by David Smith
Blain chose his next words carefully. “Being blind, um, doesn’t that pose a problem for the students, unlocking, finding books, and all?”
Janet smiled. “Mr. Walters. I think you would be amazed at how self-sufficient the blind can be.”
Blain nodded, as though he understood, but still having difficulty trying to imagine life devoid of sight.
Malaysia was looking at the numbers that were on a small, rectangular plate above each locker door. “Blain, here is number eighteen,” she offered, pointing to one of the lockers in the middle of the fifth column of lockers from the left. The numbered plates were still shiny, as if someone had used a special solution to remove built-up tarnish.
Blain opened the door and looked inside. At first, he didn’t see anything of interest: Empty metal sides, top and back; there was a hook on each of the two sides for hanging objects inside. Up near the top of the back panel there were two substantial screw heads that no doubt attached the back wall of the lockers to the wall that the entire locker bank was mounted against. He held the door open for Missy. “Take a look,” he told her.
“Did you say you work at Disneyland, Mr. Walters?” Janet asked while Malaysia inspected the empty locker, Blain holding the locker door open with one hand.
“Yes. But this has nothing to do with my work in the Park. We were just trying to find information about a man who worked there long ago. A guy by the name, Nathan Duncan.”
Janet nodded. “Well, yes, as you can see, these are indeed very old lockers.”
“Mrs. Manfred,” Malaysia said. “What is this white stuff on the inside of the locker door?” Malaysia asked holding open the door while pointing to what looked like spray-on powder on the lower, inside portion of the door.
With a little bit of a confused expression, Janet leaned in and looked at the door Malaysia held for her as Blain let go of it. She ran a couple fingers along the surface and the white powder flaked off cleanly. “Oh, someone missed that,” Janet said with a slightly embarrassed laugh. “See, throughout the year, friends, parents, relatives, whoever, come over and decorate the lockers for special holidays. That,” Janet said pointing to the door and rubbing her white, powder-tipped fingers together, “would appear to be spray-on ‘snow,’ probably left over from some Christmas decoration. I guess that door missed inspection,” Janet said with a shrug.
As Malaysia was about to shut the door, Blain stepped over and held the door open for a moment, looking at the snow. He ran his hand along it and the dry, powdered white foam-like residue easily fell off the metal surface, trickling down to the ground. Blain looked at the now cleared metal interior of the door. In faded black letters, Blain saw some writing under where the snow had been sprayed. He cleared off the last of the snow along the edges until the small rectangular door was completely free of the white residue.
“What does that look like to you, Missy?” Blain asked as Malaysia leaned in.
“Looks like a name,” Malaysia said, running her fingers over the very faded handwritten letters. “No, it’s two names,” she added as she adjusted the angle of the door to the afternoon sun.
Blain looked at it, running his fingers over the letters.
Janet too looked in. “Did you say the man you were interested in was ‘Nathan?’”
Blain nodded.
“Well, it looks to me like the top word is ‘Nate’ and the bottom word is…” Janet tilted her head. “Looks like Lynette or Lynda…spelled with a ‘Y’ instead of an ‘I’ maybe? I can’t make out the last few letters.”
Blain looked at the spelling, moving the door again so the sun light could catch the angle of it better. “I think you are right. It looks like a couple ‘T’s’ to me at the end but it is very faint.”
Blain looked around the inside again for any other writing. The walls were clean. Feeling an impulse, Blain banged softly on the inside walls of the locker, hearing the thin metal echo within the spaces. With another idea, he opened the locker to the left of number eighteen, and looked at the separating walls. He stood back looking back and forth between lockers fourteen and eighteen. He did the same with the other side locker, number twenty-two.
“What are you looking for?” Malaysia asked Blain.
“Just curious. Wanted to see if there were any spaces between the walls.” Blain opened number seventeen, the locker directly above eighteen, and then he did the same with number nineteen.
A little disappointed that there wasn’t some sort of space between the lockers, somewhere that something could be hidden, Blain shut all the lockers. Before turning around, he glanced over at Locker #1. Thinking about what Riggio had told him about that locker, Blain smiled an inside-joke kind of smile, before he took Malaysia’s hand and turned toward Janet.
“Well, we can assume that was at one time Nathan’s locker, just by the writing inside,” Blain said, a little resignation in his tone. “Thank you Mrs. Manfred for letting us come to your school and see the lockers,” Blain said, holding out his hand to shake hers. Janet shook both his and Malaysia’s hands.
Reaching into her back pocket, Janet pulled out a small card. “Here is my card with my phone number here at the school if you would like to see anything else…or want to make a donation,” Janet said, with a hopeful smile.
“Thank you. I will see what we can do in return for your hospitality,” Blain said, taking the card.
“Good luck with your research. I hope you find what you are looking for,” Janet said as she walked Blain and Malaysia back to the parking lot.
“I was so sure we would find something inside the locker,” Blain said, getting into the car. He looked at his watch, which said it was 3:38. Changing the subject, Blain then said, “We have time to do a little shopping,” looking at Malaysia, expectantly.
“Ah, the phrase every girl loves to hear,” Malaysia said, giving Blain a peck on his cheek.
Blain drove a short distance south back on Pacific Coast Highway, turning left onto Jamboree Road. When he turned his Camaro into the main parking lot of Fashion Island Mall, Malaysia’s eyes grew large.
“This is a shopping mall?” Malaysia asked, looking at the expanse of stores, parking lots, and cars. “It looks like a small city!”
“Yep. Unfortunately, we won’t have as much time as I’d like to show you the whole place. I have a feeling you could spend a week in here!” Blain said, finding a place to park in front of Bloomingdale’s. “However, I do believe you won’t have any trouble finding a bathing suit to wear for tomorrow.”
Walking through the parking lot, Malaysia didn’t think she had seen so many expensive sports cars or sedans in her life. To her, it felt like being at some exotic car show. “Look at that!” Malaysia said, pointing to a black Lamborghini Murciélago that was parked in the front row taking up two stalls. “I’ve never seen anything like that!” Malaysia said, pulling on Blain’s arm, looking back at the car after they passed it.
“You like that car? You have expensive tastes, Missy! That car sells for the price of a large home,” Blain said with a laugh.
“Oh, I would never want, let alone own something like that,” Malaysia said as Blain held the door open to Bloomingdale’s for her. “It’s like a piece of art.”
“A very expensive work of art, to say the least.”
“True. I’ve just never seen anything like that in my life.”
Blain laughed. “Well, just wait until you see the people that frequent this place.”
“Oh, this bikini is so cute!” Malaysia said, speaking through the closed half-door of the dressing room at Wet Seal, a women’s clothing shop that they found inside the mall.
“Well, come out and let me see,” Blain said, leaning against the entrance to the dressing rooms, spying Malaysia’s bare legs from under the opened bottom portion as he glanced around the corner.
“No way! That will ruin the surprise,” Malaysia said, her words a little muffled coming through the door.
“Hey, I’m the one that dishe
s out surprises, Missy,” Blain said.
Malaysia finally came out, the new suit behind her back. “Come on, Missy. Let me inspect it. I want to make sure it isn’t too small,” Blain said trying to reach around her.
“Oh, sure,” Malaysia said, successfully eluding his grabs. “And what planet are you from?”
“I’m just looking out for your modesty, integrity, and honor.”
Malaysia laughed out loud. “I’m sure you are!”
Blain walked Malaysia back up to the lobby of the Marriott.
“What are you going to do, tonight, Blain?” Malaysia said standing in front of the elevators.
“I’m very curious about our dead friend Nate. And just who this ‘Lynette’ might be. She might have some answers to the torn piece of paper, and just maybe enlighten us on what really happened back in nineteen sixty-six. I might go over to the library or look stuff up on my computer at home.”
Malaysia was torn in wishing he might have taken up his friend’s offer to go see “Malaysia Hosner” live at the Coach House. She could only imagine his shock if he went and suddenly saw his “Missy” singing. But, in a way, she was relieved that he wasn’t coming too. She once again feared what the ramifications might be of his sudden discovery of her true identity.
“Sounds fun. Wish I could join you,” Malaysia said, wanting to spend more time with him still.
“Have a good dinner with your family,” Blain said, holding her hand. “Hey, when am I going to get to meet your parents?” Blain suddenly let go of her hands and shook a finger at her. “Oh, wait a minute; I get it. You’re embarrassed by me, aren’t you? Lowly Disneyland employee who moonlights as a guitar player in a semi-professional band.” Malaysia started to object. “No, no. I understand,” Blain said shaking his head.
Malaysia both wanted to laugh and cry. She took both his hands back in hers, pulling them up against her chest under her chin and said, “It isn’t like that at all. I would love for you to meet them.” She was searching for an explanation. She couldn’t suddenly come out and tell him that they were really back in Belp Switzerland, and had no idea that she had gone to Disneyland, gone back to Disneyland, and was now holding hands with a guy who worked at Disneyland. “It’s complicated, Blain,” Malaysia said with a sigh of resignation. “Bear with me. I really want you to meet them.”
“I’m kidding, Missy,” Blain said, squeezing her hands and now pulling her toward him. “I know there are lots of things that simply probably won’t matter in a few days,” Blain said quietly. “I just want you to know that I think more of you—and think about you more—than any girl I know.”
Malaysia felt torn. Here she was having intense feelings, both of desire and of emotional attachment, of wanting to know Blain better—wanting him to know her better—wanting to feel like there could be a future together…a future that she knew in her brain just wasn’t really there, but in her heart she wanted it to be there.
Blain held her tight, feeling her internal struggles, feeling his own. He didn’t want to let her go.
The elevator behind them rang its arrival, even though neither Blain nor Malaysia had pushed the ‘up’ button yet.
“Excuse me,” a voice called out behind them. It was Malaysia’s sister, Laura.
“Hi Laura,” Blain said, stepping back away from Malaysia for a moment.
“Hi Blain,” Laura said with a smile. “Uh, sis, we have to be ready to go in about twenty minutes.”
“I know, Laura,” Malaysia said. She turned back to Blain and whispered, “I can’t wait until tomorrow. What time?”
“Let’s go with eleven. I’ll see you tomorrow, Missy.” Blain let go of her hands and turned.
“Blain, wait.” Malaysia moved back to face him. “Thank you for lunch…and the adventure,” she whispered, then gave him a very long kiss on his lips.
“I will see you tomorrow,” Blain said when she finally let him go. “See ya, Laura,” Blain said, with a sheepish grin on his face.
After Blain walked out of the lobby, Laura looked at her sister as they entered the elevator.
“Nice lip-lock, Mal.”
Malaysia was smiling, looking at her own reflection in the shiny elevator doors that closed in front of them. “Jealous.”
Laura laughed. She turned towards Malaysia. “Actually, seeing you this happy, I sort of am.”
“Walt knew where every nail in the Park was located.”
Lilly Disney (Walt Disney’s Wife)
CHAPTER 28
33 Royal Street
Monday, June 28th, 2010
9:30pm
The Coach House in San Juan Capistrano was filled to capacity; a relatively intimate group of just over two hundred filled the main showroom. The special-invitation event was attended by doctors and spouses, administrators of the Children’s Hospital of Orange County—or CHOC as it was commonly called—as well as press and civic leaders and other influential members of the Orange County medical community.
Malaysia’s band was in exceptional form, considering—and perhaps because—the show was completely unrehearsed and didn’t have the typical added pressures that Malaysia’s shows seemed to have taken on over the past year due to more complex show elements. In addition, it was a great chance to play for a worthwhile charity; Malaysia and Laura enjoyed knowing the event would be for a legitimate cause. Malaysia insisted that even the money she was offered to do the show be donated back to the charity. The press loved Malaysia and her band. Had the members seen a copy of the Orange County Register newspaper the next day, they would have found not only a very favorable review in the Entertainment Section of the paper, but an attractive picture showing Malaysia singing with her band on the small stage in the main room at the Coach House.
In one of two limos that CHOC had provided Malaysia—one for her, Laura and Gen, another one for the guys in the band and their small sound and lighting team—Laura looked at her sister who was quietly gazing out over the city lights of San Juan Capistrano through the side window. Genevieve was also looking at Malaysia. The hum of the tires against the pavement and some soft music playing on the radio in the back area of the limo were the only sounds for a good few minutes once they had been ushered into the vehicle and was heading north back towards their hotel.
“You sounded exceptional, tonight, Mal,” Gen said quietly, breaking the silence in the large limo seating area.
Drawing her attention from the window…and whatever thoughts that were going on in her head, Malaysia smiled, turning towards both Genevieve and Laura who shared the middle seat. She knew the show sounded great. “Everyone was awesome,” Malaysia said softly.
“You were so…so, animated tonight,” Gen continued. “You really engaged the audience.”
Malaysia smiled again then returned to staring out the window. Genevieve figured Malaysia was replaying the set of music in her head, knowing that she was definitely at her best and even the band was tighter than ever.
But Malaysia was smiling for another reason.
“I know why you were so awesome tonight,” Laura said, taking a sip of bottled water that had been sitting in the cup holder next to her in the limo.
“Really?” Malaysia asked, turning her head again and looking at her sister with an expression of doubt.
“Really,” Laura said, and then while pointing her water bottle at Malaysia Laura added, “You are in love.”
Malaysia started laughing, although it was a laugh that was hiding something just beneath the surface. “You can’t be serious, Laura.”
“I can and I am.”
Gen spoke up. “Mal, you have been incredibly happy these past couple days. I don’t think in all the years I’ve known you that I’ve seen you quite like this.”
“Yes. But that doesn’t mean I’m in love, Gen. Laura! Give me a break, you guys!”
Laura reached across the space between their seats and patted her younger sister on her leg. “It’s okay Mal. It’s really…cute. But…” She hesitated
before adding, “You know it will all have to come to an end this Sunday.”
Malaysia’s mood suddenly darkened. She turned back to the window and stared out into the night.
Almost whispered, Malaysia said, “Yeah…I know.”
Tuesday, June 29th, 2010
8:10am
Blain came to work, even though he had done a shift change with Kevin Chauncey, a good friend of Blain’s who was looking for more hours. Chauncey, a former lifeguard from Huntington Beach, was also on Blain’s canoe team at the Park.
Canoe racing at Disneyland went back over forty-five years; the races were held each summer in mid July at Disneyland for cast members. With men’s, women’s, and mixed events, each team was made up of ten paddlers. Each morning beginning at six AM, the teams would take to the Rivers of America in the same canoes that were used with the guests. After two weeks of practice, well over one hundred teams then raced against the clock, culminating in the top four teams racing on the final day for the Park Championships in each division. Medals and bragging rights were just part of the fun; the races were a part of Park History and gave employees something fun to do together. It was just one of the many cast activities that made working at Disneyland that much more special.
Instead of scanning his ID card, which he would have done had he been working that day, Blain flashed his ID to the security guard working the employee entrance and went straight through Harbor Pointe, the cast main point of entry. He jogged along the sidewalk that dropped down under the Disneyland Railroad track and then came up the other side where he got lucky and caught a lift from one of the landscapers who was motoring by in one of the flatbed carts, to the landscaping office, the exact location Blain wanted to go this morning.
“Thanks for taking the time to meet with me again, Willie,” Blain said, sitting in the now-familiar landscaping office.
