by Anna Hays
“They’re fitting right in to the family circle. See you tomorrow!”
Just as I hang up, my PDA lights up again. I’m convinced it’s Misty, with a burning follow-up question about Maxine that can’t wait until the morning, but I’m mistaken. It’s Webster!
Bravely, I take the call. “Hello?”
“This is Webster. Webster Holiday. Did I wake you up?”
“Of course not. It’s dinnertime!”
“Right. I knew that. About that question I was going to ask you.”
“Yes?”
“What are you having for dinner?”
My face crumples up like an old paper bag. “What?”
Stammering slightly, Webster continues, “Dinner. An evening meal usually consisting of several courses.”
All I can think of is, “Pomegranate cookies.”
“I see. Portia, I’d like to share something with you. It’s about pomegranates.”
With great anticipation, I hang in there. “Oh?”
“The pomegranate is one of the earliest cultivated fruits. It has been traced back as far as 3000 B.C.”
I’m not exactly sure how to respond to this historical footnote. “I’ve really got to go now. We’re having a special guest tonight.”
Insistent, Webster keeps talking. “About my question.” There’s total silence on my end of the phone. Then I hear, “What would be the probability of me walking you to school tomorrow morning?”
In a hurry to end this embarrassing conversation, I say, “Approximately one hundred percent.” And just like that, I hang up.
IMPORTANT FACTS: Webster Holiday has just asked Portia Avatar on her first almost date! He’s walking me to school tomorrow, and all my clothes are dirty!
Chapter 25
8:56 P.M., AVATAR LIVING ROOM: THE PATCH POWWOW
Vera and Indigo each lean on Indian silk pillows on opposite sides of our living room couch. I sit on the floor across from them reading and rereading the postcard from Patch. On the dark wooden coffee table between us are a few leftover Pomegranate Perfections and two clay mugs containing steaming hot herbal tea. With my free hand, I hold a small cup of hot carob milk and take a sip. We’ve made some progress in our discussion so far, but still nothing groundbreaking has resulted from our powwow. I can’t stand the delicate dance around the subject any longer, so I decide to shake up the party with a question. “Vera, where is he?”
Vera lifts her mug and takes a sip. “I don’t know.”
Then I stand up and start pacing up and down the room. Frederick meows at me as I do this, then remembers he’s on baby-bunny duty and quickly races upstairs to check on Maxine and her brood. “I thought you were here to help. Once upon a time, you were my friend.”
Indigo chimes in, “Patch could be anywhere, Portia.”
Then Vera dramatically places her mug down on the table and stands up. She starts pacing alongside me. “Portia is right. I can help. I know where Patch is!” I stop, frozen on the hardwood floor. She continues, “He’s here with us right now.”
I’m not fooled for a minute. “Is this just another trick to avoid the subject?”
Indigo sits at the edge of the couch with a puzzled look on her face. Vera looks at Indigo and says, “Let’s turn our attention away from trying to find a location for Patch. What if we create a shared memory of Patch for Portia instead? Maybe together we can offer her an image of him to help with her search.”
To my astonishment, Indigo agrees.
We settle back to our original positions in the room and soon the most romantic story of two young people falling in love for the first time comes to life before my eyes and ears.
I hold my breath as Vera begins, “Patch was a visitor from out of town on his way down the coast to help build a home for a family in need. He was gentle and charming and made me laugh.”
I can’t contain myself. “What color hair did he have?”
I wish I had a pair of supersonic glasses so I could see what Vera sees when she describes Patch. “It was brown, but he had blue eyes. I remember how bright they were and how they sparkled when he spoke.”
I put my hand over my heart to slow down its race-car speed. “What was he doing at your store?”
Smiling, Vera tells me, “He was collecting things for the house he was about to build.”
“Where?”
“I never found out the name of the town. Anyway, he moved on from there after a few months. That’s when we lost touch. He wrote that postcard just after he left California.”
I gently slide my hand over the front of the postcard and take a closer look at it.
Indigo takes a turn. “I was stopping by Vera’s the day Patch first got here. I wanted advice on a new product line we were selling at the store. That’s when I was working at Naturally Natural.”
Vera laughs. She looks over at Indigo. “Remember that truck?”
Indigo playfully rolls her eyes.
I continue with my line of questioning. I turn to Indigo. “What happened when you looked into each other’s eyes?”
To answer this question, Indigo closes her eyes. “The first thing I noticed about him was that he was tan, which immediately told me he liked the outdoors.”
I find myself catching my breath, the way I would after a bike ride up a steep hill or after spending a long day at the beach. “He was tall, right?”
“Yes, he was tall!”
I feel warm, salty tears travel down my cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”
Vera quietly observes us when Indigo confesses, “This has been a painful process for me, too. I see how hard you work to find him, and I don’t have anything to offer you.”
I stand up and sit next to Indigo on the couch, wrapping my arms around her.
“This is perfect!”
Indigo tears up. “I wish he could see how beautiful you are, Portia. When I close my eyes and picture Patch, I see a lot of you in him, especially your curious nature and determined spirit!”
I feel my heartbeat again with my hand and leave it there until it slows down to a normal pace. Patch is a part of me. He feels real to me, even though I can’t see him.
Vera quietly excuses herself. “We made some real progress here tonight. I’ll see you next week, that is, if I’m invited. I’d like to come on board to help with the search.” She reaches her hand out for mine.
I hold Vera’s hand and lead her to the door, with Indigo right next to me. “Three is my new favorite number!”
10:03 P.M.,
MY BEDROOM
Tonight I heard the first chapter of the story of my missing father. I wonder how far a memory can travel, and how long it can last. If Indigo and Vera can recall details of what they remember about Patch more than twelve years ago, can other memories from that time be conjured up across the globe in Patch’s mind too? Does my father think about Indigo or Palmville or Vera while he’s riding on a fast-moving train across a rural countryside, when he’s sitting on a white sandy beach squinting at the sun, when he’s washing his hair in the cold blue sea, or when he drifts to sleep under a dark and endless starry sky? What ever happened to that rusty old truck?
I close my eyes and make a plan to dream about Patch tonight, to take the beginning of the story I just heard and imagine the ending.
FACT: Now with Vera on the team to find Patch, and a Patch Powwow every Sunday night, we’ll definitely be moving closer to finding him.
VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: Maybe the reason Vera hadn’t told me about Patch and his first meeting with Indigo before now was because she wanted me to hear it at just the right moment in just the right place, like tonight at home with Indigo there too.
FRIENDSHIP RULE #8: True friends surprise you in miraculous ways.
