Zera and the Green Man Page 5

  Chapter Five

  Monday, June 2

  Water everywhere! Flying, rushing, torrents! Surrounding! Enclosing . . . Struggle. Blackness. Nothing.

  Zera fought to wake up. Sobs forced themselves through her constricted throat.

  A honeyed voice whispered, “It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

  Zera’s eyes opened and her rigid body slowly relaxed. Her breathing returned to normal. She turned on her nightstand light. The room was empty, her thin cotton blanket knotted around her legs. She untangled it, smoothed it down, turned off the light. Closing her eyes, she imagined she saw two stars twinkling in the distance. Her mother and father. Gone forever. She thought about the river accident, a tragedy she did not witness but always experienced so vividly in her nightmares.

  This time, for the first time, she didn’t cry when she woke. Her heart didn’t continue to pound with horror. Turning again to her nightstand, she gazed into the darkness. She saw the outlines of her plants. Sunny, in the terrarium, and five others now surrounding her. Zera’s fingers brushed the gray-green surface of one of them. She plucked a few soft, elongated leaves, held them to her nose. Lavender. Smells so good. It helps. Soothed, she drifted back into sleep, the leaves cradled in her palm, her nightmare receding.

  * * *.

  “Wake up, Zera. Up and at ’em.” The Toad knocked on her bedroom door, croaking, “Time to get ready for school.” When Zera didn’t respond, he opened it. Zera opened an eye; the room was dark, the windows still electronically tinted dark for night.

  She squinted in the direction of his voice. From the hall light she could see the shadow of his head, spikes of bed-head going out in all directions.

  “Ughhh,” she groaned, pulling the covers over her face.

  The Toad flipped the wall switch. “Rise and shine. You missed the alarm. It’s late.”

  The room lit up in harsh forty-watt-times-seven light from the chandelier. With the activation of the light switch, the darkness on the tinted windows faded, revealing sunny skies between the ruffled curtains. Zera groaned again.

  When the door clicked shut, she threw off the blanket. She rubbed her eyes, sat up, and stuck her tongue out at the door. She got up, went to the window. The Village Glen lawns were all the exact shade of green, with about a third just slightly different. She could spot the fakes easily, they had a sheen that stood out to her like neon. The latest and greatest fad in home improvement: plastic lawns. People had been ripping out their grass all spring because of climate change; in Colorado’s case, drought. All the better to look pretty, have zero maintenance, and save water. Who cares that they are fake and will never have that fresh grass smell? Or give off oxygen? She saw a few garage doors open and the cars leave. To work. To school. Everything so much the same. Yet, it was a shiny, early June day, and Zera’s spirits began to lift, like the trilling of bird song in the tree near her window. She noticed a few nice touches. Just across the street a real rose bush bloomed, and on two small porches, pots of petunias. Real ones! Directly across from the condos, a vibrant pot of purple flowers on a porch caught her eye. The blooms were moving, jiggling, almost as if trying to get her attention. That’s weird. What is doing that? A cat, maybe a bird? She squinted. The pot seemed to glow brighter in hue, and the movement stopped. No animal came out, no bird flew away. Zera shook her head and turned away from the window.

  It would be a nice day if it wasn’t the last week of ninth grade. I can’t take another summer here. A lot had changed since her birthday. She and Abby had fun that spring break week celebrating her birthday — they had a sleepover, hung out, surfed the Internet, listened to music and skateboarded. But after break, Abby got a boyfriend, a 17-year-old named Thor. He was even more extreme than Abby, two years older, with two piercings (tongue and eyebrow), dyed black hair, and all-black clothes like Abby. Almost instantly they were inseparable. Within a few weeks Abby had abandoned Zera almost completely. Now summer was coming. One week with Nonny at some point, the rest awful. Zera wondered what agonizing camp experience Tiffany had lined up for her. Last year was the worst, six weeks of hell at Make-Over Camp, whose motto, “Grooming, hairstyling, diet and fashion — our modern young woman focus!” said it all. Zera groaned, flopped back down on the bed. Maybe Abby would break up with Thor. Or maybe a miracle would happen and a boy would be interested in her. She’d been trying to talk her uncle into letting her try to find some kind of work, volunteerism, anything so the summer wouldn’t stretch before her like a prison sentence.

  Rolling on her side she looked at Sunny in the antique terrarium, surrounded by five other plants in small terra-cotta pots. The gloom lifted somewhat. “I forgot to say good morning. How can I stay bummed with you guys around?”

  Zera had started collecting plants since her birthday, but Tiffany stopped her when she found out. “We’re not letting things get out of hand,” she said. “You’re not turning this bedroom, that I spent a lot of time and money decorating, into a jungle.”

  Zera’s hand flew over to the terrarium. She lifted the lid so the condensation inside could clear. In doing so, she accidentally brushed the lavender plant sitting next to it. A cool, fresh smell escaped from the leaves, filling her nostrils. For a moment everything seemed bright again. She remembered the nightmare and a particular soothing voice.

  That voice seemed so real.

  * * *

  Zera came to breakfast wearing one of her usual ensembles: cut-off jeans, red high-top sneakers, and a black T-shirt featuring the name and flaming guitar logo of her favorite oldie rock group, Pyro. Oh great, she’s here again.

  Tiffany sat at the glass and chrome table. As usual, she looked Zera over. Predictably, her pouty lips twisted into a disapproving curve as she took in Zera’s T-shirt. But today the expression lasted only a second before something unusual happened. It was replaced by a smile. “Good morning,” she practically sang. Zera was surprised at what Tiffany wore. The top of a ruffled apron was visible over her shirt.

  “Uh . . . Good morning.” Zera was caught off-guard. She couldn’t believe the delicious smell in the air. Tiffany had prepared a real breakfast — eggs, bacon, pancakes were on the table, on her plate! Tiffany never cooked, much less prepared a sit-down meal for the three of them. Have I entered another dimension? The Toad sat semi-slouched over his notepad across from Tiffany, reading.

  Tiffany sipped a diet drink, Skinny 2000 Death By Chocolate. The Toad was partaking in the feast, only having smaller portions than he would have had some months ago. Lately for breakfast he’d been having a StrongMan protein drink or power bar.

  “Isn’t it a gorgeous day?” Tiffany smoothed down the collar of her seashell-pink blouse.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Zera sat down.

  “I made you breakfast.” Tiffany giggled.

  Tiffany looked positively pleasant as she sipped from her pink straw. She giggled, how weird! Zera remembered how The Toad was nice to her the night before, asking her if she wanted anything special for take-out because he was taking Tiffany out to dinner. Something big is up. Zera’s eyes went to Tiffany’s left hand. No ring, thank God.

  As Zera peered down at the scrambled eggs, the memory of Make-Over Camp sprang up in her mind. With it came a shiver of dread that she fought to smother. Maybe Tiffany has found something even more disgusting for this summer, maybe that’s why she’s acting like this. She picked up her fork. “This looks great,” she said. She was afraid to ask the reason for the special meal.

  Tiffany just continued to look like Alice in Wonderland’s Cheshire Cat. Super weird.

  “Good morning, Zera.” The Toad looked up from his notepad over the top of his black-rimmed glasses. Zera groaned inwardly. He wore his pseudo-dad expression — serious, yet friendly.

  It was harder to even think of him as “The Toad” lately. He had changed a lot since the opening at All-American Burger Depot. As they’d talked about during the ride home that night, The Toad and Tiffany began to focus on making big changes
in Theodore’s life. Zera noted that while he kept his vintage spectacles and watches, almost everything else about his appearance had changed. His fanatical working out had paid off. In just two months he’d dropped over thirty pounds and seemed determined, almost self-assured. Although his dorkiness hasn’t disappeared, and he still slouches over his notepad, he’s different; a buffer, better dressed, more formidable Toad.

  “Good morning, Toa . . . Uncle Theodore.”

  “Got to get to the office early today.” Her uncle pushed up his glasses with one finger before tapping it on the old silver timepiece around his wrist. “I’m on a tight schedule.” He put the notepad into his briefcase.

  Tiffany’s brow furrowed as she looked him over. “I know just the shirt you should wear.”

  “This one’s not okay?”

  “Well, we do want to make the best impression possible, don’t we?” Tiffany exuded cat-like confidence. “Trust me, I know what will be perfect. And you should wear the gray jacket, not that blue one.”

  The Toad adjusted the glasses again. “If you think so.”

  “Are you meeting someone important?” Zera asked.

  “Actually, we both are,” Tiffany said. “But it’s not a subject you should be concerned with. What I mean is, you should concentrate on enjoying your breakfast.”

  So that’s why she’s acting so nice. The Toad has something going on. Maybe he’s finally getting that promotion. She breathed a sigh of relief that Makeover Camp wasn’t in the cards, at least not today, but didn’t like how they were keeping awkward secrets. .

  Chapter Six

  Theodore jogged alone in the running room at Biotech Multinational’s gym. His legs, stronger from the weeks of intense exercise, pumped beneath him, his chest rose and fell in full, measured breaths, light perspiration beaded on his forehead below his dark shock of hair. He easily kept up with the moving floor of fake stone as the four walls surrounding him showed a landscape leafy and dappled in light.

  Theodore passed the same grove of trees once every mile, and kept his eye on the glinting river far off in the distance. The river always sounded the same. It didn’t roar, like the rapids on the Arkansas River, it was steady and melodic. Even so, it always reminded him of the Arkansas River, and his sister Sally’s death. Sally and Ewan, killed in a flash flood that wouldn’t have happened if the lands around the river had been preserved, instead of being stripped of trees and vegetation for mining. Of course their deaths also might have been avoided if the two were not such adrenaline junkies — always wanting to go out and do things like ride rapids, climb the highest peaks in Colorado, fly a single-engine plane, or spend weekends skiing black-diamond slopes. He’d teased Sally for being a “hippie,” living in Ute Springs, being an artist and working on save-something causes all the time; that is, when she wasn’t pushing her limits physically. They’d always argued good-naturedly; he on the side of progress, she questioning his definition of “progress,” and yet she always let him know she adored her little brother.

  He used to think about his sister’s death every day, but since the evening at Burger Depot, life had changed. That night he’d made a decision that he would not be pulled down by his grief (which was not easy, given Zera’s resemblance to Sally) or by feeling sorry for himself because his career wasn’t going the way he planned. On that night, he formed a purpose. He would take action. And now, finally, it was paying off. He’d lost a lot of flab, and he kept a positive attitude most days. Today as he jogged, he whistled and thought over his itinerary. I’ll do my early morning workout, check in at the office, pick up my stuff, and then just walk out those doors.

  An attractive woman in a skimpy jogging outfit appeared behind him on the left wall. She ran up, passed him, then turned and smiled, a smile both encouraging and flirtatious. “You’re doing great. Keep it up!”

  Theodore smiled back at the holographic image, even though a second later he felt silly. His wristwatch buzzed — 7:50 A.M.

  “I’m done,” he said. The machine-room obeyed the comment. In tandem, the woman disappeared, and the walls and road slowed to a stop. A door, invisible in the moving landscape, became visible again and Theodore opened it into the rest of the gym.

  After showering and changing, he returned to his cubicle. His desk now held only his computer, a framed Glamour-Girl holograph of Tiffany, and a school holograph of Zera. Theodore picked up Tiffany’s picture. I hope this works, he thought, gazing at the image, because I can’t come back here. I’ve got to leave without saying anything. He looked at Zera’s picture. I hope this is going to work out for you, too, kid.

  From over his cubicle wall, Theodore spied the top of Harv Headstrom’s shiny head. He watched it bob down the corridor, approaching his office. Probably making his third trip to the coffee bar this morning, or his third trip to the bathroom. I hope he doesn’t stop to say hi.

  Harv peered over the five-foot-six-inch-tall cubicle wall, his caterpillar eyebrows hovering over bright brown eyes. “Hey Theo, how’s it going?”

  Theodore put the picture down and for the first time in a long time he smiled at Harv. “It’s going great.”

  Harv’s caterpillars reared up. “Yeah?”

  Theodore nodded.

  “Well, cool, it’s about time!” Harv went around to the door of Theodore’s office. “Wow, you really cleaned off your desk, I don’t think I’ve ever seen it not buried.”

  “Uh . . . it was due,” Theodore said flatly. He didn’t want to encourage Harv to stick around.

  “I was just heading down for a cup of joe, thought I’d say hi. See you at the meeting before lunch.”

  Oh, no you won’t, Theodore thought. Instead he said, “Later, Harv.”

  Burger Depot had turned out to be a huge hit, just as expected. Americo had opened five new restaurants since the grand opening, with ten more scheduled by the end of next year. And still, Theodore had received no recognition from Bob Cadger. He’d tried to talk to him, and had his appointment “rescheduled” numerous times. After a while, Theodore gave up.

  He opened his briefcase. So long Biotech Multinational, he said to himself as he began to play over in his mind last night’s dinner at Chez Escargot.

  * * *

  He and Tiffany had shared a candlelight dinner in the darkened, richly-decorated dining room just hours after Theodore got the news. Tiffany was surprised at the invitation to dinner and on their arrival at the restaurant purred, “What’s the occasion, Theodore? I’m on pins and needles! Tell me!”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  He waited until after dessert. Behind his glasses, Theodore’s eyes shone as he pulled out from his breast pocket two airline tickets to Los Angeles. He laid them on the table and announced, “Tiffany, it’s happened.”

  Tiffany picked up the tickets, then looked at Theodore. A hint of confusion, then disappointment, flickered in her eyes, as if she were expecting something else. “What . . . what’s happened?”

  “Somebody finally recognizes my worth. My potential.” Theodore brought out his ever-present pocket computer. “I’ve received an offer from Void Chemical. You’ve heard me talk about them. We’ve been in contact almost since the time of the Burger Depot opening. They’re bigger than Biotech. Way bigger.” He started punching in numbers. “Tiffany, they want me as president of their Biotechnology Division, and — this is my starting salary.” He handed the pad across the table. Tiffany’s slender hand trembled as she took it. She peeked at the display. It read: $ 900,000.00.

  “Oh–my–God!” She squealed and bounced up several inches in her chair. A few diners looked over and Tiffany flashed them a lottery winner’s smile.

  “Tomorrow I’m leaving Biotech and I’m not even giving them notice. I’m never going back. And that’s just the beginning.” Theodore’s voice lowered, “We can get out of here. I’ll finally have the chance to be all I’m destined to be.”

  “Theodore, I am so hap . . .” She stopped, looked at him wide-eyed. �
�You said ‘we’ . . . Does that mean . . .”

  “Yep, no more slaving over equations and hypotheses while the powers that be take all the credit, and the money. Langston Void, the top CEO at Void Chemical Corporation, wants to meet me tomorrow, wants me to personally bring him the signed contract. I told him about you, how you encouraged me, and he invited you, too. He wants to meet you.”

  “You said ‘we’ll’ before, Teddy . . . ,” a hopeful eagerness brightened Tiffany’s face. “Does this mean, well, that you might want to . . .” she looked around the room, “take our relationship to the next level?”

  Theodore turned pale. He took a gulp of wine. He cared about Tiffany, but had no desire to even think about the “M” word. Before Sally and Ewan died, he and Tiffany had been on exactly two dates. Then she showed up the day after his sister’s death. She’d read about it in the papers, wanted to comfort him. Before he knew it, she was a big part of his and Zera’s lives. She’d been hinting at marriage for months, but he didn’t know if he would ever be ready for that. His mother had been married three times; he just didn’t believe in that institution. Yet he needed Tiffany’s help with Zera, an area where he was clueless and she was confident, and he needed her enthusiasm. Tiffany’s ambition and drive were contagious. More than anything, Theodore wanted to succeed, to be someone important, and Tiffany understood this like no one else.

  “We both know I couldn’t have done this without you, Tiff, and I do want you to come out with me to L.A. You’ve always said you’d like to maybe live out there someday, and I thought you could help me find a place to live. There’s just so much going on, and if I get this job there will be a lot to figure out.”