The Game Room 03, Foundation

Greg grabbed the bags of parts and supplies from the trunk of his car and pushed the trunk lid closed with his elbow. As he turned toward his house, Cathy from across the street called to him, "Greg, a minute, if you have it?" Greg had just moved to this block, and just barely knew his new neighbors.

Cathy jogged up to him and continued, "My neighbor, the professor, has a cousin visiting town, and wondered if you would have time to show her around!"

"Oh, I don't know, Cathy," Greg answered. "I took time off to work on the place, especially the apartment. And the foundation where the utilities come through; gotta have a good foundation."

"Well," Cathy said, folding a piece of paper into Greg's shirt pocket, "here's her number. Her name is Veronica, she goes by Roni. Do call! All work and no play... ."

They said their goodbyes and Greg walked to his front porch. He put down his bags and took the slip of paper from his shirt pocket. "Roni 480-555-2229." He crumbled the piece of paper and started toward the curb. He kicked some leaves and litter away from the grate of the storm drain, and dropped the paper in. He did not have the time or the inclination for a woman in his life, not even casual and short term. He watched for the paper to sink, which it didn't.

Slowly, a mist formed within the storm drain. It drifted up and took shape as a beautiful dark woman in silvery drapings. A long wispy arm stretched below the street, grabbed the piece of paper, and handed it to Greg. She shook her head as a scowl crossed her face. Greg's jaw dropped. He reached for the paper, took it, and put it back in his shirt pocket.

Greg backed away toward his porch. He grabbed his bags, unlocked the door, and thought, quickly but not thoroughly. He had work to do, and little time for distractions. He wanted to be done with this, so he headed to the bathroom, and into the bowl went the paper. He pushed the flush lever, but instead of a "whoosh," he heard a "watch!" An errant whirl of water turned into a finger, which flipped the paper out of the bowl and right down the neck of his shirt. His reaction stunned even himself; he became more difficult, not more compliant.

Greg stepped to a desk where he knew that he had candles, and matches. "Noah, and then the Flood; next is Fire," he thought. He put a candle in a candle holder and flattened out the paper, still miraculously dry. He struck a match and lit the candle. As he moved the paper toward the flame, the wax vapor took shape as the gorgeous dark woman, this time in a silverish shawl. She blew out the candle...and again, and again, after Greg's repeated tries. He had been blinded by his resoluteness.

Finally he realized that he was not in control of this situation. He knew what he had to do, he would call this "Roni." But he had lost track of time, and needed time to think. It had been dark when he parked his car, but with what had happened, he was not inclined to trust a clock. He would wait until the rush-hour din dimmed into the mid-morning calm, that would be a reliable time fix. Then he would call. He went to bed.

And he tossed and turned...and slept...or maybe not. The rise in traffic sounds alerted him to morning's arrival. He got some coffee brewing, washed up, and waited for time to pass. As the revving of engines and honking of horns diminished, Greg new he had to make that call.

He dialed, 480-555-2229. "Hello, this is Greg, I'm calling for Roni."

"Hi, this is Roni," Roni chirped, "I wasn't sure you would call."

"Heh-heh, neither was I," Greg answered. "Look, I don't want to be short, but I'm pretty busy just now."

"Well, maybe you could just get me started, I don't know where to go or what's worth seeing."

"I have a lot of work to do, and I have to get to my parents' tomorrow, because my birthday is soon," Greg explained. Just then the television came on. Greg saw the remote control on the TV stand, so he knew he hadn't accidentally turned it on. The picture resolved into the dark woman, head and shoulders, finger waving back and forth in a "No, no, no." Greg continued, "Why don't you stop by, I'll show you all I need to do around my house?"

"OK," Roni said, "how about ten minutes?"

"OK. Fine. Goodbye."

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The doorbell rang, and Greg opened the door. Before him stood a young woman. She was nice looking; well, nice enough. She had a nice build; well, nice enough. She smelled great; Greg didn't smell anything at all, but he knew she smelled great. She had brown eyes, beautiful brown eyes that somehow promised a whole new world. Greg thought "aura;" in spite of what he'd been through he did not want to think magic.

Greg began, "There is a historic site near my parents, and a few covered bridges, if you want to go along tomorrow. Have you ever seen a covered bridge?" this while thinking, "Happy birthday to me!"

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© George Wisser 2013, 2018