The Fountain Pen

It’s been a rough day touched off by a phone call, from which I never recovered, waking me out of a dead sleep. My wife and I also decided to set up the toddler bed for our daughter, which had her excited. I expect many nights of putting her back in bed.

My inner critic is upset that I’m using clichés and that I have what is probably entirely too many facial expressions going on in my conversation between Joe and Amanda. I’ve been married long enough I probably forgot how to flirt, if I ever knew how. In any event here is the beginning of the next chapter:

Chapter Two

Joe walked up to the Greyhound depot and was dubious. The place looked a little neglected, as if their business was suffering. Joe didn’t have anything strictly against riding the buss, but placing his wellbeing in the hands of apathy always set his teeth on edge. Joe was the sort of guy who took pride in his work, and looked for that quality in others; he had a general principle not to do business with those that did not take some measure, no matter how small, of pride in performing their duties. Walking into the depot Joe was less than reassured that these folks would be able, and willing, to help him.

As a bell sounded Joe’s arrival a perky attendant smiled warmly and quite cheerfully at Joe. “Good morning! How can I help you?”

Joe paused just inside the door not believing his eyes; the attendant with the pleasant demeanor offering to help him was the same woman who had just served him the most amazing cup of coffee he had ever had. “Didn’t — ” he began. “Didn’t you… . Aren’t you Shelly, the barista over at the coffee shop?”

The woman’s smile grew wider, lighting up her eyes. “Shelly’s my sister. I’m Amanda. We’re twins.”

“I’ll say. If it wasn’t for the uniform I’d swear you were the same person. She had her hair in the same braids you do.”

Amanda grinned. “We occasionally coordinate our wardrobes. We like to keep the boys on their toes,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

Sensing that Amanda was flirting with him Joe asked, “And just how many boys can you keep on their toes?”

Amanda practically purred, “Stick around and you might just find out.”

Joe grinned, “I wish I could, but I really have to get back home.”

“Oh? And where’s home?”

“Springfield,” Joe answered, then thinking better of it added, “Missouri.”

“Missouri? You are quite a ways from home. What brings you all the way out here?”

Without missing a beat Joe said, “I heard the coffee here is amazing.”

Amanda arched an eyebrow at Joe, “And is it?”

“Not half as amazing as the women they employ in this town.”

Amanda smiled quite pleased. “Flattery will get you nowhere.” Joe’s expression faltered. “After all, why would I want you to leave?” Amanda finished with a grin and a wink.

Joe grinned. “Nonetheless I must go.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say we don’t have any busses leaving for Springfield Missouri today.”

“That’s oaky. Just send me to any Springfield. It doesn’t really matter,” Joe said in jest.

Amanda gave Joe a blank stare, then said slowly, “Our last buss for Eugene left twenty minutes ago. We’ll have another one tomorrow.”

Chagrinned Joe said, “I was only kidding anyway. Do you have any busses to Portland?”

“Yes. We have one leaving in fifteen minutes.”

“Great. I’d like a ticket please.” Amanda’s face fell. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back for the coffee,” Joe said with a wink.

“I’m sure you will,” Amanda replied, “but that’s not the problem. I’m afraid the buss is full, so I can’t sell you a ticket.”

Joe looked around the empty depot. “Full?” he queried, gesturing to the empty room. “Must be a small buss.”

Amanda smiled ever so slightly. “The buss is on its way up from points south, and already mostly full. We only had two tickets to sell and I sold them this morning. The busses arrive in back; I’m sure the passengers are already waiting.”

“So you’re saying I’m stuck here?”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Amanda asked slyly. “We do have some amazing women here, you said so yourself.”

Joe grinned. “As much as I would love to stay and appreciate all the amazing things about this city, of which I’m sure there must be quite a few, I really need to get back home. I have business to attend to. Are you sure there is nothing you can do for me?”

Amanda checked the computer behind the counter. “We’ll have another buss leaving in the morning for Portland.”

“Nothing sooner?”

“Let’s see,” she bit her bottom lip while scrolling through screen after screen of scheduling data. “You’re in luck. There is a buss headed to Boise tonight. It should leave in about an hour.”

“Perfect. From Boise I’m sure I can catch a flight home. I’ll take it.” Joe began reaching for his wallet, “Providing there are still seats available on the buss.

“There should be plenty. Not many folks going to Boise these days.”

Joe handed Amanda a credit card which she swiped then paused as she read the card, “Hyborean Designs?”

“It’s my business’s name. I’m a bit of a Robert E. Howard fan.”

“Yeah? What do you like about him?” she asked as she handed him the receipt for him to sign.

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “I guess I like the fantasy and sheer imagination of it all, you know? What life would be like in a different time under different circumstances.”

“You sure it has nothing to do with a man’s man battling evil and saving the damsel in distress?” she coyly countered.

Joe narrowed his eyes as he responded. “Please. They are not fairy tales. Have you read any Howard?”

“Can’t say that I have. I’m more of a Louis L’Amour gal myself.” Joe was visibly taken aback. “What’s wrong? Can’t a gal like a good Western?”

“No, no. It’s not that. It’s just … I’ve never met a girl who went in for that sort of thing. It’s … refreshing.”

Amanda smiled. “It’s nice to be called refreshing.” She handed him his ticket, card, and receipt. “Here’s your ticket. Like I said before the busses arrive at the back of the building. If I were you I’d —” she paused distracted by something on her screen.

“What?”

“Looks like Someone doesn’t want you leaving town tonight.”

“What do you mean?” Joe asked, concern creeping into his voice.

“I just got a report that the buss due for Boise radioed in. It’s having engine troubles and won’t be in tonight. They are sending another buss to pick up the stranded passengers, and as none of them were going to get off in Salem they are going to bypass us to make up for lost time.”

Joe groaned. “Now what?”

“Well, I can refund your ticket, unless you want to stay, in which case I could transfer it to that morning buss to Portland.”

Joe’s face took on a sly look. “How can I be sure the buss is in fact having problems, and this isn’t some clever ploy on your part to get me to —” Joe was cut off mid sentence as Amanda turned the computer screen around and he read the report himself. “Oh.”

“Nice try, lover boy,” Amanda said chidingly.

“Touché. I’ll take that refund. Maybe I can rent a car or something.”

“There’s a car rental place a few blocks from here,” Amanda said with more than a little disappointment in her voice.

Joe thanked her then paused at the door, “If I come back this way where might I find you?”

“If you come back this way, I’m sure I will find you,” she said with playful finality.

Joe stood there confused then it suddenly dawned on him. “Ah. The amazing coffee.” Amanda just smiled knowingly as Joe walked out the door and down the street.

The rental car office was neat and orderly, if perhaps understaffed for Joe’s sense of urgency. There was seemingly only one person on duty, whose name tag announced him to be Edgar, and who was engaged with an elderly couple who acted as if they had all the time in the world. Realizing their transaction may take a while Joe settled himself into one of their chairs, finding it quite uncomfortable, and picked up a sorely out of date news magazine from the coffee table in front of him. Try as he might Joe could not make himself interested in old news, which was just as well because the conversation was distractingly loud of volume. Edgar was having to repeat himself each time a bit louder than the last, causing Joe to feel slightly uncomfortable as if he were eavesdropping on a conversation not his own. He heard words like “lumbago” and “adenoids” and suffered through a lengthy and repetitive conversation about the merits of cataract surgery. By the time the couple finished their business with Edgar Joe was about to leave the office and walk to Portland.

“What can I do for you, sir?” Edgar said, directing his attention to Joe. Joe couldn’t tell but he thought that perhaps Edgar’s volume was still a bit on the high side still.

“I would like to rent a car.”

“You’ve come to the right place,” Edgar said cheerily.

“I’ve got to get to Portland tonight.”

“I’m sure we can arrange something.”

“I won’t be returning. This would be a one-way trip, preferably to the airport, if that can be arranged.”

“Certainly sir. Did you have a preference of vehicle?”

“Something cheap with an automatic transmission.”

“I’m sure we can accommodate you sir. Do any of these strike your fancy?” Edgar showed Joe a list of cars.

“That one,” Joe said, picking out the cheapest one listed.

“A fine choice. Now if I could just see some ID and a major credit card please?” Edgar asked a bit stiffly.

Joe pulled out his wallet and handed Edgar the requested items, a bit puzzled at Edgar’s demeanor. He’d rented cars before but never had the feeling that he was being treated as if he were somehow suspicious. Edgar typed furiously at his computer, swiped the credit card, frowned, swiped the card again, frowned again, and then turned to Joe. “I’m sorry sir, but it appears as if there is a problem with your credit card.”

“What kind of a problem?” Joe asked, suddenly worried.

“I don’t know sir, only that the card was declined. Do you perhaps have another card you would like to try?”

Joe nodded and fished out another card and handed it over. “This is my personal card, it should be good as I just paid down the balance last week.”

“We’ll give it a try sir,” and Edgar swiped the card and frowned again.

“Not this one too,” Joe asked rather incredulously.

Edgar only swiped the card a final time then sadly shook his head. “I’m sorry. This one is also declined,” and handed Joe back his cards.

“Could I possibly pay cash?”

“I’m sorry sir, but it is our policy to have a valid credit card number on file, in case of problems. You understand I’m sure,” Edgar said with some disdain.

“Yeah. I do in fact. Well, thank you for your time. Sorry to trouble you.”

“Not at all. I do hope everything will work out for you. Good day.”

Joe left the office and started walking. He didn’t pick a direction so much as he just pointed his body and moved. He needed to clear his head, reflect on what had been happening, gain some perspective on the matter, and hopefully formulate a plan. Joe often found that a good long walk did wonders for his thinking process, and while he preferred parks so he could lose himself in thought and not wander into traffic, he nonetheless began thinking, not paying attention to where he was or what direction he was going. Ambling down the sidewalks Joe soon found himself at the foot of the Marion Street Bridge and site and sounds of cars humming along what looked to be a main thoroughfare out of town Joe decided to follow suit. “At this point I’ll take anything that will get me out of this town. I’ll hitchhike if I have to, but I’ve got to get out of here,” Joe thought to himself. “I’ve got that meeting with Randy Blackstock the day after tomorrow. I can’t miss it, and he’s not the kind of guy I can reschedule. I miss the meeting I lose the contract. And what’s the deal with my credit cards? It worked at the buss depot, why not at the car rental place?”

Joe pulled out his cell phone and began dialing his bank when he crashed, full force, into what felt like a solid wall, and ended up sprawled on the sidewalk staring up into the sky. Shaken and dazed Joe quickly checked his surroundings, hoping he was not in the street about to get run over. To his relief he was still well away from the traffic swiftly moving by. Joe picked his cell phone up off the ground and stood up, “What did I run into?” he wondered aloud. Looking all around him he could see nothing that would explain what happened. Puzzled Joe started turning around looking for a bike messenger, or a person walking, that he might have collided with, but saw nothing. Figuring he must have tripped or something he returned his attention to his cell phone and took a step, only to meet the same resistance as before.

“What the … ?” Joe exclaimed. He put his phone back in his pocket and carefully put his hands out in front of him, feeling the air, until they met with solid resistance where there was nothing but air. Joe felt around, looking for some kind of a discernible shape to what must be an optical illusion. Finding no edge, nor a crack or seam he moved out toward the water, and reaching out as far as he could, he felt no end to it. Fascinated he walked in the other direction, towards the traffic, which met with loud and severe honking as he walked out in front of a car. Waving apologetically to the drive he stepped back onto the sidewalk only to hear the driver shout a few rather unsavory words about practicing his “mime thing” somewhere else next time, or the world would have one less mime in it. Joe tried to warn the car as it sped off, and he just stared in disbelief. Where Joe had felt a solid wall, the car drove through it as if it wasn’t even there.

“It’s like there’s an invisible wall keeping me in, and only me,” he said to himself. “What is going on here?” he shouted in anger. “I’ll bet that Mortimer guy is behind this. That or that Amanda chick. I don’t know how they are doing this, nor why, but I’ll get to the bottom of this or it’ll be the last thing that I do.”