explain it to her she would be glad to help us.”

  He stops sniffling. “You think so?”

  Stuart nods his head. “It’s just crazy enough that it might work. Using the angel to inspect the demon’s domain.”

  Violet sighs. “So no bribing anyone, huh? Damn.”

  Thirty: Slumber Party

  It feels good to have someone like Andie we can go to when we are in trouble. I change into my pajamas and crawl into bed and think about how it would have been growing up with Andie. If she was my friend. I snuggle into the blanket and hold onto the pillow and pretend that she is nestled against me and I think warm cozy thoughts not about her naked but about her in pajamas and us giggling about school boys and braiding each other’s hair and practicing kissing but not sexual just so we knew how to if a boy ever wanted to kiss us. I fall asleep thinking of her nestled against me.