Prologue

"Don't forget to take the trash out before you go to school! And you'd better get a move on or you'll be late, Mister!"

Mom did have a way with words. It actually wasn't all that great; she just managed to say them when I least wanted to hear them. Don't get me wrong 'cause I love my mom. It's just that she could come up with the most inconvenient stuff, like take out the trash when I was surreptitiously watching Jackie through my mostly closed blinds as she was toweling her nubile young body off in her room across the fence from my house. She looked right at me without warning, I mean her eyes were looking right at the spot I'd made in the blinds so I could spy.

I asked myself, 'did she know'? 'How'? I fell back onto my bed in disbelief. I didn't have time to dwell on the occurrence because I heard Mom coming up the stairs. I quickly rearranged myself and finished just in time. Mom rapped on the door and almost immediately opened the door. I'd forgotten to lock the door!

"Mom!" I exclaimed, "Shouldn't you wait until I invite you in? That's what you always tell me when the situation is reversed, after all. Jeez, can't a guy have a little privacy?"

"You're right, of course, Eugene. I'm sorry. It's just that it's getting late and the bus will be here anytime. The trash has to go out; they pickup today and the bin is already full. It won't keep another week, so please hurry and get it done. Your breakfast is ready and on the table."

"All right, I'll do it now."

I slipped my Reebok's on and literally ran down the stairs. I slipped through the pantry and mudroom, and hit the garage door button. I grabbed the big bin and rolled it out as the door rose. I got it to the street and was back before the corkscrew mechanism of the opener finished. I hit the button again and the door began its descent. Back through the door into the mudroom, and I stepped into the kitchen from there. It took me about a minute to inhale the breakfast Mom had made. I gathered my backpack and headed for the door.

"Have a good day, today. Try to get along better, OK?" Mom called out from the top of the stairs.

"OK, Mom. I'll try," I replied, as I swung the big oak door open. I was out before Mom could caution me more.

I had been outcast at school for the longest time. I'm the nerd everyone picks on. They even made a movie or three about me. My problem is that I'm smart, extremely smart. Mensa smart, no even smarter than that, Einstein smart. Well, maybe not, or maybe so. Because I am smart, I know that I shouldn't let others know just how smart I am. I don't get straight 'As' because of this. I get mostly 'Bs' with an A once in awhile.

I found that I could outperform everyone in my class by the time I was in first grade. Billy Martin had failed first grade and was the biggest kid in class. I showed him up in class one day and he got even after school. He told me afterwards that he'd pound me every day if I did that again, and he'd do it every day we had school. I believed him. I'd seen him beat up other kids. I remained silent.

I had started reading at three. I was reading high school texts by the time I was in third grade. It was easy. It did give me lots of time to daydream in class since I didn't need to spend time working on third grade stuff. Math was just as easy, and I'd spend hours in the public library reading textbooks. I learned to read fast; I had almost a photographic memory and that made social studies a breeze too.

Dad died when I was in 4th grade. An automobile accident was the official cause, but I had my doubts. He was having money problems and didn't know I knew. He even hid it from Mom. His car spun out in the rain one day and crashed into the highway overpass support. His velocity was so great that the overpass support needed to be replaced. He must have been planning it for a long time, because his insurance policy had been upgraded months ago. The insurance check with double indemnity for accidental death had been quite large, but Mom still had to work. We didn't keep the house and were renting this one.

Mom always was smart. She invested the proceeds and we lived on her salary and the investment proceeds. In fact, the investment was gaining in value even though she withdrew monthly expenses. I think I got my smarts from Mom. She missed Dad and never did remarry. That was OK with me. I didn't want to joint the ranks of stepchildren.

We can continue now that the history is out of the way. One of the things I like to do is garage sale hopping. So I was out doing my thing one Saturday. I rode my bike all over looking at the sales from the notice list in the paper. It was a free listing so everyone that had a sale ran an ad. I had mapped my route out in advance so I could make one circuit and not miss out on any place.

Around two, I found that the next place was unusually far from the one I was at, and in a neighborhood I'd never been in before. I rode down the street and everything was becoming more unfamiliar with every turn of the wheel. I came to a point where I was completely out of my element. I had no idea where I was or what I'd find. I was soon to find out. I had just passed the city limits sign when I was there.

The place looked a little like 1313 Mockingbird Lane. There was a ragged little sign that advised 'beware of dog', although I didn't see one anywhere nearby. There was a table set up on the front porch, so I mounted the stairs to see what bounty I could discover. An ancient old woman passed through the doorway just then, the door having been propped open for the sale.

"Oh," she said with a start, "I thought everyone was gone. I'm sorry, but everything's been sold."

She noticed the pained look on my face. She must have taken pity on me. "Come inside, I have some fresh lemonade."

I thanked her as I followed her inside. Her house was the typical old lady's home. There was tons of bric-a-brac all over the house. For someone who just had a sale, I wondered just what had been sold. She showed me to her parlor and went on to the kitchen. She told me to make myself at home. It sort of reminded me of the old phrase, 'Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly', and we all know how that turned out.

I was looking at the curio cabinets filled with all sorts of stuff. She had a truly amazing thimble collection. I looked at her glass statues of unicorns and the clocks on the walls were really neat. There was a large fireplace in the room and I checked the mantle out. She had all sorts of stuff there, but I was interested in something tucked behind a picture. There was an old pocket watch on the mantle. The case was tarnished, but I thought it would clean up nicely.

I had just put it back when she re-entered the room. She handed me the glass of lemonade and indicated for me to sit on the divan. She seated herself in a beautiful cherry Queen Ann side chair next to a matching tea table. I respectfully listened as she talked about this and that. Some of her stories were quite entertaining. We laughed and cried together. We could have a thing together if she were only about seventy years younger.

I never made it to the rest of the sales on my list. I spent the rest of the day in her company. She made us some sandwiches. I don't know what the meat was, but she used Miracle Whip, and they were delicious. She made just enough; three for me and one for her, and there was more lemonade with it. Best-darned lemonade I'd ever tasted and I considered myself a connoisseur of fine lemonade. I learned a lot about her. Her name was Jessica Alice Tandy, and she's retired. She said that she had appeared as an actress on stage and in films, but I hadn't seen any of her work.

"Well, it seems that we've spent the entire day chatting, young man. I'm sure you could have found better things to do than to keep an old woman company. Now, how can I reward you for making my day of lovely?" she said, pondering her options.

"Oh, it's quite unnecessary," I cheerfully replied, "I immensely enjoyed myself. I wasn't bored at all. Your stories were so lifelike, so believable, so..."

"Oh posh!" she exclaimed, "I have never been 'interesting', even I know it, but thank you for saying so. Your manners are impeccable. I should thank your mother for that, shouldn't I?"

I nodded with a smile on my face. Mother had taught me manners and I remembered every one. It actually made my heart glad that I had made her day a little less lonely. I looked at her face, studying it. It seemed like the years were stripped away as I gazed at it. She took on the appearance of a young woman, younger than Mom, but definitely older than me. She was beautiful. Her hair was golden, her eyes the deepest blue, and the swell of her bosom gave shape to her simple dress. She was more beautiful than anyone I had ever seen, both in person or in magazines, movies, or on TV. A sound interrupted my séance.

"Eugene? ... Young man? ... Are you alright?"

My eyes focused again, and she was as she had been when I first saw her, but I could still see the beautiful woman of my vision under the age worn wrinkles of her face.

"You're beautiful," I whispered in awe. I had been granted a vision of the past. It was a vision of Jessica and I don't think I would ever forget it as long as I lived.

"What was that?" she kindly asked, "My hearing isn't as good as it once was and I missed what you said."

"Oh, it was nothing important, Ms. Tandy. I do want to thank you so much for the sandwiches and the lemonade. It's the best I've ever tasted. Could I maybe come over again sometime and listen to more of your stories and have more of your lemonade?"

"Yes, of course you can." She smiled at me as she showed me to the door. I turned to wave to her as I pedaled away, but the house was closed up again. I quickly pedaled home. I judged the time to be around five o'clock and that's about the limit for me being out. Mom was in the kitchen working on getting dinner ready.

"Oh good, you're just in time to help. I made meatloaf, and was about to start the mashed potatoes, but you can peel them while I work on the salad. Just peel up about five good-sized ones and cut them into cubes. Smaller is better, they'll cook faster."

I already knew that, of course, but I just smiled and said, "You got it!"

She went to work getting the salad ready while I made short work of the potatoes. Mom already had the pot boiling so I just added the diced potatoes and set the timer for 6 minutes. I'd calculated the time as I worked. The potatoes would be cooked just perfectly for mashing. I got the big green Pyrex bowl and the hand masher out. We don't whip potatoes around here. We mash them to death, add a bit of butter and a dash of milk, and we would be good to go.

I was ready before the potatoes, so I looked at Mom as she worked. I tried to imagine what she had looked like when she was younger. Try as I might, I couldn't duplicate the afternoon's feat. The timer dinged and I went back to work. I drained the water using the colander and dumped the cooked potatoes into the waiting bowl. Taking up the trusty Mirro potato masher, I went after them with a vengeance. Only a little milk 'cause I like my mashed potatoes lumpy. You know, so that there's something to chew. You won't sip my mashed potatoes through a straw, that's for sure.