The Universe is a Very Big Place (18 page)

"It’s hot in here!" Sarah said, her voice a series of broken words through the costume. Spring felt bad that she had to endure that.

"At least you aren’t part of The TIT Patrol," Debbie said, pulling at her shirt. "You think this is Jane’s way of recruiting more lesbians?"

Spring and Sarah laughed as they unloaded the back of the car. "How’d you get roped into this, too?" Spring asked Debbie.

"I’m being punished, I presume. About a month ago I asked Jane––in public––why a vegetarian like herself would carry a leather purse. Ever since, she has found new and entertaining ways to get even. Last week she had me calling local salons to try and wrangle free bikini waxes for a silent auction she is going to put on. Apparently not that many places are willing to wax hoo-has for charity."

"You wanna hold Casey’s hand, or throw rubbers?" Spring asked as they made their way towards the start of the route. Sarah hopped uneasily beside them. A young guy smirked at the trio as he passed.

"I’ll throw the rubbers," Debbie said, snatching the box from Spring. "I might even let you two walk twenty paces ahead of me," Debbie grinned teasingly.

"Gre mel fjos soolw I see," said Sarah.
 

Spring stopped and turned towards her friend. "What?"

"Neber-mean," replied Sarah, which Spring interpreted as never mind.
 

She held her hand tighter and proceeded into the crowd.

John looked out the window. The sky was the color of washed denim, a noncommittal blue interrupted by splotches of blanched white. Below, the streets were packed.
 

John had never seen so many people crammed into one small area in his life. This made the Black Bird Festival back home seem puny. He thought about painting the scene but the figures below churned and squirmed in and out of view, refusing to stand still for his creative energies to capture. John was about to shut the curtains and give his full attention to the TV when he saw her––Spring Ryan, the pretty woman who owed him money. She looked to be holding hands with a giant, pink pencil as she navigated the street. He grabbed his shoes, slipping into them without bothering to tie the laces, and tumbled out the door. Even in the heat, it might be a good day for a parade after all.

The parade was a three-mile jaunt downtown. Traffic cops had closed off the entire road except to event-goers and concession stand vendors. Spring gripped Casey’s gloved hand tighter as they maneuvered through the crowd. "You gonna be okay?"

Casey nodded, folding her whole body in half. Some younger kids who were laying on their mother’s lap laughed. "That’s obscene," said the mother and Spring smiled apologetically, scooting around her.

"I can’t believe this many people care about Memorial Day," said Debbie, lifting her legs to avoid stepping on an old man snoozing in a lawn chair. "I don’t even know what Memorial Day is for."

Spring surveyed the other participants. Most were veterans or somehow tied to the military. They wore their uniforms and donned swords and carried flags while the high school bands played patriotic songs. Some poor soul in a giant hotdog costume schlepped by and exchanged sympathetic sighs with Casey as they passed one another on their way to their designated spots.

"We don’t belong here," Spring said as they found their space. They were shoved in between the Widows of the Korean War, and a group of Vietnam Vets who were discussing a possible connection between Hillary Clinton and Agent Orange. One widow turned on a boom box they were dragging in an old red wagon, and began a series of twitches and jolts. The others joined her, singing, dancing, and clapping along to
The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B.
They walked, rolled, and hobbled forward, waving and smiling to the crowd.

"Ladies, meet your future." Debbie nodded and Spring gave her a warning look. "What? It’s not like they can hear us."

A parade official motioned them to begin.
 

"Okay, our turn. Let’s go Casey." Spring took Sarah’s hand and led her down the street. Sarah took baby steps in the costume, supplemented by periodic hops, but they did not seem to be making much progress. Spring could smell the vets behind her.

"We are slower than the grandmas," Debbie complained.

"Can you move any faster?" Spring asked Sarah. Sarah paused and responded with an affirmative bobbing motion. Some teenage boys on the sidewalk made lewd comments and Debbie whacked them in the head with well-aimed prophylactics.

The going was slow and sweat beaded on Spring’s forehead. She couldn’t imagine how poor Sarah felt inside the thing.
 

"Okay,” Spring said. "We have to get through this once. Then we protest. Take it directly to Jane if needed. One parade. That’s it." Sarah sped up, almost tripping over her Keds. Spring held on to one of Sarah's hand and placed the other on Sarah’s back for support. "Good job, Sarah. We’re getting there." The road was sticky as the tar turned to mush under the heat of the sun and the girls slogged towards their destination.

"Crisis, ladies," Debbie alerted the others. "We are running out of condoms."

"Already?" Spring had packed at least 500 into the box that morning. "How did that happen?"

Debbie’s face drained of color. "I left the box unattended for a minute. I think the grannies or the vets may have helped themselves."

Sarah chortled in the suit, flapping her arms out to the side in a penguin-esque fashion. Spring patted her back. "We’ll be okay, Sarah. Conserve your energy."

A marker on the road announced that they had made it to the one-mile mark.
 

"One down, two to go," said Debbie and the others nodded. Sarah’s breathing was becoming raspy and Spring was getting worried. She could see a water stand up ahead but wasn’t sure they would make it that far.

"I think we need to rest," Spring said, looking around for shade. Alpine buildings lined the street but it was still early and shade was scant.

"I don’t think we are allowed to rest," said Debbie, handing Spring a piece of stationary from Kimberly’s desk with the words
Screw This Up and Die
written across it in angry black letters.

"How you doing, Sarah?" Spring asked and Sarah responded with a weak thumb’s up. Two children emerged from the crowd to give Casey a hug, sending Sarah sprawling backwards.

"Get out of here," Debbie hissed, catching Sarah before she hit the ground. In front of them the widows danced. "I can’t believe the grandmas are outlasting us."

Sarah said something but Spring could no longer make out any words. They came out crooked and pinched. And then she fainted.

"Sarah!" Spring fell to her knees beside her friend and tapped on her cheek. "Do you hear me? Sarah? You okay?" Spring climbed on top of Sarah and tried to peer at the girl’s face through an eye hole. All she saw was darkness. "I think she’s got heat exhaustion. Someone call 911." The vets scratched their heads and searched their pockets but the quick-thinking widows began yelling into their Life Alerts for assistance. There was a ripping noise near Sarah‘s feet and Spring turned to see a man tearing open the costume from the bottom end with what she guessed was a Swiss-army knife. He cut up the costume until Sarah’s face was revealed. Her skin was red and her eyes were closed but she was still breathing.

Spring heard a siren and saw firemen weaving through the crowd, making their way towards the women. One fireman finished removing the costume and called for a stretcher. "We are taking her to the hospital. Can one of you come with?" he asked.

"I’ll go," Debbie volunteered. She leaned over and whispered to Spring, "I’ll make sure she is okay." Before Spring could process what had happened, Debbie and Sarah disappeared in the truck.

"Thank you," Spring said to the man as she picked up the costume and pulled it in the direction of her car. The man nodded and picked up the other end and followed. "I can do it." She turned to let him know that it was okay and was surprised to see that it was John Smith. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw you from my window upstairs." He nodded to a tall grey building a block away.

"You saw me?"

"I can see the whole road from up there. You guys were kinda hard to miss."

Spring blushed. "You came for your money. Of course."

John shook his head as they hefted the costume into her back seat. Sarah’s perspiration had weighed it down considerably, like a plastic kiddie pool that had not been fully drained. "That’s not why I’m here. I wanted to see you."

"See me?" The words confused her. Why would he want to see her if it wasn’t for the money? She was about to ask when her cell phone rang. It was Kimberly’s number from the office. Just her luck.

"I better be going," Spring said, closing the car door as she got in. John stood motionless, watching her. "If you want, I can give you a check. Please don’t cash it for a while?"

"Nah," John said. "But if you don’t pay up I’m gonna have to keep stalking you. You never know where I will turn up next."

Spring tilted her head but said nothing. She drove away wondering how she was going to explain this to Kimberly, and if Sarah was going to be okay. She would go to the hospital now to check on Sarah and deal with Kimberly on Monday.

"I just have to get through a few more months of this," she said to her bedraggled reflection in the rearview mirror. "And then Sam will get his inheritance and life will get easier."
 

Sixteen

"Are they supposed to look like that?" Spring studied the boys who sat propped up with pillows on the couch, watching their third straight hour of
Murder She Wrote
with Lanie. Their mouths hung open and their eyes were frosted. It had been four hours since their first dose of Ritadate.

"They’re fine," said Lanie during the commercial break.

Sam thumbed through a copy of
Pride and Prejudice.
"You worry too much, Pookie. Relax and enjoy the peace and quiet for a change."

Spring was torn. While half of her was glad they were no longer looting, pillaging, and starting small fires, the other half worried. "Maybe the dose they gave them was too strong." She read the bottle of Ritadate and shook her head. "Side effects include drowsiness, depression, loss of appetite, loss of self-esteem, feelings of inadequacy, and diarrhea."

"Loss of appetite?" Lanie stood up and snatched the bottle from Spring’s hand. "Very interesting."

Spring offered the boys one last worried glance. "Mom, can you watch them for a while. I want to go meet Chloe."