Wonder Guy (2 page)

He turned away from the door through which Gloria had vanished with the obnoxiously well-groomed Pete. “Oh. Right. Did the delivery guy leave my bread with your grocery order?”

“Why didn’t you check the bread box?” Aggie gestured to the counter behind him. “It’s in there, crowding my sesame semolina loaf.”

“Thanks, Mom. I’d better get back to work.” Greg grabbed his loaf of whole wheat. “I got a three day weekend and still put off grading papers until the last minute.”

He waved to Aggie and left before she started looking too pointedly back at her project. He headed across the back yard, where the low-slanting rays of the sun cast their lingering glow, to his apartment above the garage. He did have papers to grade, and at five ‘o clock, he had the whole evening to finish his task.

First, he’d better hit the road. He needed a good ten miles of furious pedaling right now. Hard enough, he didn’t stand a chance with Gloria, but seeing her go off with someone else intensified the ache. He had to stop thinking about her. Pretty soon she’d be out of his life. The thought knotted his gut, no granny knot easily pulled loose but a good, solid square knot that wouldn’t let go.

He usually welcomed the quiet of the garage, dim and dusty, but safe harbor for Aggie’s specially equipped SUV and his bike and gear. This evening it seemed too empty, despite the surrounding gear and his apartment waiting above. No life. He’d left all the liveliness behind at Aggie’s. Here, he’d welcome even the company of a mouse. Maybe he should get a dog, make sure he’d come home to a warm welcome rather than this hollow space that might as well be a hermit’s cave.

Setting the bread on top of the deep freezer, he grabbed his helmet from its hook on the pegboard and turned to lift down his prized Trek Valencia 24-speed road bike.

A tinkling, like bicycle warning bells, sounded at his ear, startling him so he nearly stumbled, only catching himself before he knocked into the little old lady who stood at his side.

Jeez Louise! If this were a cartoon, he’d have to climb down from the rafters to get back into his skin.

“Whoops.” She laughed. “We almost had ourselves a collision there.”

He stared, mouth slightly ajar. He’d be politically incorrect to think of her, a no doubt empowered senior citizen, possibly as militantly feminist as his mother, as a “little old lady.” She looked as if she might blow away in a strong breeze, stood hardly as high as his shoulders, even with the ostrich feather arching above the gaudy purple hat perched on her snow-white hair. Despite the twinkle in her eye, something in her demeanor warned him to mind his manners. How else to think of her, but “little old lady?”

At least she gave him a moment to recover from his near-rafter experience. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t see you there.” He dangled his contour-styled helmet by the chinstrap, having forgotten why he wanted it.

“Oh, I wasn’t there.” She gave a charming, tinkling laugh, which awakened an answering grin in him. She evoked images of every birthday-present-giving, story-telling, cookie-baking grandma he’d ever imagined.

“So, where were you?” Had she been waiting for him out of sight?

“Somewhere else. I just popped in to help you with your little problem.” She waved a hand upward, to the ladders lying across the garage rafters and his apartment above. “Why don’t you ask me up?”

“I’m on my way out. What problem? One of the pre-test problems? You’re not in the advanced computing class are you?” No way he’d have missed her among the students he helped as teaching assistant to Professor Morrissey.

“No, no, dear.” She took his elbow, a strong grip for someone of such frail appearance, a grip he’d sooner have expected from a bar room bouncer. “Why don’t we make ourselves comfortable while we discuss it? I wouldn’t mind a nice Mountain Dew Code Red.”

How the hel–heck had she guessed what was in his fridge? Greg replaced his helmet on its peg. It looked like his ride would have to wait.

“Are you one of Mom’s friends?” He managed to keep ‘weird’ from modifying friends. His mother had grown up on a commune, and knew more than her share of dropouts, burnouts and one-time hippie freaks.

The pressure on his elbow increased and he found himself moving to the stairs leading up to his apartment.

“I’m here because your mother made a request handled by my Society,” she chatted in her bright, Sunday-school tones, staying close to his side as they mounted the stairs.

“Society?” He dug in the pocket of his windbreaker and found the jangling bunch of keys there.

“The Fairy Godmothers’ Union, True Love Local.”

“What?” He turned to face her, key in lock. His tone rose a couple steps in pitch. “Is that some kind of dating service?”

“Now, now. It’s not like that at all. Your mother is only worried you’ll stand aside and let Gloria marry someone else. She’s concerned you’ll lose your chance for True Love.”

His nerveless fingers would have dropped the key if he hadn’t already stuck it in the lock. What did this strange little old lady know of his feelings for the girl next door? Feelings he’d never mentioned to Gloria or his mother and would rather not admit even to himself. How could he possibly speak of anything that confused him so utterly? He had no words for how he felt about Gloria.

Ever since Gloria had accused him of being clueless regarding matters of emotion, he’d tried to pay more attention to his feelings. This was a new one. Interesting. Elevated heart rate, cold sweat, fast, shallow breathing. It would be much the same if he’d come face to face with a tiger in the wild. All this from mentioning ‘true love’ in conjunction with Gloria’s name? Yep. Must be fear.

He drew a deep, steadying breath, finding his voice at last. “What has my mother said to you?”

“She said, ‘I sure wish my boy would grow a pair and tell Gloria how he feels.’ This brought the matter to our attention.” The feather on the gaudy cap brushed his nose.

Greg sneezed.

The sprightly woman reached past him and turned the key.

He fell forward, half stumbling into his apartment, fumbling in body and mind alike. The lady followed before he’d decided whether to invite her.

“Uh, have a seat?” He gestured to the loveseat arranged with a pair of comfy chairs around a coffee table, and the pair of stools at the kitchenette counter, which, with the loaded bookshelves, managed to fully occupy the small apartment. He steadied himself with a hand on the counter. This would probably make more sense if he let her explain herself. He hoped.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“The Code Red would suit nicely.” Her eyes
twinkled
as she smiled.

“Uh, right.” He snagged the last two cans out of the fridge, passed one to her and wiped the condensation off on his slacks. He sat on the comfy chair opposite the loveseat where she perched. He had to get this conversation on track somehow.

“So, you’re one of my mother’s friends?” Must be. She had to be confused. Her bustling manner had fooled him into thinking her something out of the ordinary.

He popped the top of his can.

“No, no, dear. No, I’m here on your behalf. Let me introduce myself.” She fumbled in a small beaded handbag, pulled out a white card and handed it to him. “I’m Serafina, your fairy godmother.”

Just as it said on the business card:
Serafina, Fairy Godmothers’ Union, True Love Local 521
.

“I...see.” But he didn’t. This made no sense. It must be some kind of joke by one of his mother’s definitely weird friends.

“You will. Don’t worry.” Serafina took a dainty sip of her Code Red and snorted as the bubbles hit. “It’s simple, really.”

“I hate to rush you,” Greg took a swig of soda and leaned forward in his chair, “but I’d like to get out for a ride before I start grading papers.”

“Don’t worry, dear, this won’t take long. I know how you can win your love.”

“You’re here to rescue my love life?” If it weren’t so outrageous, it would be laughable.

“Yes.” She went on in perfectly sober tones, “You’re a good boy. You’ve probably been telling yourself you want only what’s best for Gloria and you’re happy for her because she’s found someone she wants to marry. We both know you’re only fooling yourself.”

The words jabbed him like a fork. Soda sloshed from the can he clutched too tightly. He wasn’t fooling himself. He was a good boy, er, man, and he did want what was best for Gloria. This was too much.

“Look here.” He fumbled for something to say.

She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “You’ve loved Gloria since you were twelve and you want her for yourself.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” He spoke with a degree of force that surprised him and waved his can of soda, gesturing wildly, spattering the vicinity.

Serafina never flinched as a flying droplet narrowly missed her face.

“If Gloria doesn’t want me, we’d never be happy together.” The words escaped him like a cry from some forgotten fragment of his soul.

“Just so,” Serafina continued, unperturbed. “But you’ve never given her the chance to want you. You’ve always been there for her, like a brother. She thinks she knows everything there is to know about you. There’s no mystery.”

“She does?” He slumped heavily into his chair and drained the last drops from his can.

“That’s right. We need to use a little fairy godmother magic on you to get her to look at you in a new light.”

Gloria thought what? This was crazy. The old woman was crazy. What she said was crazy. Only a crazy person would do anything else but show her the door.

“I’m listening,” he said.

Chapter 2

Where people gathered, Elysha, who considered herself a genuine people person, found ample opportunity to stir up the kind of energy she feasted upon. Invisible to human eyes, she strolled among the tables under the banner reading
Christ Church Memorial Day Picnic
.

The sun shone warm, the cooling breeze blew soft, and picnickers filled the park surrounding Minnehaha Falls. They sat around laden picnic tables under the pavilion and on blankets scattered across the oak-shaded lawns. They stood around barbecue grills, ran after Frisbees, lounged in portable chairs, strolled along paths, and hiked the trail beside the falls.

A woman with gray strands threaded through her brown hair frowned, etching the lines of the expression into her face, at a paunchy, slightly balding man sitting beside her at a picnic table. His back rested against the table, one elbow propped among half-emptied bowls and trays. His gaze followed the actions of two young women tossing a yellow Frisbee back and forth across the expanse of lawn between them.

The older woman, watching her male companion focus on the younger women, radiated insecurity. As good as an invitation for Elysha. She whispered into the woman’s ear, “He’d rather have her than you. See how he looks at her, so young and beautiful? He doesn’t look at you like that anymore.”

The woman’s frown deepened. She slapped the man’s shoulder. “You’re making a fool of yourself. You think she’d look twice at an old fart like you?”

“What?” The man’s face showed only puzzlement as he turned to his companion. “What are you talking about, Laura?”

Elysha hovered near, smiling as she drank in the growing conflict. The woman’s fear and defensiveness, the man’s growing annoyance. He’d been paying only casual attention to the Frisbee players. Now, as his partner called his attention to their youth and beauty his interest in them only grew. Delicious. A tiny push from Elysha and Laura had exacerbated the situation, feeding into her own insecurities.

Appetite whetted on the petty jealousy, Elysha wandered away from the arguing couple. The younger children at the picnic looked up when she passed, but then looked quickly away. Her passage made a shadow on their games.

She paused near a scrawny young male who sat alone with his back against the bole of an oak, in the shade of its broad-spread branches. He seemed nearly adult, but not near enough to be accepted as such by the older humans. Resentment–and something darker–fumed from him. Elysha drew up beside his tree, leaned over his shoulder and whispered, “None of them care for you. You might wander down the creek and into the woods and never return. No one would notice.”

“I could take a swan dive over the falls onto the rocks and nobody would notice,” her prey muttered. “Not until they have to deal with the mess.”

His darkness deepened, thickened like a pudding, weighted with a deep conviction that he deserved none of the notice he craved–so rich. She really shouldn’t. Elysha savored the treat.