Magic in the Mid-West

I awoke to the gentle rays of sunlight pushing past the edges of the curtains.  Something was amiss but my mind wasn’t yet clear enough to discern what it was.  I rolled over twice in the next five minutes waiting for the haze of sleep to leave me.  I finally sat up and I could finally think, amazing how that works.  I checked my watch, I was astonished to see that it 10 o’clock was quickly approaching.  I had over slept, and though irritated, knew it could not be changed.  I rose and showered, allowing the hot water to give life to my limbs.  I finished the rest of my tasks with little interest, dressed and left for breakfast.

I decided to be frugal and just partake of the complementary breakfast the motel had.  I suspect that they regretted the policy that day, as I always eat like a beast.  I enjoyed the food a great deal but was only able to grab one muffin, due to another guest at the lodge.  I didn’t hold it against the blonde headed woman, who was very cross-eyed; I had plenty of other food to enjoy.

I began considering on the walk back to my room, doing my laundry before I left town since I was on my last set of clean everything.  “Probably be a good idea” I said aloud as I admired the abstract design of the stone wall, which was riddled with holes of all different sizes.  Then suddenly two shoes were on a collision course with my face.  Quickly reacting, I avoided the hard rubber by leaning far back but soon discovered a body with a downward trajectory was attached to the shoes.  It was unavoidable.  The only thing I knew was I on my back and something was on me.  I opened my eyes to see a women splayed awkwardly on top of me.  She looked just as dazed as I.

She chuckled rolling off me.  “Excuse me” laughter still in her tone, “let me help you” she said grabbing my hand pulling me up.

“Did I offend you in some way?” I said still trying to wrap my mind around what had just happened.

“Na, I was just practicing and you were in my way” she said.

“Practicing?” my mind began reeling, “What were you practicing?  Dropkick assassinations?”

“Not quite, I was doing some parkour, and you just happened to be on the other side of the wall I was jumping through”.

That made sense.  It definitely explained why she was in a more covering form of jogging attire.  Her whole outfit matched the same light shade of blue except her shoes, which was a regular blue with yellow laces and a red lightning bolt on the side.  Her hair, like seemingly half the other females in this town was, unique.  It was short and primarily blond but had many faded highlights throughout of every other color need to make the basic rainbow.

“So do you train professionally or for fun?”

“Neither” she said with a smirk, “I’m gonna be enlisting soon and I wanna be at the top of my game.”

“Awesome, which branch are you going in to?”

Without a second’s hesitation she said the last thing I was expecting.  “Navy!”  It was one of those moments so befitting a spit-take you wish you had a drink to do it with.

“But you’re in the middle of Kansas!”  I said just shy of a shout.  The hamster wheel in my brain was threatening to break as my mind impatiently tried to solve the riddle before the answer was spoiled.

“Ya, but I’ll move, besides, I’m going to be the first woman to join the Blue Angels”.

I gave a long “Oh” with the final piece falling in to the puzzle of this… “Uh, I don’t think I caught your name miss…”

“Iris” she said with greet gusto, “Iris Dashner”

“I’ll have to remember that, and hope the next time we, uh, meet you’re a pilot.”

“Sounds good, hey it’s been a blast dude, but I gotta get back to this.” And with that and a wave she was off, jumping over what few obstacles there were.

“We’ll she’s determined, that’s for sure.”  Twenty minutes later I saw her napping under a tree.

My encounter with the future pilot hadn’t left without a souvenir.  I reached for my hurting back and felt it through a gaping hole in the back of my shirt.  “Oh, no” my face paled with the realization, this was my only nice shirt I had packed other than the one that went with my tux, but this was a polo for the rehearsal dinner before it.  I needed to buy another shirt, there was no immediate rush and I could have waited for a nicer town but as fortune would have it, I simply didn’t think of that.

I remembered seeing a small trendy looking clothing shop returning from dinner last night.  It may not have even been for men but I had to try.  I rushed around to the side of the building where my truck was parked.  I slide in and began my fluid motion of going from stop and off to rolling and on which I had perfected to a mere two second ordeal.  I slide the key into the ignition without even bouncing it around the hole.  It turned and my hand was half way to the shifter when it registered.

Click.  My hand idled over the knob waiting to throw it down to the D but I couldn’t.  I reached slowly again for my key and turned it.  Click, click, click.  That noise, that simple noise horrified me beyond insanity.  Dread fell over me like buckets of water, as I wondered if I would miss my own flesh and blood’s wedding because of a click.  This was quickly dismissed though.  I was no mechanic, but I knew the basics, and I had a similar if not identical problem not long ago.  I pulled the release for my hood and heard the latch loosen itself on the outside.  I raised the hood, almost forgetting to prop it before I checked for the problem.

There sat the battery in pristine condition, not at all how I expected it.  I gazed all around each of its terminals both negative and positive.  They were clean.  I expected corrosion to have engulfed one or both but there was none to be found.  The click, I thought for sure it was the same that my mother’s car had produced when a corrosion problem occurred but it wasn’t.   I was at loss.  I closed the hood, and locked the door, reluctantly slide my keys in my pocket, and walked away.

Two things happened back to back.  Small things that on any other day would be an inconvenience, but it hit me hard for some reason.  Perhaps the distance from home and long drive had worn on me more than I knew.  The shirt was nothing, even now, but with a click and clean battery, it felt like a banner of shame.  So I walked, I walked down the sidewalk toward the shop where I thought I could at least get a new shirt.

The store I came to was more effeminate than I remembered.  I had seen no other business that could serve my needs on my walk so I reluctantly decided to at least go inside.  Opening the door rang a bell, but I knew before I took three steps that this was not the store for me.  Inside all I saw were dresses, beautiful dresses, but nothing else.  I turned to leave but was stopped by probably the most well dressed person in the town.

“Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where… oh my stars!”  exclaimed the shocked store owner with an aristocratic tone in her voice.  “Darling, whatever happened to your sark?”

“Oh, you mean this hole in my shirt?”  I turned back to face her as I put a hand on my exposed back.  “It’s a long story but it sums up to me getting attacked by a blue angel”.

“That sounds like Iris’s handy work, well no matter” she said stepping towards me, “I will not let such a crime against fashion go uncorrected”.  She grabbed my left wrist in both her hands and began to pull.  Unsure of her intent I held my ground.

“What are you doing?”

She looked almost hurt at that.  “I’m trying to help you with a new polo, what else would I be doing.”

“But all you have are dresses, and I’m not too big on wearing one of those”.

Her countenance changed to that of self-righteous determination.  “My dear, I am a top designer, and if I can make all these wonderful dresses by hand, I’m sure I can make you a new polo”.

I had nothing else to say.  Even if I could have thought of something to say, I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut.  She had a certain look in her eyes, and I had enough life experiences to know that it’s better to shut up and not ask questions when a lady gets that look.  I forfeited my position and followed with no more arguing as she led me, wrist still in her hand.  In the back of the store there was a work area littered with manikins adorned by partially completed dresses on all but three.  She stopped me in a small clearing away from the near omnipresent scraps on the floor.  She continued to a desk where she grabbed a length of measuring tape, and some other instruments and returned.

“Hold out your arms.”  She said holding the tape to my chest.  It would have been hard to miss that she had eyes like sapphires with her that close.  She was probably the prettiest and definitely the best dressed of anyone that I had seen in the whole town.  Her hair was jet black and shimmer in the florescent lights so much so that it looked like it was infused with amethyst.  It flowed down in a few huge curls past her shoulders.  Her skin was almost as pale enough to blend into her dress, which was a whiter than pure pearls.

She took all my measurements in seconds and walked back to her desk to quickly write it down.  She put on a pair of cat rimmed reading glasses and with some fabric from a roll, began working at a feverish pace.  Her hands moved so fast they seemed to not be touching the needle or cloth.  I watched not sure what else to do with myself.  She broke the silence before I thought to.

“I can’t believe my manners” she said looking up but not stopping her sewing.  “My name is Rosalba” she said walking toward me, only stopping her sowing to delicately extend a hand.

“Oh, um, I’m uh,” mentally kicking myself for fumbling over my own name. “Jaxon” I finally said shaking her hand.  She smiled and began walking to a red sewing machine.  “That’s an interesting name, I don’t think I’ve hear it before.

“Yes, it’s not too common here in the states” she said.  “I was named after one of my antecedents, a great, great grandmother if I’m not mistaken.  She was from Spain so I can thank her for more than my namesake,” she said intentionally running her fingers through her hair.  “So I must ask, what brought you into my shop, had you heard of my talents?”

“Actually it was the first place I saw, I was going to leave until you grabbed me.  Normally I’d have just waited till I was in a town that at least had a Wal-Mart but with my truck suddenly not starting up that wasn’t really an option.”

“Well I’m sorry about your vehicle but it’s good that you saw me, there’s no way” she emphasized that last word, “you would have gotten a replacement even half as nice as the one I’m making you.  There we are,” she said after another minute’s work, “all done.   Go over there and try it on”.  I entered the small closet sized fitting room she had pointed to and began switching shirts.  “By the way”, came the sound of Rosalba’s voice as her footsteps grew closer, “I have a friend that works at the library in town, if there’s nothing too seriously wrong with your vehicle I’m sure she can help you find a book on it, or at least get a handle on what you’re dealing with, she’s rather smart you know”.

“That sounds like,” I paused to thinking my next words, “probably the best idea I’ve heard all day”.  Stepping out into the lobby again, with the ribbons of my old shirt in hand, I couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship that had gone into my new shirt and marvel at how little time it taken.  “This is too amazing; I’m not going to able to afford it”.

“Oh, don’t worry about the price, it’s on me”.  I probably looked at her like she was speaking Latin.  She noticed, “Well after the ordeal you’ve told me about, I couldn’t possible charge you.  Especially not for something I threw together in just ten minutes”.

No one had ever been that generous to me.  I didn’t even realize a store owner could be that generous.  “Th… thank you,” stumbled out of my mouth, not knowing what else to say.

“It’s no problem my dear, now get over to the library.  Head right when you leave, its a little ways down Hay Street.  There’s a lot overgrown vegetation on the building so it somewhat resembles a large tree”.  I thanked her again several times, and left with surprising optimism heading for the library.