by W.H. Harrod
~~ Chapter Twenty-Five
Lost in reverie, Allison failed to notice Ernest’s return from the main house. The sound of his voice coming from behind surprised her.
“We’re set. The place is open, and we can stay as long as we want. The professor’s assistant told me to let him know if we needed anything. I didn’t get to see the professor. They told me that late tomorrow morning would be the best time. Until then, I’m up for whatever you guys want to do, although, there didn’t seem to be much going on in the town as far as I could see.”
“Let’s get ourselves situated first, and then we can get some idea of a plan,” suggested Allison to everyone’s nodding approval.
The steepness of the steps leading up to the second floor apartment above the garage caused Ernest to halt at the bottom as if preparing himself for an assault. Fortunately, he traveled light as they all did so a single trip sufficed.
As Allison entered the spacious living room, she went straight for the curtains covering the sliding glass doors that allowed access to the balcony where she had enjoyed a great view of the city across the bay on clear days. She didn’t live in the apartment when she stayed here in ‘69. She could have, but she did make use of the lavatory facilities. That’s when she took time to sit on the balcony in the cool mornings or evenings and marvel at the view. Today, however, heavy clouds obscured the horizon.
“There are two bedrooms with a queen size bed in each and a fairly comfortable looking couch out here. Allison, of course, will get one of the bedrooms so that leaves two of us in the other bedroom and one out here. You guys name your poison. I’m not picky,” said Sam, waiting for Bobby and Ernest’s decisions.
“As you guys are aware,” said Bobby, “I’m used to sleeping on about anything. It won’t bother me to sleep on the couch, unless one of you guys wants it.”
Sam turned to Ernest and smiled, “Looks like it’s you and me, Mustafa. Which side do you want?”
Ernest looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye as he considered the arrangement. “After listening to that weird story about you and the old ladies with the canes, I’m not so sure I trust you in the same room, much less the same bed when I’m sleeping. But, if I have to, you better remember I took a couple of judo classes a few years back, and I’m a real light sleeper.”
“Sounds like the best offer I’ve had in some time. If it’s okay, I’ll hit the shower first. I’m starting to make myself ill with my own body odor.”
No one disagreed, so Sam headed off to the shower with his carry-on case in hand. As Allison prepared to retire to the smaller of the two bedrooms, Bobby sat down on the large comfortable looking couch which was to be his bed and turned on the television to CNN. The President’s deadline had arrived without fanfare. Possibly, the war already started.
“Anything happening?” asked Allison as she returned to the living room a few minutes later wearing baggy sweat pants, a sweatshirt, and pulling a brush through her hair that now hung down below her shoulders. Not waiting for an answer, she plopped down on the couch beside Bobby and joined him in staring apprehensively at the screen.
“Nothing yet, but it’s only been thirty-five minutes,” answered Bobby.
“I’ll bet a nickel to a dollar it won’t be long,” answered Allison. “The people running the country seem intent upon getting a fight going. They don’t strike me as patient people.”
“Well as I said earlier, I haven’t exactly kept up to speed on these kinds of things for awhile, so you’ll have to bear with me.”
“It won’t take much to get up to speed, Bobby. Before the night’s over you will probably know as much as the rest of us. Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we see if the others are up to ordering a couple of pizzas from the place I spotted right before we turned off of Telegraph? That way we can kick back, watch for information on the tube, make our plans, and then all of us can get a full night’s rest before we hit the streets tomorrow. Will that work for you if the others go for it?”
“Sure,” answered her loyal friend, “whatever you say.”
After a conversation through the men’s closed bedroom door, Allison took her cell phone out and called the nearby home delivery pizza store to order two large pizzas and several liters of soda pop. The young person on the phone told her to expect delivery in thirty minutes.
Nothing new came up on CNN. From the looks of the reporters, foreign correspondents, ex-military analysts, and various other experts on Mid-eastern affairs, they were either expecting or hoping for the worst. There was no doubt in Allison’s mind that unless something big happened tonight these people were going to be disappointed. Unless the war started, how could they expect to get the all important on-air face time? Careers were made during times such as these. The way these people sounded, somebody needed to pull the trigger.
As Allison pondered this interesting notion, off in the distance a familiar sound, not heard by her for over thirty-four years, rang out. How could I have not remembered the wonderful sound of the bells in the campanile tolling daily at 6 p.m.? If her memory served her correctly, the bells sounded off for a full ten minutes. How nice, she thought, another pleasant memory long buried under the weight of a single horrible day now resurrected.
She walked over to the glass doors to look out towards the tower and happened to observe a white van pull up behind the VW bus. Painted on the side of the van was the name of the pizza place she called for delivery service. “Stellini’s Organic Pizza & Pasta.” She had not known her choice of provider specialized in wholesome organic foods, but she figured the men wouldn’t die from eating healthier food for a change, especially, when the person taking the order assured her they used beef and chicken toppings for the pizzas.
“Food’s here!” Allison yelled to the others who were finishing up tending to matters of personal hygiene.
“I’m coming,” shouted Ernest to no one’s surprise.
The waning daylight, aided by the overcast skies, had all but disappeared by this time. Allison barely made out what looked to be a woman, (only because the figure had a pony tail) getting out of the van with great difficulty. After retrieving a cane from the van, the woman attempted to pull the bag containing the two large pizzas out of the van so she could bring them up the stairs to the second floor apartment. Allison had gone to great trouble in giving directions on how and where to deliver the goods, and it soon became obvious the impaired person using the cane was experiencing trouble. I’ll get my purse and go help her, thought Allison as she turned away heading for her room. She had a hard time finding anything under the piles of clothing that had materialized from out of nowhere. She found her wallet and returned to the living room in time to watch Sam open the apartment door in response to a knock from the delivery person with the cane who had somehow managed to climb the stairs, albeit without the pizzas.
“Oh, hello,” said Sam to a tired-looking delivery lady standing before him leaning heavily on her cane.
“Hello,” answered the weary middle-aged woman. “I’m here to deliver your pizzas, but I’m afraid I can’t get them up the stairs. Would it be too much to impose on someone to come downstairs to my van to get them?”
As Allison approached the door, she noticed blood seeping through the woman’s tan colored pants. She looked to be in some discomfort standing there leaning heavily on her cane.
“You’re bleeding! What happened to your leg?” asked Allison as she took control of the situation. “Sam, go get the pizzas. Lady, you need to sit down before you fall down.”
Allison moved to get a dining table chair as Sam exited the apartment to retrieve the pizzas. The delivery lady, embarrassed over the incident, tried to assure Allison and now Ernest that she was okay.
“It’s nothing really. I got my knee banged up yesterday in a bike wreck, and I haven’t had time to get to the doctor. I’m going to do that first thing in the morning. I’m really sorry to inconvenience you. If I could collect the forty-two dollars and fifty cents, I�
�ll get out of here and leave you people alone.”
Sam returned with the two pizzas, huffing and puffing, just as Ernest, having overheard the delivery lady, moved into action.
“My name is Doctor Ernest Calhoun, and I think you should let me take a look at that leg. Sit there while I get my bag.”
Allison pushed the chair forward while Sam, after placing the pizzas on the table, assisted the woman into the chair. As he did this Allison couldn’t help but notice the keen interest Sam displayed towards the delivery lady by his looks and actions. The woman acted reluctant, but the level of discomfort she looked to be experiencing by this time pushed aside any feelings of being an imposition.
“Only, if you are sure you don’t mind,” responded the lady. “I’ve been fighting with this thing all day. By the way, my name is Lia Stellini, and I’m the owner of the business as well as part-time delivery person. My regular delivery person wanted to get off early so he could meet his friends at the candlelight vigil to protest the war. I planned to close up early anyway, in case the students decide to go nuts as they are inclined to do around here from time to time. So, I pulled down the shutters, loaded the two pizzas in the van, and headed here with every intention of making a fast delivery and getting back home to finally take a look at this knee. I saw a Missouri plate on the VW bus outside. Is that where you folks are from?”
“I am,” answered Allison, “I picked these ruffians up on the way here.”
“Okay, these trousers appear fairly loose so let’s see if we can roll this left leg up beyond the knee.” Kneeling before the woman, Ernest deftly accomplished the job in a minimum amount of time. The sight that awaited him did not make him optimistic judging by the dour look on his face. The knee was red and swollen and the skin was missing over the entire left side of the kneecap. The woman had applied an antiseptic ointment and a bandage earlier, but both had ceased to provide any protection having been rubbed off during the past hours by her walking and bending.
“I don’t see any sign of infection yet, but you are going to have to get this knee x-rayed tomorrow morning at the latest. I fully expect you may have suffered a fractured kneecap and will have to stay off this leg for a time. I will redress this knee and apply some anti-biotic ointment I carry with me, but you have to see to this tomorrow. Do I make myself clear? Otherwise, you run the risk of creating even greater problems for yourself. As a small business owner, I would expect that would be hard for you to deal with.”
“You’re right about that, Doctor Calhoun. Right now my small business couldn’t handle my being away for any length of time. Something like this is the last thing I need.”
“Do you have any family that can help you out?” Sam asked from off to the side. Allison saw the deviousness behind the otherwise innocent inquiry. Was there something here that piqued his curiosity? Somehow she never pictured Sam being interested in pizza delivery ladies, even if they did own the store. Allison took another good look at the woman. She saw a female in her mid to late forties of pure Italian extraction, possibly second or third generation. She stood about five foot three, her weight proportional, and her hair dark brown with a hint of grey. Her smile grabbed you right off; it was one of those smiles that involved every muscle in the face. She looked very tired. Yet, beneath the tiredness and the physical hurt there existed an unmistakable optimism. This lady enjoyed what she did; she practically reeked of occupational contentment. Allison looked back towards Sam and noticed a glint in his eyes. He is interested!
Lia didn’t bother to look up to see who asked the question. “No such luck. My twenty-four-year-old daughter is working on her masters degree in Marine Biology at San Diego State, and my folks, over in North Beach, are too old to get out much any more. So it’s all up to me, I’m afraid.”
Allison knew what information Sam really wanted to know about. Did she have a husband? She didn’t have rings on, but anymore that didn’t mean that much.
“Maybe you can talk your husband into giving you a hand if they put you in the hospital?” stated Allison in a way that inferred she was joking.
For the first time, Lia looked up to face the person speaking to her. “If only that were possible, he died from a sudden stroke almost seven years ago this July.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Allison said in a tone of voice that left no doubt she regretted asking the question and bringing up such painful memories.
Allison made a mental note to break one of Sam’s fingers or something else for getting her to feel sorry enough to ask such a personal question of a total stranger.
“Although I think it’s time I leave you nice people to enjoy your pizzas, another thought came to mind,” said Lia. The van out there is a straight shift, and I don’t think I can bring myself to try to use that clutch again the way this knee is swelling up. I really don’t know what to do. I seem to be a pest all of a sudden. I’m the pizza delivery person from hell.”
It did not surprise Allison that Sam’s quick mind came up with a possible solution.
“No problem,” offered Sam with assurance. “How about this for an idea? You sit here with some ice on your knee to reduce the swelling -- she should use ice shouldn’t she, Ernest? While you’re doing that we can enjoy these delicious smelling pizzas, and then one of us can drive you home in the van with someone following behind in the bus. Will that work?”
“I think that would be very kind of all of you, and it probably wouldn’t hurt for me to take the opportunity to talk with adults for a change. All day long I deal with a bunch of wonderful young people who are all under twenty-two. I have probably lost my conversational skills by now.” For the first time, Lia looked at ease.
“All right then. You know Ernest. This is Allison, our unofficial group leader, and this is Bobby, and I’m Sam.”
In no time they were situated around the dining table with Lia having been provided with a stool, pillow, and an ice bag for her ailing knee. The large pizzas smelled wonderful, and they looked inviting. Even Ernest was on his best behavior with their guest present, but Allison could tell he was within seconds of throwing manners aside and grabbing a big piece of pizza.
Allison made a suggestion. “Lia, could you tell us a little about organic food, and especially, about these delicious looking pizzas that are playing havoc with my olfactory receptors?”
“I’d love to. Everyone go ahead and get a slice of the pizza in the box you have open there and while you are eating, I’ll give you my little spiel about organic food and the organic food industry. This particular pizza is one of my favorites. It’s called the Lia Special and has a thick crust basted in extra virgin olive oil, covered with mozzarella cheese, Romano, and smoked gouda, topped with free roaming white chicken meat, mushrooms, kalamata olives and red onion. It’s one of our best sellers.”
“All of our breads and pizzas are baked in our special wood-fired stone baking ovens. The basic design for this type oven originated during the time of ancient Greece. We bake our products for three to seven minutes, which helps to lock in the flavor and moisture, plus, it helps to retain the color of the toppings. The cost of installing this special baking oven almost broke me right from the start, but I really had no choice if I wanted to do it right.”
The Dandelions nodded their heads in approval after sampling the pizza.
“I will also tell you that all of the food products we use are one hundred percent organic. All grains, cheeses, oils, vegetables, and especially the tomatoes, as all of our sauces are homemade, are organic. Our beef comes from grass fed cattle raised on ranches and not kept in feedlots and fed who knows what. The same goes for all of our poultry, too. Grass feeding has been proven to offer important advantages in reducing the growth of E. coli bacteria, plus, it increases the overall nutritional value of the product.”
Lia held everyone’s attention as she eagerly went about the business of bringing the four of them up to speed regarding the organic food industry. Even Ernest minded his manners in waiting for th
e others to finish the first piece before he secured himself a second delicious slice. Allison wasn’t so sure about Sam who had a far off look in his eye. As ridiculous as it seemed, she began to think that he might be smitten with this attractive widow with the bad knee.
“There are so many reasons to support the emerging organic food industry. First, true organic products adhere to stringent standards in that they are produced without using poisons such as insecticides, herbicides, and fungicides. These poisons are believed to be carcinogenic and hormone-disruptive, and may contribute to birth defects, cancer, brain damage as well as reproductive damage in humans. The reasons these poisons are used is because they are economically expedient and supply high yields of crops while reducing the costs primarily to the large multi-national corporations who control most of the food production not only in this country but increasingly around the world. Organic farming, on the other hand, is more labor-intensive and usually takes place on a smaller scale than the corporate-factory farms. These mega-factory-corporate-farms depend upon taxpayer funded subsidies from our government so that the prices can be kept artificially low and not reflect the actual cost of bringing food to the market, thereby, reducing competition. Their costs are effectively socialized while their profits are increased and privatized. Organic farmers do not receive these subsidies, and therefore, the organic farmers’ usually higher shelf price actually reflects the true cost of production.”
“Organic farmers not only produce healthy foods without the use of poisons, but they also protect the land, support biodiversity, and respect the balance of nature rather than trying to control it with chemicals. Organic farming replenishes and maintains soil fertility by recycling its nutrients regularly. The long-term cost of large corporate farming, in terms of harming our soil, water, and the consumer’s health, is potentially catastrophic. We will eventually pay for these costs with taxpayer dollars, and more importantly, with our health and well-being. Organic farming eliminates these costs as well as the dangers to our health while at the same time producing safer and more flavorful foods. Over the long term, organic farming may very well be the only alternative to the extinction of the human race through the ongoing destruction of our soil and our health by large destructive corporate farming operations.”
“Unfortunately, we are fighting an uphill battle. Presently, it is estimated that no less than forty percent of the world’s agricultural land is seriously degraded, jeopardizing the lives of millions of humans. Here in this country, the large corporations are holding most of the cards and winning most of the battles in Congress. Money speaks louder than a bunch of small farmers who want to keep their land free from environmental contamination for future generations and who ask very little from their government other than the opportunity to compete on a level playing field. By all indications, the battle is being lost not only here in this country, but around the world. We need the help of dedicated capable individuals who will work to carry this simple truthful message across the country to the schools, to the apathetic consumers, to the seats of government, to the courts, and to the few remaining farmers and ranchers out there fighting for their lives in the face of unfair competition in the form of large subsidized corporate farming operations.”
The diners waited to see if Lia had more to say on the subject. When it became apparent she did not, for the moment at least, Sam spoke up.
“Lia, this is a fascinating subject. I personally am in the process of reengaging my time and energies in areas that have long-term interest to our country. I would like to learn more about this very interesting subject. Possibly, my friend Bobby would also have some interest in finding out more about the organic food industry himself. He’s one of those ranchers back in Oklahoma who’s having a hard time competing with the global farm corporations. Perhaps when your leg is better we can pick your brain on this subject?”
“Anytime, I’m always at the restaurant. Actually, I live right above it.”
“I want to thank you also, Lia,” said Allison. “You are a breath of fresh air. It is refreshing to hear ideas from knowledgeable persons such as yourself. That’s part of the reason we came back here after so many years away. I hope you will allow us to visit your place of business so we can enjoy more of your delicious food, and, also, so you can tell us more about this labor of love you have obviously dedicated your life to.”
“I would love for you all to come to my restaurant,” responded Lia enthusiastically.
“Wonderful,” replied Allison with equal enthusiasm. “Now let’s get you home so you can rest that knee. Sam, can you drive Lia in her van while I follow behind to bring you back? Good. Let me get the forty-two fifty we owe you for those pizzas before we leave.”
Soon, Allison followed behind as Sam drove back over the streets that took them down the hill retracing the route they traveled earlier that afternoon. This time when they got to the retail area adjacent to the university, Sam drove through the light to the first alley on the other side of the intersection and took a left heading up the alley until slowing down before a large rear garage door that started to open automatically as the van came closer. Seconds after the door finished opening, the van with Sam at the wheel disappeared inside. Allison pulled the VW bus in front of the opened door and waited for Sam to emerge. Minutes passed before Sam returned through the darkened garage door that immediately began to close.
As soon as the passenger door closed behind him, Sam expressed his elation.
“Can you believe that? Can you believe that? I’m telling you it’s a sign if I ever saw one.”
“What are you jabbering away about, and what sign are you talking about? I haven’t seen any signs. I only saw a poor lady with a gimp leg getting hit on by a dirty old man. That’s what I saw.” Allison awaited Sam’s response.
Sam took a deep breath and exhaled in exasperation in response to his associate’s reaction. “Allison, Allison, Allison. You never listen to me do you? I distinctly recall telling all of you recently about my strict criteria relating to choosing suitable female companionship. Apparently, you chose not to listen.”
“What are you talking about? You haven’t said any such thing.”
“Want to bet?”
“Sure, I’ll bet, you reptile! That poor lady was practically crippled, and I felt sorry for you and asked about her husband. I felt so absolutely horrible when she told us he died. It was your fault, I want you to know. I’ll take your bet. Prove it!”
“Do you remember asking me earlier today what my favorite memory of California was, and do you remember I told you it was the cute young coeds? I went on to tell you that I’ve had no relationships with any women under forty in the last five years. What did I said after that?”
“You said, you very sick person, from now on they either had to be using a walker or …”
“That’s right, go on and finish it.”
“… or they had to be using a cane. You are a piece of work, my friend. Casanova step aside, the Sam Man is here! What about crutches though? Will you still go after them if they are on crutches? It makes sense as they sure can’t get away from you, can they?”
Sam no longer listened to his detractor. His thinking had obviously elevated to a higher plane.
“A sign! It has to be a sign!”
