Calling

As always, here's the previous installments: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, and 24. And now, on with the 25th bit of story inspired by Poetigress's Thursday Prompts! This week, the word is "golden."

     And so it was that, with half an hour to roll a block and a 

half, I set forth into the early evening's twilight from the 

Ramsays' side yard with a cat in my lap, a squirrel in my coat, 

and a crow riding each shoulder.  How it is that no one called 

the cops--or at least animal control--I'll never know; I guess 

everyone was inside watching TV.

     Traveler sent some final words of advice after us as he 

pushed the gate closed: "Remember, August, that silence is only 

golden if it's you with your mouth closed while she answers a 

question you've asked her about herself.  Be interested and 

interesting, and all will be well!"

     I waved to him, grabbed the wheel rims, and slewed the 

chair forward.  "I still say we should've found a way to bring 

him along," I muttered.

     El Brujo's ears flicked.  "If you're hoping to dazzle Deena 

with your lightning wit, August, I fear we shall all end 

this night soaking in disappointment."

     Jefe laughed, slapped the side of my head with a wing.  

"You're gonna do great, 'Mano: don't let that Poosy get you 

thinking otherwise!"

     "Yeah," I said, pulling to a stop under the big ficus tree 

on the corner.  "I'm thinking, though, that you and Honoria 

might wanna make with the air support about here."  I jerked a 

thumb upward.  "Before someone wants to know why I've got a 

wheelchair instead of an eyepatch."

     That got an actual chuckle out of El Brujo--I spent more 

than a little time when she and I were both kittens reading old 

issues of Thor comics out loud to her--but looking back 

and forth between the two crows, I don't think I've ever seen 

blanker looks in all my life.  "What?" Honoria asked.  "You 

saying you want us to peck wunna your eyes out?"

     Shaking my head, I just jerked my thumb again, and Jefe 

breathed a big wet sigh against my ear.  "You're the boss."  A 

jostle on my left and then on my right, and both crows leaped 

and flapped into the branches above me.  "Don't worry 'bout 

looking for us," Jefe went on.  "We'll be sneaking around sweet 

as you like."

     I nodded.  "I'd tell you how reassured that makes me, but 

Brujo doesn't want me to be sarcastic anymore."

     The tree canopy shook, maybe half a bushel of leaves 

cascading down over me; I coughed out the couple that had gone 

down my throat, and El Brujo made a clicking noise with her 

tongue.  "They say one should keep one's friends close and one's 

enemies closer, but in your case, they're the same group."

     A few moments of brushing got most of the leaves off, then 

I rolled across the street and onto Deena's block, my refusal to 

even consider all the horrible things that could go wrong so 

rock-solid, they could've built skyscrapers on it.  I mean, all 

I was doing was escorting a young woman and her father to the 

young woman's first therapy session at the treatment center 

where I was a resident.  How could anything possibly go wrong 

with that?

     Well, in the first place, I'd been planning to roll past 

the old Peterson place--I still didn't know Deena's last name, 

so I was forced to keep thinking of the house as 'the old 

Peterson place'--and circle the block a couple times since I was 

somewhere around twenty minutes early.  But as I got closer, I 

saw Deena out in their front yard throwing a tennis ball toward 

the side of the house, grinning in that direction, then bending 

down and after a few seconds straightening back up with the ball 

again.

     "Playing fetch with Heather," I muttered.

     Serena stirred in my jacket.  "That is a very fun game for 

dogs.  When you volunteer to watch Heather while Miss Deena is 

inside your building, you should play that game with her."

     Deena was facing mostly away from me as they played, so I 

slowed to a figurative crawl.  "Maybe turn around?" I asked the 

universe in general.  "Circle the block in the other direction?"

     "Or," El Brujo said drily, "you could perhaps, oh, I don't 

know, be a civilized creature and engage her in some polite 

conversation."

     I thought about that for a moment, but--  "Seems unlikely," 

I told her.

     She looked back at me, her eyes half-closed, her ears 

partway down.  "And yet you will, August, or I shall make 

your life more miserable than it already is."

     A scuffling against my chest, and Serena's head popped out 

from inside my coat.  "I will ask you, Miss Brujo, to be a 

civilized creature as well!"

     "Were I any less civilized, tree rat--," El Brujo began.

     But at that point, the wind must've shifted or something 

because Heather sang out, "I smell you, Mr. Augie!  And you, 

Serena!  And even the pretty El Brujo kitty!  Today just keeps 

getting better and better!"

     "Heather?"  I'd somehow gotten close enough to see Deena's 

brow wrinkle.  "Is something--?"  And she looked around, first 

away from me down the block, then toward me, and--

     D'you know how hard it is not to romanticize this 

whole thing?  I mean, the cripple with the talking animals meets 

the junkie with the heart of gold, right?  Why don't I just 

smear Vaseline all over the lens and give the whole thing the 

soft focus?

     But everything I'm telling you, I'm telling you because it 

happened.  Not because I wanted it to happen and not because I 

meant for it to happen.  But if you want to stack Bibles in my 

lap, I will gladly set a hand on them, raise the other hand and 

swear that, when Deena's gaze met mine, her whole face just 

plain lit up.

     And me?  I felt like I floated the rest of the way to her 

front gate.