Jorja’s eyes roamed over the crowd. “Okay,” she said.
Jesse turned on his thousand watt smile and Jorja started to feel giddy.
“I love looking at you!” he gushed, “I like your platinum spiky hair, and even your little tiny legs.”
“Uh, Dandy,” was all Jorja could say.
“If you were three or four inches taller, you would be perfect.”
Jorja smoothed her eyebrows and looked up at Jesse. “Say what now?” she asked.
“And look at this painting,” Jesse said as he pulled a tape measure out of his pocket and extended it against the frame. “Eighteen thousand dollars! Can you believe it? Eighteen thousand dollars for something so small!”
“And thus, so portable,” Jorja said.
“Exactly!” Jesse said happily. His smile disappeared as he frowned and put his face close to Jorja’s. “Let’s get back to the leg thing,” he said solemnly.
Jorja looked down at her legs and said with a half grin “Yup. They’re right where I left them.”
“As you know, I am a, shall we say, procurer of fine items. What you don’t know is that I am also a serious devotee of self-improvement surgery. I consider myself somewhat of an expert and have done a lot of research on the subject.”
“Well, I’ve read a few self-improvement books,” Jorja said while wondering just where this train of thought was headed.
“Good for you!” Jesse cheered. Then he added, “That’s a good start, Jorja, but did you know, they can break your legs, insert a telescopic rod, then screw them back together? Then, they slowly turn the screw every day, oh, just for a few months and eventually you end up with longer legs! Of course it’s expensive, but I’ll help finance it. I’d do anything for you, my darling.”
Jorja couldn’t answer; she was busy searching for the nearest exit.
“Now if this seems too big of a commitment, we could start with a little Botox for those forehead lines that, right now, are particularly deep when you screw up your face like that, and then get you some hair extensions, probably in a nice chestnut colour, then, of course braces…”
Jorja started to do the moonwalk, but unfortunately, backed into a wall. “You know Jesse,” she said, “I’ve got a set of suspenders at home, so I’m good thanks,” and attempted to squeeze by him.
He grabbed her in a tight embrace and whispered hoarsely, “Just thinking about this gets me all steamed up.”
Jorja whispered back, “You know what gets me all steamed up? Let me show you.”
Jesse quickly released Jorja as she started singing, “I’m not a little teapot, and I’m quite put out! Don’t mess with me because I’ll pout. I’m all steamed up so hear me shout: Get out of my way Dude, I’m running out!”
As she ran out of the Art Gallery, she yelled to Jesse, “Say hi to Henry James for me.”
Miss Stein and her humans were saying hello to Frank Noodle and Beer as Jorja arrived home.
“Awe”, cooed Jorja, “They’re already nursing! But how come they’re different colours?”
“Why, do you think she’s got an assembly line going on in there?” her Mom joked.
“And here comes Assembly Line Stein right now!” said Crawford, “Looks like a tabby!”
During the time lag between the appearances of Percent Sign Stein and finally, Conrad, the Clark family discussed mundane issues. All matters adoption related were studiously avoided.
“Garbage pickup switched due to the festival; Main Street is blocked off until the festival ends Wednesday night.
“Is it yard waste or recycling this week?”
“Recycling; I pruned the roses last week.”
“Michelle from the insurance company called; asked if we had made any changes to our home. I said no, so the premium will go down again this year.”
“That’s good, because water rates are going up if the new water purification plant goes forward.”
“Think we can teach these cats to swim in the cement pond?” Jorja asked.
“Golly Elly-May, that sounds like a keen thing to do!”
“Do I detect a note of sarcasm, Mother?”
“Perhaps a tad. Shall we make it the topic of the next Family meeting? You know, sarcasm, just one of the many services I offer.”
“Actually, Mom, Dad, I was thinking we could have a discussion about honesty,” Jorja said, but quickly added, “I just don’t know when I’ll be up for that discussion.”
Crawford, not really paying attention to the subtext behind his daughter’s request said, “Yup, old Ben Franklin said, “Honesty is the best policy,” but Mark Twain added the kicker people go by today by saying, “Honesty is the best policy- when there is money in it!”
Jenny elbowed him and said “Crawford! Jorja wants to talk about why we didn’t tell her she was adopted.”
Crawford started blinking rapidly, “Of course we can, honey, whenever you’re ready.”
The family turned their attention back to Miss Stein and her five little kittens. They all agreed that she was a fine little Mother and the children were well loved.
Jorja was still awake at two in the morning. Her mind kept going in a loop. Was Malcolm mad at her? Why was she such a rotten friend? A rotten selfish friend who wanted the universe to revolve around her, as Mrs. Beetle put it. How had Malcolm ever endured having her around? Was he mad at her?
She pictured Malcolm now, smiling and calming nodding as he listened to her; gently laughing in all the right places and offering the occasional sarcastic bon mot.
“Have I ever listened to anything he has told me?” she asked herself. “Do I know anything at all about him?” she said aloud. “I am a very bad friend,” she determined, tossing the light summer cover aside, “I’d be mad at me too.”
Jorja sat up in bed. “He’s working tonight; this is his second shift of three; okay, good, I know that. I also know that he says around 2 am he starts feeling tired and needs a coffee. Okay, I retained something he told me. Why don’t I grab him a coffee and run up and drop it off?” she asked. “Yeah,” she decided, “a friend would do that.”
As Jorja sat in the Emergency Department waiting room, she was surprised at how busy a small town could be so early on a Saturday morning. Here was a fellow hobbling in with his buddies supporting him. Apparently he had a plane to catch, so he ‘just wanted to be bandaged up’ and be on his way. Jorja quite frankly, was enjoying how easy it was to eavesdrop.
The injured young man and his buddies admitted to the Triage Nurse that they had had a few drinks before deciding to jump off a shed onto a trampoline. Then they had a few more before deciding to go to the hospital, and of course, who should drive. They arrived in a taxi.
“No,” the Nurse advised, “you will not be catching the plane tonight, as your foot is quite likely broken.”
The patient and his friends let out such dramatic groans that the Jorja and the Nurse laughed together.
Jorja turned her attention to an elderly man who sat stoic in his wheelchair, while his Son and Daughter-in-Law buzzed around him, tucking in the throw on his knees and continually asking him “Are you alright?”
When he caught Jorja staring at him, he rolled his eyes and nodded towards his family.
Another little family was gathered around a teenage girl. Just as Jorja couldn’t determine what was going on with the elderly man, she couldn’t figure out what was going on with the young girl. The group sat, not talking, either texting on their phones or reading a magazine when Jorja had walked in with her large fancy-pants coffee.
Mom, Dad and teenage girl appeared angry.
She sipped the coffee and watched people come and go, and sit and wait. After a half an hour, Jorja thought, I would feel guilty pulling Malcolm away from his job, even to give him his coffee, well, what’s left of it.
Then the inebriated young man yelled out, “How long until I get my x-rays? I’ve been here for over three hours!”
“He’s got a plane to catch!” his buddies
added, completely forgetting the likelihood of that happening was zero to none.
Jorja started to chuckle. “Must have been a breach in the space time continuum when they arrived in the ER!” she thought.
Just then a name was called out and the teenage girl stood up. It was then Jorja saw her very large, very pregnant belly. The young girl was handed a form and the porter brought her a wheelchair. Jorja suddenly thought of her Aunty Cydney being that age with a baby Jorja in her tummy. As the teenager was wheeled by her, Jorja gave her two thumbs up and a big smile.
“Oh piss off,” the Mom to be said.
For some reason, Jorja felt incredibly happy. She hummed her favorite song, danced out of the ER and drove home.
Malcolm was feeling pretty happy too. Before work, he had put the Black Velvet Painting in a place of honor on the fireplace mantle. It sat beside the caricature Jorja had drawn of him last year, on the occasion of their very first meeting.
Malcolm absolutely knew the black velvet painting was from Jorja. Just as she would know that the flowers he sent her were from him. He had ordered some orange Mums, an actual live plant because he knew Jorja detested cut flowers. She had seen so many neglected bouquets in the Nursing Home and would say, “Nobody has the time to water the bouquets and then the flowers start dying and some really stink! It’s like an advertisement to death, “come here, come here”, and then people die.” A further discussion of coincidence and irrationality did nothing to dissuade Jorja of her conviction that cut flowers were “harbingers of DOOM!”
He was also feeling happy because the gentleman in front of him was a real character and had a wonderfully dry sense of humour.
“Mr. Kovesy, are you able to climb up on the bed?” Malcolm asked.
“Well I haven’t been able to for the past 20 years, but I’ll give it a go and who knows, maybe my legs will work this time!” he said.
Malcolm was just about to get the portable lift, when Mr. Kovesy’s Son and Daughter-in–law swooped in and lifted him onto the bed.
“I’ve trained them well,” Mr. Kovesy said.
Malcolm asked the family to wait outside while he worked through his assessment.
“Call me Joe,” the elderly man said, “Mr. Kovesy was my Father.”
“Joe, can you tell me what happened tonight?”
From outside the curtains a woman’s voice rang out “There was a fire alarm that went off in the Nursing Home tonight. It was a false alarm, but when they checked on Joe, they couldn’t wake him up!”
Joe shrugged his shoulders. “I’m a sound sleeper, what can I say?”
Malcolm leaned in close to Joe and whispered, “Joe, the Triage Nurse said your vital signs were all within normal range, but she noted a distinct smell of alcohol on your breath, as I do now. How many drinks did you have tonight and what are you drinking?”
“I just have a swig of heart tonic at night. I’ve been doing that for years. Tonight that fire alarm was broken and kept chirping. It was keeping me awake, so I took an extra swig. I guess my heart tonic did its job, because I heard nothing when the chirping stopped and the fire alarm went off full throttle.”
“Do you have that heart tonic with you now, Joe?”
“Nope. Keep it in my sock in my locked dresser drawer.”
“You know, some of the so-called heart tonics being sold today have a significant amount of alcohol in them,” Malcolm whispered.
“I would agree with you on that score”, Joe said.
His family behind the curtain called out, “Everything okay in there?”
Joe rolled his eyes and yelled out, “Nurse is making me pee in a bottle. Do you want to see if my aim is alright?”
Malcolm stifled a laugh and asked quietly, “Do you remember the name of your heart tonic?”
“Wiser.”
“As in Wiser’s whiskey?”
Joe nodded.
Malcolm smiled. “Well that would help you to sleep soundly! Looking over your chart, I see nothing in your medication list that alcohol would interfere with. But, in the future, try to limit your tonic to just one shot.”
Joe pointed toward the curtain and whispered, “Don’t let them know, eh? I get one of the volunteers to buy it for me with the money my Son puts in my account for haircuts and chocolate bars. He’d pitch a fit if he found out!”
Malcolm left the consulting room to go find the ER Doctor to sign off on Mr. Kovesy’s chart. His RN buddy Jeff, was at the desk as well and was finishing up the chart on the pregnant teenager. “False alarm; just Braxton Hicks contractions,” Jeff advised.
“Mine was a false alarm as well,” Malcolm said. “Apparently a couple shots of whiskey at night will help a 93 year old man to sleep right through a fire alarm. Who would have thunk it?”
“And speaking about odd and unusual events; did you know, Malcolm, that if you jump off a shed, while hammered, and partially land on a trampoline, you could break your foot?” Jeff asked with mock surprise.
“Hard to believe,” Malcolm concurred.
Later that morning, Jesse Spelunker was finding it hard to believe that a brother would send his sister flowers with a card that read, “Really enjoyed spending Wednesday night with you! We had so many adventures; who would have thunk it? Have a berry nice time at the festival today!”
He threw the card down with disgust and replaced it with his own hand-written note. Jesse was really getting tired of this flower shop delivery gig and he was really was getting tired of this Malcolm What kind of idiot sends orange chrysanthemums as a gift? Maybe they’re not brother and sister after all? he wondered.
After he walked up the stairs to the Clark home, Jesse was in a foul mood. His bad knee had locked up on the climb and the more he thought about the events at the OK Corral, the more he realized that Jorja and Malcolm were not related. Out of habit, Jesse tried to peer in the windows, but a sudden loud croaking made him jump. He felt a twinge in his bad knee and so slowly lowered himself to the porch to rest for a minute. Jesse then noticed the pet door and decided that he could just shove the flowers through rather than ring the doorbell and wait for it to be answered. Unfortunately, the pot was too big, so he twisted it on an angle and proceeded to push the delivery through. The entire flower arrangement landed upside down on the kitchen floor.
“While I admire your attempt to right a wrong,” Crawford said, as he stared at the young man seemingly trying to climb through the pet door, “I’m going to have to deduct points for execution.”
Jesse tried out his thousand watt smile. It had no effect.
“What in the blue blazes are you doing man?” Crawford demanded. “Have you not noticed we have a door bell?” he said as he pushed opened the door, which sent Jesse sprawling on the porch.
“Just wanted to deliver some flowers for Jorja,” Jesse said breathlessly. “We had such a nice time at the Art Gallery last night; I wanted to send her some flowers.”
Crawford put out his hand to help Jesse up. “Wait a minute now,” Crawford said. “You work for the florist, but these flowers are from you personally?”
Jesse nodded.
“So you are the young man that Jorja met at the Art Gallery? The one who had, shall we say, surgical advice?”
Jesse said “Yup”, as he dusted off his uniform, failing to notice how red Crawford’s face was getting.
Crawford balled up his fist and shook it in front of Jesse. “Does the florist you work for have a dental plan?” he yelled, “Because you’re going to make good use of it!”
Chapter Five:
Or hairy pancakes, twirling twins
and a high fiber diet
Jenny and Jorja ran out of the doorway, simultaneously grabbing Crawford’s arms and yelling at Jesse,“Leave!”
Jorja added, “Loser!”
They watched with guilty glee as he ran, and then slid down the stairs to the road below. When Jesse stood up and began brushing off his uniform again, Crawford jumped on the porch and let out a battle cry. This c
aused Jesse to give up on his grooming and run down the road with a speed that his physiotherapist would have found it remarkable.
Jorja kissed her Dad on the temple and said, “Thanks Superman.”
She had arrived home the previous night and had temporarily pushed Jesse-the-jerk out of her mind while Miss Stein was busy pushing out her new family. But shortly afterwards, Jorja announced “I am terribly distraught and may start crying soon.”
Of course Jenny and Crawford quickly hugged her and listened for quite some time to their daughter’s initial sadness and eventual outrage which they shared completely.
“Since this Jesse person likes self-improvement surgery so much, perhaps we should go break his legs with a baseball bat!” Jenny said menacingly.
“Mother!” Jorja had squeaked out; secretly delighted that her Mom would, quite literally, go to bat for her.
Jenny had made a mug of warm milk for Jorja and tucked her in for the night. When Jenny returned to her own bedroom, she told her husband, “I think she’s settled down now and will probably fall asleep after her milk.”
Little did they realize that Jorja could not sleep as a whole new worry occupied her heart, namely what Malcolm thought of her. It wasn’t until breakfast that Jorja’s parents found out that she had driven up to the hospital basically to say she was sorry to Malcolm.
“Oh hon,” Jenny said, taking the syrup bottle back to her side of the table, “You’re going to be exhausted for your painting extravaganza today!”
“And you didn’t even get to see Malcolm. Bummer,” her Dad said.
Miss Stein decided to take a break from the kids and hopped up on the table to carefully investigate the cutlery. It was at this time they heard the steps on the porch; the frog croaking and then the crash of a potted plant as it flew through the pet door. Even more startling was the arm and head that followed.
After the Jesse-the-jerk incident was over, the pancakes were still warm when the family returned to their breakfast. No one had the desire to clean up the plant and so it remained on the floor and a convenient topic of conversation.
“In what universe did he think I would accept anything from him?” Jorja asked angrily. “We can just let it rot there; I’m not touching it with a ten foot pole!” Jorja stared at the plant with narrowed eyes. Then she suddenly opened her eyes wide and tilted her head with curiosity.
Jorja & Malcolm (Toffee Kisses Book 1) Page 5
