Walking out of This World

Sixteen

It's my Sunday bus ride, a clear window brings the day's colors into view. Trees flash by all dressed up in their fall colors—patient yellows and screaming reds. Soon downtown's tall buildings, sun glaring off their windows, stand tall above the bus stop.

A quick walk down First Street and I'm ready for my dinner shift at the homeless shelter.

Warren and Jeff's strange behavior Friday night and Warren's excuse for leaving early on Saturday all fell flat against my assumptions.

The shelter's kitchen greets me with the busy clang of metal pans intermingling with chattering voices.

"Hi, John. It's good to see you again," Grace says, her voice projecting a welcomed invitation.

"Ready to take my place on the serving line," I reply. There's a glint of light in her eyes.

"I've saved the ham and mashed potato station for you." Her words drift off and diverge into an uneasy look. "Are you feeling well, John? You look a little pale."

"No...I feel fine," I reply, a little taken aback by her question.

She touches my forehead with the palm of her right hand. "You don't feel feverish," She continues. "It's that we can't have a sick person serving food. You can always call and let us know you won't be coming if you aren't feeling well."

Her words throw an unsettling shiver through my nerves.

"Excuse me for a minute...I...I...need to wash my hands."

"Good idea," Grace replies and turns to continue her work with the kitchen crew.

I head for the lavatory. The door swings into the room. I put my face in front of the closest mirror. Hmm. There are small bags resting under my eyes. I push my nose up against the cool glass surface. Well...Then I see it. My eyes are blood shot. What's going on here. I'll fix that with some eye drops when I get back to the House.

I try to not make eye contact with any of the patrons passing me on their way down the line, hoping time will fly...And, it is.

I fold my apron and toss it into the laundry basket. "You want to use some of these eyedrops?" Grace asks. Her face is still holding onto that whats-the-matter look.

"Yah...That would be great...Thanks," I affirm. "I'll just retreat to the lavatory...and be right back." I'm thinking more about meeting Lacey than Grace's kindness at the moment.

Lacey is seated at a table in the corner, embraced by a beam of white light that peers in from a small window. Her eyes are fixed on her phone, thumbs flying.

"Hi!"

Her eyes escape the attraction of the phone. She greets me with a widening smile and eyes bright with life.

"Ready?" I ask.

"Let's go!"

I pull the plastic card out of my pocket and spank the little green light.

Click! Lacey and I slip into the dark hall. The door slaps shut behind us.

Halfway up the stairs Lacey grabs the card. "What's the room number?" She says, dangling a teasing flirt at the end of her question.

"Six!" I call out.

By the time I arrive, out of breath, she's waltzing around the room. Her body falls into mine and I wrap my arms around the sweet smell of violets.

"Business first," I say, Warren and Jeff's worried expressions fresh on my mind.

I pull my arms away and Lacey follows me into the bathroom where I open the medicine cabinet door and pull the interior shell away.

"What the..." She exclaims.

I retrieve the largest plastic bag from its pouch and toss it to her. She peels the top open and lifts the exposed confetti-like green to the tip of her nose. She breaths in the rising fragrance. Her eyes close allowing ecstasy to slither into her brain.

I bring the other pouches to the round table. The little flashlight's black light illuminates the order on the white note—T-10.

"Wow! That's a surprise," Lacey's eyes dance with excitement.

"Here's what we're going to do," I begin. "First you are going to push the little paper wrappers into these tubular plastic bags. I'll fill them with a scoop of green."

"How many do we need," she asks, busily putting attention to her task.

"The blue light shows the number—ten," I reply, taking a quick glance at her work.

"Can we make some for ourselves?"

"Heck yes." A flock of giggles jump into the little bags with each scoop of green.

I roll the ten finished packages in a half page of newspaper and push it into my backpack.

"Now for our allotment. Let's make seven. Three for you. Three for me and one to share. Okay?"

"That doesn't sound to greedy," she replies, punctuating her words with a confirming kiss on my cheek.

After everything is neatly restored to the hiding place I open the window and we pull a chair into the face of cool air. Lacey slides onto my lap while I watch a red glow take possession of the green cigaret. I send a couple of puffs to waiting lungs and then place it between Lacey's lips. Her body embraces the sweet puffs, eyes closed, allowing a touring buzz to plunder her brain.

She passes the wonder stick to me and I reply with a puff pressed between her soft lips, her body yielding to my arms.

One to One dancing across the bridge.

Meeting.

Embracing the holograms.

Wrapped in a green cloud.

Suddenly the yellow glow whooshes behind the ugly grin marching into my brain and yelling. "Time!"

My arms fall away. I look at my watch. Icy panic freezes in my head.

"It's almost six. I have to be on the street for the pick up!"

Lacey stands up and throws the tiny glowing butt out the window before banging it shut.

"Tonya will be waiting behind Sally's for me," Lacey says, her brisk tone gives a clue to her state of mind.

We hustle down the creaking stairs and out the door. October's cool air flushes our faces. Visions of small talk are dancing through my head, giving cover for the important business of the green handoff down the street.

I open the passenger door and Lacey slides into the waiting seat, a sour expression hiding unclaimed expectations.

Sharp teeth and yellow fear have pulled the rug out from under a string of romantic expectations that had once demanded the floor.

Tonya's voice breaks into the laboring embrace of silence. "I have something for you." She hands a white folded note to Lacey, who hands it off to me.

"It's an order," Tonya adds.

The asphalt surface below seems to grab my feet and a frozen feeling grabs at my brain.

"Open it. Give it some light," Tonya demands.

My fingers fumble with the flashlight and the key chain. I open the note. The black light reveals T-10.

I look up at Tonya. "You!" I blurt. My mouth fills with the dry buzz circling around my brain.

"Hey. We all get our smokes the same way!"

I pull the rolled newspaper out of my back pack and hand it to Lacey who hands it off to Tonya.

"Thanks!" She says. A smile crosses her face. "Hop in the back and I'll give you a ride home."

Yeah. Home.

That wicked little grin is laughing in the yellow glow.

"Shh. Don't say a word and all will be well."

Somehow I don't think so.