A Kiss in Time (12 page)

When she puts it that way, it does sort of make me sound like a jerk. But shes not getting
the reason why I didnt want to go.

Look, you dont understand. My parents, they just sent me to fulfill some fantasy they have
about having a son whos into that stuff. I never get any choice about what I do in the
summer. After I get home, theyre going to want me to take an SAT course and get a job. Its
all about them.

I do not understand about not getting a choice as to how to live ones life?

I shrug. Besides, the tour bus sort of sucked.

Ah. So, in order to get away from the sucking tour bus Sucky. Beg pardon? Sucky. You would say the bus was sucky. Thats what Americans would say.

Thank you. So, in order to get away from the sucky tour bus, you sneaked off, found a lost
kingdom, entered a castle, kissed a princessan incredibly beautiful princess who had been
asleep for centuries due to a curse placed upon her at birth by an evil witchcaused a
fracas, were thrown into a dungeon, escaped, and traveled cross-country with that same
incredibly beautiful Not to mention modest. I know I shouldnt interrupt her or Ill never get my earbuds in, but
its tempting.

Incredibly beautiful and intelligent princess. And still, you are quite bored, Jack, so
bored that you cannot wait to put in your earbuds and be done with this conversation and
this voyage.

I fumble with the earbuds guiltily.

So my question to you, Jack, is what is it that you do not find boring?

She stops speaking and looks at me. I look at her. If any- one else, my friends from
school, even Amber back when we were dating, had asked me such a question, Id have blown
them off, said something like, partying or raising hell, just to end the conversation. But
with Talia, I know that wont work. She wont think its funny. Shell think Im stupid.

So instead of saying the first thing that comes to mind, I think about it, really think
about the last time I wasnt bored with something, the last time I was excited. Shes right. Its been a while. My life has been this long series of hoops to jump throughschool,
activities Dad thinks would look good on my college apps, whatever, so I have to think
back a long time.

I apologize. Talia interrupts my thoughts. Do people not talk to each other in your time,
then?

Its not that. I was trying to think.

Obviously an activity of great difficulty for you. She giggles.

Difficulty. That makes me remember something.

When I was a kid, I used to be in Boy Scouts. I quit the year Dad started talking about
how good being an Eagle Scout would look on my college applications. But back when I was
still in Scouts, one of the projects we did was this park.

I like to plant stuff, I say. She looks surprised. Plant? You mean, like a farmer? More
like a gardener. This one time in Boy Scouts, we did a project, a park in a bad neighborhood. It was all over- grown with weeds, and we
pulled them out and planted flowers and trees. Most of the guys sort of fooled around,
didnt do much, but me . . . I stopped, picturing it. I really liked making it look better.
I liked the work, putting my hands in the dirt or whatever. I shrug.

I do not think I have ever handled dirt. How does dirt feel?

Clean, I say. I mean, not clean like its been through the laundry, but . . . honest. And
when we finally finished and saw how it looked, I felt reallyI dont knowproud.

It was true. Id gone back to look at that park after I got my drivers license, even though
Id quit Scouts by then. Id even pulled some weeds.

I think Id really like to be a gardener or maybe a land- scaper. Ive never thought about
it before, but I realize its true. When I think of what Dad wants me to dowear a suit all
day and sit at a deskit just sort of makes me want to cry. It would be cool to spend every
day out in the sun, making things look beautiful.

She smiles. Then I think you should do so.

I laugh. Yeah, right. I can just see me telling my dad I want to plant stuff for a living.
He thinks gardenings for losers. He hires people to mow the lawn.

Once, after the Boy Scout thing, I said I thought it would be cool to get a summer job at
Disney World, working in their gardens. They have these beautiful gar- dens with
topiaries. Dad said working outdoors was for illegal aliens.

You should tell him that that is what you wish to do.

Yeah? How would that work with your parents?

She shrugs, then smiles. They cannot keep an eye on us all the time, can they? Then she
yawns. My! Perhaps it is the power of suggestion, with the slippers and the sleep mask,
but I am, indeed, rather tired.

She places her sleep mask over her eyes and, in a moment, she is sawing wood, her head drifting sideways onto my shoulder. I know I should
take the opportunity for a nap of my own, but instead I take out a sheet of paper and
pencil and start drawing a plan for a garden. That was the problem with the tour: lots of
buildings and paintings but no gardens. I draw one, a big one with roses and ivy.

A garden perfect enough for Talias castle in Euphrasia. The plane starts to taxi. Talia
jolts awake. Jack? Jack? She peers out the window, then at me,

then back out the window. Were flying. Oh, my! Its okay. It just took off. They do it all
the time. So you have told me. But I need to know something else. I put down my pencil. What? Where is Euphrasia? I look past her out the window. The
plane climbs higher.

It is a clear day, so I can see pretty far, but I dont even know what direction Euphrasia
would be in. I dont know.

But surely . . . we can see so far away. I dont know. But then I do see it, a little
wilderness near the shore,

almost out of sight. I know its Euphrasia because, through the trees, only visible if you
know its there, is a spire. The castle.

I think thats it. That? She stares where Im pointing. So small? Yeah. Everything looks
small from an airplane. You cant even see people from here. Its not a big deal. But that is impossible! It cannot be
so small! It was my whole world. And then she leans her forehead against the window and doesnt say anything for a very long time, just stares at that tiny spire until were
high in the clouds.

I
wake due to Jacks repeated nudging. Were here, he says. In America? Your country?

In Miami.

I cannot speak. Does he mean to say that we have com- pleted our entire journey? It seems
barely longer than the time spent walking to the Euphrasian border. I wonder . . . if
everything can be accomplished in so little time, does that mean people live longer?

How long was I asleep, then? Three months? Six?

Jack laughs. The flight was long, but not that longa few hours. He hands me a crinkly
object, which I now know is a plastic bag. Here. I got you some pretzels.

I have no idea what a pretzel is, but I take the bag. Thank you. It is lovely. I gaze at
it. It is blue and says AMERICAN AIRLINES
. I shall treasure it forever. He shrugs. I thought maybe youd eat it. So I do. It takes a
few attempts to open the bag, but once I do, the pretzels are crunchy and salty. I wonder if all American food is like this.
If so, it is a bit dry. Still, I eat them politely. Lovely.

Jack points to the window. There it is.

I look. There are strange sorts of trees, tall with no leaves save for little hats on top,
and there is water all around. I remember that we have been flying in the air all this
time, ten hours, and it should be nighttime, yet it is daylight, glorious, sunny daylight,
and I am free to go out into it if I please.

And suddenly, the pretzels taste not like salt but like freedom.

I need my hairbrush, I tell Jack. What for? He opens his travel trunk. We shall be meeting
your family, shall we not? When Father returns from a voyage, Mother and I and all the members of court meet his ship with
flowers. If this is to be like that, I should comb my hair. In any case, a princess must
keep up appearances.

I take out the simplest hairbrush I own, silver with hardly any jewels. Jack was appalled
when he saw it. Mod- ern hairbrushes, he says, are made of plastic. I know what plastic is
now, and I must say that it has none of the appeal of silver. I threw out the plastic
shoes Jack purchased for me, which pinched my feet so that I could barely walk. Now, I have cloth shoes which tie in front. Still, I yearn for my own shoes, made of the
finest kid and fitted exactly to my feet.

I miss my ladys maid, who brushed my hair one hundred strokes each morning and night. I
miss being a princess.

But then I remember Fathers anger. That I do not miss at all.

Nah, no one will be there, Jack says, recalling me to the time and place.

Beg your pardon?

My family. Theyre all busy. Youll meet them later on, I guess.

But surely someone Nope. Well take a cab. I took a cab to the airport in France, and the
most I can say for it is that it is not a bus. I shake my head but keep a civil tongue inside it. It
seems incredible that a young man could journey across the ocean and come home to no
fanfare whatsoever. I examine Jacks face. His lips are pursed, his brow furrowed, and I
suspect that his thoughts on the subject are similar to my own. It strikes me that Jack
and I suffer from the opposite problem: While my parents kept me too close at hand, Jacks
do not keep him at hand at all.

Suddenly there is a giant bump that causes my seat, my body, my very bones to jump, and
there is a sound like a thunderclap.

What was that? I cry. Jack laughs. Relax, silly. We just landed. Were on the ground. He takes out his telephone
and turns it on.

We are? I glance out the window. It is true. We are. The trees and ocean are no longer
visible, replaced by dull, gray land. But a moment ago, I was in the clouds! Me. Talia.
After three hundred sixteen years isolated in a castle, apart from everyone, in three days
I have met a boy, run away, and crossed the ocean in a magical flying machine. Who would
have believed it possible?

Certainly not my father.

I
t takes a while to get off the plane with Talias fifty-pound carry-on. But finally we make
it. I love when you enter the jetport in Miami, and youre met with that first blast of hot
air through the cracks that reminds you youre home. I watch Talias face as we walk off the
plane.

Ooh! So warm! I grin. I told Talia no one would be there to pick us up at the airport, mostly because I didnt want her to spend an hour in the airport bathroom,
fixing her hair with that ten-pound brush of hers and pinching her cheeks to make them
pink or something. But I didnt really think no one was coming.

I check my cell phone to make sure I turned it on, and I check to see if I have messages, even though I know I dont. I texted both parents when I
got off the plane. Nothing yet.

We head downstairs to the baggage claim. Talia seems a bit dazed, and I nudge her. You
okay?

She rests her hand on my arm. I am glad you are here. I do not think I have seen as many
people in my entire life as I have seen today.

No problem. Her hands still there. Its weird because I kind of like the way it feels, her
sort of depending on me.

She points to the luggage carousel. Ooh! What fun!

Yeah. Dont touch it. We have to look for our suitcases.

My parents still arent here, so I dial home. My sister answers.

Hey, Mer, wheres Mom?

Out drowning her sorrows about getting stuck with such a bad son.

Yeah? I think shes playing tennis. Im at the airport. I turn so Talia cant hear me. Is anyone coming? Hmm . . . Im guessing that would be a no. Thats weird. She came and picked me up from camp last week. They must love me morebut then, I
didnt run away from camp.

Very funny. I call Dad. His secretary answers. Her name is Marilyn, which I know because making me
work in his office is my dads other favorite way to ruin my summer. Actually, that was the
one selling point for the Europe trip.

Oh, was that today? she says when I tell her Im at the airport.

Uh, yeah.

Hes in Houston right now. Do you want me to call Super Shuttle for you?

No way. If my parents forget to pick me up from the airport after Ive been gone almost the
whole time I was supposed to be, theyre springing for a cab.

I see my suitcase, and I grab it. But Im more worried about what I dont see, which is
Talia. Whered she go? She was holding my arm, but now shes not.

Which gets me thinking about all the things that could have happened to her. Like, what if
she decided to take a ride on the luggage carousel and ended up in some kind of baggage
dead-letter office?

Or maybe she decided to show the nice security guard her jewels.

Or someone offered her some candy if shed help him find his lost puppy.

Shed go. Thats what shed do.

Stay calm. There are a lot of people here. Shes probably just stuck in a crowd.

Where is she?

Jack? A whisper interrupts me. Talia! Jack?

I look again, and I see her. Shes pressed against a wall, the green hoodie I got her
covering all her yellow hair and most of her body.

Come on, I say. I have the suitcases.

She looks over her shoulder, not really at me but out at the airport. Is she still there?
she whispers.

Is who still there?

Shh! There was a lady, an old lady in a black dress. It was Malvolia.

Malvolia? I try to remember where Ive heard that name before. The fairy. Witch. Whatever.
The one who cast the spell on Talia and made her sleep all those years.

I laugh. She couldnt be here. She was alive hundreds of years ago, in Euphrasia.

I was alive hundreds of years ago in Euphrasia, and I am here.

Good point. Still . . . I look around and see the lady Talias talking about, an old lady
in a black dress. A black habit, actually.

Thats not Malvolia, I say. Thats a nun.