The Pandora Effect

by Olivia Darnell

  “That sounds wonderful.” He reached to pick up the card to open it again. “Are you sure you wrote this?”

  “Yes, quite sure,” she told him.

  “You go get the Inniskillin and chocolate and then we’ll discuss this part: ‘Lend to me your memories’. I think I might have some memories to share with you if you are sincerely interested.”

  “I am interested in whatever it is,” she assured him as she got up to get the dessert.

  Perry watched her go and wondered what their two visitors must have thought about her. He would have to do something about that. She was oblivious to her effect on people, especially men.

  Billy Johnson had felt awful after he’d left Sam Morris’ house and he was worried that Perry Aliger might actually press charges on him. He regretted what he had said in front of Louis Parks about beating up Mr. Aliger, but that had been the whiskey talking and it had all been off the record. It would be his word against Aliger’s if it came down to it. He’d hope to make some brownie points with Sam in order to better his chances of making a loan to pay the back taxes on that property down by the river. The visit hadn’t gone very well and old lady Morris’ presence had put a real damper on things. Sam had been too busy mooning over Maureen and worrying about Perry Aliger to pay much attention to him.

  It was getting late, but he drove by Hannah’s house hoping to lay low for a while and maybe talk to her a bit more about the possibility of getting his hands on the marina. He’d found her in the backyard raking dead grass and leaves just as the sun was going down. The cats milled about waiting to be fed. Billy sat on her back steps and called to her. She stopped raking and turned to look at him in surprise. She looked somehow different. Her eyes were clear and a rosy flush colored her cheeks as she came closer to squint at him.

  “What do you want?” She asked him and leaned on the rake handle.

  “I just wanted to come by and tell you that the little kitten, Smidgits, is doin’ real good. She ate a handful of cat food this mornin’ and drank some milk, too,” he said trying to get on her good side as quickly as possible.

  “I knew she’d be alright,” Hannah nodded. “Now, what do you really want?”

  “I wanted to talk some more about that land down there by the river,” he admitted.

  “Come on in, then.” She leaned the rake against the wall and climbed the steps. He followed, surprised by the invitation. She actually smelled better than the last time he’d talked to her. She smelled like baby powder and her hair was clean and piled on top of her head under a red kerchief.

  He entered the kitchen reluctantly and was again surprised to see it all cleaned up. Shabby, but clean. He took a seat at the table while she went to put a battered kettle on the stove.

  “Tea or coffee?” She asked and took two cups from her cupboard.

  “Coffee’d be good,” he said impressed with her apparent reformation. “I thought I’d see if I could make a loan down at the S and L to pay off the taxes. A business loan.”

  “Yeah? That’s a lot of money,” she told him and spooned instant coffee in his cup. He noticed that he could smell the coffee instead of the cats.

  “Uh, huh,” he agreed. “I’m gonna make a deal to get enough to pay off the taxes and fix up the marina at the same time. A long term loan, you know?”

  “Yeah,” she nodded and opened a tea bag to put in her own chipped cup. “Sounds reasonable.”

  “I thought you could just deed me that parcel with the marina and you could sell the rest. Maybe buy you one of them nice little trailers to live in. I hear they’re real fancy now.”

  “So I hear.” She got a sugar bowl down for him. “What if I don’t want to part with my land?”

  “It ain’t doin’ nobody no good as it stands,” he told her and spooned sugar into his cup.

  “Uh, huh,” she nodded and sat down to face him. She looked at him long and hard. “Now tell me what you’re plannin’ to do down there.”

  Tyler opened the back door quietly and hobbled to one of the kitchen stools to sit heavily at the bar. He was totaled out and he knew that he still had to face Paula Anne and he dreaded it. How could he face her with what he had been thinking all day written all over his face? What would he say? What would she say? How could he bring up the question of the box?

  He looked around the kitchen full of chickens and felt silly. Aliens and UFO’s couldn’t come here. Not to his kitchen! Not to his Paula Anne! It was preposterous. He got up to look for her and found her in the living room asleep on the couch. One of her hands hung down to the carpet where she’d dropped the cordless phone on the floor. He eased himself down to the carpet and took her hand to press it to his face. She raised her head and pushed the hair out of her eyes.

  “Tyler?” She asked groggily. “Where’ve you been?”

  “Nowhere,” he told her tiredly. “Paula Anne, I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?” She sat up to look down at him and then leaned to kiss his forehead. “You look awful.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled up at her and she slid off the couch to sit beside him.

  It was not the reception he had expected and he thought maybe he might survive after all.

  “I know what’s wrong with you,” she told him and his eyes widened. “Dottie told me.”

  “Dottie?” He frowned.

  “Yeah. You know, Dottie McMillan, my friend over at the bank? She said that you would be all depressed and sad about the baby. She said that I would have to pay lots of attention to you because you would feel like a fifth wheel, whatever that is. She said it’s perfectly normal for expectant fathers.”

  “She said that?” He smiled, greatly relieved. Tyler had decided to go see Doctor Peterson as soon as possible and get that test done. He would know soon enough if Mike’s theory could hold any water, but he knew he would have to do some heavy explaining if he didn’t get there before Paula Anne. How could he explain wanting the test after the fact?

  “Don’t worry, Tyler.” She kissed him again and he felt better already. “I’m going to make sure that the baby’s daddy is one very happy camper.” She kissed him once more. He just hoped she had the right guy.

  Chapter Thirty-Two:.

  Monday morning dawned bright and beautiful and early. Perry went about the shop straightening up and re-stocking the shelves while Angelica followed him around chattering endlessly about the night before. He had created a monster, but it didn’t really bother him. He had finally made a breakthrough it seemed. He was highly amused by her comments and had been having a hard time keeping the amusement from his voice when he answered her questions. The effects of the four bottles of wine he had consumed with the dinner had worn off quickly without the throwing up episode which had landed him in trouble the afternoon before.

  “I believe that one of your tomes may have contained a saying ‘Practice makes perfect.’ Concerning this activity, it may contain a great deal of validity. Even though I found our first two encounters a bit more disturbing than enlightening, this latest episode may have provided the necessary data to make some valid observations.”

  “Observations about what?” He encouraged her to continue as he filled in the blank spots on the wind chime display.

  “About whether this preoccupation with the rituals of love and physical attachments are basic instinctual reactions with only reproductive success as the goal or if there is a relevant need for physical contact in order to maintain a healthy psycho-social connection.” She followed him with her cup of amaretto to the next display.

  “Then do you still believe that such pursuits are a waste of time?” He glanced at her.

  “No I don’t believe it is a waste of time, per se,” she frowned and sipped her coffee. “It appears to have some degree of significance in the overall structure of the paired relationships common to these people in this form. Of course I fail to see how these people could create the same patterns as we experienced last night since they do not possess your memories or you
r...” She stopped to look up at him and narrowed her eyes. He looked down at her raising his eyebrows.

  “My what?” He asked.

  “You are truly enjoying yourself at my expense, Primus.” She turned away from him and went back to the register to begin the opening procedures. He watched her go with his usual admiration for her form. He thought she looked especially nice in the yellow outfit. It complimented her olive complexion he thought and made her eyes even darker.

  He walked past the counter on his way to the cooler to check his favorite commodity, the wine. He leaned toward her as he passed and whispered “my what?” She did not look up, but lost count of the change she was placing in the register drawer.

  Their first customer was a lady from the dress shop in town. She stopped by to purchase a gift for her daughter’s birthday. The second was a man picking up some chocolate coffee for his wife. Perry passed by the counter each time she was ringing up a customer and managed to work in the same question every time, clearly aggravating Angelica to no end. To the first lady he had said “my what?... a lovely daughter you have” when she had shown them a picture of her daughter. To the man he had said “my... what? Did you call that Angelica? Mocha?” The next customer was an elderly lady wearing a strange expression who asked if they had any Polish pickles. “Angelica!” He had called from half-way across the store “The lady wants to see my...What? Did you say Polish pickles?” The morning wore on in this fashion until Angelica’s aggravation gradually turned to amusement and then she began to actually laugh at him as his manipulations grew more and more convoluted. Another break through. She had finally made a mad dash through the aisles after one of the customers left them alone and had grabbed hold of his what? laughing and pushing him around the floor, telling him to cease and desist before she embarrassed herself in front of the customers by bursting out laughing in their faces. He stopped her attack by holding her close and kissing her. She backed away from him and glanced at the clocks in the cuckoo display.

  “It’s too early to close,” she told him smugly.

  “I have a problem,” he said seriously.

  “Yes, you do,” she told him and started to walk away. He took her arm to turn her around.

  “No, I have a real problem,” he said. “The box Julia Parks brought by yesterday was not the last. One of the boxes is still out there.”

  “Oh?” She raised both eyebrows. “Which one?”

  “Mary McDaniels',” he told her. “But she gave it to Sam Morris. If someone should open it, they will have an even bigger problem.”

  “How do you propose to get it back?” She asked.

  “I don’t know,” he shook his head and frowned just as Maureen Fitzgerald entered the store.

  “Don't be trying your what on her, Peregrin!” Angelica quipped, frowned and then smiled at him before walking away.

  Maureen came straight to him practically ignoring Angelica.

  “Do you know what those idiots thought?!” She asked immediately.

  “Yes, no.” He backed away from her angry visage.

  “They thought you had killed me and taken my body away,” she said. “I’m so mad! I can’t believe it! They destroyed my house! My steaks spoiled in the bag! And they kept my pillow with your blood on it!”

  “Oh, really?” Perry frowned. “Maybe they want to make my... what did you say? They kept the pillow with my blood on it?” He glanced at Angelica and she made a face at him.

  “Yes, and they still have it,” Maureen looked around to see, too late, if anyone else was there to hear. “I have been thinking about what you asked me and the answer is yes. I will go to Beijing with you.”

  “Shhhh,” Perry told her and glanced at Angelica again.

  “I thought you said you didn’t care about her anymore,” Maureen lowered her voice, but looked confused.

  “I don’t... no I do, I mean, I thought I didn’t, but I do,” he said lamely. “I mean, I care what she does now, but you can still come to Beijing with us.”

  “That would be just lovely for you, wouldn’t it?” Maureen asked and looked at him bewildered.

  “Yes, it would,” he agreed. “I mean... it would be lovely to have you... I mean... I don’t know what I mean.”

  “Are you drunk again?” She asked eyeing him closely. “I wish you would sober up so we can discuss this properly. I know that things are different for you... and her, but I thought you said that your experiences with her were disappointing.”

  “They were,” he nodded. “But then, we weren’t actually doing it right.”

  “Oh, my God!” Maureen said as she put her hands on her hips and stamped her foot on the floor. “How in the world? When did this happen?”

  Perry was beside himself. This was not good. He needed her help to get the box from Sam Morris’ possession before something awful happened.

  “Maureen.” He took her by the shoulders. “I need your help.”

  “You need something,” she told him. She still could not bring herself to be mad at him it seemed. Perhaps it was because she really didn’t love him, she thought. How could she be jealous of him if she really was not in love with him?

  “I need to talk to you.” He looked about the store. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  Maureen’s mouth fell open and she was about to protest, but he pulled her past the counter where Angelica looked up at them coolly. When he passed by her he said “Angelica, we are going upstairs to discuss that little matter I spoke to you about earlier.” He stopped to look out the window beyond her as if surprised by something. “My, my!”

  “What?!” She turned to look out the window and spun back around to look at him.

  “Gotcha!” He winked at her and continued on with Maureen in tow.

  “I guess you didn’t know that Sam spent half the night in jail, did you?” She asked Perry after he had told her about the problem with the Pandora Box.

  “And?” Perry looked at her expectantly. Where Sam spent his nights was of no concern to him.

  “And I’m afraid that after his mother bailed him out, he came by my house...” she said slowly.

  “And?” Perry felt that something was coming he didn’t want to hear.

  “And I lost my temper,” she said and looked away from him. “I told him that I was going away to Beijing with you.”

  Perry nodded. He understood now. If she and Sam were still fighting, she couldn’t very well go to his house and ask for the box and if he showed up at Sam’s door asking for the box, he would probably get much more than the Pandora Box for his trouble.

  “I suppose I don’t have to ask what he said,” Perry sighed and looked very disappointed and Maureen felt really bad. He got up and went into the kitchen to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of wine. He came back to the table and sat down with it. He popped the cork and drank from the bottle.

  “Why are you doing that?” She frowned at him.

  “I have contracted Hannah’s alcoholism and I haven’t been able to deal with it just yet. It’s nothing. I can stop anytime I like,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah, right! That’s classic denial,” she laughed. “So what are we going to do?”

  “We have to get the box back,” Perry told her. “You know the house. Can we get in surreptitiously?”

  “Surrepwhatly?” She looked at him. “You mean break in?”

  “Yes,” he nodded.

  “He doesn’t have an alarm, if that’s what you mean. The big city hasn’t come this far... yet.”

  “Good,” he nodded trying to think quickly. “This will take some planning. We will have to go tomorrow night. I promised Angelica another memory tonight.”

  “Another memory?” She frowned. “And what makes you think I will become your accomplice in crime?”

  “Because you love me?” He asked hopefully.

  “Oh, oh, I see,” she nodded. He was just too cute. And she was such a fool and she was so mad at Sam. She wanted to break into his house, break his mirrors and
trash his kitchen just to get even for what they had done to her house. “Sure I’ll go, but...”

  “But what?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “You have to promise to make another memory with me... at Sam's house,” she said and he frowned.

  Sam was beside himself. He sat sulking at his desk with his back to the window staring at his mother who sat in her usual position on his sofa. Neither of them spoke. In fact, hardly anyone had spoken to him since he had come in at eight forty-five. Everyone had looked at him and some had nodded to him, but they seemed to be holding their collective breaths waiting to see if he would explode or turn into some kind of horned devil right in front of them. He had gone straight to his office and closed the door. He hardly had time to get himself situated at his computer terminal when he had seen Maureen’s car drive by in the street below. She had gone directly to the Gift Shop, got out and hurried up the sidewalk to go inside. He had forced himself away from the window to sit down at his desk, refusing to watch for her to come out again. Then, to his chagrin, his mother had been his first visitor. She had come in dressed in black as if she were in mourning and taken a seat in silence on his sofa and that is where she still sat watching him from behind her sunshades.

  He pulled a cigar from the cork pen holder and lit it up. He had never realized that so much could happen in one lousy weekend. He turned in his chair and pulled up the stock reports on his computer without saying anything to her.

  “Ahem!” His mother cleared her throat.

  “Yes?”

  “What do you have to say for yourself, young man?” She asked.

  “I am not a little boy, Mother,” he said.

  “You act like one,” she countered.

  “Whatever,” he said and tried to concentrate on the scrolling numbers on the screen.

  “Why did you bring that thing down here?” She asked.

  She referred to the little box sitting in the middle of his desk.

  “I want to make sure it’s safe,” he said.