HARPER WAS ONE thing, Olivia was another. I didn’t know how soundly she slept. Before leaving the room, I whipped the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around myself, Indian style. If I had been thinking more clearly, I could’ve done it sooner, but Harper and our situation had my head spinning. Out in the hallway I handed her the towel I’d been wearing.
“Really?” she said.
“What do you mean, ‘really’?”
“You need that comforter and I need another towel?”
“Did I guess wrong, precious?”
She rolled her eyes. “Thought we’d gotten past that.”
“Past what?”
“What do you think?” She crept down the hall, holding the towel I’d given her as if it were an afterthought.
Rhythmic snoring came from Olivia’s room. Sounded as if she might be able to sleep through a category-four, so we should be okay in the kitchen. It might get problematic if Olivia came in, but Harper with a towel around her waist was not offending my inner pig.
I turned on a light as we went into the kitchen. The room was roughly twelve feet square. Refrigerator, stove, countertops, sink, old linoleum floor. Basic and utilitarian.
Harper draped the spare towel over the back of a chair, then opened the refrigerator. I found an old cordless phone on a countertop by a pad of paper, bills and pens, catalogs, rubber bands, general household debris.
“Really?” Harper said quietly. “You’re actually gonna call Lucy?”
“You bet. Got to give her an update. Let her know I’m okay.” Among other things.
“Jesus, Mort. It’s nearly two in the morning.”
“I don’t care. This won’t keep.”
She lifted her eyebrows, then shrugged and turned to sift through an antique round-shouldered Frigidaire, circa 1955, with a lever handle the size of a medium crowbar.
I could’ve taken the phone back to our room. But the food was in here, and I didn’t have any reason to leave now that the issue of clothing or the lack thereof had been discussed and resolved to everyone’s satisfaction, so I sat at a small pine table and punched in Lucy’s number. On Olivia’s phone the call might’ve been long distance, but I would leave sixty bucks in our room to cover it regardless, and the hospitality, which included the dryer, towels, and whatever we found in the way of food.
“Hello?” Lucy answered cautiously.
“It’s me, Luce.”
“Mort! Where are you? I expected to hear from you hours ago.”
“I’m stuck in a dead zone, no cell coverage. I thought you’d be asleep by now.”
“Is that why you called? To wake me up?” I picked up a smile in her voice.
Harper got a few things out of the refrigerator and set them on a countertop, then started opening cupboards.
“Yes,” I said. “I like to catch you when you’re mostly asleep. It puts us on a more equal footing.”
“You wish. So what phone are you using? I didn’t recognize the number.”
“Got a real kickass story to tell you, babe.”
“Oh, no. You ran off to the Caribbean with a girl and won’t be back until mid-October.”
“Damn close,” I said. “I don’t know how you do it.”
Something in my voice caused her to hesitate for a moment. Then, “Interesting. How close is damn close?”
“This could take a while. How long have you got?”
“For you, sweetheart, forever.”
“That’s my girl. Okay, fasten your seat belt, Luce. This one’s an E-ticket ride.”
I launched into it, all the way from Tonopah, to the rain, the girl, the gun, the disabling of the truck, the flat spare, rain, the girl again, the girl on the lap, rain, tearing downhill at six to ten miles an hour, the Grange General Store, rain, Olivia, the wife, the wet clothes, the room, the girl no longer in wet clothes, the obligatory strippage of the Mort, the clothes in the dryer, the towels, the double bed, the comforter, the kitchen, and the girl in a towel who had just finished making two sandwiches. I left out sightings of the ominous black truck and its driver.
“Wowie, Mort.”
“Yeah, wowie.”
“Her mother is the missing attorney general?”
“Yup.”
“Ma’s gonna fire you for sure, this time.”
I smiled. “I’ll believe it when it happens, cupcake.”
“Anyway, right now you’re wrapped in a blanket?”
“A comforter.”
“A towel wasn’t enough? Why not?”
“Sugar plum …”
“I bet Harper’s pretty. She is, isn’t she?”
“Yeah.”
“Good for you. And she’s topless and right there with you as we speak?”
“As we speak, hon. She doesn’t seem to think a second towel is necessary.”
At that, Harper’s head whipped around.
Lucy said, “Can you put the phone on speaker?”
“I think so. Sure you want me to?”
“Of course. Why not?”
Why not indeed? I waved Harper over. She set a plate in front of me, turkey and cheese sandwich on it, lettuce, mustard, and mayo.
“What?” she whispered.
“Got a surprise for you.” I put the phone on speaker and said to Lucy, “You’re on live with Harper, Luce.”
“Hi, Harper!” Lucy said brightly.
Harper’s eyes got big; her face went a shade whiter. I pushed the phone closer to her. “Speak up, Harper,” I said. “Don’t be shy.”
Payback time, I thought.
“What … what … ?”
“She’s not very articulate right now, hon,” I said.
“I kinda got that. Are you there, Harper?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Groovy. You have a nice voice. You heard everything Mort told me about where you are and how you got there, didn’t you?”
“Um, yes, I did. I was making sandwiches.”
“Okay, good. So you’re wearing a towel and you and Mort are in a lady’s kitchen getting something to eat?”
Harper closed her eyes and hung her head.
“Give her a moment, Luce,” I said. “She’s still in a bit of shock.”
Lucy laughed. “Anyway … Harper?”
Harper took a deep breath. “Yes?”
“Has Mort been acting not very with it all the time, even a little bit stick-in-the-mud, especially after you got to Olivia’s and she wanted to take your clothes?”
“Hey, hey, hey,” I yelped. “Stick-in-the-mud? Where’d you get that, wife person?”
“At McGinty’s, the first ten minutes when we first met. Anyway, Harper, from the way he told me everything that’s happened, my guess is he’s been kinda backward and self-conscious with you. Maybe even acting troubled.”
Backward? I shook my head at Harper to shut her up, which didn’t work.
Harper smiled at me. “He was. Quite a bit. Maybe not so much right now. It’s hard to tell.”
“It takes him a while. He’s as trustworthy as a bank vault and you sound nice, so I’m fine with what you have to do there, but I realize he might not be. I’d like to make this easier for him. I don’t like it when his blood pressure gets all spiky.”
“My blood pressure doesn’t get spiky, Luce.”
“Yes, it does. So anyway, Harper, I don’t want to keep you guys up all night, but after everything Mort’s said, this might help. Have you ever heard of the WNBR?”
Oh no. No, no, no, Luce. No.
“The what?” Harper shot me a questioning look. I shook my head and stared down at my feet. One way or another, this wasn’t going to be pretty.
“WNBR,” Lucy said again. “That’s the World Naked Bike Ride.”
“Oh. I’ve heard of that. Is that when a bunch of people ride around on bicycles not, um, not wearing very much? Like in a city?”
“That’s right. Most of the riders are naked or wearing body paint. Mort probably didn’t get a chance to tell you he rode in the WNBR sixteen months ago in San Francisco.”
Harper stared at me. “Really?”
“Yes. With a beautiful girl named Sarah, but she’s also called Holiday. I’ll let him explain why later. Ask him to describe her—that should loosen him up and maybe settle him down, if he describes her accurately. All he wore on that ride was a little bit of body paint that she put on him. Oh, and get him to tell you about a poster pinned to a wall in his business partner’s office too.”
Well, shit.
“A poster?” Harper asked.
“Yes. Anyway, Holiday wasn’t wearing anything at all except a few words painted on her back. Her picture is still all over the internet, if you know where to look. So if the situation you’re in right now is making Mort nervous and raising his blood pressure, I want him to just relax and be himself. Well, actually not himself, which is the point, but you know what I mean. And I know all of this isn’t what you might’ve expected me to say, but Mort and I trust each other completely. If you tried to do anything serious with him, he’d run screaming into the night.”
Enough. “I would not,” I growled.
“Would too,” Lucy replied. “I know you, cowboy.”
Cowboy? Harper mouthed to me.
Shit.
Lucy said, “That was mostly hyperbole, Harper. I said it to help explain why I’m not upset or threatened by what you and Mort are doing. If you tried something, he might run into the night keening at half volume, but that’s about all. Anyway, Mort, Mom says she wants to ride with us in the WNBR next March. I’m gonna sign her up, too.”
“You gotta be kidding.”
“Nope. In fact, she’s right here. I’ve had the phone on speaker the whole time, which I guess you didn’t know. Sorry about that. I should’ve told you, but … too late now. We were up late talking, but right before you called, we made up a pot of ‘relaxed mind’ tea, so we’re getting kinda drowsy in spite of the breezy conversation. Anyway, Mom, you should say hi to Mort.”
“Hello, Mort.” Valerie’s voice was uneven, as if she were trying hard to keep from laughing out loud.
“Uh, hi, Val. I … I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m not surprised. So, you drove a truck downhill in a thunderstorm on only three tires?”
“Two and a half, but who’s counting?”
“That’s amazing. And it sounds like you’re still having a fascinating time.”
“Pretty good understatement, Val. You’re not really thinking about riding in the WNBR, are you?”
“Why not? I mean, why wouldn’t I?”
“No reason. Just thought I’d ask.”
“Hey,” Lucy said. “Are you still there, Harper?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to ride with us? It’ll be in March in San Francisco. I’ll have to check on the exact date, but I could sign you up too. We could make it a foursome.”
“That would be … are you sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure. If you can get away from teaching for a couple of days, that is.”
“I can get a sub. I wouldn’t tell them why, though.”
“Say yes and I’ll sign you up when the registration opens. They only take eighteen hundred people. It fills up fast. You in? It’s a blast. You should know, we don’t wuss out. The most we wear is a little bit of body paint, if that. Which is actually the whole point of the thing. I mean, how else are you gonna get nearly two thousand people to go on a bike ride? There has to be some kind of a wow in there.”
Harper raised her eyebrows at me. “Yes, okay. I’m in.”
“Great. Give me your number and we’ll keep in touch. I hope we can meet before then, but you never know.”
Right then a door creaked open. I heard the shuffle of bare feet out in the hallway.
“Hold on, Luce,” I said. “Olivia’s coming our way so don’t say anything. I thought she was a sound sleeper. This could get pretty weird since Harper’s topless and I’m doing a mummy impersonation.”
Weird? Little did I know.
Olivia came into the kitchen. Her eyes didn’t seem to be focused on anything and her face was slack. She was mumbling, nothing I could make out. She didn’t look at me or Harper, just passed by us and opened the fridge.
Sleepwalking, Harper mouthed to me. Omigod!
A shiver walked up my spine.
Olivia got a carton of milk from the refrigerator and a glass out of a cupboard, then shuffled to the sink. She said something like, “Gar un ughk ongal uk,” then gasped hard enough that her entire body jerked. She poured milk into the glass.
Harper and I stared at her.
Olivia drank the milk, rinsed the glass, shuffled back to the refrigerator and put the milk inside, then said, “Ina un inna garna too,” turned off the kitchen light as she went out the door, then shuffled back down the hall and into her room.
“That,” Harper said, as Olivia’s door thumped shut, “is the spookiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”
Amen.
“Luce,” I said, getting up. “You there?” I took the phone with me as I turned the light back on, returned to the table, and sat beside Harper again.
“I’m here. What’s going on?”
“Olivia sleepwalked in here, got a glass of milk, then sleepwalked back to her room.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Wish I had a video. Actually, nix that. I don’t want to see that again. Once was enough.”
“Are you and Harper safe, Mort?” Lucy asked, concern evident in her voice.
“I think so. At least she didn’t have a gun.”
“That’s not funny, in case you didn’t know.”
“Sorry. No, I don’t think we’re in any danger. We’ll hurry up with these sandwiches and get back to the room.”
“Okay. But be careful. Anyway, Harper, I was about to get your number so I can call you sometime and set up this bike ride. If you’re still interested in September when they open the registration, that is.”
“I’m sure I will be.”
“Good. It’ll be fun. It’s a blast, if you like being naked and free, which I do. I’ve been on four rides so far.”
Harper reeled off her number. Lucy thanked her, then said, “Hey, this is gonna be a totally random question, which probably means I’m getting kinda loopy and oughta go to bed, but I just wondered … Have you ever seen the Vagina Monologues?”
Harper gave me a wide-eyed look. “I have, yes.”
“I had a feeling you would have, don’t know why. It just popped into my head. I probably oughta shut up and let you guys go.”
“I’ve seen it twice, Lucy. It was at the student union at UNLV when I was getting my degree. It’s funny you asked. I saw it again, recently, only about two months ago.”
I ate my sandwich, let the girls chat. This happens to me a lot, don’t know why. I’m a fifth wheel when girls get to talking. I get lost in all the loose verbiage, but it beats sticking my foot in my mouth.
“Cool,” Lucy said. “I was in the play here in San Fran in a theater on Geary Street for three months. I performed two of the MONOLOGUES: My Angry Vagina and Because He Liked to Look at It.”
“I love that second one,” Harper said. “I thought it was the most, I don’t know, liberating? For me, anyway.” She tilted her head and smiled at me.
Uh-huh. Good deal. I took another bite.
“I still remember both parts word for word,” Lucy said. “Because He Liked to Look at It is wonderful, even if the other one is more humorous.”
“The guy’s name was Bob, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. What Bob did for her was great, his character, I mean, which wasn’t an actual character in the play. He made her feel beautiful and set her spirit free.”
“I know. Totally.”
Yup. Free spirits. Totally. I took another bite. I was on board with the MONOLOGUES. Lucy dragged me off to see it in April when it came to UNR in Reno.
“Are you still there, Mort?” Lucy asked.
“Yup. Love the girl talk, hon.”
“I know. You’re hopeless even if you’re a lot more like Bob than you care to admit.”
“Okay, sugar plum. It sounds like your tea’s kicking in kinda hard right now. How ’bout I call you tomorrow?”
“It is tomorrow.”
“An impossible statement that would make Einstein’s head explode. I should’ve said I’ll call you later today.”
“Do that. I better go, Mort. Mom left a minute ago. Bye, Harper. Get some sleep. If you need me for anything, Mort, let me know, otherwise I’ll see you Friday.”
“Also, tell Harper what interesting thing I did in that Mustang convertible about an hour after you and I met. If you remember.”
“It’s probably in the memory bank somewhere.”
“I’m sure it is. It’ll help explain you and me, the way we are.”
“How are we?”
“We’re great, Mort. Perfect. Okay, I really gotta go.”
“Talk later, Luce.”
We ended the call. “Well, that was fun,” I said.
“I like her. A lot, Mort. And guess who phoned her, in case your saying it was fun had a faint ironic undertone?”
“I can’t think that far back. I’m tired.”
Harper slugged my shoulder, hard, too. “You rode a bicycle naked in a city of half a million people, and you did it with naked women all around, and you’re getting your panties in a wad because I’m topless?”
“I’m not wearing panties, lady.”
“Prove it.”
“Nope. Take it on faith.”
“Okay, Boy Scout, be that way. But seeing my tits had you freaking out not very long ago.”
“I got over it.” I took another languid bite. “And you make freaking out sound like a bad thing, Harp.”
She smiled. “You idiot. Finish your sandwich and let’s go to bed.”