Chapter 14

Mindy

As I watched Winnalea experience all these new things, I couldn’t help giggling. Upon entering the store, she stood gob-smacked in amazement. She delighted in everything, and became so engrossed at times that I needed to gently prod her into motion. Her happiness was infectious, and I felt like a rebel teenager, as I opened the two Nehis and the chips in the car. The radio blared on the way home, as the sunlight glinted off the cars in front of us. Her small stature attracted many children’s stares, but the etiquette-savvy adults politely looked the other way. I brought two couch pillows for Winni to sit on, while riding in the car. She reminded me of a happy terrier as she hung her head out the window, smiling into the warm winter’s day.

“I’ll tell ya, this is lovely. The sweetest day I’ve ever known, I say!” Winni called out, over the wind flying through her hair, and the Gitchi, Gitchi, Ya Ya, blaring on the radio. I laughed and turned down Decatur St. with a little extra oomph on the gas, to make her whoop with pleasure. I parked and popped the Fury’s trunk to release our treasures. In the box with hole-punched sides, the new bird whistled. The French Market wasn’t selling white parakeets today and, in truth, Kee Kee had been rather boring. The blue and yellow parrot with its little zebra striped cheeks had all but flirted with me. I would be honest with Sammy and explain that Kee Kee had gone to another place, leaving out that it was a pot of boiling water that sent Kee Kee there. Sammy was too young and didn’t need all the details. I thought she would enjoy this bird sitting on her hand and letting her rub its face even more than I did.

The apartment was silent. Mom retired four years ago and was happy to baby sit anytime. She taught school for over twenty years and loved playing with Sammy for hours on end. She promised to walk Sammy home from school after her hair appointment.

I dropped the large package of toilet paper and the heavy paper sack before setting the bird carefully on the kitchen counter. I opened the paper box and lifted the pretty blue and gold feathered bird. Once settled on my wrist, he edged up my arm. I smiled and Winni tittered over his cuteness. Engrossed in the new addition to our little family, I hadn’t noticed the young, four-foot Cyclops sitting at the end of the island bar. Seeing him armed with a pitchfork, I froze, then took a slow step backward and motioned Winni to get behind me. I started for the small pistol strapped to my ankle when the Cyclops sobbed. I frowned, taking in the incredible hulk style britches that hung from his slim hips, but were held up by overall clips. I held the pistol at the ready by my side, pondering my next move. This was not the snarling, taloned, ferocious killer I woke up with yesterday, but what sounded like a much smaller, scared version.

His eyes grew wide in surprise. “Mommmma!” he suddenly wailed.

“You speak?” I asked, alarmed.

“Mommma!” he continued in a steady cry.

“Oh, dear!” Winni started. “Madam Cyclops will not be pleased. The prince is her first born. There will be hell to pay for if he isn’t returned.”

“You know this Cyclops? A prince!” I sputtered, amazed, confused, and unsure how to proceed. “Winni, how old is he?” I asked as the Cyclops continued to cry, laying his head on the counter, and slobbering onto the Formica surface.

“Let’s see...before the turn of the quarter’s solstice, a grand party was thrown in honor of his birth, so I would guess about eight double moons.” Noting my confusion, Winni supplied me with, “Just a little older than Sammy.”

“Mom?” I called as I looked at Winni in horror.

The Cyclops’ presence here meant it had to have changed places with someone nearby. The new parrot fluttered from my arm and fearlessly walked across the counter. The Cyclops finally took a break from his wailing and, with a swift swipe of his sharp-nailed paw, he consumed the bird in one bite. Long blue tail feathers floated softly down to the counter as the prince let out a solid belch.

“More,” he exclaimed, but I wasn’t sure if it was a request or a demand.

“Mom!” I again cried out. My heart pounding in my chest. What time was it? I looked at my watch. Was she still picking up Sammy? Maybe the Blink took another tenant in the building. I turned to search the apartment, but ran into my mother at the kitchen door.

“What? I was just in the bathroom...”

Her words trailed off as her knees buckled beneath her. I reached out and clumsily caught her, before she reached the floor. So much for minimizing collateral damage. Now Mom would have to be mind-wiped unless I could convince her this had all been a dream. Winni helped me to drag her to the sofa. I propped her head on a pillow and fanned her with latest copy of the Times Picayune. She slowly regained consciousness.

“What happened?”

I sidestepped the question. “Where is Sammy? Did you pick her up from school yet?”

“Yes, I picked her up early, but it’s no big deal. The school nurse said she had a low-grade fever. We stopped by the drug store on the way home and got cough syrup and a coloring book. She’s in the kitchen coloring now. Go see for yourself. She’s fine,” my mother reassured me as she patted my hand and looked over my shoulder. She started to rise, to show me for herself, but I pushed her back down on the sofa.

“Better not, Mom. You might have that virus everyone has been talking about. Hallucinations, headaches--” I paused, looking at Winni for help.

“Oh! Yes, madam, it is too risky to get up. Better sit tight here, and let me get you tea.” Winni caught my wide-eyed head bob and walked around the sofa toward the kitchen. Before she could reach the door, the sound of crashing dishes came from the room. Mom sat up again, but I pushed her back. “Easy, Winni, we might need some of those for dinner later,” I said a little too loud.

“Really Melinda, she is very nice, but if you need help, I can come ’round more.” Hope crested her voice.

“Just stay here, Mom, and whatever you do, don’t go in the kitchen.”