A Hoboken Hipster in Sherwood Forest

by Mari Mancusi

  "Well, that's kind of a funny—"

  “ 'Cause we totally need to get back, ASAP. Guenevere's in an awful scandal here and I just think we've worn out our welcome.”

  "Actually Nimue sent me—"

  "Not to mention I've been gone so long. I'm worried about my dog. Gucci's been locked up in the house for almost a year now. What if the SPCA shows up and takes her away? I couldn't bear life without Gucci."

  I grip the phone tightly. "Kat," I say, forcing my voice to be calm. "If you will just shut up for one second, I'll tell you everything."

  The other end of the phone thankfully goes quiet.

  "I did go talk to Nimue. She said she needed a special ingredient to bring you back in time. Blood from the Holy Grail, to be precise."

  "The what? Isn't that a Monty Python movie or something? No, wait! Indiana Jones. Now I remember."

  I can't believe anyone can be this stupid. "No, dumbass. I mean, yes, those movies featured it, but, well, the Holy Grail was the chalice that Jesus drank from during the Last Supper."

  "Oh, wait. This is ringing a bell now. Isn't the chalice really the body of Mary Magdalene after she hooked up with Jesus and was having his kid?"

  "Well, sure, if you believe that Da Vinci Code book, but—"

  "Yeah, that's the one. But I thought it was a movie..."

  "Kat!"

  "Sorry. Go on."

  "Anyway, supposedly the Holy Grail was brought back after the Crusades by King Richard—"

  "King Richard hooked up with Mary Magdalene, too? What a slut! And wouldn't she have been pretty old by then?"

  "It's a cup, Kat," I say through gritted teeth. "Dan Brown was wrong."

  "Who's Dan Brown? I thought that was a Tom Hanks movie."

  "Oh my god, Kat. If you don't be quiet I'll leave you there in the future forever."

  "Uh, please don't do that. I mean, sure there are some cool things about the future. They have these coffeemakers that instantly make you the perfect cappuccino. No waiting in line at Starbucks anymore. But the fashions—ugh! Can you believe pointy-toed shoes are back in style? And that they love paisley pants?"

  “I'm hanging up now."

  "Wait! Please don't. I'm sorry. I don't mean to babble. It's just so nice to talk to someone from my century."

  She has a point. As annoying and vapid as she is, like it or not, we're in this together.

  "Fine. But please listen to me. In order to get back from the future, Nimue needs the Holy Grail. So she sent me back in time to recover it."

  "You're back in time, too?" Kat squeals so loudly I think my eardrums will burst. "Oh my god! How crazy is that? Now you believe me, right? She sent me back in time to the days of King Arthur. I met this totally hot knight, Lancelot, who's now my boyfriend. Him and Queen Guenevere are here in the future with me now."

  "Uh, right. Yeah. Cool. But remember the no-babbling rule? I don't have a lot of time. I have to go catch up with the men."

  "Sorry. Go on."

  "So I'm back in 12th-century England, but the problem is, there is no Grail. King Richard hasn't come back from the Crusades yet, and no one knows when he's expected back. For all I know, I could have to wait around for years."

  "Ooh, that sucks," Kat says. "I had to hang at Camelot for like nine months, so I totally know what you're going through. What are you doing while you're waiting? Have you learned to ride a horse yet?"

  "You won't believe it, but I'm actually hanging out with Robin Hood."

  "Robin Hood?" Kat sounds impressed. I guess even she has heard of the legendary outlaw. "Does he look as sexy as Carey Elwes did in that Men in Tights movie?"

  "He's pretty good-looking, yeah," I say, trying to sound nonchalant, while my face heats in a blush. Thank goodness we aren’t FaceTiming.

  "Too bad you're married. You could totally hook up with the guy while you were waiting for the Grail. Have some rocking medieval sex action."

  "Actually..." I pause. Do I really want to tell her I'm not happily married anymore? I haven't even told my own mother yet. Not that she will stay sober long enough to care. "Actually, he thinks I'm a boy." Better to go the less painful follow-up questions route.

  "A boy? How can he think you're a boy? I mean, sure you've never been exactly stacked, but still!"

  Sigh. "Thanks, Kat," I mutter. "Anyway, he thinks I'm a eunuch. Like a choirboy. Sort of gender neutral, if you know what I mean."

  "Ew. And he thinks you're that? How come? Why not tell him the truth?"

  "Because he doesn't allow women in his camp. No exceptions. And I have no place else to go while waiting for King Richard. The villagers are all starving and I don't dare go meet up with the evil Prince John in the palace."

  “Ah. Good plan then. Though sucky in the potential sex department.”

  “I’m not here to get laid, Kat. I'm here to rescue you, remember?"

  "I know. But there's no reason not to have some fun in the process. I had a blast back in Camelot. Even though I did get kidnapped a bunch. That kind of sucked balls. But then Lancey rescued me. My hero. A genuine knight in shining armor—with actual armor! I totally want you to meet him. I hope it all works out. Maybe you and me and Lance and Danny could all go out for drinks one night when we're back. Someplace quiet. Maybe in the West Village? I don't think Lance is ready for Times Square just yet. Though you should see the guy on a computer. He's totally addicted to World of Warcraft 10."

  She keeps babbling on, but I almost don't mind. It's refreshing to talk to someone who knows who I really am, where I really belong, and what gender I was born into. Even if she is an airhead, she's the only friend I've got in this place. The only one who would believe I'm really here.

  "Anyway, Chris, I've got to go. They're going to kill me when they get their phone bill. I'll call you later if I get a chance to see where you stand."

  "Okay," I say, actually feeling a little sad to let her go. "I understand."

  "Oh, and Chrissie?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Try to have some fun while you're there. You only go back in time once. I think, anyway. Make the most of it."

  "Okay. Thanks, Kat."

  "Cool. Adios. I'm ghost." And with that, the line goes dead.

  I let out a sigh and stuff the phone back in my bag. Have fun indeed. Easy for her to say. She went back in time and got to hang out in a castle—with knights and ladies and probably court jesters. I, on the other hand, am stuck in the middle of the filthy woods with a group of ragged outlaws and their mopey leader, who has a thing against girls. She got to wear fine medieval dresses and make love to a legendary knight in shining armor. I have to pretend I'm some dude or I'll be kicked out of camp. So sure, Kat; it's easy for you to say "have fun." Reality is much bleaker on this side of the cell phone.

  It's not surprising, really. People like Kat always end up going through life with no problems at all. They don't have husbands who cheat on them with coffeehouse waitresses. They flit around from one social event to the next, their biggest worry being whether their shoes will match their camisole tops. They don't worry whether they will be able to make the rent next month on their studio apartment that was always too small for two people, but too expensive for one. They don't bounce checks or have creditors calling them.

  Maybe it's better that I'm back in time with the other downtrodden. I'd feel sick living it up in the castle knowing others were starving down in the villages. These are my people. The ones without hope.

  I rush down the path to catch up with the men. I come to a small village surrounded by a stone wall, and from the excited cries coming from inside I realize I must have the right place.

  I walk down the narrow dirt streets until I come to a small town square. It must be market day; little wooden stands flank the sides of the road with pitiful offerings of moldy bread and cracked eggs. Slabs of meat give off a slightly rotten scent. There are woven baskets and crude knives.

  But no one's shopping. The whole crowd of dirty peasants has gathered a
round Robin and his men.

  "Long enough have you been persecuted and taxed to the point of starvation by the evil man who dares rule in his brother's place," Robin is saying. "But keep your faith, good people. Soon our blessed King Richard, rightful lord of England, shall return, cast the usurper from his throne, and restore the riches of our great land to the people who toil on it."

  Cheers erupt from the crowd. Not surprisingly, Prince John doesn't seem to have a large fan base.

  "But until that day comes, your children must eat. They must grow to be strong men and women who can fight for their country. Therefore, we have brought you some silver to buy seed for your farms, bread and milk for the mouths of your babes." He lifts up the bag of silver and waves it in the air. All the peasants' eyes light up like someone flipped a switch.

  "Silver?" one old hunchbacked man breathes.

  "For us?" asks a small blond boy in the front, his big blue eyes wide with amazement.

  "Where did ye get it?" asks a suspicious middle-aged brunette.

  "We took it from a man who had much to spare," Robin says with a grin. "And are giving it to you who have so little. I think 'tis a fair trade, do you not?"

  Judging from the general whoops of cheer, I'd say they’re pretty much down with the concept. Robin appoints one villager as a treasurer, and gives him the silver to dole out to each peasant.

  "Now we must take our leave," he says, removing his hat and bowing with a flourish.

  "Stay for dinner!" begs a pretty maiden in the front, batting her eyelashes at our hero. Robin is so a rock star here. "I'm told I make a very lovely stew."

  "Aye," agrees a man in the back, leaning on a crooked cane. "We want to thank you for all you've done."

  Robin shakes his head, " ‘Tis not necessary," he says. "We must take our leave. I am afraid soon there may be those who will come looking for us. And I like keeping my head on my neck, thank you very much."

  The crowd giggles at this.

  "Farewell, brave and noble sirs," says the man who Robin appointed treasurer. "We will not forget this day, nor the men who made it so glorious."

  Robin can't help but smile. I can tell—he's digging the hero stuff in spite of himself.

  Chapter Seven

  That night there's a big celebration at Camp Sherwood. More venison (the king is going to run out of deer the way the outlaws go through it!), more beer and more songs.

  I’m very happy that the whole thing worked out, but I can't shake the sadness I felt earlier. I feel so alone here, and the longer I stay the more it weighs on me. Everyone's been nice and accepting and all, but I just don't fit in.

  I slip away from the festivities and head down to the pond. I sit on the shore, staring out into the water. Why am I here? Sure, I guess I have a mission: to retrieve the Holy Grail. But then what? How will I get back to the 21st century? And if I do, what then? Go back to my pathetic life? My stupid dead-end, low-paying job? My cheating husband?

  And what was it Nimue said about me finding love here? She called me the gentle soul that would tame an outlaw's thirst for revenge or something. Obviously she must have been talking about Robin Hood. But do I really want to go there? Reveal my feminine side and start a relationship with a guy who lived and died hundreds of years before I was born? Sure, I could see Robin as a pretty de-lish boyfriend. But the whole scenario seems a bit shortsighted. Like, what—we fall in love, start doing the happily-ever-after thing, then King Richard shows up with the Grail and I get my chance to go back to the 21st century? What then? Will I be forced to choose my love over my life? Give up everything I've worked so hard for in order to be with this other person? Uh, been there. Done that. And I don't much like the T-shirt I got from it.

  A noise behind me makes me turn around. Robin appears through the trees, his eyebrows lifting in surprise when he sees me sitting here. I probably should have picked another spot. Or maybe I subconsciously was hoping he'd show up.

  He says nothing and simply sits down beside me, close enough to touch were one of us to reach out our hand. The proximity does funny things to my insides. His scent, perhaps. A bit smoky from the fire, and musky. You'd think someone who spent his entire lifetime camping in the woods would smell sweaty and gross. But he doesn't, for some reason. I almost wish he did. Would make it a bit easier.

  " ‘Tis a good spot for thinking deep thoughts, is it not?" he remarks quietly, staring out into the water.

  "Yeah."

  We both fall silent. But it's not the uncomfortable silence you get on a first date. In fact, it's nice in a way. Intimate. Danny was always talk, talk, talk. He couldn't stand the quiet parts of life.

  "Must be a bit unsettling for you to be here," Robin says after a while.

  I turn to look at him, surprised. "What do you mean?" There's no way he could know I'm not from 12th-century England, is there?

  "An outlaw's life, mayhap, was not one you thought you'd lead. Your abbey likely had warm beds and hot meals."

  Ah, he's talking about my supposed great escape from the church. "You got that right." Funny. He isn't far off the mark, though he's talking about some 12th-century cathedral, not 21st-century Jersey.

  "I understand more than perhaps you know. I grew up in a small castle, myself. I had many servants and loyal subjects and never had to lift a finger for anything. I thought 'twould be the only life I ever knew. I would inherit our small fiefdom when my father died and be a fair and kind ruler to my people. Those who worked hard would always have meat on the table under my rule. I would marry Maid Marion, King Richard's niece and my childhood playmate, and produce an heir. All very simple wishes, I thought."

  "But things obviously didn't work out that way."

  "Nay," he says, kicking at the ground with the toe of his boot. "King Richard launched the third Crusade, asking that all able-bodied men join him on his quest to seek the Holy Grail. My father loved King Richard so. And for him to provide his king with his only son—well, he was only too happy to do it."

  "And it all went to pot from there I take it."

  "I am loyal to my king," Robin says with a shrug. "And we should not question the decisions he makes. But to abandon his country, to fight in a foreign land for some religious cause and leave his own people unprotected from his evil blood relative—well, that seems an unwise decision to me."

  "Yeah, pretty dumb. He should have at least left some sort of force behind. Like the Knights of Homeland Security or something."

  "So you see, Christian, this forest existence is not the life I hoped to lead. Or one I could ever be truly content with. I was born to lead knights, not a band of ragamuffins. I was born to sit on a throne, not a stump of wood." He fidgets, trying to get comfortable. "At the same time, in many ways, this forest life agrees with me. It's simple. Honest. And I know, forsooth, my men are true. They would stand with me in the face of death, should I ask it. You do not often win such true friendships in a castle court, where the power-hungry vie for control."

  Hm. Sounds a lot like the fashion-mag biz, if you ask me. A bunch of skinny, Gucci-clad prima donnas fighting as if their life depended on getting that cover-story byline. So often I've imagined a simpler life. A less glamorous job in a small town. One where people know their neighbors. Where families help each other out. Where you can make trustworthy friends. Marry trustworthy people.

  "What about Maid Marion?" I ask, curious. I've been wondering about her: a major character in the Robin Hood legend, but completely absent from what I've seen. And after all, if I were to decide to start something with Robin Hood, I've got to size up the competition.

  Robin scowls. "She chooses the life of a lady in waiting at Prince John's castle. She has no interest in coming out into the woods and getting her soft white hands dirty.''

  Ah, I'm starting to see more why the guy's so bitter against women. He lost his titles and riches and his chick went running in the other direction. Stupid gold-digging, uh, wench.

  "That's pretty lame," I say. "If you
two loved each other..."

  "I loved her more than anything. Mayhap, I still do. But I cannot say whether she ever loved me or simply what I once had. All I know for certain is that she seems no longer interested in my affections."

  "Are you sure? I mean, have you talked to her?" Oh jeez, I am the incurable matchmaker, aren't I? Still, I can't bear to hear the hurt in his voice without at least trying to Dear Abby.

  "When I first returned from the Crusades, my only wish was to see her again. But after I became an outlaw, I realized I could not by right walk through the castle gates. So I risked all, sneaked into the city dressed as a beggar and climbed over a back wall into the castle gardens, desperate to find her. And I did find Marion there, but she was in the arms of another." Robin stops for a moment and I can see his hard swallow. "She did not wait for me."

  My heart pangs in my chest as I steal a glimpse of his hurt face. If only he knew how much I understood. That devastating moment when the world as you know it crashes down, when the one you love more than anything betrays you in the worst possible way. I will never, ever be able to burn the image of Danny, skinny jeans down to his ankles in that bathroom stall, pounding away at that waitress. Him stopping when he heard someone opening the door. The color draining from his scruffy face as he realized it was me.

  Time stopped. I don't know if I said anything. If I cried out my horror and surprise. The next thing I remember was running through the coffeehouse, Danny chasing me, still rezipping his trousers. Calling my name. Begging for me to stop. To turn around. To give him a chance to explain.

  But how can you explain something like that? Something so obvious? Danny, my first and only love. The one I gave my virginity to. The one who swore on our wedding day that he would be true 'til death. The same man who now saw fit to violate our marriage, our trust, our love, by sticking his cock into another person. Someone who didn't matter. And who knew if that was even the first time he'd done it? Working as a bartender, he'd had plenty of opportunities. Plenty of nights to come home late. Plenty of chances to betray me.