By Lexi Anders
“Can I help you, sir?” a man in a blue attendant outfit asked me.
“Yeah, can you tell me what this says?” I held out the paper I had been staring at.
He took it and scanned it briefly.
“Your departure gate is number 14, so you’ll head down this way and turn right where the sign says.” He gave it back.
I looked down the hall where he pointed and cleared my throat nervously.
“Ah, alright, that blue sign up there? To the right of that?”
“Yes,” he answered patiently.
“Thank you.” I replied, sheepishly turning away. “Nobody wants to answer the question . . .”
I walked the way he pointed, dragging my two suitcases behind me. It was quiet, and the bright light seemed unnatural with darkness out the window. I wondered what time it was, but being uncertain about that wasn’t as concerning as not even knowing where I was going.
I turned at the sign and glanced back and forth looking for numbers that matched those on my paper. I puzzled at one in front of me, it looked similar but maybe too rounded? I squinted as though that would help my vision and finally turned my right eye to it.
“Do you want a snail?”
I jumped at the small voice and turned to see a young ginger boy crouched on the ground with his hands cupped around something.
“Umm, why do you have a snail?”
“He’s my pet. But mother says I can’t take him with me, and so I have to find him a new home? Do you happen to have a warm pocket and some saltines? Those are his favorites.”
I thought about it, “If I take your snail and keep him safe will you read something for me?”
“Sure,” he agreed readily,
“Here,” I handed it to him and in turn he stretched out his fist to drop a little swirly shell in my hand.
“1-4-5-2. Gat- no, Gate 14. Soo-eth-we-st. Deh-part Wichita. Arr-ee-val, arr-IH-val, ARR-ih-val.”
“Arrival.” I prompted.
“New York City.”
“No . . .” I groaned softly, and lifted my head up.
“That’s where I’m going!” the boy announced.
“Is that so? Is this the right gate?” I pointed to the sign.
“Oh no, this is 19. I just ran away from my mom because I couldn’t let her hurt Dr. Snaleston.”
“Ah, well we should get you back-” I slipped the snail in my pocket and grabbed my bags again.
He skipped along, humming cheerfully.
I smiled and skipped a little too.
“How old are you, mister?”
“Twenty-three.” I replied.
“And you don’t know how to read?”
I blushed.
“Well, to be fair I am blind in one eye.”
“You are?” he asked in awe, pausing to analyze the two eyes. “This one?” he pointed at the left eye, to which I nodded.
“Does it pop out?”
I looked back and forth and leaned down to whisper to him.
“It does, but it makes people faint to see.”
“Really??”
“No, it’s a real eye, it just doesn’t work right. Been that way since I was born.”
“Aww, that’s disappointing. You got my hopes up.”
“MARVIN!!!!” a shrill voice screamed. They both looked to see a curly gray-haired lady marching down, with such a determined walk that it appeared she would fall forward at any moment.
“Play it cool,” my new friend said under his breath.
“What do you think you’re doing??”
“This man kidnapped me!” He pointed at me.
“What???” I stepped back, throwing my suitcases on the ground as I held up my hands. “I did no such thing.”
“Marvin, stop telling tales!” she swatted the back of his head. “Do you still have that snail??”
“No, momma, I gave it a new home, just like you told me to,” he protested as she patted him down.
“Shoes,” she ordered.
“I really don’t have him!” But he gave the shoes anyway and when she was convinced, she turned to me.
“Thank you for keeping my son safe, is there anything I can do for you?”
“That’s alright, I’m quite fine. Do you happen to know where a payphone is though? I’m on leave from the army and need to call someone on my squad.”
“A pay phone?” She blinked.
“Yes, do they have one here?”
“Not that I know of, but you can borrow mine. As long as it’s a short call.” She held out an iphone.
“Ah,” I considered it, at least there were only pictures, “Thanks, I’ll just be in the corner.”
I took it and pulled out a slip of paper from my pocket. Then, I carefully typed in the numbers double-checking as I went and called. It rang five times before there was an answer.
“Hello? Lieutenant?” I began.
“Mail-carrier? Are you on the plane yet?”
“I’m at the airport, but-“
“Fantastic, I’m very excited for your new post, Gabe. It’s a very important job.”
“But Louis-! I have a hard enough time getting around as it is!”
“You’ll do fine. All the other coocoos and whakjobs up there find some way to manage. Now you’ll get more information from an informant at a nearby lobster shop. But you’ll need to get situated with your new job first.”
“That’s all I’m running on?”
“I’m being generous today!” Louis argued and hung up.
I shook my head and felt something strange in my pocket. Dr. Snaleston was moving.
The plane was not so crowded to sit close to anybody, but my new friend sat across the aisle from me so I leaned over and asked, “Is Dr. Snaleston a medical doctor or does he have a doctorate in something else?”
“Uh, he’s married to a nurse,” the boy explained.
I nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting perspective.”
Hmm, a new perspective, a new character. I would need to get some hair dye.
The interview itself went without a hitch, no questions about whether I could read or not. I chickened out from visiting in person, so all I had to do was figure out how to fill out the paper now.
Getting to the apartment, however, was a bit more difficult. But, if you annoy enough people eventually someone is helpful, and I had a taxi who figured it out.
I threw myself on the bed in exhaustion. It smelled weird. I turned my head aside towards the gray empty flat, and closed my eyes to its dreariness.
In the morning, I found dishes in the cupboard and cereal. I wondered who did it, but gladly poured myself a bowl. Eh, they were flavorless and stale. I set the bowl in the sink, careful not to bump the spigot.
A knock came on the door. I ignored it. I wasn’t in character yet to handle that, but the knock came again, so I threw on some PJs and a hat and stumbled over there with my shoulders hunched.
“Hello?” I answered.
There before me was a sweet little girl, with a pink blouse and a backpack slung over her shoulders.
“Oh, I’m sorry to wake you up,”
“I’ve been up.” I waved his hand reassuringly.
“I’m your neighbor, Florence.” she offered her hand, “I go to school down the street and wanted to know if I can help you with anything, Mr. Tellemont.”
I raised an eyebrow. My name was out already. “Could you help me fill out an application really quickly?”
“Sure,” she agreed, walking in.
“Do you help most of your neighbors?” I asked her, shutting the door.
“Well, no. But my mom told me to be nice to you.” she shrugged.
I tilted my head. Interesting.
“She said you were a bit eccentric though.”
I shrugged, “Don’t see how she would know. I only just moved in.”
“Her name is Grace, Grace Elwood.”
I shook my head and laughed a little, “At my age, names don’t mean too much.”
“How old are you?”
“Well . . . only forty-one. But to be fair, I got a brain injury in combat and now I’m blind in one eye and hardly know anything.”
“Ah, that explains why you keep looking at me weird, I couldn’t figure it out before.”
I smiled, amused. “Let me meet your mom sometime and maybe I would remember.”
Once she left I took care of the tricky business of my hair by shaving a nice bald spot and giving layers so it would be shorter. After that I just needed a bit of dye, to add some grays to the blond. I titled my head back and forth, satisfied with my handiwork. Perfect for both jobs.
I straightened my brown tweed jacket again and crouched in front of the tank. It was a murky green, and dark shapes moved within. I grimaced and edged a bit further back.
“What are you looking for?” the worker asked me with arms crossed.
“Oh, just thinking about getting a lobster.” I rasped.
“Do you need help deciding?”
“It doesn’t really matter to me which one, I just like to buy lobster when it’s hot.”
“The lobster?”
“When it’s hot outside.” I frowned, my crankiness not entirely faked.
“Okay, that’s nice.” he pressed his lips together. “So you don’t need anything?”
“No, I guess not.” I looked around to see who else was near me. There was a woman in sunglasses bending over a glass case nearby. “Am I crazy or is it really good to buy lobster when it’s hot out?” I asked the woman, looking at her directly with my right eye.
She looked at me, and I couldn’t tell her expression through the dark lenses. “Leave me alone.” she said, and turned away.
“You’re really bad at this, aren’t you?” someone asked behind me.
I turned to see a woman in an evergreen jumper, hands in her pockets.
“Uh, yes?” I agreed. “I guess I should have just admitted that I don’t know how to pick a lobster. Do you? Do you base it on size or color?” I crouched back to look at them again. After a moment I pulled my snail from my pocket and set him on the ground. “Maybe Dr. Snaleston knows.”
“Maybe Dr. Snaleston also knows you’re an imposter.”
“No,” my voice broke, “I can get any lobster I want.” I stood up and leaned over the tank, hands outstretched, but frozen above the rippling water.
“Okay! I’ll admit it.” I turned to her, worry etched onto my features. “How did you know? I can’t even afford a lobster!” I cried and I shoved the tank slightly, causing the water to splash out at her.
She stared down at herself and glared at me. “I’m sorry.” I covered my mouth and, upon grabbing my snail, I slipped out the door with my head down and hands in my pockets.
“Wait- wait.” The woman came after me.
“I’m sorry. I know I never should have gone in there. I thought I could blend in with my cool suit and everything, but now I know better. I’ll leave you alone!” I walked faster. She didn’t follow for a minute and I still didn’t look back, but started to mutter to myself. “Dr. Snaleston! Why didn’t you tell me that I couldn’t pass for one of them rich folks? I thought you had my back! Now what? How am I supposed to impress Florence? When she finds out I’m just a mail-carrier . . . I’ll be through.”
I wanted to look to the left, but it would be far more obvious since I had to turn all the way for my right eye. So I crossed the street, looking at the cars that passed by for a reflection. But unfortunately, walking the direction I was, I couldn’t use the side mirrors.
I shook my head. “A car like that. Maybe. But then why didn’t you say so, Dr. Snaleston? Should I rent it for an evening? On my salary? And you to feed. That’s not so easy.”
I went back to the apartment and waited for a while, doodling a lobster and a car on a notepad. Was that lady after me? Or was it the informant? But then, as my first instincts shouted, why would she call me an imposter and possibly draw suspicion? Unless she was playing along with my ramblings? Because if it was another spy, it would be better to intercept my “information” that I was kept so clueless of.
“They would fire me if I learned to read.” I said aloud, as I often thought. Maybe I was too much in the palm of their hands, without the real details of things. But then, I tended to think most information was verbal anyway, even if the cases they assigned me to were always something paper.
I looked at the dishes in the sink and groaned, it was time to go shopping.
I tucked the paper plates in my shopping cart and then turned to grab another stack, spotting a lady in a green blouse. I stared and she looked back.
“Hi!” I waved and came closer, “I know you, right? Were you my nephew’s preschool teacher?”
“No, I believe we met at a lobster shop earlier.”
“Oh,” I blushed and turned my right eye to look at her better. “But you were wearing some kind of overalls before.”
“I changed.” she said dryly.
“Ah,” I nodded and cleared my throat. “What’s your name?”
“Grace.”
“Grace . . . Elwood?”
“Yes.” she replied expectantly.
“My neighbor???” I fidgeted with my hands, “I am so sorry about earlier. I was actually looking for someone I used to know at that shop. She loves lobster.” I sighed, “Nevermind that, your daughter said you knew me?”
She looked disappointed and coughed, “I thought I did, but you just have the same name as an old friend of mine.”
“Ah, so we don’t know each other.” I looked at her carefully. She didn’t look familiar to me, but then who did since the accident?
“Maybe I do know you?” I muttered. “You like green, huh?” I waved at her outfit.
“It is my favorite.” she agreed.
“Let me buy you something to replace those overalls from earlier.”
“That’s not necessary-“
“I insist.”
Work went terribly the next day, just as I suspected. Maybe it would have been easier, they traced the route for me and the stack was organized, but I managed to trip and rather than keep the papers I had to prioritize Dr. Snaleston. What could I do? I made a promise to look after the little guy. He consoled me the rest of the day as I asked for help and matched letters with the street signs.
I think I managed alright, although it went considerably later than I should have been. Afterwards I was too tired to go back to the lobster store. And I felt I would get no sleep that night with all the beeping and sirens.
I wondered if Grace was the person I was supposed to meet anyway. Maybe she had some kind of information. So I went knocking trying to find the right door. An awkward couple moments later, Florence opened up.
“Oh, Mr. Gabe.”
“Hey, Florence! I haven’t seen you in a little while.”
“Yeah . . . Mom told me what happened. At the lobster shop. And that maybe she doesn’t know you after all . . .”
“Ah, well, we can still be friends anyway. Anything I can do to return your favor the other day?”
“Umm, I have chores to do.”
“Perfect, like what?” I walked in, noting the decor with pictures of Florence and Grace. It was a very neat living room- bigger than mine. It was cleaner than my liking though- probably easier not to trip at least, I examined the ground carefully.
“Dishes, too many dishes.” Florence called me back to attention.
I nearly turned around then. My feet were stuck in the spot.
“Sorry, I don’t do dishes.” I held up my hands apologetically.
“Ever?”
“Ever. I just bought some paper plates.”
“But you waste so much more that way!” she scolded.
“Yeah . . . I know. If someone else washed them I would use them . . .”
“Do you want to trade chores, Mr. Gabe? I’ll do the dishes and you can deal with the rest on my list?”
“Sure.” I agreed before seeing the list. It was a whole deep clean deal. Laundry, vacuum, sweep, kitchen, bathroom. More time to explore the area anyway.
“Where’s your mom?” I asked.
“On a run. She’ll probably be back soon though . . .”
“Well, stay here and do dishes so she doesn’t think I’m robbing her when she comes back.”
Florence laughed. “She won’t think that. Any music you like?”
“Hmm, alt rock? But you can play what you like, I only listen to the radio so it might be nice to hear something new.”
“Cool, let me know what you think.” She began playing some kind of jazz. I couldn’t understand the words.
I started in the living room, looking around for general clues, a college diploma. Not where I went though, I thought. Mine had a different stamp on it. At least if I did know her, it wasn’t from that time period.
“What’s your mom’s job?”
“She works at an office downtown. It’s some kind of marketing thing.”
I picked up a letter on a counter noting the letters. I would have to ask around about it. Why they wouldn’t just tell me that’s where I should investigate is a wonder. I noticed Florence looking over at me and walked to her.
“Did I ever introduce you to my pet snail?” I pulled him out and placed him on her arm.
She froze, unsure what to do. “Will it bite me?” she asked.
“Haven’t you ever seen a snail before?” I asked.
“Not in real life!” she whispered.
“Ah, well you should get to know him. He’s pretty fun.”
She poked him into his shell and then had to sit waiting for him to come back out the rest of the time.
The door creaked open, and Grace threw her shoes down, out of breath. Then looking at me, she put her hand on her hip. “What are you doing in my apartment?”
“Uh, teamwork?” I lifted the dusty towel I held.
“Get out.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I nodded and scooted past her.
The next couple weeks went by establishing a routine, I would get my work done and every other day help with chores. Grace seemed to begrudgingly accept me at some point. But I really couldn’t find anything else particular in the apartment. I had tried to call Louis for confirmation, but, as usual, he ignored me. And so I turned to the workplace. From the outside it matched the description Florence gave me. I taped up a letter for them in a package to use as an excuse to go in for a signature- with the address letter for letter copied, of course.
I was directed to an office and got a signature, but on my roundabout return (through every floor) I started scanning for the letters that appeared on Grace’s mail. Finally, I found them and gently knocked. With no response I stepped in and flicked on the lights. There was no lock, so I placed Dr. Snaleston as a lookout on the closest shelf to the door. Next to him I set down some general advertisement mail that I sort of took from Grace’s PO Box.
To begin, I scanned some of the papers on the desk, but nothing caught my eyes. I fingered some of the folders on a shelf, and then turned to a drawer. One file in the back only had one paper in it, and I began to absorb the letters, without comprehending them.
A gun cocked. I turned to see Grace in a green sundress.
“I knew it!” She said, “You are a spy.”
“Spy? Me, I just deliver mail. Snail-mail.” I gestured at Dr. Snaleston, “None of that crazy electronic stuff. I don’t even know how those mail couriers do it. Is it those weird goggles I keep seeing people wear? My nephew stuck a pair on me-” I demonstrated. “and I thought I was on drugs or something with the stuff I saw. But I quit that years ago.
“You can’t pull one over me again. It’s obvious now,” she gestured to the paper in my hands.
“This? I can’t even read, I was just looking for a space that looks like an address so I can give it back. Is it something I shouldn’t have?” I widened my eyes and began scanning the document again.
She snatched it away. “Like right you can’t read.” She pulled out a sticky note and wrote something down. I took it and studied it carefully.
I looked up at her, she had her gun up.
“Whoa, whoa! Calm down, there’s no reason to shoot anyone over a piece of paper.” I exclaimed. “I know, I know, people tell me all the time that I ought to learn, but I still benefit society, I’m a hard worker. I deliver mail all day, and I hold a steady job. Just look into my routes and you’ll see that I’m at least 50% accurate with my placement, not everybody can say that.”
She lowered the gun, “Did you really not read it? Or choose not to?”
“I told you. I don’t know how to read. The best I can get is maybe sounding it out. But I’ll try for you. I A-M G-O-I-N-G T-O S-H-O-O-T Y-O-U. Okay, I, that one’s easy, I. I guess I can read a bit.” I smiled victoriously. “A—-M, A-M, like morning time? No?” he confirmed, “Aaaaim? I aim. G–O–I–N–G G-O-I-N-G Jee-o-Iyn-j, Gee-o-wiyn, Jo Wine J? No, I’m lost on that one. T–O, T-O TeaO? Tio, is that spanish? I don’t even know spanish! But . . . if it’s a name, Tio Joey G? I aim Tio Joey G?”
“Okay, that’s enough. Stop messing around, Gabe. I know you’re doing intel, and I can’t let it happen.”
“So you’re going to shoot me over this?”
“See you can read!”
“What? That’s what this says?” I looked at it again through my right eye, the letters were crisp and clear, but they didn’t tell me anything.
“You want to know what gave you away?”
I shook my head, holding my hands upwards, placatingly, but not admitting anything.
“The fact that you’re afraid of water and you would always have Florence do your dishes.”
I frowned at her again, and sat down at the desk.
“Okay, how do you supposedly remember that?”
“I mean, swim lessons, every Tuesday? You would always thrash about as if you were drowning.”
I mused. “Nope, doesn’t ring a bell. Maybe you made it up.”
I honestly don’t know why I would ever need swim lessons growing up in Nevada.
She sat down. “We were literally best friends until you stopped talking to me.”
“Were we? I’m sorry. I had an accident 8 years ago.” I held up my hands innocently.
“You mean when you joined the secret service.”
“No.” I said slowly, “It was a car accident. That’s how I got my eye like this.” I turned my dead eye to her, feeling blind since now only her hand was in my vision.
“I’ll test that-” she growled.
“Right now? I might get fired if I stay in this office any longer. I have a lot of mail to deliver today.” I opened my satchel and pulled out an organized stack kept together with rubber bands. “Is this address in the building over or across the street?”
“Eh, I can’t just let you go after this-!”
“But, Miss Elwood, what will you do?” I asked, with heavy eyebrows. “If I’ve forgotten you, I’m sorry- I’m not opposed to getting to know you. But right now you’re a stranger who’s judged me, called me stupid, and threatened my life. Which doesn’t feel great.”
“Fine, we’ll talk later. But if you send any messages about what you read, you will be dead by tomorrow.”
“Okay, hard to send messages about things I can’t read.” I rolled my eye.
I sat in my room wondering. I could relay letter by letter what I scanned over, as I had done in the past. It could possibly be the information they were looking for and the end of my assignment here.
But, on the other hand- what if I was hurting someone who I used to be close with? As far as I was concerned, she was someone who teased me, let me pour water on her, sent her daughter to help me, weirdly, didn’t call the police when she found me in her apartment, and let me go after clearly breaking into her stuff.
If I knew what the paper said then maybe I could decide easier. Maybe she was just tricking me so I wouldn’t reveal something horrible.
“Florence,” I knocked on the door.
It popped open shortly and words immediately spilled from her mouth, “Are you good at math? I could really use some help.”
“Yes?” I replied, “Unless it’s word problems. But if you read it then maybe I would be alright.”
I wasn’t sure what to bring up: <Oh, by the way, is your mom an embezzler, or a murderer or something otherwise criminal?> Or, <So today I was looking through your mother’s things . . . could you help me?>
And so my time slipped away and I pulled out the snail again. Florence found it a good motivational tool too.
“So if you’ve never seen a snail, have you ever been out of the city?”
“I’ve been out of the city, but I’ve always lived here. Just like my mom.”
As she said this her mother walked in.
“Gabe,” she nodded at me, apparently, unsurprised. “Can I talk with you?”
“Yep,” I stood up. Florence gave me a reassuring thumb for courage.
We stepped into my apartment and squared off a bit.
“Did you tell anyone?”
“No . . . I don’t know what the paper said.” I said gravely, stature still stooped.
She glared.
I straightened up with a sigh. Well, if they wanted me to trust them, maybe they should trust me a bit too. And it was better that she trusted me now anyway, so I could get to the bottom of this.
“I don’t know what it said, okay! I could tell them what the paper said, but I wasn’t sure if I should because I don’t know what it says.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Sure, it does. If we were best friends, surely you knew I could scan something and quote it immediately.”
“But if you can’t read-“
“Then I quote what I do understand: symbols. Lots and lots of letters, piled up, making odd sounds. T-H-I-S I-S Y-O-U-R N-E-X-T A-S-S-I-G-N-M-E-N-T-“
“So you really don’t know? And you’ve been working for them for how long with this method?”
I grimaced a bit. “Okay, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it. But they always debrief me in the end and show me what the results were- so I have confidence in them. Last time we saved someone who was kidnapped.”
“But this time . . . you didn’t trust them?” she said hopefully.
“Well, people are human, they could make mistakes too. I don’t know. But if you have been building your lie this whole time, I must applaud a most excellent dupe, and also wonder about your luck to find someone with memory loss.”
“Then you’re just waiting for me to confess and you’ll believe it?”
“Probably not, but I haven’t come up with a good solution yet.”
“Well, in all honesty. We were never friends.” she scratched her head.
I waited for her to continue.
“I did know you, better than I wanted. We did everything together out of some bizarre misfortune. You were always assigned to the same team, same class . . . And I got annoyed with your weird habits-” she laughed.
“Okay, can we skip ahead? If we weren’t friends I don’t need the mushy backstory part, just tell me what you’re doing.”
“Well, it’s more of a trap than anything, to be honest.” She pulled out her gun.
“Really? Rats.” I hissed and sat down.
“But I was trying to decide whether to do it or not.”
“And? What’s your decision?”
“I feel too bad for you to do it.” She shook her head and handed over the gun.
“Seriously?” I took it gently.
“Yeah, I mean- we were in the same car accident and you’re the one who ended up like this- and me like this.” she shrugged.
I frowned, recalling the details I was told of the accident. Head to head collision. The other person was also injured.
“It’s a long ‘mushy’ story.” she mocked, and turned around to show a scar stretching from her neck to shoulder. “Basically the only people to help me out brought me into this.”
“Hmm, why didn’t you believe me that I was in an accident then?” I frowned.
She coughed. “Oh, I was actually just testing you. I thought you would defend yourself on the basis that I was there.”
I still wasn’t certain. But the gun was in my hands, so I shrugged. “Do you want out of this then?”
“Could I?”
“Yeah, I can make it happen.” I took the house phone and plugged in some numbers. “Just don’t change your mind on me.”
One cryptic phone call later I turned back to her. “I think they’re going to come talk with you tonight.”
“Sounds good to me.” She pointed another gun at me.
“Oh, come on.” I hit my forehead.
Now I was glad that I had only called the lobster shop.
Octopencil 