No More Us for You (14 page)

It was a daring move, grabbing Isabel's hand and making my way through the crowd, but I was full of confidence. Maybe it was Nadine's drunken kiss that made me so self-assured. Maybe I was tired of taking things for granted and floating through my life like a windblown candy wrapper. Whatever it was, I held tight to Isabel's hand and together we headed to the east wing of the museum.

On the way over, I spotted Richard Spurgeon talking to Ms. Otto, her hand fiddling with an earring. I had intentionally stuck his address label on a postcard,
knowing there might be trouble if he showed up. But there they were, chatting away, no trouble at all. Richard caught my eye and winked. I gave him a thumbs-up.

I brought Isabel and Heidi to the circular wall of Plexiglas that was the centerpiece of the east wing. The Plexiglas was knee-high and within its transparent barricade were all the tagged red balloons, hundreds of them, each filled with a different person's breath. All the ceiling lights were aimed inside the wall, spotlighting the balloons, and their tight red skins held on to the light. The whole thing looked like the cross section of a pomegranate.

“I don't get it,” Heidi said.

“What does it say on the cards?” Isabel asked.

“They're people's wishes,” I said. “You blow up a balloon and then fill out this card with your name and age and wish.” I held on to Isabel's arm. “Get closer,” I said, crouching.

Isabel bent down so we were both sitting on the heels of our feet. I pointed at the nearest balloon with its card facing up, and she placed her hand on my shoulder for balance. “I can't read it from here.”

“I'll tell you,” I said. “It says…‘Henry Gibson…age forty-six'…and his wish is…” I inched closer, my knees practically touching the wall. “…‘My treatment works and I have many years to live with my family.'”

Isabel made a small moaning sound. “That's so sad.”

“Yeah, some of them are,” I said. “But some are funny. I read one earlier that said ‘I wish to lose my
virgin
soon.'”

Isabel laughed.

“The kid was only eleven.”

“Whoa, slow down, Billy,” she said.

I looked across at all the other balloons. They reminded me of large, red lightbulbs. A woman on the far end was also crouching as she held her curly blond hair away from her face. She was reading the cards one after another. She smiled, she frowned, she bit her bottom lip, she laughed, covering her mouth, then she frowned again.

Isabel and I stood up and a balloon sailed over our heads. It dropped lazily in front of us, the card twirling at the end of its string. Isabel turned around.

“Somebody made a wish,” I said.

“I want to make one,”
Heidi said, all excited, like a child.

“We have to go over there,” I said, pointing toward a mob of people.

Heidi turned around and wiggled her way through the crowd. Isabel and I followed. This time,
she
was tugging me along, squeezing my hand and leading the way.

I spotted Leonard, dressed in a maroon blazer and black shirt. He was talking to a lovely woman in a metallic green dress, her hair all done up, tight curls spiraling down her cheeks. Our eyes met, Leonard's and mine, and he jerked his head faintly in my direction. The Monday after he had chewed me out for being late for work, he'd apologized, blaming his mood on an argument he'd had with his girlfriend. We'd tapped our fists together and nothing more was said about the incident.

We scooted through the horde of jackets and blouses like penguins. Eventually the three of us made it to the front of the table where a large crystal bowl held a mound of uninflated balloons. A smaller bowl held the blank
cards, the strings already tied to them. There were two cups, one on each end of the table, crammed with pens. The tablecloth was made of white silk and had Japanese characters sewn into the shiny fabric. On one side there was an intricate embroidery of a cherry blossom tree in full bloom. Underneath its branches, a woman in a turquoise kimono was watching the pink flowers floating in a pond, a serene smile stitched on her face.

Heidi grabbed one of the cards and plucked a pen from a cup, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she wrote.

A woman standing beside me blew into a balloon and it expanded in front of her face like bubble gum.

Isabel leaned over Heidi's shoulder. “What's your wish?”

Heidi slapped her hand over her card.
“Don't look,”
she said. “It's a secret.”

“I bet I could guess,” Isabel teased.

“I bet I know what yours will say,” Heidi shot back.

“Are you going to do one?” I asked Isabel.

She shook her head no. “I'll do one later.”

“I promise I won't look,” I reassured her.

She smiled and shook her head again.

Heidi snatched a balloon from the crystal bowl and put it to her lips. She blew until the balloon was the size of a watermelon.

“That's good,” Isabel said.

Heidi pulled the balloon from her mouth, pinching the end closed. She blinked hard. “I'm all light-headed now,” she said.
“Whew.”

I held my hand out. “Want me to tie it?”

Heidi gave me her balloon and I pulled the end around my finger like a rubber band, then looped it under and made a knot. I handed the balloon back to Heidi. “There you go.”

Heidi tied the card to her balloon and then we were following her through the crowd until we were in the east wing again, standing beside the Plexiglas wall. A man with dreadlocks held a balloon up high like a heart at a sacrificial ceremony. Heidi lifted her balloon and tossed it in with the others.

I tapped Isabel's shoulder. “Are you glad you came?”

“Yes,” she said. “Heidi wasn't nuts about coming, but look at her now.” Isabel flapped her hand in front of her face.

“You want to get some air?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “It's hot in here with all these people.”

“I'm going to make another wish,” Heidi said. “I'll catch up with you guys later.”

 

The night air cooled our faces while we sat on one of the concrete benches just outside the entrance. Stars made little pinholes of light above us. Three men in suits stood on the grass, one waving a lit cigarette around as he told a story. I had grabbed an Evian from the waiter before we stepped out and we now drank from it, passing the water back and forth, the mouth of the bottle stained crimson from Isabel's lipstick.

We talked for an hour straight, maybe longer—about our families and childhood memories, our birthdays and zodiac signs. We talked about Millikan, Red Vines, the White Stripes, Charlie Kaufman, and frozen yogurt. Snake was on my mind, and I'm sure Vanessa was on hers, but
we didn't bring them up. Not yet.

Isabel finished the water and handed me the empty bottle.

“Gee, thanks,” I said, sarcastic.

“You're welcome.”

“Want me to run in and get another?”

“No,” she said. “Stay here.”

There was a long pause.

“I wonder what Heidi's doing,” I said.

“She's probably chasing some guy around.” She did that goofy chipmunk smile thing, really fast—a nervous twitch but cute nonetheless.

There was another long pause.

Isabel looked at the cars on Alamitos, driving through the night. I wanted to kiss her, but the confidence I'd had earlier was gone. I was shy, nervous, uncomfortable in my skin. Butterflies—no,
bats
—fluttered around inside my stomach.

An older couple walked out of the museum, arm-in-arm, smiling, and the man nodded at us.

“Good night,” Isabel said.

I waved to the couple.

“Good night,” the woman said.

The couple continued on down the pathway that was outlined with strings of lights. Then we were alone again, quiet again, the moon playing peekaboo behind a tree branch.

I told myself,
I'll kiss her the next time a couple walks out of the museum.

A man in a brown suit stepped out, a cell phone pressed to his ear.

I revised my promise:
I'll kiss her the next time
anyone
walks out of the museum.

I looked at Isabel and smiled.

She smiled back and lifted her eyebrows.

“We're all talked out,” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “We're done talking.”

I watched the museum entrance, waiting for the next person to step out. Through the glass doors, above the crowd, between two walls, a red balloon had been lobbed
into the air and floated down like a time-lapse video of a sunset.

Isabel grabbed my chin and turned my head. We kissed. I let go of the empty water bottle and put my hand on her knee. Our tongues rolled around, lazily, clockwise. I opened my eyes quickly to see if she was looking, and her eyes were shut, the lashes folded down. We kissed some more and then she put her hand lightly on my chest and backed away.

“That was nice,” she said.

“Very nice,” I added.

“I got tired of waiting for you to kiss me.”

“Sorry. I was waiting for the right moment.”

“That was five minutes ago.” She wiped my bottom lip with the side of her thumb. “Got lipstick on you.”

“It's not my color?”

“Nope,” she said. “But I've got this bright red tube at home with your name on it.”

We laughed. Everything was perfect.

A man wearing a mechanic's jump suit was coming down the pathway at a quick pace, heading toward the
museum. He looked familiar. His face. The goatee. The slender nose. I stared at him, trying to piece it all together.

“What is it?” Isabel asked.

“That guy,” I said. “I know him.”

She turned and looked.

Then it hit me. It was the man who had peed on the museum floor on my first day at work.

“What does he have on his shoes?” Isabel asked.

There were metal points that extended out from the tips of his boots. They looked like steak knives, and they made a
tsk-tsk
sound as he walked.

“Are those blades?” Isabel whispered.

I had to do something.

“Hey!” I shouted.
“Stop.”

He didn't stop. The glass doors glided open and he walked in.

“I have to tell Ms. Otto,” I said, panicked. “Come on, let's go.”

We rushed into the museum, into the warm air and chatter, the high squeal of drunken laughter. My eyes
bounced around the crowd like a frightened parent looking for his child. I threaded my body around elbows, between couples, apologizing, Isabel trailing behind. I heard a man say the 5 was the worst freeway in Southern California. A plastic cup crumpled under my foot. A woman asked another woman if she'd tried the Brie. A balloon sailed overhead, its card spinning.

I spotted Richard Spurgeon and made my way toward him. Ms. Otto was nowhere around.

“Richard,”
I yelled.

“Hey,” he said. “Carlos, right?”

“Where's Ms. Otto?” I was on edge.

“What's going on?” he asked. His hair stuck out from the sides of his head as if he'd been wrestling.

“This guy pissed on the floor and he's here now.”

“Again?”

“No,”
I said, flustered. “That was a long time ago, but he's here now and he's got these knives or something on his shoes.”

“I think they
are
knives,” Isabel said.

“I need to find Ms. Otto,” I told Richard.

“Janet is…” He paused and turned toward the short hallway that led to her office. “Is this an emergency?”

“Yes.”

“Stay here,” he said, his hand on my shoulder. “Let me go get her.”

Richard headed toward Ms. Otto's office, zigzagging through the crowd.

I looked at Isabel.

“Feel my heart,” she said. “It's beating fast.”

I did. It was.

That's when we heard the first balloon pop. Then another. Then a succession of pops like Chinese firecrackers going off.

Fear rippled through the museum as everyone turned to face the commotion, their cups frozen in their hands.

“Somebody stop him!”
a man shouted.

I drove forward through the crowd.
I
was that somebody who was going to stop him. “Move, move,” I said to those around me. “I'm the museum guard.”

More balloons burst like gunshots. People were yelling. I thought my heart was going to jump out of my
mouth. Nonetheless, I pushed through, determined. My confidence was back.

By the time I reached the wall of Plexiglas, it was too late. The man in the jumpsuit was already on the ground, in a headlock. I looked closer and realized it was Leonard, still in his maroon blazer, restraining the man. He held him tight, but the man's legs scissored wildly, popping more balloons.

“Watch out for his feet!”
a woman hollered.

I knew what I had to do. I took a deep breath, hopped the wall, and rushed over to help Leonard, balloons leaping around my knees.

The man's face was scarlet, his teeth clenched. I positioned myself and then fell on his legs, sitting on them. I looped my arm underneath the man's legs and clamped my hands together.

“Yo, my man Carlos,” Leonard grunted. “You're late
again
.”

I was terrified, but I couldn't help but laugh then.

“Get off me,” the man hissed.
“Get off.”

Balloons wobbled and bounced around the three of us
like red blood cells under a microscope.

“Somebody call the cops,” Leonard said calmly, as if he were ordering a dish from a menu.

Then all the cell phones came out, their tiny blue screens lighting up around us.