To Catch A Mishap | a time travel story ©

Chapter Four

“Hold still, I’m trying to make this work!” I bluff, frustrated. But not only does Zain visibly strain against me dabbing some foundation on his gray face, he also seems very interested in the formula of it.
“No, don’t rub it- God-damn it!” Sighing, I drop the makeup sponge. This either has to work fast or not at all. The foundation I tried to apply is spotty and three shades too light for him - although it is quite hard to determine what shade of nude would fit him.
I can manage life with a man in a gray suit and slacks next to me, but not one with literal ash-colored skin. I’ll already catch enough gazes on myself today, no need to make it more obvious by planting an attraction.
“Hold still or you'll stay here, doomed for eternity to watch creepy dolls on chairs!” I shout, frustrated.
“Pardon my outburst of behavior, Madam Alice,” Zain suddenly apologizes and takes off his fedora.
“That hat has to stay here too.”
“No, not my fedora!” Zain cries out as if I’m murdering his third child in front of his eyes right now.

“You are so fucking embarrassing, you know that…” I grumble when I walk down the street with Zain, away from our apartment. He has let me apply the foundation evenly, although reluctantly, and I even combed through his gray hair to style it in some way more appropriate to modern times.
He did let me keep the fedora at home, safe in a spot where Kaya won’t immediately discover the presence of an unwanted male in our home, after having an existential crisis about it.
“I apologize, Madam Alice.” Zain almost bows next to me. I shrug, “Call me just Alice.”
“Of course, Just Alice.”
“No, I meant my name is Alice. No need for all this fancy bougie Madam in front of it.”
“I understand. Alice." He walks next to me, with soft and graceful steps, almost feline and agile, while I trudge along the sidewalk in my worn and dirty sneakers, still wearing my holey Pickle Rick socks.
Why am I allowing Zain to accompany me to work? Why would I voluntarily leave him at our apartment, so he could do God-knows-what with the TV?
Internally, I pray that he will behave and be easy to hide under the counter, because I really do not feel like giving Daniel an explanation about him today.

At the gas station, Daniel - my colleague - is just clocking out and almost bumps against me in the break room. I try my best to keep the small metal door to my locker closed by acting to casually lean against it, hiding Zain.
“Hi, Dan!” I grin wide, internally knowing it looks like a grimace.
“Hi, Liz, you’re on your own today,” he mumbles and just absentmindedly scans me before shuffling to his own locker.
Daniel is the typical free time IT nerd. Wearing a washed-out band shirt under an unbuttoned flannel, thick framed glasses and long untamed hair - he makes the perfect stereotype. And sadly that stereotype works in a gas station in his case.
Without paying any mind to me, he stuffs his earphones into his ears and bobs his head to the beat of whatever song is playing before shuffling to the back door in his limited-edition-signed worn vans.
I wait for a moment longer since it is usual for Daniel to bust back inside mumbling something along the lines of I-forgot-my-backpack, only to leave again.
But today, that isn't the case. I shove my weight against the door of my locker more, just to make sure that the coast is clear, until I hear a suppressed wince inside.
“The coast is clear, you can come out…” I sigh and step away, to which Zain almost instantly tumbles out of the locker like a heap of tupperware boxes in the top cupboard in our apartment.
Lying on the ground like a beetle with all fours spread in different directions, Zain shoots me an accusatory look. I just shrug and gather my red hair in a somewhat collected ponytail that only has to survive this shift.
“You can get up now and follow me or you can bask in your suffering.” With that, I push open the door to the front of the gas station, to the counter.
Ten-hour-shift, here we go.

“You better hide and stay quiet, it’s already ridiculous enough that I’m doing this,” I mutter with a glare to Zain uncomfortably shoved into the space under the gas station counter. He has his knees spread apart so his head can fit under too.
A customer trots up to me. With a sign of my hands I silence Zain once and for all.
“Twenty on pump seven,” the customer grunts with a displeased look at the gas prices. I dial his pump and collect the cash.
After the customer left through the glass sliding doors, I feel something poking my calf.
Looking down at Zain, I see him mouth the words “Food” and “Water”.
Of course, this poor Fucker didn’t have anything to eat or drink since… do I know when? No.
Massaging my neck, I shuffle to the snack shelves of the gas station To-Go shop and grab a tootsie roll and a bottle of some kind of soda I could find since the water bottles are located too far in the back of the store and I’m lazy.
Scanning both items at the register, I reluctantly drop three dollars into the cash drawer.
Then I hand both to Zain. “You’ll better pay me back…” I grumble and look up just in time to see another customer trudging in.
As I want to dial her pump, I suddenly hear a suppressed tzschhhhhh!. Even the customer hears it.
“Sorry, it’s the gas pumps auto-cleaning in the back,” I spontaneously come up with a lie, internally knowing how god-damn stupid that explanation sounded.
She shrugs, pays and leaves.
“Gas pumps auto-cleaning… fucking for real, Alice?!” I curse at myself and slap my forehead. Then, I immediately glare down to Zain shooting me an apologetic smile.
“I apologize, Ma- Alice, I did not know your water had made these funny sounds.”
“Just stay quiet-” I harshly grab the soda bottle and quickly pop the seal of the lid before tossing it back into his lap when another customer comes up to the counter.
“Hi, what can I do for you?” I ask the customer. As he parts his lips to speak, I hear another suppressed noise - an almost suppressed cough. Quickly, I cover my mouth with my elbow and fake a cough to cover for Zain.
“I’m sorry, I choked on my-”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever… Fifty on pump three.” The customer brushes off my apology in an unwanted manner.
I dial his pump and take the cash. As soon as this customer left as well, I furrow my brows at the man under my counter. “Seriously, stay silent!”
This is harder than I thought.
“I apologize, I did not know the water had this fuzzy texture… it tastes like the image I saw appear yesterday in your magical device.”
A car’s loud engine howls as it starts outside of the storefront. Zain shoots up and grabs the side of the counter to peek over it outside.
“Stay! Down!” I force him back down by his shoulders, to no avail.
“What secret machinery is this- It is so colorful and… it appears to look like the giant cat I saw yesterday in your magical device!” Zain marvels at the neon green Porsche outside driving off with another howl of its engine. When I spot the sliding doors opening again, I shove him down by his head, flattening his styled hair I took so much time on to get perfect this morning.
The customer who entered takes his time to look around in the store. This means I have to watch out even more for Zain to shut his mouth, because right now he is behaving like a toddler that gets to see the world for the first time. Well, that is partially true: he gets to see the modern world for the first time. All these everyday gadgets I use are totally new and magical to him.