by Jeff Strand
"It wasn't that good of a proposal."
"I've seen worse."
"Where?"
"At baseball games on Jumbotron."
"You go to baseball games?"
"My ex-wife was into sports."
"You have an ex-wife?"
"Yeah. We weren't all that compatible. It was one of those deals where we were at the same party that neither one of us wanted to be at, and we hooked up based on mutually not wanting to be there. She got pregnant, and I thought the honorable thing to do would be to marry her. It kind of worked out, I guess, but then she met somebody else. Good guy. Irish. Says he didn't sleep with her until our divorce was final. He probably did—I mean, he's a handsome guy, and he could've talked her into anything with that accent—but it was nice of him to say that he didn't. You've got to figure there was at least some oral, but that's not really relevant to the story."
"Nope. Sure isn't."
"That's basically it. My daughter and ex-wife are living in Belfast. She's three. Her name's Kaylee. My ex-wife still doesn't know she was named after a Firefly character. Want to see a picture?"
"Yeah."
Seth takes out his cell phone, swipes the screen a couple of times, and shows me a picture of a brown-haired little girl in a white dress. She's chewing on the trunk of a stuffed elephant.
"She's adorable."
Seth nods and puts his cell phone away. "I could have stopped them from going. My mom and dad hired a lawyer and everything. It kills me to only see Kaylee on Skype, but why make somebody miserable? Why keep my ex where she didn't want to be? If I thought for one second that the Irish son of a bitch wasn't being a great father, I'd be on the next flight over there to take her back. I mean, not really. Life on the run is no way to raise a kid, or, worse, I'd be in Irish prison, but I'd take the appropriate legal measures to get her back. It's not an issue, though, because he's a great dad. A really great dad."
"We've spent all day in a car together. Why am I just now learning this?"
"Because I think it makes me sound like a douchebag."
The server arrives with our drinks. Harriett is laughing with the guys playing pool, so the server hand-delivers it to her. Harriett thanks her, takes a sip, nods approvingly, and continues laughing.
"I hope we don't have to kick their asses," Seth says.
"She can take care of herself. And she's right there, so lower your voice."
The shorter of the two guys takes out his cell phone, looks at it, and then apologizes to his friend and Harriett and says that he has to leave. He hands his pool cue to Harriett and walks away. He's a good wingman, leaving his buddy alone with the hot redhead.
"I'm starving," says Seth. "If she breaks that pool stick over his head, I hope she waits until after we've eaten."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Our burgers are taking forever. Cognitively, we know that we could not whack a cow with a sledge hammer, slice off a piece, grind it up, season it, shape it into a burger patty, and throw it on the grill in less time, but it doesn't stop Seth and I from feeling that way.
Harriett's new friend is happily teaching her the rules of pool. This involves a lot of showing her how to properly hold the cue stick, which also involves a lot of leaning over the table. I never realized just how pervy the game of billiards can be. He whispers a lot of things to Harriett that make her laugh.
Finally, our burgers arrive. They look pretty damn good, and the fries are so hot that you can practically see the grease still sizzling on them, so the meal was worth the wait.
Harriett slides back into the booth next to me. "That was enjoyable," she says. "He was a fine instructor."
"Did he say that you're a natural?" I ask.
"I am a natural."
The guy racks up the balls again. Apparently he's going to play a solo game while we eat.
"You realize that he just wanted to look at your butt, right?" asks Seth.
Harriett frowns. "He did not."
"He was leering and rubbing up against you. I hate to be the one to break this to you, but we men are disgusting animals." Seth takes a big bite of his burger. "We're awful. Just awful."
"I disagree," says Harriett. "Mitchell was very instructive. He knew all of the rules of the game, and provided helpful strategies for success."
"While looking at your butt."
"I found him to be witty, charming, and respectful. If he caught the occasional glimpse of my posterior, I have no objections. Do you think I wasn't looking at his posterior when he bent over the table? Of course I was. Look at those pants he's wearing. I wanted him to lean over the table even more frequently, but I didn't want to arouse his suspicion."
Seth takes another bite of his burger. "All right, then."
Harriett is the first one finished with her meal. Mitchell is still playing his solo game, and Harriett excuses herself to get up and rejoin him.
I wonder if it's reflective of me that I don't think Mitchell can possibly be interested only in a friendly game of billiards. He looks nice enough. There's no real I'm gonna conk you on the head with my wooden club and drag you back to my cave vibe. I just can't help feeling like the father of a teenage girl whose date looks as if he might contain active hormones.
It'll be fine. I need to stop worrying.
Seth finishes the last of his fries. "Maybe we should join them."
"We weren't invited. How about we play some darts?"
"Sure."
We get up and walk over to the electronic darts game. Harriett is too focused on billiards to notice.
"Do you want to make this more interesting?" asks Seth.
"How much?"
"Ten bucks?"
"Do you have ten?"
Seth removes a ten-dollar bill from his wallet.
"All right," I say. "Let's do this."
As it turns out, Seth is an astoundingly talented darts player. If we run out of money, we can fund this trip by having him pretend to suck for a couple of rounds until we raise the wager. I've only played darts a few times in my life, and I made no claims to have any skill at it, but it's still an embarrassing, devastating defeat.
"Did you bring real darts to throw at the Cyclops?" I ask.
"Actually, I did."
It's almost ten-thirty now. I hate to interrupt Harriett's fun so that we can go to bed, but this is her quest, after all, and she's not the one who has to drive.
I walk over to the pool table.
"Hey, how's it going?" asks Mitchell, holding out his hand. "You Harriett's father?"
I bristle. I suppose the math does work out if I were a teenage father, and I've aged badly since Becky got sick, but still...
"Nope," I say, shaking his hand. He's got one of those needlessly strong grips. I'm not suggesting that I want to yelp in pain or anything; I just don't understand why some people need to make the process uncomfortable. "Just a friend."
"You want to join us when we're done with this game? Bring over your other friend? Two against two?"
"Nah, thanks. Harriett, I think it's probably time to head off."
Harriett looks extremely disappointed, and I immediately feel bad, like a grumpy old codger ruining everybody's fun.
"Okay, maybe one game."
"No, you're right," says Harriett. "It's best to leave so we can get an early start in the morning. I'm going with Mitchell out to his truck for a few minutes, and then I shall return and we can depart."
"Oh," I say.
She takes Mitchell's hand. "Are you ready?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Wait, are you sure that's a good idea?" I ask.
"I do. Five minutes. There's still a bill to settle, and Seth will need to use the restroom, so we wouldn't be leaving sooner than that anyway."
"Yeah, that's, uh, true..."
"You still have sufficient cash from the last amount I provided, right?"
"Yeah, that's not it, I just, uh..."
"Then I shall return."
She leads Mitchell out
of the tavern. Seth walks over to me. "Did she just do what I think she just did?"
"Yes."
"Well, good for her. She sees what she wants and she goes for it. I think we can all learn from her example."
"This can't end well."
"Not for her. Not in five minutes."
"Are you ready for your check?" asks the waitress.
"Yes, thanks. Actually, to save time, let me just give you my card." I hand her my credit card and she leaves.
"You look distressed," says Seth.
"Well, yeah."
"She's a big girl."
"She's naïve."
"I told her that men are disgusting animals. She's got the necessary information."
"This feels wrong."
"He knows we're with her. He knows we could describe him to the cops. It'll be fine. It's nice to know that one of us is getting some action."
We stand around for another minute until the waitress brings me back my card and the receipt. I add a generous tip for warning us away from the guacamole.
"I'm going to check on her," I say.
"Yeah, voyeur that shit."
"Wait here."
I walk toward the door. On one hand, what Harriett does with Mitchell in his truck is none of my business. On the other hand, a couple of nights ago people were trying to kill us. How do I know Mitchell isn't working for them? I mean, besides the fact that this plan would require them to somehow know that we'd choose this specific tavern for dinner, and that Harriett would approach the guys playing pool. Okay, Mitchell isn't working for them. That doesn't mean this isn't a bad idea.
I walk outside. There are several trucks in the parking lot, but I quickly identify Mitchell's green Ford, because that's the one where he and Harriett are passionately kissing.
I decide that unless I am prepared to go over there, throw open the door, and drag her out while shouting, "No! No! No! Bad!" I should go back inside.
I go back inside.
"What're they doing?" Seth asks.
"Making out."
"Is his hand on her boob?"
"No."
"What's the plan?"
"We wait for her to come back."
"Should we play another game of darts?"
"No."
We stand around for a moment, until I decide that when Harriett returns it'll look better if we aren't just standing around. We return to the booth.
A minute later, which I note is exactly five minutes after Harriett went outside, the door swings open and she walks back into the tavern. She's smiling and beaming. Seth and I get up, and the three of us leave the building.
Mitchell honks and gives a friendly wave as he drives off.
We walk to my car. Harriett bounces a couple of times, and looks as if she's having to restrain herself from skipping all the way to the vehicle.
I unlock the door for her. "Enjoy yourself?"
"Yes, very much so, thanks for asking," she says. She opens the door, does another little bounce, and gets inside.
Seth grins at me as he climbs into the back.
I get inside and put on my seat belt.
"I know that a lady does not kiss and tell," says Harriett, "but I have to kiss and tell. I kissed him!"
"We're all very proud of you," Seth says.
"He was a perfect gentleman. I'd explained that I very much wanted to kiss him, and that since there was not time for a proper courtship I was willing to expedite the process." She traces her index finger over her lower lip. "He had wonderful lips. Just like I've always imagined."
"Did he slip you the tongue?" Seth asks.
"Absolutely not. That would have been improper."
"So that was your first kiss?" I ask.
Harriett nods, positively giddy. "My first real kiss, yes. I never expected such a thing to be part of this journey, but I saw him there, and he looked like a prince, and I couldn't help myself. I'm only human." She hugs herself. "I may have to relocate to Denver after the Cyclops is slain."
"Okay, well, the burgers were juicy, the fries were crispy, and Harriett had her first kiss," I say. "I'd call that tavern visit a win."
"I also had my first margarita," Harriett says.
"That, too."
"I took too large of a sip and got that brief headache."
"Brain freeze," Seth says.
"Is that what that phenomena is called?"
"Yeah. It's not a medical term, though. I assume there's an actual word for it. I don't know what it is. I should Google it."
"I believe I'll try my next one on the rocks instead of frozen," says Harriett. "That way I won't have to worry about my speed of consumption."
She leans back in her seat, closes her eyes, and smiles.
* * *
We stop at the nearest hotel that doesn't look like it might have mutated rats scurrying under the blankets. Even though it's Harriett's money, I feel that the financially responsible thing is for Seth and I to share a room. We've spent enough time together that I'm pretty sure he's not a serial killer, nor will he sit in the chair next to me and stare at me all night while I sleep.
After checking in, we bid Harriett a good night, and then discover that we've accidentally been given a room with a single king-sized bed. But the hotel clerk apologizes and moves us to a room with two twin beds, so we avoid wacky hijinks.
I'm too exhausted to even take a shower. I simply brush my teeth, plop onto my bed, and am asleep within minutes.
Then I'm awake a few minutes after that, because Seth is snoring. It alternates between sounding like he's revving a chainsaw and sounding like he's choking to death on his own phlegm.
I tell him to roll over. He rolls onto his side, then resumes snoring.
I press a pillow over my ears, but it's not sufficient to block the sound. I could use the pillow to smother him, but, no, that would be wrong. I try to think about something pleasant, like being in a room where nobody is snoring.
How can the human body even produce those sounds? We're off to fight a Cyclops, but our real concern should be that Seth has clearly been possessed by the devil. I wish I had some holy water. His screams of pain as it sizzled his flesh would be less annoying than the snoring.
He says something.
"What?" I ask.
He says something else that I can't understand. If he's going to talk in his sleep along with the snoring, I am going to smother him with this pillow. Anybody else would do the same.
"Graspin the Colossal is here to save the day," he says.
Then he goes back to snoring.
Ultimately, I elect not to end his life. My exhaustion finally overcomes the ghastly noises, and I fall asleep, until about twenty minutes later when he gets up to pee.
* * *
"I dreamt of flowers," Harriett tells us, as we dine on hotel bagels. "I usually only remember my nightmares, but last night I dreamt of beautiful, colorful, fragrant flowers. I was dancing in them."
"Was Mitchell there?" I ask.
Harriett smiles. "Yes, he was."
"Was he fully clothed?"
"The flowers are the part of the dream that I have chosen to share with you. The rest is irrelevant."
I look at her more closely. "Are you blushing?"
"Of course not."
"Actually, you are," says Seth. "Your cheeks are lighting up like Rudolph's nose."
"Enough," says Harriett.
"At least you'll be able to raise your babies in a world without a Cyclops," says Seth.
"I will not be procreating with him. He is handsome and smells nice, but he is not father or even husband material."
"So you just used him for your own selfish needs?" I ask.
"Did he know he was only a boy-toy?" Seth asks.
"You both have a great deal of maturing to do. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to close my eyes and remember dancing in the flowers."
* * *
We're back on the road. Seth offered to drive, but unless I'm going to take a nap, I'd rat
her be the one behind the wheel.
In theory, a full day of driving will get us to our destination tonight. This assumes that our destination won't change. I don't mind a short detour, but if we approach the Arizona border and then Harriett says we need to take a side trip to Massachusetts, I may have a mild nervous breakdown.
We get sushi for lunch. Harriett has never had it, although she says she's eaten plenty of raw fish in her life.
She falls asleep shortly after we get back on the highway. This concerns me a little, because she could sleep through the moment when she realizes where we're supposed to go next. Will she say that we have to backtrack a couple of hours? Or will she miss it altogether?
It suddenly occurs to me that I'm simply assuming that she will lead us to another person who feels that this journey is his or her destiny. How the hell did that happen? Her success with Seth notwithstanding, I don't believe in this stuff.
Anyway, I decide to let her sleep. She knows what she's doing.
We cross into New Mexico, and I suddenly am in the mood for red and green chiles, even though we only had lunch an hour ago. I can wait. We'll be in this state for several hours. The red and green chiles will still be here.
We stop in Albuquerque. A vote is taken, and we decide to be Hobbits and have a second lunch. Burritos for everybody.
About an hour and a half after that, Harriett says, "I know where our third and final hero is."
"Where?" I ask. "Please don't say South Dakota."
"Bridge Point."
"Is that the name of a town? Or is it literally a point on a bridge?"
"I am ninety percent sure that it's the name of a town."
"Where is it?"
"That I don't know."
We look it up. Miraculously, Bridge Point, New Mexico is only half an hour south of us. As long as she doesn't mean Bridge Point, Antarctica, we're in good shape.
A weather-beaten sign welcomes us to the town, population 13,219. "Any idea who we're looking for yet?" I ask.
Harriett shakes her head.
We drive around town for a while. It seems like a nice place. They've got a movie theater and a library, so if we have to hang out here while Harriett waits for her latest prophecy update, we'll be fine.
