Say Uncle

by Benjamin Laskin

  “Maybe you should rest, Guy.”

  “What else did she say? Did you get to talk to her much?”

  “We talked for about half an hour in the hallway. You were right, Guy. She’s very pretty, and there is something about her. She’s interesting.”

  “I told you,” I said.

  “Yes, you did. That’s twice now that you’ve been right. Maybe I should start listening to you more often.”

  “Even a broken clock is right twice a day, Doreen. How did she know that I was here?”

  Doreen shrugged. “She just showed up. Nobody asked her.”

  “Hmm… Well, I’m really surprised. When she left me at the bar I thought for sure she was angry. I was kind of a jerk.”

  “She said she thought you were funny. She also seemed to know quite a bit about me.”

  “Yeah, well, I may have mentioned your name once or twice.”

  “I’m flattered, Guy.” She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “You know, you must have made an impression on her, otherwise why would she have come?”

  “You think so?”

  “Sure.”

  “Yeah, but she’s so pretty and all.”

  “So?”

  “But I’m just, you know, Guy. And I have no pubic hair.”

  “Stop it. You’re a cute guy, Guy. All your cousins think so. I think Debra has a crush on you.”

  “Debra? No way. You’re crazy. Besides, we’re cousins.”

  Doreen said, “I don’t think she’d have cared.”

  “Well, I did. I mean, do. I mean…”

  “Anyway,” Doreen said. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up about Melody because she’s leaving in a few days.”

  “Oh yeah, Mexico, right?”

  “Maybe. She didn’t say.”

  “Doreen, can I borrow a thousand dollars?”

  “What?”

  “I want to go with her.”

  “Guy,” she laughed, “you’re a nut.”

  “I’m in love with her, Doreen.”

  “You are not.”

  “Well, I want to be.”

  “First of all, you don’t even know where she is. Second, you can’t walk. Third, school begins again in a week. Fourth, fifth, and sixth: you’re broke, I won’t lend you the money, and mom and dad would throw a fit.”

  “Well, if she comes back to visit me I’m going to ask her. I’m—”

  “Guy, get some sleep. I think you’re still a little out of it, you know?”

  “Why? Because I met the woman of my dreams and I want to follow her to the ends of the world? That’s not out of it, that’s in it. That’s love!”

  Doreen groaned. “Oh brother, I wish you could hear yourself. Besides, what about those other two? I thought you said they were the women of your dreams.”

  “Yeah, well, they didn’t visit me in the hospital, did they? They didn’t bring me a present. I didn’t throw up on their shoes.”

  Doreen shook her head. “Sleep, Guy. You need it. I have to go. Mom and the others should be back soon. You’ll be home tomorrow. We’ll talk then. Now you don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “I know what I’m saying. I’m saying I want to fall in love with Melody.”

  “You’re still doped up. You’d fall in love with the next person to walk into this room.”

  “That would probably be nurse Gloria. She’s nice, and I think I’d have a chance with her, but she’s built like a Humvee and can grow a better mustache than Geraldo Rivera. I’d have to be on a lot stronger painkillers to want to run away with her.”

  “You’re a shallow guy, Guy.”

  “I know. I keep trying to tell you that. And don’t call me Guy-Guy.”

  Enter the Dragon

  Pain aside, I rather enjoyed my short stay in the hospital. My family filtered in and out during the rest of the day and I got lots of attention and ice cream. Though it was nice to see my family, I always had one eye on the door hoping, praying, that Melody would suddenly appear. But with only thirty minutes left of visiting hours, I gave up hope.

  Because of the painkillers I dozed off repeatedly during the day, sometimes in the middle of a sentence, like a narcoleptic. My dreams were thick and vivid, and I dreamed about Melody more than once. A number of times I awoke with the absurd expectation that she was standing over me. Nurse Gloria accused me twice of grabbing her bottom and calling her Melody. It was just after one of my naps that I awoke and saw Melody sitting beside my bed eating a bagel that my sister had left behind.

  “Gloria?” I said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Just making sure. Thanks for coming. It’s great to see you again.”

  “Don’t mention it. How do you feel?”

  “Like I was run over by a chain saw. How did you know I was here?”

  “It was in all the papers, don’t you know?” She smiled. There were those darling dimples again, and that sexy gap between her front teeth. She was pretty all right. My imagination had not exaggerated my memory of her one bit.

  “But why did you come?” I asked, coming straight to the point. I didn’t know when I might doze off again.

  “I have my reasons,” she evaded.

  “Right. Okay. This is fun.” I smiled broadly in a demonstration of forbearance. “By the way, thanks for the book. I like it a lot. Doreen told me that you’re a big admirer of the photographer.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You might not believe this,” I boasted, “but I know her.”

  Melody arched a skeptical eyebrow.

  “Okay, I don’t really know her. Well, I mean. But we met. We talked. We’re on a first name basis. We had a drink together. In fact, we met right after you left the bar that night. She sat in your seat! How’s that for a coincidence, huh?”

  Melody looked dubious. But why would I have made up a story like that?

  After a moment, she said, “Why would you make up a story like that?”

  “Exactly! And that’s only the half of it, let me tell you.”

  “Okay,” she said, relaxing deeper into her chair, obviously amused. “Tell me.”

  “Huh? Okay, but it’s kind of a long story. You see, well, it goes like this—if you hadn’t tinkled that damn bell in my face I wouldn’t be here now.”

  Melody burst into laughter. “It’s my fault you’re in the hospital?”

  “Indirectly, yes. And Johanna’s. And Noriko’s.”

  “Who?”

  “Johanna, the Swedish photographer. And Noriko, the world famous Japanese model I met in the same bar just after Johanna left. Ends up they were best friends. Are you following me so far?”

  “Maybe I should get the nurse…”

  “Hold on. I’m trying to tell you. After you left the night was just getting started.”

  “What was she like? Johanna, I mean.”

  “Well, she was beautiful and intelligent and vivacious. She was, well… She was a lot like you, Melody. Sort of…”

  “In other words, you don’t know at all what she was like.”

  “Hey, give me a break,” I said. Man, you can be such a bitch.

  “No, not from me. I think people have given you too many breaks already.” She wasn’t smiling.

  “You know,” I said, “keep this up and I might not go to Mexico with you.”

  “Hello?”

  “That’s right, babe.” What the hell, I thought.

  “What makes you think for even a nanosecond that I would want you, or even let you come with me?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “It just seems like a really good idea, that’s all.”

  “Well, it isn’t. It’s a really stupid idea. It’s no idea at all.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But all that aside, what do you think?”

  She replied slowly and succinctly, as if speaking to a moron, gesticulating to make certain that I understood. “You are going back to school and I am going back on the road, alone.”

  “But what fo
r? Why are you always wandering off alone? What are you trying to prove?”

  “Like I said, Guy, you don’t know me at all. Besides, people were wanderers—hunters and gatherers—for a hell of a lot longer than they’ve been couch potatoes. I like to keep moving.”

  “Yeah, but back then people were looking for food. What are you looking for, Melody?”

  She picked out another bagel from the bag. “Information,” she said. “I’m a hunter and gatherer of information.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “The kind necessary for keeping body and soul together. Bagel?”

  “No, thanks.”

  She shrugged and took a bite. “Do you have any cream cheese?”

  “In the bag on the bed behind you.”

  She got up and stepped over to the vacant bed and bent to peek into the bag. She was wearing a baggy, black turtleneck sweater and faded Levis. My eyes latched onto her bottom like a pit bull. If eyes had teeth, she’d have screamed.

  “Excuse me, Melody,” I said, “but there’s nothing wrong with your body that I can see.”

  “I wasn’t talking about me,” she said, returning to the chair with the cream cheese and a plastic knife. “I was talking about the world.”

  “The world? Right. And what do you do with this information when you find it? If you find it, that is?”

  “Oh, I find it all right. That’s the easy part. The hard part is doing something about it.”

  “Are you working for some organization?”

  She smiled wryly. “No, mostly against them.”

  “Freelance, are you?”

  “Very.”

  “How’s the pay?”

  “It stinks, though once I lifted a Rolex off some sheik’s wrist without him even knowing it.” She pushed up the sleeve of her sweater and showed it to me. “…See? I think of it as my savings account that I can dip into if I’m ever hard up for cash.”

  “So why do you do it? Whatever it is?”

  “Because it’s fun and I can wear whatever I like.”

  “Sounds more like a hobby than a job.”

  “Saving the world should be a hobby,” she garbled, her mouth full, a smudge of cream cheese on her upper lip. “Absolutely.”

  “Saving the world?” I mocked. “How cliché.”

  Melody shrugged, unconcerned.

  I said, “Seems to me that there are already too many people trying to save the world, and what we need saving from is them.”

  Melody smiled a pleased smile. “Very good, Guy. You’re a lot smarter than you let on.”

  I didn’t take it as a compliment. I wondered if Doreen had told her about my stellar report card. “Do you think it can be done?” I asked. “Saving the world, I mean.”

  “The probability falls somewhere between no and hell no. But I’ll tell you one thing, doomsayers bore me.”

  “You’re very casual about it.”

  She took another bite of her bagel. “Yeah, well, worrying never solves anything.”

  “That was you on stage at the Glitch protest, wasn’t it?”

  Melody grinned. “I’ve been told I can really burn up a karaoke box.”

  “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

  “I saw Enter the Dragon eighteen times.”

  I returned to the line of questioning that was getting me straighter answers. “So, if the odds of saving the world are slim to vain, why do you even bother?”

  “Because my father taught me to stand up for what I believe.”

  “The guy you referred to as fuckwit?” I said snidely.

  “The same. And, there’s something else I learned from him: that courage annuls fate. If you’re not afraid then anything is possible. Are you afraid, Guy?”

  “Of what?”

  She shrugged and popped the rest of her bagel into her mouth. “You tell me.”

  “Maybe I should be afraid of you,” I said, only half joking.

  She didn’t reply immediately. She just sat there and contemplated me. Her face was expressionless, but I could detect the workings of thought in her eyes. I had no way of knowing what she might have been thinking as she slowly chewed and swallowed the rest of her bagel. In my weakened condition, and painfully self-conscious of my bedraggled appearance—pale face, greasy hair, puffy eyes, rotten breath and bald loins—I assumed that in her mind she was likening me to worms, squid, and other invertebrates.

  “Listen, Guy,” she said. “You don’t know me and it’s better that way because I’m not someone that you should know. I’m not much appreciated in many circles. Don’t be offended when I tell you that you’re naive, but you are. And, I should add right now, should anyone ever come snooping around and asking you questions, say nothing about having ever met me. For your protection and mine.”

  She said this all very casually but with a frankness that made me uneasy. Was I in the presence of a lunatic? Who was she trying to kid with this crap? I thought I’d play along.

  “So who are you with? CIA? FBI? KGB?”

  “Good,” she said. “It’s better that you don’t believe me.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said impatiently. I didn’t really care what she did or who she was. What I really wanted to know was why she even bothered to come see me. So I asked her again.

  She said, “I have a favor to ask you.”

  “A favor?”

  “Yes, but before I ask you I need your word that you will never discuss it with anybody.”

  “Without even knowing what it is?”

  “That’s right.”

  I agreed, of course. Who wouldn’t have?

  “I have something I want you to read,” she said.

  “That’s it?”

  “A journal,” she clarified.

  “You want me to read your journal?”

  “Not mine. Someone else’s.”

  “Who the hell would want me to read their journal? I don’t even know anyone who keeps a journal.”

  “But he knows you.”

  “He, huh? Well, that narrows it down. Do I know him?”

  “No.”

  “Come on, Melody, you’ve got to admit that this is pretty weird.”

  “Did I say it wouldn’t be?” She shrugged. “So life is weird. Get used to it. It beats the alternative. And I’ll tell you something else, it’s only going to get weirder.”

  I wasn’t sure if she meant that as an invitation or as a threat. “Well, where is it?” I asked.

  “Them. There’s a bunch of them. You’d be getting about one a month or so.”

  “What is this, the Book of the Month Club? What if I don’t like them? Can I return them? Do I get a refund? Who’s going to give them to me? What am I supposed to do with them when I’m finished? This is ridiculous.”

  She answered calmly, “I guarantee you that you’ll find them absorbing reading. I did.”

  “You read them?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, who is this fruitcake?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough. So you’ll do it?”

  “I’ll take a look at one. What the hell.”

  “But there’s more,” she said.

  “More?”

  “He wants you to use the journals to write his story.”

  “What?”

  “You said you wanted to be a writer. Here’s your chance. He’ll cover your expenses, of course.”

  “Wait a second. I don’t know the first thing about writing a book. I just said that stuff about writing because it sounded good. I…wanted to impress you. Besides, I’m a lousy speller.”

  “Doesn’t matter. That’s what he wants. He thinks you have talent.”

  “How would he know?”

  “He thinks it runs in your family.”

  “It does, but by the time it gets to me it is running on fumes.”

  “He believes in you, Guy.”

  “Believes in me? That’s dangerous.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Hu
h? Oh, so you don’t think I can handle it?”

  “I didn’t say that. I believe in you too.”

  “Really?”

  She looked me in the eyes, and nodded.

  Wow, I never had a woman say she believed in me before. It was the sexiest thing I had ever heard. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth my pounding heart would jet out and start ricocheting around the room like a Wham-o Super Ball.

  I cleared my throat and played it cool. “And what if I say no?”

  “But you won’t.”

  “How do you know, smarty-pants? It’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. I could easily say no.”

  “Go ahead then,” she said. “I dare you.”

  “No.”

  She looked at me for a long moment, rolled her eyes and stood up. “Fine,” she said. “Have it your way. I did my job. I don’t have time for any more games. Bye, Guy.”

  “I can’t believe you just said that! You’re the one playing games. You’ve been playing them since I met you.”

  “I told you that I have to be careful,” she said.

  “You haven’t told me squat,” I said.

  “Do you want the damn journal or don’t you?”

  “Yeah, give it to me,” I said, one notch short of a shout, and then mumbled under my breath, “What a bitch.”

  “Pardon me,” Melody said.

  “Itch…my stitches itch.” I stuck my hand under the sheet and pretended that I was scratching myself. “What the hell,” I went on. “I’ll probably get a good laugh out of the thing. The guy is sure to be a nut case.”

  She smiled knowingly. “You’ll get a little more than that, I think.”

  “Yeah, yeah, so when do I get the first one?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” she said. “You’ll get it.”

  “And what about you, Melody?”

  “Me? I told you. I have work to do.”

  “Right,” I mocked, “little Miss Mata Hari.”

  Melody smiled, rubbed my greasy hair and bent over and gave me a sisterly peck on the cheek. “Say hello to Doreen for me, would you?”

  “She liked you,” I said.

  Melody glanced at her Rolex and snatched up her bag from the foot of my bed. “I liked her too. She has potential.”

  “What a smug, self-righteous thing to say.”

  Melody shrugged, indifferent.