I've never… seen anything like it.
And then, looking, neither had any of them. Matte, shiny, then matte again as the wind flipped their surfaces, each leaf semaphored a single bit in a composite message too large to read. The trio stood until self-consciousness set in again, blinding them.
The cedars of Lebanon, Spiegel pronounced. Adie shoved him. Good Christ, there's another one!
They were, in fact, all over the place. Cheap and eager miracles, too common to look at twice. The wheelchair rolled slowly up the street, under that greening canopy.
It took some pushing to get to town. But town ended as soon as they entered it. Thirty-two places in the United States went by the same name, half of them having started existence as Utopias. Texas alone boasted three of them. This particular Lebanon now existed, to the extent that it could be said to exist, as a theme park version of itself. The Glendower Shaker Museum. The junk-turned-antiques shops, the fleabag hotels upgraded to bed-and-breakfasts for weekenders escaping Cinci or Columbus.
Main Street ran its eight blocks before giving up the ghost. The expedition came to rest at Main and Broadway, awaiting the rapture, which, when it finally came, would surely be at least this quiet. Zimmerman swung his arm in a resounding upbeat, Adie's cue to cut up to Pleasant, circle around, and start the whole loop over again.
J can't believe it. It's all still here.
They never let you out? Spiegel asked. Never take you for a spin?
How could they? Too… label-intensive.
They ran the meager gauntlet of storefronts, Ted narrating the tour. Good place to eat. Place I used to do my laundry. This… guy still fixes shoes. Can you imagine? A hobbler!
Air spit out of Spiegel's pressed lips. Cobbler, buddy.
Unless he's a bad one, Adie offered.
Cobbler. That's what I said! Followed by the rasping inhale, the eegh of uncontainable glee at this, the black comedy of his existence.
Adie weighed the size of the two ratios: New York to this prop town; this prop town to the nursing home. Which was the farther fall? She was not good at math. Her private calculator tape rarely gave the same subtotal twice. But the answer to this long division was obvious. The second drop-off made the first seem level. The next drop would be no problem at all.
They rounded the loop again. On the third pass, revelation flagged. The thick, supernal gift past deserving now only fatigued them, at least the two doing the pushing. Spiegel broke first. That so-called good place to eat. Want to give it a try?
I do, indeed. And I hope that… woman we saw is still… sitting out
front.
Spiegel and Adie traded glances. There was something supremely cruel to evolution. Desire survived the purpose of its burn.
In that public place, Adie again rose to save them. She ordered for Ted, spoon-fed him, and wiped his face without a trace of patronage. She helped the waitress clean up the glass that Zimmerman's lunging backhand managed to swipe from the table. And she ate her own meal as well, all the while holding up her end of the conversation.
Ted asked about her work out West. She described the magic lantern show, in detail.
I've told you about all that stuff, Steve kept interrupting. Over the phone. You remember.
Clearly he didn't. Also clear that Ted could make nothing of the sketch Adie now drew for him. But she carried on gamely, the only strategy ever available.
We're supposed to demo for the general public next spring, and I haven't a clue as to what we should be building.
Spiegel laughed. She says that like she's saying, "I don't have a thing to wear."
Ted just stared at his two lost friends, ecstatic with bafflement.
By the time they rolled back down the long hill to the home, darkness had settled in. The old folks were watching a video blooper out-take show, gales of hilarity pouring out of the set. The instant they got back to his room, Ted blurted, Put me… on the bed.
Neither healthy body knew what was happening. They worked the badly distributed sack, Steve under the shoulders and Adie at the knees. They floundered, slipped, and banged his deadened torso against the metal sides of the hospital bed, at last getting him more or less supine, face-up, and centered.
Pull down my pants.
Spiegel punched him. Jesus, Zimmerman. Will you never change?
Hurry!
Thickened with emergency, Adie spent whole milliseconds wondering how they'd avoided this moment until now. She dove under the bed, the likely hiding spot, and surfaced with the bedpan.
Just put… just put me…
Between the two of them, they figured out the logistics. While Ted mewled in agony, the cause lost, Adie and Steve lifted his naked middle and slipped the pan underneath him.
I'm sorry. Humiliation bubbled up, broken, from Ted's throat. You two. I'm so… sorry.
About what? Adie rubbed his shoulder, looking away from his worthless, bared groin. We got you.
I'm in? His eyes retreated deep into their stunned corners. I made it…?
She nodded.
Oh. His voice relaxed in a wave of wonder. Oh! What a… good… day.
How does he pay for the single room? she asked Spiegel, on the way to their own motel that night.
Steve had fallen away sharply from jovial to grim, the minute they left the home. He made a fortune on those sell-out TV ads. The beatific Shaker rip-off. His thirty seconds of tonal recidivism.
She closed her eyes, hearing the beautiful tune against her will. That cash can't possibly last much longer.
Neither can he, Steve said.
At the motel check-in, she surprised him. One room, she told the desk clerk. With two single beds. She turned to Steve. Hope that's all right with you? I'm not sleeping in a strange room by myself tonight. Not after that.
Nothing separated them but a bedside light. My God, Spiegel whispered into the dark. The man can't go to the bathroom by himself. And he's still… he's still…
Don't say it, she said.
Each faced the other's wall, silent for a while. You know? he said at last. No lesson in life cripples me worse than "life goes on." And he fell asleep.
She followed, mere hours later.
Adie dawdled the next morning, first in the shower and later over the complimentary continental breakfast. It crossed Spiegel's mind as well, just how many eternities they could knock off the tally simply by showing up a few minutes later.
When they arrived, Ted was waiting for them, agitated. I woke up with this weird… idea. That you said something yesterday. About building a cave?
Adie embraced him where he lay. A Cavern.
Technically speaking, Spiegel added.
Why would anyone…?
Haven't you watched the tape I sent you?
Ted flailed in the direction of the TV room. I don't go out there much.