In the Unlikely Event... (32 page)

It was Gitana who broke the silence. “You guys don’t have to do this.”

“We do,” Addison said, getting out of the car. Chase and Bud followed. Chase leaned in and kissed Gitana through the open car window. “If we don’t return, always remember my love for you,” Chase said.

Addison looked stricken. Another condition not noted on the Asberger cards.

“I’m kidding,” Chase said. “According to Dr. Robicheck, humor in times of stress is a good thing. It serves as a tension reducer as well as releasing dopamine into one’s system.”

“Ha ha,” Addison said sardonically.

“It’s going to be all right,” Bud said, taking her hand.

Without apparent trepidation, they strode through the sliding doors like
Charlie’s Angels
ready for their next assignment. They sat down in the waiting room, which contained twelve other people. Like the Last Supper, Chase thought. There were boxes of Kleenex and several plastic containers of antibacterial gel. Everyone in the waiting room looked sick—bags under the eyes, sniffling and coughing. One guy was red-faced and sweaty. Chase hoped he didn’t have malaria. A few of the women didn’t look sick. They apparently were the insistent caregivers who had driven the sick and dying to the Urgent Care.

“It’s a multiple of three,” Bud whispered.

“I’m taking that as a good sign,” Chase said.

They looked around for chairs. Chase wanted them to sit together if possible. The room had four rows of chairs that faced the reception area. Chase looked at Bud, who cocked her head toward the first bank of chairs near the front. A woman with a sick toddler, who was squirming and flinging his arms about, sat at the end of the row. The three of them took the chairs at the other end. Chase sat closest to the snot-flinging toddler—for about ten seconds.

“Bad spot, let’s move,” Chase said.

Addison stared at the baby in horror. “That child is a biohazard,” she said as they all watched the small boy wipe his nose with his hands and then wipe it on the back of the chair.

“Don’t look,” Bud said, taking Addison’s elbow and leading her to the second set of chairs.

They’d drawn attention to themselves by moving, but now Bud was sitting next to the sweaty guy who Chase was convinced had malaria or swine flu. He looked bad. She studied the floor plan. The bank of chairs by the wall seemed the safest. It was empty and had only four chairs with an end table stacked with magazines.

“I think we should sit over there,” Chase said. She cocked her head at the sick guy by Bud. Addison leaned over and studied her fingernails. She nodded. They moved again. It was like playing the cakewalk game or musical chairs. The receptionist stared at them but went back to her paperwork.

Chase noticed they were all sitting with their hands in their laps, not touching anything.

A woman sitting across from them, said, “I think you need to sign in at the front desk.” She sniffled.

They all leaned away from her.

“We don’t have an appointment. We’re just waiting,” Bud said.

“Waiting to catch an infectious disease,” Addison mumbled under her breath.

The nurse called the next patient. They sat. Chase felt reckless. She picked up a magazine. Bud and Addison looked at her in awe, then did the same. People started to take notice of them. Chase smiled and nodded.

“I think they’re wondering if we’re terrorists,” Addison whispered.

“Naw,” Chase said, flipping the magazine pages and ridding her mind of finger juice thoughts. She took a perfume sample and rubbed it on her shirt. People stopped wheezing and sniffling and stared at her.

The woman who had spoken to Chase got up. She went to the receptionist and whispered something. Both women stared at them. Chase caught the woman gesturing to the receptionist about them. Hmm…Chase thought, maybe it was time to leave.

“I think we’ve been outed,” Bud said.

“Let’s go,” Addison said, leaping up.

Before Chase could stow the magazine and stand up, a nurse opened the door to the exam rooms and stopped them. “Can I help you with something?” She eyed them.

“Uh, no, we were just looking,” Chase said, backing away.

“No one is ill or injured?” the nurse said.

“Not yet,” Addison said.

“Oh, look there’s Grandma in her walker,” Bud said, pointing out the sliding glass doors to an elderly woman coming out of the taxidermist carrying a stuffed orange tabby cat.

“We better go help her,” Addison said.

“Thanks for everything,” Chase said to the nurse.

They ran toward the elderly woman and then veered toward the car, hopping in like they were in a getaway.

“How’d it go?” Gitana said.

“Fine. The nurse caught on to us,” Chase said, lathering her hands and arms with antibacterial gel. Addison and Bud were doing the same thing. Bud scrubbed at her face and then pulled out Q-tips.

Chase looked alarmed.

“I know it’s gross, but nasal swabs are in order,” Bud said, handing out the swabs and a bottle of saline solution.

Addison and Chase both grimaced.

“Trust me. Just do it,” Bud said.

“One word—yuck,” Gitana said. “Can we go to the movie, now?”

“Yes,” Chase said. They’d conquered one fear, now onto the next adventure. She pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to Tramway and on to the movie theater.

“What movie are we going to see?” Gitana said.

Chase glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Addison and Bud both shaking their heads.

“Oh, it’s just this movie that has had some interesting reviews,” Chase said.

“It’s a cult classic,” Addison added.

“What’s the title?” Gitana said.

Chase pulled in the parking lot of the theater. “Gosh, I don’t remember, something about insects,” Chase said.

They went up to the ticket booth where Chase bought four tickets. She whispered, “Three adults and one child for
The Human Centipede
.”

“Three and one coming up for
The Human Centipede
,” the pimpled-faced boy said into the mike for everyone to hear.

“Did he say
The Human Centipede
?” Gitana inquired. She examined the movie poster.

Bud yanked on her hand and said, “Come on, we’re going to be late.” Bud pulled her along to the theater doors and past the concession stand.

“Don’t we get popcorn and Milk Duds?” Gitana said. “I mean, how can we not?”

“Addison and I will get the necessary provisions while you and Bud get seats. It’s probably going to be standing room only in there.”

Bud whisked her off.

“Whew, that was two close calls. First, Nurse Ratched and then the movie guy,” Chase said.

“I wonder what the previews to a movie like this will be?” Addison said.

They got four medium popcorns because, as Addison pointed out, they were about the same size of an airline barf bag and could be used as such if necessary. “The airlines must have done research about how much space a vomit will require in order to be contained.”

“You sound like Bud.”

“I know, right. I don’t know how I feel about it,” Addison said.

“I’m with you. What do you think about beverage size?”

“I would go with larges because soda will help with a sour stomach,” Addison said.

“Are we sure we want to do this?”

“If we can watch this we can get through any cultural experience, even a marketplace in a Third World country,” Chase said. They both shuddered.

The concession man handed them their order. In addition to Milk Duds they got York Peppermint Patties, for the breath issue in case anyone did toss their cookies. They went to the theater where the centipede awaited them.

Other movies in the multiplex theater had lines waiting to get into them. They were the only people in this theater. Chase handed Gitana and Bud their popcorn and drink.

“I thought you said this was a popular movie,” Gitana said.

“Maybe everyone is running late,” Chase said.

Gitana furrowed her brow but dug into her popcorn.

The previews were tame enough—alien spores, giant worms coming out of people’s brains, a shoot-em-up scene with a car crash, but when the movie started, Gitana whispered, “Are you sure you want to see this?”

Chase nodded. She ate her popcorn and stared at the screen as children were abducted and operated on by a seriously creepy man. All her fears—kidnap, surgery, gore rolled into one hideous movie.

When it got to the sewing together of body parts, Chase, Addison and Bud pulled their T-shirts over their heads. Gitana continued to eat her popcorn and then theirs. “It’s not that bad. It’s downright kitsch. I mean look how fake that is,” she said, thrusting a finger at the screen.

Chase knew she’d have nightmares for years if she watched any more, so she was forced into turtle mode. Bud and Addison had quickly mimicked her. She plugged her ears and tried to think of pleasant things—like a calendar of puppies, a funny British sitcom, clean sheets, the soft petals of a morning glory after it just opened and before the insects got to it. Her mind reeled—insects, centipedes, body parts. She had to start over. Calendars with pictures of kittens, the serenity of falling snow…

“Tell us when the gross stuff is over,” Bud said. “We can watch the thriller part.”

“That’ll count,” Addison said.

Chase didn’t come out for the thriller part. She stayed in her cocoon of nice thoughts or tried to except that Gitana kept poking her and saying, “You got to see this.”

When the movie was over, the three of them staggered out of the theater—shell-shocked. Gitana was fine. “Some parts of the movie were downright funny,” she said.

“I’m so glad that’s over with, and I don’t think I’ll be going to another movie for eleven years,” Chase said.

“No,” Gitana whined. “I like the movie theater. It’s like going to another planet for two hours,” she said. “But I’ll pick out the movies from now on.”

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have such a good visual memory,” Addison said.

“Bud, are you all right?” Chase said as they walked to the car.

“Why would someone write that and then make a film about it?” Bud said.

“There’s no accounting for taste,” Chase said, and they all blanched, thinking back to the movie and the feeding part of the centipede. Except for Gitana, who pulled the Milk Duds out of her jacket pocket and popped two in her mouth.

“Anyone else?” Gitana said.

Silence and then a three-way, “No, thank you.”

The Expo Center in downtown Albuquerque was filled with vendors of wrapping paraphernalia that Gitana found interesting as they passed through the maze. There were long tables lined up and filled with samples of wrapping papers, bows and ribbons, different kinds of boxes and packing supplies.

“Hey, look at this,” Gitana said, picking up a small implement that looked like it had been misplaced by a surgeon.

“That’s a paper cutter. It’s an enclosed razor and cuts perfectly straight lines,” the buxom woman dressed in purple chiffon explained to Gitana.

“Oh, that’s ingenious,” Gitana said.

“Half the battle in wrapping something well is getting the paper cut straight,” the woman continued. “Would you like to try it?”

“Okay,” Gitana said. She looked around for Chase, who was staring at the stage.

The stage was divided into two-sided cubicles, each with a table and a cart of wrapping supplies. The audience could watch the contestants, but the contestants couldn’t see each other. Chase and Bud had viewed all the websites, so none of this was a surprise. Still, seeing it up close and personal with all the chairs packed in the middle of the Expo Center and the people already waiting made Chase break out in a sweat.

Bud squeezed her hand. “You can do this,” Bud said. “Remember, you can wrap anything.”