A Midnight Sun Page 8

  The moment he saw her laughing, slipping and sliding on the skates, he knew it was his chance. Sidney brought her closer slowly, fearing the moment would escape from his fingers again. She gasped in surprise, as if she knew what was about to happen, and placed her hands around his strong shoulders. Her mouth became a plump, round circle, and then, she seemed to understand what he meant to do. So, she closed her eyes, and he gently nudged her toward him until his entire body was flush with his, she was slightly taller because of the skates, so her eyes met his. A slow melody started. He sensed the perfection in the moment, so he leaned into her…and missed her mouth. He had kissed her nose while she, his chin. They came apart and chuckled.

  “Pretty boy, you better keep those peepers open until you make contact this time.”

  He did, while Parker leaned in to kiss him. From that day on, Fitch couldn’t keep his lips off hers. And, he never missed her lips again when trying to kiss her. “Well, not on purpose,” Fitch told Mirim.

  Mirim woke with a smile on her face and ran for her notebook.

  Chapter 17

  Marquee

  The Box Which Keeps on Giving

  Oahu, December 31st, 1989

  The days leading up to New Year’s Eve, I went about the house or visited friends around town. Everything was as I would have expected for coming to my small hometown life, where hardly anything other than the most recent town scandal or new addition to the population ever happens.

  Most of the people who have stayed in Oahu are either old or set in their ways, or like the slow pace the town seems to always have. Only a few roads are long or wide enough to call themselves avenues. While driving my mother’s Buick through the bright sunny streets, sticking my hand out the window and inhaling at every stop, tapping the wheel to the radio and humming along every song I know, I run errands or visit friends. I often think about my visions and dreams, which I am enjoying lately because they have been mostly about the love affair between Parker and Fitch. I can almost feel the love between them as if it were mine, my heart growing ever fond of how they felt. I don’t have to imagine how they felt, I feel as if I actually know, like a revelation behind the darkest or most remote places inside my mind.

  On a late errand for the New Year ’s Eve party at my neighbor’s house, I was carrying a hefty paper bag and walking back to the car. Still whistling the last song I’d heard on the radio, I notice out of my left the shop of second-hand items.

  As usual, the smallest shelves at the foremost part of the window, up against the glass, have an array of vintage articles. Some of them are toys and I like to glance for the occasional weird doll or antique puzzle because I like collecting them if they are in good condition. Looking into the window, I spot an object on the far right which startles me. It is an identical replica –or at least similar to the toy truck in the box I found. Up until this moment, I had completely forgotten about the item as well as the other items and the box entirely.

  The truck in the box is in better condition than the truck in the window, which is priced at $42.00. It hasn’t occurred to me that Truman might be able to shine a light on what these items are. I move closer into the window to peer in and get a closer look. On the glass, a silhouette reflected and I whirl around to see who it is, an entire carton of eggs flies over the top of my paper bag and falls with a crunch at my feet.

  “Cheeks, I thought you liked your eggs over-easy, not splattered.” Scotty snickers, appearing suddenly in front of me.

  “Nice. Really nice. Damn it, Scott! You gave me such a scare. My heart is racing a mile a minute.” I turn immediately back to the window to look at the toy truck again. “It’s really remarkable…” I whisper fogging up the store glass.

  “What is Chipmunk?”

  I unload the bag onto his hands as I walk back to my car searching for my keys. He follows me and hurries to keep my step, dropping more items from the bag that he has to pick up. “Cheeks, would you mind walking slower?”

  “Do you remember the box I told you about? The one I found in my mother’s linen closet.”

  “Sure, I do. Can I catch a ride with you?”

  “Yeah, yeah…get in. It’s just that…I just…I saw…I just fucking saw the same toy truck back there.” I have trouble unlocking the car,

  “Not this again. That is only a small coincidence Cheeks.”

  I finally unlock the door and pull the button on the other side to let him in. “Perhaps Scotty, perhaps.” He is silently watching me with a surprised look on his face while I put the bag in the back seat. “But you and I are going to find out soon enough, aren’t we?”

  “We are? Cheeks, I don’t think– “

  “I couldn’t care less right now about what you think. You’re coming with me and that’s is the end of it. Got it?”

  “Chipmunk! Do you mean back to the store?” Before he could say anything else I pull him by his denim jacket and bring him out of the car from the driver’s side.

  Once we are back in front of the store, Scotty is about to ask me something but I turn to him and glare before he can say another word.

  “So, what’s your interest, honey?” The skinny lady behind the counter says, peering from over her thin reading glasses. She wears them low on her nose and a chain dangles around her face all the way to her neck. She is chewing gum like she is in love with the wad, which I can detect protruding on the side of her mouth –a bubble on her cheek. I envision her having put that gum in her mouth earlier and adding pieces during the day, lovingly caressing it with her tongue until the perfect size was achieved, like a passionate lover’s kiss. “Honey? She says again. “Can I help you or not?”

  The woman speaks softly enough for me to hear, but firmly. She’s not exactly annoyed with me but I feel she’s soon bound to that side of the road if I don’t say something soon.

  “Uh, yeah.” I snap back and clear my throat trying to figure what to say. “I was interested in that…the toy truck, the one right on the corner, top shelf?”

  “The blue one with the flames on the side?” She says as if there are others.

  “The very one and the same,” Scotty chirps in. and she perks up with a bright smile, like a blast of cold air has rustled her feathers.

  “Well, honey,” She croaks, “It’s a-antique collectible’s item.?”

  “A-antique?” Scott repeats like her, putting the words together. “Could I see it, honey?”

  “Sure gorgeous!” You know girl, you look a little like a Teasdale I went to school with. Are you related by chance?”

  “Yeah, I am…” I realize this is going into one of those ‘I know your parents’ conversations and scream in my head what I want to scream to Scotty. Wrong course of action. Parent’s old friend. Retreat, RETREAT!

  I am turning to leave when she says, “You know, you kinda look like that girl. What was it…uh, yes! Mirim. I think the boy’s name is Truman?” She saunters to the window and retrieves the toy car, so I return to the counter.

  “That is…uh…my brother.” I concede, resigned to listening to her memories of my family.

  “Nice boy that Truman. I remember his soft but rebellious eyes.” She says with her face turned into the glass shelves. When she turns to us again her glasses fall on her chest and she swings them onto her back. “He was friends with my boy. He’s already grown and married now. A grandkid on the way, too. A girl!”

  “That’s uh…nice.” Scotty says, “How about that car then?”

  “Ooh, yes. I get caught up in my head a little, don’t I?” I punch Scotty on his thigh and he groans. “Thank you, Missus…”

  “Lasseter. That’s Miss Lasseter. My old man is long gone. May God rest his soul.” She bats her lashes at Scott, then puts on her glasses again and turns to me. “Do you want me to wrap it dear?”

  “No, no. I just wanna see it. I have one just like it, you know?”

  She sneers and her glasses drop a notch on her nose. “I’ll be damned girl. Got no time to be wasting.”
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  “No, miss Lasseter. It’s really– “

  “Her brother Truman is in the antique’s business.” Scotty adds quickly, “He might like it.”

  “Ain’t that so?”

  “It is most certainly.”

  “Certainly and entirely!” I answer after Scotty, like we used to as a joke when we were kids. Miss Lasseter looks at me like I am crazy and only speaks to Scotty.

  “Well, you shouldda started there. Tell you what.” She puts a hand on the counter and holds the car with the other. She looks like she’s about to offer us the deal of a lifetime. “You can take it to him and bring it back with his annotations or thoughts. It might help the sale, I think.”

  “Absolutely bright idea Miss Lasseter. What a fine thought.” Scotty prompts. “Why don’t you wrap it up? We promise to bring it back with a detailed card from the good ol’boy. If anything, we’ll send him to bring it to you.”

  “My word, aren’t you the charming young man!” She smacks her leg and goes to a wrap station on the side counter. She uses wrapping tissue to envelop the toy car that then goes into a tiny box that serves as a cradle. She hands the finished package into my hand. “You take care of that package, now.” She says slowly.

  “I will mam. After new year’s I’ll bring it back or have Truman bring it to stop and say hi.”

  “No doubt you’ll be careful with it, won’t you?”

  Scotty and I scurry out of the store, feeling like we’ve won the mega-ball. I give him a ride home and we laugh the entire way thinking of Truman and how he’ll react to this. When he gets out of the Buick, he laughs harder and lowers his head to look at me from the passenger window.

  “You know cheeks, I forget why I went to the store in the first place.”

  Chapter 18

  Marquee

  A Simple Get-Together That Turns into A Date

  Oahu, January 1st, 1990

  The morning of New Year’s Day, Scotty came to pick me up just after noon. He had wanted to have lunch with Truman and me, but Truman wasn’t feeling too perky.

  Scotty and I ride to a small Bistro in a modern area of town that has just recently opened. We are seated at a table that barely accommodates my elbows if I spread them even just slightly. The surface of the table has such an elaborate network of carvings, the skin on my arms punches through the holes. Scott’s knees knock against mine and I yelp helplessly.

  “Sorry, cheeks. It is kind of tiny, isn’t it? The legroom…” he tries to explain.

  “Don’t worry, Scotty. I’m having some difficulty with the table myself.”

  For a moment, Scott looks embarrassed and shy. Scotty has never been shy about anything, especially with me. I scan him carefully but he looks away and grabs a menu.

  After we order, he looks more at ease, so I try to attempt starting a conversation I know will be difficult because of his current attitude. “Scotty, is something the matter with you?”

  He looked shocked. “No, why would it?” He wiped his forehead.

  “Don’t know. You look…guarded.”

  “Just a bit hungover and really hungry. How about you? Aren’t you hungover? Hungry?”

  “No.” I was silent and looked at him. He was nervous and looked around. He wiped his forehead a few times and rapped on the table. “Well, I guess I’m hungry. Scotty, what is wrong with you? What is this about, really about?”

  “I told you Mirim.”

  I grace his arm trying to touch him but he moves it away gently.

  “So, did you ask your brother…about the other things in the box?”

  “You’re deflecting, but that’s okay. I’m gonna ignore your attitude before you make me mad. Yes, we went over all of it.”

  The waitress comes with some dishes and wine, softening the edge between us slightly. “The only thing he could come up with was that they were antiques. Every item. And well, possibly dating back to the early 1900s, although the stamps and postcards were used in the late 1930s. The tractor he said was almost identical, except for the details of the flames that were drawn in opposite patterns. Other than that, nothing else. Ooh, except the camera. It still works! Can you believe it?”

  “That’s really interesting. Is there any clue as to where they came from? I mean, whose were they?”

  “I don’t really know. Other than the fact that they are antiques, and possibly worth a lot of money.”

  So, here’s an idea,” he says between bites, “Ask your mother.”

  “Scotty, please don’t be rude. I can’t ask her.”

  “Why?”

  “She’ll get angry. I went prying through her stuff.” He says nothing and I know what he means from the depths of his silence. “I’ll tell her tomorrow before I leave. I’m taking it with me to Seattle.” In reality, I don’t plan on telling her at all.

  “So…you are leaving tomorrow, Chipmunk.” He is so quiet I have difficulty hearing him.

  “No. The day after. Saturday. I work Monday and want to have time to settle back home.”

  His hand shoots up abruptly to ask for the check. I’m slightly surprised since I haven’t finished my lunch and neither has he. I wait for him to turn his attention to me again, but he remains quiet.

  “When are you leaving?” I ask, not entirely sure whether he is sad or angry, but he is absolutely off-putting and it makes me feel like bolting for the door.

  “Tuesday. I promised mom I’d help her with cleanup and storage after the holidays.” He stands and hugs my shoulders. “Chipmunk, I’m …I know I’m weird right now, but I’m really happy I get to spend time with you. We never seem to coincide for the holidays.”

  “Yeah. It’s really strange we haven’t until now.”

  We got out of his car. After riding back to my house for a while, I feel like I’m supposed to be silent, sit there and say nothing, that if I say anything, I’ll alter the veritable fabric of the whole universe. I’m unable to shake the sensation and feel overwhelmed about not having anything to say that will make the moment better, especially with Scotty.

  “Do you think we may be able to…to get together before Christmas comes around again?”

  I’m more stunned than before but somehow manage to speak. “I don’t see why not, Scott. I mean, it’s only a short flight away. I think you’d love Seattle.” I perk up and elongate the vowels in Seattle, enough that I feel like it’s a more enticing proposition.

  “I sure would love to visit.”

  As soon as he says that last phrase, he parks the car and steps out to open my door. “Or, I can visit you,” I say when he opens my door. “I’ve never been to San Francisco.”

  I walk ahead of him and don’t realize he’s lagged behind until I unlock the front door. “Scott…aren’t you coming in?”

  “I think cheeks, it’s probably best if I just see you to the door.”

  “What? Why”

  “Gotta go home and…it’s getting late. Say hi to your parents…and Truman…”

  “Scott?” He crosses the pathway leading back toward his car. He waves and jumps behind the wheel, skidding off into the empty street.

  I turn the latch of the door to step into the house, feeling lightheaded and confused. A question takes a step forward from the back of my head and I halt my steps.

  I run into my room to see what is in the box again.

  Chapter 19

  Marquee

  My Flight Has Been Delayed for Unreasonable Reasons

  Oahu, December 2nd, 1990

  Hoping something might take hold, I went through all the items in the box that day in my room but went to bed half thinking of the box and its mysterious contents, and half worried about Scotty.

  Truman and I sit on a bank of chairs, waiting at the airport for our respective flights –his direct to Las Vegas and mine to Seattle via Portland.

  Truman is snoozing when a flight attendant comes by to ask for my seat assignment because the flight seems to have been overbooked. After I tell her, she lingers a while eye
ing the scattered objects on my lap with bewildered curiosity. She doesn’t pay too much attention to the pages I have laid arranged by date on the small table beside me.

  The idea that I am missing something important nags at me fiercely. I just can’t bring myself to find what it is, but Truman mentions San Francisco when we speak about our flights and this crazy time of year. It made me think of Scotty and an increasing desire to talk to him before leaving suddenly flared up.

  After our dinner the previous Thursday, I saw him only when he stopped by to say goodbye to Truman. They talked briefly near the front door but he avoided coming into the house or calling afterward. When we left for the airport this morning, Truman gave me a small gift box and said it was from Scott.

  It is still sitting open inside my carry-on. I wanted to be able to call him as soon as I open it.

  Truman wakes from his slumber with a stir and almost knocks the items from my lap.

  “What time is it? Have they called for boarding?” he asks.

  “No, Truman. You know, it was really nice of you to come earlier with me. Your flight is not for another eight hours.”

  “That’s no problem brah. As soon as you board, I’m gonna find a sweet spot on the carpet near the gate, pop on my headphones, and spread this baby.” He taps the rolled-up knap-sack on top of his suitcase. “Besides, I couldn’t have asked pops to come back all this way with me again.”

  “Still so, Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it, sis. What’s all this? Are you going through that stuff again?”

  “Yeah, it’s just…there’s something I’m missing Truman. I’m not seeing it, but I know it’s there somehow.”