Honey and Leonard

by Mark Paul Smith

  Why is mother calling?

  The voice seemed to be coming from the window. Despite his fear, Leonard moved toward the sound of his mother's voice. The window and its curtains sucked him into the light of his own confusion. His heart was racing as he looked through the window screen and tried to understand where he was and what he was doing there. It was a terrible feeling, not knowing.

  The scenery was no help at all. It was totally unfamiliar and unnerving. He was lost, inside and out.

  "Leonard, it's time for bed," his mother said.

  "Mother, where are you? I can't see you."

  "I'm right here. I'm always with you. You know how much I love you. But it is time for bed."

  "I need to see you so you can tuck me in and give me a kiss goodnight."

  He felt a kiss on his forehead and then heard the voice say, "Sleep tight, my son. You don't need to see me. Sleep tight. Tomorrow's going to be another big day."

  "What's happening to me?" he asked his mother. "I feel like I'm losing my mind."

  "Don't worry about losing what you think is your mind," his mother said softly. "The mind is much more than you think. We all become a part of it eventually."

  "When we die?"

  "Nobody ever dies," his mother said. "We simply escape the illusion, the prison, of self."

  "So what do I do until then?"

  "Be happy with what you got."

  Leonard chuckled at hearing her favorite saying. He didn't sound like himself. His half-laugh sounded like it was coming from far away.

  His mother's voice felt comforting. Then she was gone, without saying goodbye. He was alone again. He felt like someone else. Someone he didn't know. Someone he wasn't supposed to be. He couldn't remember who he was. His mother was gone. He could no longer feel her love. He was sweating. He was confused. Nothing made sense.

  His anxiety began to rise until he heard what he thought was his mother's voice again. This time it came from behind him. He turned and saw a woman in his bed. It wasn't his mother at all.

  I know this woman. I know I know her. Why can't I recognize her?

  "Leonard, it's me. It's Honey. Wake up, sleepy head. You're dreaming."

  He could feel the woman shaking him and calling herself "Honey." He still couldn't remember how he knew her. She helped him sit down on the bed and brought him a glass of water. He gulped down the entire drink and looked at the woman sadly.

  "Thank you. I needed that. I thought you were my mother. Who are you? Are you an angel?"

  "Leonard, it's me, Honey. We just flew in to Paris and now we're in our hotel room. You just woke up. You're a little confused. Don't worry, you'll be fine."

  Leonard looked out the window from his seat on the bed and saw his mother waving to him from the curtains. She was young and beautiful. As he waved back, she disappeared. His mind began to slowly refocus. The woman who brought him the glass of water was talking about things he didn't understand. He wasn't really listening to anything she said. He was straining to hear the voice of his mother again.

  "She's gone," he said. "Mother's gone."

  Honey got him up and off the bed and walked him back to the window. Her warm touch started to bring him back to reality. It took a while but the woman began to convince him they were in France.

  "Come into the bathroom," she said. "I can prove it. Look in here. See that thing that looks like a toilet but isn't a toilet at all? That's a bidet. You know about these. Look, it has water that comes up from the basin to clean your bottom. You've never seen one of these in Indiana, have you? That's because you're in France now. This is a bidet, and we're in Paris. I'm Honey, and you love me. Just remember, do not go to the bathroom in the bidet. That's not what it's for."

  Leonard had to laugh at her presentation, and as he did, he began to remember who she was. His memory came back to him like frames in a reel of film that start off as still pictures and then gradually turn into fluid motion as the reel speeds up.

  "Honey," he said as he recognized her. "I thought you were my mother."

  "I am definitely not your mother."

  "How long have I been gone?"

  "Not that long. How long have you been awake? I was sleeping."

  Leonard was deeply shaken. These mental lapses were getting to be as bad as seizures. He never knew when they were coming and he never knew how long they would last. His biggest fear was that the next one would take him out for good. And that would take his love away.

  What is wrong with me?

  He knew he was repeating himself a lot. Honey always told him about that. And he knew he was having trouble coming up with words when he needed them. All that was normal for a person his age. What he didn't know was when he would suddenly feel lost and afraid again.

  "Do you remember how we got here?" Honey asked.

  "Not really. I mean, wait a second. I do remember the Eiffel Tower. We were in a taxi. Yes, we were coming from the airport and there was that lovely young woman, what was her name?"

  "Jennifer."

  "Ah, yes, Jennifer. She was pretty much our guardian angel for the entire flight. Where is she now?"

  "See, your memory is fine. All it takes is me to bring it back. Do you remember why we came to France in the first place?"

  "Yes, I do," Leonard said as he began to regain his confidence. "My niece Gretchen is trying to get me declared incompetent and she's trying to get you charged with murder."

  "Attempted murder," Honey said. "You're still alive. And you're my star witness."

  His face lightened up. His frown turned into a wry grin. Suddenly, the light bulb turned on in his troubled mind. He looked at Honey as she tried to talk him back into his own memory. Now, he knew what she was doing. Now, he knew what she'd been up to all along.

  "You're about ten steps ahead of me," he said.

  "Make that twenty," Honey laughed.

  "No, I see what you're doing. We're taking this trip so you can prove I'm competent and so you can prove you would never try to hurt me."

  "Well, at least now I know you're competent," Honey said. "I was beginning to think you thought we were just running away."

  Leonard looked at her and realized he had never loved anyone so deeply. She could change in an instant from his favorite little girl into his most cherished lover. He loved her every incarnation. She kept him on his toes, emotionally, physically and intellectually. She gave herself to him unconditionally and would accept nothing less in return. The best thing about her was that she loved him with all her heart. That made him feel quite a bit better about who he was and what he was doing.

  "I never ran away from anything in my life," Leonard said. "It just started looking like it was high time for me to take you to Paris. I didn't run away from that nursing home. I walked away. I made a choice. We made a choice. We chose love and we chose Paris, and now, here we are, together in Paris. It's magic, I tell you. It's pure magic."

  "Take me dancing, you big, strong, beautiful man."

  "Let's take a shower first. Paris can wait."

  * * *

  Honey and Leonard asked no directions at the hotel desk before floating out, hand in hand, onto the exciting streets of Paris. In two blocks they found themselves on the Champs-Elysees, marveling at the grand avenue and the sculptured walls of the buildings along the way. Stone carvings of human faces and fruits and lutes decorated every nook and cranny of the historic structures. Restaurants with outdoor seating seemed to be everywhere. The smell of pastry was in the air. Most of the cafés had all the chairs facing the street.

  "Looks like theater seating," Leonard said. "Must be some kind of show going on."

  "We're the show," Honey laughed as she took him in both her arms and pressed her face into his chest. "It's love on parade. Everybody wants to see that."

  They passed a young couple dressed completely in black. They weren't arm in arm or even holding hands. They were much too Goth for any show of affection. Honey had to throw herself against Leonard to get him to
stop staring.

  "Did you see that girl?" he asked after they had passed. "She has rings all over her face, rings on her nose, rings on her lower lip and rings on both her eyebrows. She looks like a cannibal headhunter."

  "That's the new thing," Honey said. "Kids don't just pierce their ears anymore. They pierce everything."

  Leonard stopped dead in his tracks, horrified at the thought. "You mean all that jewelry was holes in her face?"

  Honey nodded.

  "How can she eat? How can she wash her face? My Lord, how can she blow her nose? Wouldn't everything come out the hole?"

  Honey laughed.

  "No, really, I'm not kidding. Did you see her? She had rings on her eyebrows. Big ones. They have to get in her eyes. Why would anyone do that?"

  "They're just kids, sweetie. They're out to change the world. They do things to shock their parents. It's perfectly normal. We did it too. We had Benny Goodman and swing and the jitterbug and dance marathons."

  "There's nothing normal about putting metal through holes in your face," Leonard snorted. "And I never did the jitterbug until after the war."

  Honey grabbed both his hands and started dancing, pushing him away, then pulling him back, and then twirling completely around with one hand in the air. Leonard put his complaining aside and got caught up in the moment; spinning and strutting his own dance moves. In an instant, they felt young again, leading each other around an ornamental light pole and putting on quite a dancing demonstration as they pranced into the street together. Traffic slowed to avoid and admire the impromptu performance. Their dancing wasn't as fast or energetic as it had once been, but they still looked good, even in slower motion. They'd danced enough together to be able to spin each other completely backwards and around while still holding hands.

  The couple dressed in black had returned and stood on the sidewalk watching the older folks having a good time dancing. Honey saw them gawking and broke away from Leonard to grab the young man by both hands. At first, he stiffened in surprise, but Honey was not about to take "no" for an answer. He couldn't help but follow her back into the street, dancing quite smoothly along the way.

  The young girl held out her tattooed hands for Leonard. Leonard forgot his prejudices for the moment. He took her hands and was soon spinning her like the air was filled with big band jazz music. Traffic had now stopped completely. Leonard started singing. So did Honey and the younger dancers. Each was singing a different song, but it didn't matter. The two couples moved around each other like they were finalists in a dance competition. The four of them even joined hands for a jitterbug circle. Their spontaneous joy was catching. A waiter from the nearest restaurant waved a towel over his head with a hoot. Drivers got out of their cars to cheer them on. A small crowd of onlookers assembled on the sidewalk, amazed to see the generations coming together through the language of dance.

  Horns began to blare from trucks in the rear of the backed-up line of traffic. The dancers twirled each other back to the sidewalk.

  The young man was the first to run out of breath. He'd been the most energetic dancer. His hipness had been yearning to bust a move for way too long. He danced like a dog off the chain, a dog with plenty of sexual energy to burn.

  The two couples wound down the dancing, breathing hard and laughing. Each of them was pleased and satisfied to have participated in such a joyous, surprise event. They had brought their own little corner of Paris to a standstill.

  The celebration conversation couldn't last long because of the language barrier, but they communicated quite well with hugs and high fives. They said goodbye for a short time and then walked away. No phone numbers were exchanged. Their dance had been a once-in-a-lifetime happening.

  Something important had happened to the younger couple although they were only beginning to feel it. Their impromptu jitterbug with the older couple had given them a glimpse of something they had previously regarded as corny and unattainable.

  By the time they walked away, the Goth couple was holding hands. Their days of being tragically cool and detached were over, although they hadn't realized it yet.

  Honey and Leonard sat down for a coffee and lunch. A break in the action was what they needed. They would be paying tourist prices for the meal but they didn't really care.

  "See now, sweetie," Honey said. "She was a lot more interesting and sensitive and fun than she looked like at first."

  "The girl was so beautiful when she smiled. Now, if she'd only get rid of all those piercings."

  "It won't be long until she's having babies of her own. Nothing like a child grabbing at your face to make the piercings go away."

  Leonard laughed at her imagery. He thought for a moment and commented, "Those kids could dance. Where did they learn to jitterbug?"

  "Everybody knows how to dance. We just had to give them a little encouragement. By the way, did you see they were holding hands when they left?"

  "I did notice that. They'll probably get married and settle down and have four kids and always talk about that crazy, old, American couple in Paris that made them fall in love."

  "Don't laugh," Honey said. "Love is contagious."

  * * *

  After a delightful quiche lorraine meal, Honey and Leonard had a little trouble getting up and out of their chairs. Their muscles had gotten stiff from sitting down and eating after the dance work out. Laughing at each other's groaning, they did a few painful stretches, loosened up and began walking down the Champs-Elysees to the circle around the Arc de Triomphe. The luxury specialty shops held no attraction for them. They were more interested in the canopy of clipped, horse chestnut trees that lined their path.

  Leonard was determined to see the Arc that had welcomed parading armies from Napoleon III to Charles de Gaulle. "The best thing about it," he said, "is The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier from World War I. That's right beneath the Arc. It has an eternal flame."

  "How do you know all this?"

  "I love to read. All my life I've loved to read. What? You think farmers don't read? Ever heard of The Farmer's Almanac?"

  Honey laughed and marveled at her man's ability to dredge up tidbits of historical information from things he'd read years earlier. How strange that he could know so much at one moment and forget so much in the next.

  As Honey and Leonard arrived at the circular traffic jam around the Arc, cars from all directions were forming a seamless web of horn-blowing, tire-squealing chaos. It looked like a merry-go-round that was spinning too fast to catch a ride. The smell of burning grease and gasoline hung in the air like a sooty fog.

  They didn't know about the underground walkways beneath the traffic that allow pedestrians safe passage to the Arc. All they knew was the Arc was right in front of them in all its glory and, by God, they were going to get to it, traffic be damned.

  "Sweetie," I don't think this is a good idea," Honey said as he grabbed her hand and prepared to make a dash.

  "Nonsense, pumpkin. What's that you always say about helping little old ladies across the street? Just let me help you. These cars will stop. All we need is a break in the traffic."

  Honey assessed the situation. Both she and Leonard were wearing cross-training footwear, the same shoes that had just jitterbugged on the Champs-Elysees. They were both still pretty mobile thanks to their dancing and swimming and yoga classes. But they weren't fast runners by any means.

  The cars are only going twenty miles an hour. They could stop in time, couldn't they? So, why not make a dash for it? There are four lanes of traffic. All we really have to do is take it one lane at a time.

  "Okay, let's go for it," Honey said.

  "Look, here we go, come on," Leonard urged as he pulled her onto the cobblestone circle to make it through a break in the traffic.

  Honey moved quickly to keep up and immediately tripped on the uneven surface of the road. She felt herself flying into a major fall until Leonard grabbed her under her right arm to keep her from going down and to keep them both moving forward. He he
aved her up like he was throwing a bale of hay onto a wagon.

  By the time she regained her balance and was finally standing upright, they were stopped and stuck between the second and third rings of traffic from the center. They were surrounded by blaring horns. The air was chokingly thick with the sooty smell of diesel exhaust fumes. Cabs and cars and trucks were swerving dangerously to avoid hitting them.

  They realized it had been a terrible mistake to try and cross through this much traffic. Honey couldn't see any way out of the predicament they had gotten themselves into. The drivers were negotiating a tight circle so they couldn't see pedestrians until it was too late to stop.

  "Leonard!" Honey screamed as an overloaded lorry screeched on its brakes and looked like it would be unable to avoid hitting them as it went into a sideways skid.

  "He's blocking for us," Leonard said as he pulled Honey across the final two lanes of traffic.

  Sure enough, the lorry had slid to a stop not a foot from Honey and Leonard, blocking the two inner lanes of traffic. Cars screeched to a stop to avoid hitting the lorry. One cab slammed into the rear dual tires of the stopped truck but didn't seem to do any damage.

  "Vive la France," Leonard shouted from the safety of the sidewalk island as he held up both arms to indicate a touchdown had just been scored.

  The lorry driver grinned wildly as he straightened out his truck and got going again with a gear-grinding lurch. He flashed the peace sign as Leonard yelled, "You saved our lives! You're our hero!"

  Honey went to find a place to sit down. She felt too light-headed and nauseated to be exhilarated by their narrow escape. She still felt like the truck was about to run them over. She could still smell the burning rubber from its sideways slide. Now, it was her turn to feel uncertain about the escape to Paris.

  "I don't know if this trip was such a great idea," she said as they sat down on a green, wooden bench.

  Leonard realized it was his turn to take up the slack. "You sound like me in the Indianapolis airport. You slapped some sense into me when I was down. Now, what am I going to do to get you back on track?"