Argosy Junction (13 page)

“Oh boy, “Lane muttered.

“That isn’t polite. I think your pants look stupid and that you at least need a belt or a rope if you can’t afford ones that fit, but I didn’t make fun of
your
clothes!”

Matt snorted back a guffaw. Lane eyed him quizzically, but the continuing scene before them caught her attention again. The junior-sized punk stepped menacingly toward Patience. Matt and Lane unconsciously took a step toward the squabbling duo, and other kids had stopped to watch.

“You don’t know anything. These are stylin’.”

“That may be so, but they sure don’t fit,” Lane muttered to Matt.

A voice on her right spoke up indignantly. “That’s how all the kids wear them. It’s what trendy kids like. That poor little girl has no sense of fashion.”

Before Lane could respond and make a bad situation worse, Matt stepped in. “Thank God for that. Fashion right now is a contest of who can look the most ridiculous while spending the most money.” He called out, “Patience, it’s time to go. We can come back after dinner, but the Towers reservations fill up quickly and we need to make sure we get a good table.”

Before the woman could respond, Matt led Lane and Patience back to the car. The kid shouted some kind of insult, but Matt kept a firm grip on Patience’s hand and led them away. Out of the side of his eye, he noticed her turn and stick her tongue out at the boy, and he grinned.

Lane caught the scene and laughed. “I never thought I’d see you dropping names.”

“I just wanted to shock her long enough to get us out of there. People like that are tenacious. They don’t quit until you concede or run crying in defeat.”

Near the parking lot, Patience froze. Three feet away crouched a disheveled and filthy homeless man with few teeth. He held a sign that read, “Hungry, please help.”

Matt appreciated the forthrightness of the sign. Many of the homeless offered to work until you offered them something to do, and then few had the time or ability actually to work. Patience, however, was digging in her pocket for whatever money she could find. It wasn’t much. She turned to Lane, eyes full of compassion and pain and begged for money.

Matt stopped them both. “Here.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a card. “This gets him a bed for tonight, dinner, and breakfast tomorrow.”

Patience handed the man the card excitedly and was rewarded with a grateful grin. “Thank you, missy. That was real kind of you.”

The southern drawl surprised Lane, but before she could say anything, Patience asked if Matt had any more cards. “Sure. I usually pass out around twenty going to and from work every day, but I didn’t go today.”

“Can I have them?”

Matt handed over the cards and watched in wonder as she raced from one homeless person to another handing out cards. When she could find no more, she looked around disappointed and then slowly walked back toward them. Matt looked at Lane to gauge her reaction and saw tears in Lane’s eyes.

“Hey, what’s—”

“She’s such a sweetheart. I would have been afraid to talk to someone like him at her age. I’d do it now, but I’d still be intimidated; she’s always cared more about the other person than herself. It’s like when you left your stuff in the pasture. She was determined to get it for you.”

Patience raced to their side before he could answer. “I still have ten. Where can we go? Can we get more? Where do we buy them?”

They walked to the nearest subway station and rode the escalators down to the platform where indigents weren’t supposed to loiter and where many lived. Patience started to race toward the nearest ones, but Matt stopped her. He waited until he had her full attention before he spoke.

“Not all homeless people are safe. Not having a place to live makes some people afraid, and when people are afraid they sometimes do dangerous things. I’ll only help you with this if you promise to stay away from the groups I tell you to.”

“But—”

“Patience, we’ll leave now if I don’t think you’ll do it. I know what isn’t safe; you don’t.”

Matt watched the expressions fly across her face as she considered his ultimatum. He saw her face soften, but something about it unnerved him. When a resolute expression crossed her face, he looked at Lane for help. Patience cut him off with a simple, “I trust you, Matt.”

Matt showed her several people that stood near the edge of the platform with their signs, some near the bathrooms who wheeled granny carts, and some who sat on benches talking to themselves. “Any of those are okay. See those people down by the entrance to the tunnel and those down that corridor? Stay away from them and from that huddled group over there. They can be perfectly safe. I don’t know. I do know that these others won’t hurt you.”

After a careful count of her remaining cards, Patience hurried to share them. One elderly woman flashed a card back at Patience and pointed at a man asleep by the partition. Patience looked back at Matt for permission before racing to tuck it into the man’s hand. Lane turned her face into Matt’s sleeve and fought back tears.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. Instead of feeling badly that you wouldn’t have done it, just be thankful that she did. Everyone has their strong and weak areas, and this must be her strength.”

“She’s just never seen anything like it. We’ve kept her away from it in Spokane, and Argosy Junction just doesn’t have any homeless or even any truly poor amongst us. I thought she’d be frightened about it all, but she’s just true to herself. There is a problem and Patience is going to fix it.”

Lane’s eyes were moist with the residue of tears that didn’t soak into his sleeve. Matt took his eyes from Patience as she rushed back toward them and smiled into Lane’s. “I’m glad you’re here. Let’s go take your bags to the hotel and then we can decide what to do for dinner. I can go home or we can—”

“You can’t go home! We came to see you!” Patience’s voice broke through their conversation.

“Then I won’t go home! But Patience, Lane might want some time to do sister stuff without me, and that’s okay. I’m here to enjoy whatever time you have for me, not to take over your visit.”

Matt wandered around their suite uncomfortably as Lane and Patience changed for dinner. Both were eager to wear their new clothes and see the town. Matt’s mind raced with options. They could try bowling, a movie, an arcade…

“Hey Lane, what about Pizza Palace? They have all kinds of arcade games and carnival games. Patience might get a kick out of it and the pizza is the best.”

“Sounds great. I just need to re-braid Ima’s hair.”

Her voice was close. Matt turned and grinned at the picture Patience made standing in her bright funky dress with the matching sandals and ruffled capris under it. She looked like the epitome of a trendy
Brethren,
and Matt couldn’t help but notice that regardless of their rejection of the cult, they still clung to many of the things that once identified them as members. Nevertheless, the vintage and Euro flair of the outfit on little Patience was comically adorable.

“Now that is one cute little girl. She looks familiar… “

Giggles erupted from a self-conscious Patience. “I like it. It’s pretty isn’t it?” She spun in circles letting her dress billow away from her. “The dress is kind of short though. You’d need these bloomers to keep it decent.”

“Those are capris, Patience. And that’s really not a dress; it’s more of a baby doll top.”

“Well I don’t know what it’s called, but I think you both look great.”

They did. Lane’s cropped pants and flowing top were something he’d never have expected to see on her, but she wore them with an ease that owned the style. Her hair hung loose, yet looked as though she’d stepped from a salon, and he knew many women who would have given much to have such a polished appearance without the aid of a boatload of cosmetics.

“Can we go now? I want to play arcade games!”

All the way to the Pizza Palace, Matt tried to explain how to play several of his favorite games. Something about his description of Pac-Man entranced her, causing Lane to roll her eyes. “Is there a table near the game? We’re going to need it and several hundred dollars in quarters.”

Lane was right. They found a table adjacent to the Pac-Man game and sat talking while Patience fed quarters into the machine like it was a pate goose. Eventually, the two rolls of quarters Lane allotted her ran out, and Patience returned to the table exhausted. “I finally got to the second level! How did you ever give up Pac-Man to save for a vacation?”

After half a dozen bites of pizza, Patience fell asleep in Matt’s lap. They chatted for a few more minutes, but it was evident that she was out for the night. Matt carried her to the car and at the hotel, into the lobby, up the elevator, and into their suite. Lane removed her sandals and the funky bows from her hair before Matt slid Patience beneath the covers and tucked her in for the night.

“I guess I should go. Mom wants you to come over for dinner tomorrow. I thought if you wanted, we could go to a matinee, and then go to my house for dinner if you wanted to come.”

“Oh we’d love it! That’d be so fun. What time is the movie? That bookstore next to the store where the lady gave us the idea for Patience’s clothes was having some kind of children’s book signing. I thought we—or at least I might take her over for that.”

Matt leaned against the dresser and crossed his arms. “I meant what I said earlier. I want to spend all the time I can with you both, but I don’t expect you to include me in everything.”

Lane kicked off her shoes and removed the silver bangles from her wrist, tossing them next to Matt on the dresser. “Matt, we came to see you. Of course, we want you to do everything you can with us. We’ll probably be bored stiff waiting for you to get off work on Wednesday. I forgot about you working when we decided to come. It wasn’t until halfway here that I realized you wouldn’t be able to spend much time with us.”

“I’m glad then.”

She cocked an eyebrow and reached into the front pocket of her suitcase. “Here. Read this to me. I keep reading these things and they all sound so fake. Maybe you can make them make sense.”

Shakespeare’s sonnets taunted him from the cover of the book. Now he’d done it. “Which one?”

Clutching a pillow under her chin, Lane flopped down on one corner of the bed and rolled onto her stomach. “Read me a favorite, choose one at random, I don’t care. I want to see what you see in them.”

Matt leaned one knee awkwardly on the edge of the bed flipping through the book starting one, stopping, and searching again for a new one. She tossed him the other king sized pillow and gestured for him to sit. “Might as well get comfortable. It’s obvious that it’ll take a while to find one.”

Matt kicked off his shoes and sat cross-legged on the opposite corner from her, leaning on the pillow for support. “One hundred thirteen.” He cleared his throat and read murmuring under his breath to find the proper inflections before he read it aloud. Lane listened to the rise and fall of his voice and wondered if the beauty of Shakespeare’s sonnets weren’t in the words, but rather in the cadence of the rhythm of a sonnet itself.

“Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind,

And that which governs me to go about,

Doth part his function, and is partly blind,

Seems seeing, but effectually is out:

For it no form delivers to the heart

Of bird, of flower, or shape which it doth latch,

Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,

Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch:

For if it see the rud’st or gentlest sight,

The most sweet favour or deformed’st creature,

The mountain, or the sea, the day, or night:

The crow, or dove, it shapes them to your feature.

Incapable of more, replete with you,

My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue.”

Silence hung about them as Lane mulled the words. Finally, she raised her eyes to his and smiled. “Read it again.”

He did. Half way through the sonnet, she pulled the book from his hand and followed along as he recited it. “You weren’t practicing; you were making sure you remembered it! When did you memorize this?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t decide to memorize it, I’ve just read it so often—” Matt didn’t know how to explain without confessing he’d found that sonnet after he’d returned home and read it often enough that it was now as familiar to him as the Pledge of Allegiance.

Without another word, Lane reached into the nightstand drawer and withdrew a deck of cards. Amused, Matt watched as she shuffled the deck thoroughly and then laid all fifty-two cards face down on the bed between them. “You first or me?”

“Concentration?” He hadn’t played that since he was a second grader.

“Sure. Fine. I’ll go first.” She flipped two cards and then replaced them.

The competition was fierce. They cheered and jeered in whispers as each of them fought to secure the most pairs. In the end, they counted their cards and then stared at each other in shock and recounted.

“A tie? How do you get a tie? I’ve never had a tie!” Lane protested.

“Rematch tomorrow? I bet you’re supposed to leave in the Jokers so that there are an uneven number of pairs.” Matt could see it was getting late and wanted to give Lane an out.

Nodding as she put away the cards, Lane tossed the book back to him. “Read it again?”

Though unnecessary, Matt read the sonnet once more, giving it all the feeling it deserved. “Since I left you, mine eye is…”

“That was beautiful. I don’t know why exactly, but it was.”

“It might be, “Matt, teased flicking a stray gum wrapper at her, “because Shakespeare was a literary genius.”

“People can write whatever they imagine, but until someone makes it come alive when read or acted well, it’s just a bunch of words on a page.”

“Oh, no it isn’t! Can’t you hear the words in your mind as you read them? Don’t you hear the rhythm of the words, the intonation of your voice in your mind as your eyes absorb each word?”