Worlds Apart (4 page)
Jillsy
had paid for the overhaul of her clock with cash, having brought the exact amount with her for that purpose. With the Chelsea lodged carefully in a box filled with foam padding, she slung her purse back on her shoulder, picked up the box with the clock, and then headed for the street.
Wilford
Middlewick
sprang before her to once again tend to the door.
“Thank you!”
Jillsy
said happily as she swung out onto the sidewalk and set off in the direction from which they’d come. “Thanks for doing this with me! It’s nice; I had no idea you were such a gentleman. I don’t think we’ve ever actually talked, even! You must think I’m a little too forward, or even a little strange, maybe!”
Jillsy
kept her eyes ahead of her as she walked, ensuring that her feet were solidly on pavement and not straying toward the curb or into a crack. After a few more steps,
Wilford
realized with a sensation of panic that he was meant to respond, that
Jillsy
was awaiting an answer of some sort from him!
“No, no!
Not at all!”
Wilford
Middlewick
protested, a little violently, “I don’t think you’re too strange, or,
er
, strange at all, or even forward! I just wish that… I just wish…”
Wilford
had been about to confess his utter lack of knowledge as to whom
Jillsy
was, but he instinctively aborted this approach, and now substituted a phrase that he felt would be more pleasing to her ears: “I just wish that you’d allow me to carry that box for you!”
And for the second time that afternoon,
Wilford
Middlewick
was graced with a warm smile, a sincerely appreciative glance that made him instantly thankful so many of his pals had been unavailable that evening, thus freeing him to walk this clock home, and as well, this
Jillsy
Cavanaugh.
“Were you planning to pick something up at Liu-Wu’s tonight?”
Jillsy
asked as she gingerly transferred her package to
Wilford’s
outstretched arms.
“
Oof
,” replied
Wilford
, both because
Jillsy’s
assessment of the clock’s weight as ‘heavy’ had been correct, and because her reference to his favorite Chinese restaurant had ignited a series of slim remembrances of
Jillsy
in his head: he had to collect and collate them, and then think over everything he’d said to her to ensure that nothing he’d indicated would contradict what she might already know about him.
“I told you, didn’t I?”
Jillsy
admonished. “I’ll let you carry it if you insist, but if it gets too awkward, just tell me, ’
kay
?”
Wilford
nodded, while simultaneously his collection of various images involving
Jillsy
began to sort itself into a general picture of someone whom he’d certainly taken notice of before, but who’d been entirely peripheral to his life.
“So about Liu-Wu’s…”
Jillsy
said with a smile.
“Ah. Yes! No, I hadn’t planned on picking something up tonight, or rather, I’d thought I
might
be doing something with some friends, like I said, so I hadn’t planned on it, but…”
Wilford
had finally managed to sort out his recollections, and was having difficulty assessing them while concurrently answering her question.
“Well, how about if I buy you dinner, then?”
Jillsy
offered. “I at least know you like Liu-Wu’s, but we could go anywhere, and it’s the least I can do since you’ve been so kind to accompany me, as well as carry the Chelsea!”
Wilford
Middlewick
said thoughtfully, “Yeah. Sure.” And then with fresh enthusiasm, “Yeah, cool! I’d love to!”
“We’ll have to order more than one appetizer, one dish, no rice, though!”
Jillsy
said wryly. “That
is
your regular take-out order, right?”
Wilford
nodded, almost abashed. “Yeah, it is. It’s amazing you’ve noticed that.”
“And don’t forget…”
Jillsy
paused. “How is it that you phrase it? ‘The fortune cookie counts as dessert?’”
“Oh, ho!” said the angel called Lloyd. “She’s got my boy pegged, all right! I’ve always detested that insipid phrase of his!”
“Uh,”
Wilford
Middlewick
managed to utter. And then to cover his inability to formulate a better response, he shifted the box in his arms to a new position.
“That’s my
Jillsy
,” said the angel called Farber, almost with pride. “I told
ya
she was a peach!”
Jillsy’s
hand rose to lightly graze
Wilford
Middlewick’s
arm. “I’m not trying to make fun,” she said contritely. “I’ve just noticed you, and I’ve overheard what you say on occasion, and I’ve always found you… interesting, I suppose.”
Not entirely displeased by this sequence of unexpected disclosures,
Wilford
was unable to squelch a smile. “I suppose I
could
order rice sometimes,” he stated equably. “Or a second dish, or even two appetizers. I’m just careful, that’s all. With money, that is. I’m just…”
“Thrifty,”
Jillsy
amiably finished for him.
“
Cheap!
” said the angel called Lloyd. “You’re
cheap!
”
“‘Thrifty’ would do,” smiled
Wilford
Middlewick
. “It’s a better adjective than others that have been lobbed at me over the years.”
“I admire people who are thrifty,”
Jillsy
returned. “It demonstrates character, a willingness to deny oneself things that aren’t wholly necessary. You’re obviously disciplined, and know exactly what you need. You don’t waste, as so many of us do.”
“I’ll bet
you
don’t!”
Wilford
said.
Jillsy
laughed,
a plangent ring of unaffected vibrancy. “I try not to,” she finally responded. “I don’t always succeed, but I try.” She flashed a smile in
Wilford’s
direction. “I’m so glad we ran into each other,” she said.
“Quite a coincidence.
I might have gone years without speaking to you if I hadn’t been picking up my clock right then.”
“Oh, ho!” said the angel called Lloyd.
“A coincidence?”
Wilford
Middlewick
once again adjusted his burden.
Jillsy’s
smile remained, but her eyes slowly swiveled until they were facing forward once more.
“You’re good!” said the angel called Lloyd. “Did you know that?”
“Yup,” said the angel called Farber.
“There’s the Metro,”
Wilford
Middlewick
announced.
“Stairs or elevator?”
“Oh, let’s use the elevator!”
Jillsy
declared. “You’re doing enough; the stairs would probably hurt your knees. And then I’d have to go
with
you to Dr. Fenwick’s and explain, and he’d chide me like he always does about how I don’t do enough
real
exercise!”
Wilford
Middlewick
shook his head in amusement; the list he’d compiled of locations where he had seen
Jillsy
in the past had just grown again. Aside from Liu-Wu’s and a nearby bakery where he bought day-old sourdough bread for his sack lunches, he had as well noticed her at his bank, a park two blocks from his apartment, and a used-book store where he sometimes picked up dollar novels from the outdoor bins. Dr. Fenwick’s office was probably not the last addition to this he would make.
Jillsy
punched the CALL button for the Metro elevator, and after a short interval, the two scarred, graffiti-strewn doors slid open, one jerking and grinding as though its guide track was composed of pebbles.
“Do we dare?” asked
Jillsy
wryly.
“Might as well!”
Wilford
Middlewick
responded, and then the two of them stepped into the elevator.
Wilford
rested the box on one of the handlebars.
Jillsy
pressed the button that announced METRO over a rendering of a train car; the button didn’t light up.
A few seconds ticked by, delineated by the newly audible ticking of the Chelsea clock. Just as
Wilford
opened his mouth to say that the stairs would really be fine, and even if
Jillsy
had to go with him to Dr. Fenwick’s that would
also
be fine, the elevator doors began to close. The door that had earlier moved in agony now slid smoothly; the other emitted a torturous screech, burped, and then hurled itself toward its mate, overreaching the opening’s midpoint by a number of inches before being pushed firmly back into place by its partner.
Jillsy
began to laugh. An instant later,
Wilford
joined in as well. The elevator jumped once, slightly, and then it slowly, slowly began to rise.
Still laughing,
Jillsy
said, “Now how would I have experienced
this
if we hadn’t run into one another today?”
Wilford
Middlewick
couldn’t think of a single response. When, if ever, had he paid so much attention to or been so fascinated by such a simple, everyday thing as a Metro elevator? Details of what was occurring around him were sharper than ever before; this lovely, vivacious,
interesting
woman beside him must be the cause, but he couldn’t fully fathom why. She was attractive, but she certainly wasn’t endowed with the jaw-dropping physical features to which
Wilford
had found himself attracted in the past. She had a sonorous laugh and a voice that rang with clarity, but these weren’t normally traits he found intriguing. Was it the fact that she was actually paying attention to him? That she had
noticed
him? And that she seemed content, even happy, engaging him in a halting conversation in which he was a lesser participant to an almost mortifying degree?
The elevator jolted to a stop, having attained the level of METRO without
Wilford’s
being aware of either the progress of ascent or the total absence of conversation. He turned toward
Jillsy
with an apologetic look. Not being cognizant of
Wilford’s
embarrassment,
Jillsy
merely winked at him as the elevator doors began to open, in unison this time but at such a lethargic speed it seemed impossible that they would ever recess completely.
“Is that it? Have they both completely run out of things to say?” said the angel called Lloyd.
“Nope!” said the angel called Farber. “Certain silences speak volumes, if you can understand what isn’t being said.”
“
Ungh
,” said Lloyd. “I don’t particularly enjoy silences like that. These two have only just met! If they’re already scraping the bottom of the conversational barrel, where do they go from here?”
Jillsy
had held the clock for a few seconds while
Wilford
Middlewick
dug his Metro pass out of his wallet; she now returned it before preceding him through a turnstile. They then strode the few feet to the platform in tandem. A Metro train was just pulling up, filling the air with pings and screaming brakes. With an explosive
pah
!
,
the doors along the entire length of the train parted, disgorging a motley collection of haggard commuters.
Jillsy
and
Wilford
waited for them to disperse, and then swiftly moved toward the nearest car.
“You didn’t know who I was, did you?” asked
Jillsy
lightly as she marched forward, a smile tugging at the sides of her mouth.
“Huh?”
Wilford
Middlewick
said, not so much avoiding the question as monitoring his footwork as he traversed the void between the platform and the train car.
“On the street, when we met, twenty minutes ago. You didn’t recognize me.”
As the pair sidled down the aisle,
Wilford
Middlewick
opened his mouth to answer her. And then he closed it. And then he opened it again.
Jillsy
pointed out some seats that would allow them to sit facing each other and also set the clock down. They sat.
“No,”
Wilford
Middlewick
finally responded. He was momentarily astonished by his veracity, but then discovered the courage that accompanies acknowledgment of the truth and plowed on: “I mean, I did recognize you, but you were so out of context. I couldn’t place you at all until you mentioned Liu-Wu’s. And then images began to flood in.”
Jillsy
smiled and nodded. “I like honesty,” she said musingly, as if speaking solely to herself. The pleasure in her voice was conspicuous.
“You’re not too bad yourself,” said the angel called Farber. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Huh!” said the angel called Lloyd. “I’m not entirely sure that I was, either. I certainly
wanted
him to be honest, but…”
“Well, he was,” said Farber.
Lloyd ruminated on that for a while. “Do you think I could do anything about him being cheap?” he asked after a minute.
“Nope!” said Farber. “But maybe
she
can. I told
ya
she’s a peach! We’ll just have to help these two run into each other randomly if neither one of them follows up after tonight.”
“
Ungh
,” said the angel called Lloyd. “Sounds contrived.”
“Yup,” said the angel called Farber. “But from our perspective, what isn’t?”
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