Quicksilver

My resident landlord popped out his door. I waved at him.

"We're okay now, Terry," I called. "You can leave the floodlights off." I felt safer.

"Okay Lydia, you need anything, just call. Hey Nate, I watched the news yesterday and today. You guys aren't mentioned any more. But you know I'll help. And who are all these folks?"

"My sister Lyn and her kids," Nate said. "All the way up from San Bernardino. Uhh sis, you have a place to stay?" Lyn shook her head NO.

"Well, I have an idea. Lori, Larry, you guys like campouts?"

"Yeah!" they yelled in unison. No, it was harmony, just barely.

"I have a nice little tent to pitch in the backyard, and Lydia's faithful guard cat, Señor Figueroa the Merciless, will watch for intruders. You'll have to share blankets. But no bonfires out back, nope. We'll roast marshmallows over candles. Does that sound good? You have marshmallows, right?" he nervously asked me. I nodded YES.

The twins squealed. Terry and I laughed. Lyn looked thoughtfully at Terry.

"You're the owner? Is this a safe-enough neighborhood for the kids to sleep out? And what should I call you?"

Terry grinned. "Call me Terry and don't worry, I'll latch the back gate. Nobody will come in. Intruders have better targets. Even reporters didn't sneak in. Now, they won't even bother trying. They have other fish to fry."

Larry looked up. "We're having more fried fish, mommy? But we just ate at Cap'n Jack's by the bay. I'm not hungry."

"It's a saying, honey. It means they have more to keep them busy. Like when you're building something instead of playing with your friends. You have other things to do, other fish to fry. Got that?"

"I got it," Lori said. "My dumb brother is slow at times. I'm eight minutes older than him 'cause he's a slowpoke."

"Lori!" Lyn chastised. "Apologize!"

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry you're so slow, little brother... Aaargh!" she wailed, plucking a mechanical spider from her arm. Larry beamed an innocent smile skyward.

'Enough, you two," Lyn intoned, "go get your bags from the car. I'll get my things too, and lock up. Lydia, you're sure this is okay?" she asked me.

"It's conditional. If you can stand having your kids outside, and you sleeping on the living room sofa, with the kids and cat going in and out the ground-level window, and everyone respectfully sharing the little bathroom, and no yelling or bothering the owners, then we can handle this and I have no objection. We'll need more food, though. There's a decent grocery nearby," I hinted. Lyn noticed, and nodded.

The twins had returned, each lugging a soft bag.

"And near the grocery is our gym, with a warm-water swimming pool. Do you guys swim?" I asked the kids.

"We brought our swimsuits because we are to be ready for anything," Lori proudly announced.

"I'm ready to splash you some more," Larry warned her.

"It's an adult's pool so you'll have to behave," I said. "We just came from there so it's too soon for us to swim again. Maybe tomorrow after Nate and I get back from our jobs. Lyn, can you stay occupied during the day?"

"These youngsters have only seen the Bay Area on TV. We have tourist maps. We can find something to do, I'm sure."

"Twin Peaks," Nate said. "Golden Gate Park. The Presidio. Ocean Beach. Those will keep you busy. Save the zoo for another day."

"But let's go indoors now," I invited.

Lyn brought a purse and small suitcase from the station wagon before she locked it. She and the twins followed us through my outside passageway and the long hallway to the living room. Figgy had gone invisible. Not surprising; he almost always flees newcomers. Nate was the exception.

=====

Our visitors were surprised when they entered my apartment door. The long hallway was no longer a dark tunnel of doom. Now it was merrily ominous.

Nate had found a wide roll of fluorescent paper discarded by a failed print shop. We cut silhouettes of ourselves in varied non-sexual postures from the paper and mounted them on the walls. Nate installed two infrared fluorescent 'blacklights'. The hallway now showed our glowing orange forms prancing and dancing in the dark. Figgy was there, too.

"Ooma-gooma!" the twins chorused. Lyn only shook her head.

"Footwear off indoors," I ordered. Shoes and sandals hit the floor.

I pointed to the bathroom and then told the twins about climbing out the window. With their mother's consent, they rushed to explore the backyard domain and choose a tent site.

"Be sure to wipe your feet off when you come inside," Lyn commanded. I liked her.

We adults went outside — the long way around, by the walkway, not the window shortcut — with tent, bedding, and gear to establish the campsite. I gave my flashlight to Lori and warned against draining the batteries. Nate gave Larry a full canteen and pointed to the hose tap for refilling when they needed more. Lyn cautioned them not to pee in the bushes, and to be quiet and not wake her or us when they came in to use the bathroom.

We adults then took refuge indoors. I poured wine and took the easy chair across from Nate and Lyn on the sofa. We chatted about our histories and current events. No, he did not require her help but he was very happy to see her and the kids, and sorry he could not talk to Jason. No, I did not mind her intrusion, and my own sister had just been here. Yes, driving the kids a few hundred miles and keeping them occupied had been tiring. Yes, they would all sleep well tonight.

Figgy emerged, sniffed at Nate's feet and Lyn's feet, and found her acceptable, another surprise! He jumped in Nate's lap and sniffed Lyn's hand, also acceptable enough to allow petting.

Nate's stroking calmed Figgy when the twins climbed back inside without alarming noises or moves. I sat on Nate's other side from Lyn; the kids shared the easy chair. They politely joined the grownup talk until they nodded off. Figgy escaped Nate to sniff their young feet but quickly jumped onto Nate again. He knew what he liked.

Wine glasses refilled and emptied, we decided that sleepytime was upon us all. We roused Lori and Larry for bathroom stops, then watched them climb through the window to the tent. Figgy followed. He would be their guardian angel, after all!

Lyn changed into pajamas and hugged us good-night before taking the sofa. Nate and I made love quietly again.

===== Thursday, week 4 =====

Lyn volunteered to make breakfast. I announced our schedule and gave her spare keys so she and the kids could take refuge here during the day. Nate and I walked to our bus stop hand-in-hand; we need not hide any more.

Mr Salman reached the office before me, as normal; I had no excuse to be early. Anthea arrived with morning packets to come and go. Nate dashed in before noon for another airport delivery.

"I still have a job," he said. "See you at the gym. We'll take our visitors for a swim, right? Gotta go now." He left with a tall coffee.

A minimal lunch with Tracy. A couple more intrusions by Anthea. A tolerable work-day... but I was glad it ended and I was gym-ward bound. I did not look like a Business Bitch when Julia greeted me at the front.

"Nate's here, and that's quite a crowd with him. Their first day's a freebie, sure. I guess they won't be back much. His sister drove a long way, right? That's okay; it's good to have well-behaved kids here. Nate's exercising, the rest are swimming now, and the kids promised not to pee in the pool. Romero boosted the filtration just to be safe."

I changed into my exercise leotard and joined Nate in the sweatroom. I kissed his salty lips as he treadmilled and then went to the weights. We crunched together without talking, then kissed. We both went to shower for the pool; my bikini awaited.

The twins swam laps almost as fast as their 'Unca Natey', impressing the adult swimmers.

"You've been training these speedsters?" Umberto asked. "They're like big sea otters."

"Nope, I'm too far away, so it must be the genes," Nate said.

"Lyn, are you as fast as your brother?" Leila probed.

"Not anymore. He had to work on the swim team to catch up. But I was two years ahead of him."

Lyn climbed from the pool and shook her bikini-clad body. All eyes followed her. She looked as fit as Anthea.

"You must do something to stay in shape," I said, "especially after two kids."

"I'm tennis-toned. Table tennis, that is. I can't afford court fees except on the base but I'd rather be elsewhere, so my neighbor Jen and I play killer ping-pong in her garage. The loser makes sangrías. I don't lose much."

She slurped from the drinking fountain and dove back into the pool, as smooth and clean as her brother. She swam a lap submerged, and surfaced without gasping for breath. She had a lot of lung capacity behind those tidy boobs.

I thought, blinked, and said, "There's no Army or Navy base around San Bernardino so your husband is Air Force, right?"

"Roger that, as he tries not to say. Captain Jason Neary is a logistics officer, making sure everything goes where it should."

"Daddy is the man who keeps the planes and crews fed and dressed," Lori announced proudly. "They can't fly if they're unfueled or unclothed, he says." She giggled.

"He says it's like the 49ers and other gold miners," Larry chipped in. "They can't strike gold without a supply chain behind them."

"We have California History in school this year and we're learning about the 49ers," Lori said. "Some mine owners got rich but miners didn't."

"The ones that got rich," Larry said, "were the merchants who sold them food, clothes, shovels, everything they needed they couldn't or wouldn't make themselves."

"You can't walk a dog without a supply chain," Lori said.

I smiled. "These kids are pretty sharp," I told Lyn.

"That's 'cause we stick our heads in the pencil sharpener," Lori intoned.

The kids cackled evilly and dove under water. They surfaced at the pool's far end and swam in circles on their backs.

"Lyn, don't you worry about Jason in Europe," Mariah asked, "like the Russians invading?"

"Nowhere in the world is safe," Lyn sighed, "though subs and tunnels might last longer than what's above ground. If things go hot, every city or base or factory is a target. It was scarier when Jason was in Saigon; Nixon is still around but at least that war is over. Danger there was retail and near; now it's wholesale and everywhere. Nate, you're just so..." she saw the twins' ears were submerged "...so goddam lucky, first the deferments, then your low draft number. I was so afraid I'd lose Jason and you, too. I couldn't stand that!"

Big sister hugged bigger little brother. My eyes were wet.

"I'll need to talk to you before you go, sis. How long do you think you'll be here? Until Lydia kicks you all out, maybe?"

Lyn looked at me. "It's Thursday evening. I took the kids out of school today and tomorrow. Would we be okay to stay till Sunday morning? I'll buy meals while we're here. They can, no they WILL, catch up on their homework during the drive home."

"Señor Figueroa approves so you're welcome as long as you want."

"What, them too?" Shahira yelped. "Your damn cat can stand Nate's family? It MUST be your genes!"

"Sure, you just want to blame your vibes for why he avoids you, not your squeaky voice," I said.

"I don't squeak!" she squeaked. Somebody snorted. Maybe me.

"You're familiar with the prune zone, Lyn." I said. She nodded. "I'm about there. Luigi's is a good, cost-effective trattoria nearby. I'd like to go home to change out of my business clothes—"

Nate interrupted. "No need for that; I have our casuals in my locker. Lyn and the kids brought fresh underwear, all they need now. We can retrieve our tired clothes here on the way back from dinner. And Figgy won't starve before then."

I saw Lyn snap her fingers underwater three times. The twins popped their heads up. Like sea otters, indeed.

"Dinner time! Out of the pool, into the showers and your clothes! Waste no time.'

The kids almost levitated to the pool's margin.

"Slower there! No running. Wait for 'Unca Natey' and me."

Larry took his uncle's hand; they walked to the men's lockers and shower. Lori took her mother's hand; I followed.

"Wait a second," Nate called to me. He popped out with a small pack. "Dinner garb, m'lady," he said with a kiss, and trotted to shower.

=====

We gals emerged dry and dressed with the guys waiting for us. The twins held Nate's hands and talked mercilessly on the stroll to Luigi's trattoria. Lyn and I walked behind.

"Are you serious about my brother?" she asked quietly. "You're older but you look really good. Are you using him, or what?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I've known him at work for a year, but we've only been, y'know, friends for a short time. Maybe we're using each other now. My history isn't great; my friends tend to drift away. So we're good but I don't know for how long. I pretty much run a law office, my pay is good, but I don't support him. He's not my boy-toy. We just like being together. And my cat loves him. That's a good sign."

I sighed. "Okay, I first noticed his great body, but it's his mind and spirit that grabbed me. Does that sound like a cliché?"

Lyn took my hand, and squeezed. "I think I trust you. But if you ever hurt my big little brother, I will hunt you down. Be kind. He's been through awful shit he'll never talk about. Don't push him."

She squeezed painfully harder and released me before we reached the restaurant door. Did she scare me? Yes, indeed.

Luigi's food was wonderful, as was our dinner talk. Between courses, Luigi set the twins atop his upright piano, played tarantellas and saltarellos, and sang Neapolitan verses. He would get a nice tip tonight!

'Unca Natey' and his niece and nephew led the way to the gym to retrieve clothes, and continued to my place. They played a rhyming game. Lyn and I trailed behind and shared innocent gossip.

Figgy inspected and rubbed every ankle when we got home, then stood imperiously by his food dish. I hastened to serve. Kibble waits for no woman.

Lyn gave her kids extra batteries for my flashlight and a book of Norse legends to read in the tent. Figgy accompanied them out the window. Señor Figueroa the Merciless would guard them well!

=====

Nate put another Ravi Shankar ragas record on the turntable. I poured Pinot Grigio from a bottle Lyn provided. We sat together on the sofa, Nate in the middle, and confessed to many silly moments of our youths. Some confessions may even be true.

"Do you puff?" I asked Lyn.

"It's not safe around off-base housing and I have to be straight for the kids and Jason but yes, in the right circumstances. It's okay tonight once the kids are asleep. Does your landlord care?"

"I get cross-ventilation that blows smoke outside. The landlady sells me hashish but that's a bit strong for a work night. Nate, would you get a joint?"

He fetched an Altoids mints tin from the bedroom and flipped the record. He peered out the window.

"Flashlight's out and there's no movement. I think the kids are down." He sat between us again.

"These are totally mysterious," he told his sister. "I play guitar and sing on sidewalks and plazas on weekends and I get donations of cash, trinkets, and joints. Mystery smokes haven't wrecked me yet. Are you willing to risk one or two?"

The mints tin held a half-dozen joints, a book of matches, and an electric-type alligator clip on a short steel rod. The emptied tin served as an ashtray. He set the joints, open tin, matches, and roach clip on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

He lit a joint, inhaled deeply, and passed it to Lyn. He put his lips to mine and filled my lungs, with a little tongue-dancing.

Lyn inhaled, turned Nate's head to her, and blew smoke into his lungs. I did not notice tongue play.

I thought, why not? I took the joint, inhaled, and exhaled into Lyn's mouth. She was sweet.

We finished that joint and one more.

"That's enough for me," Lyn said. "Sharing smoke is fun, and I really like swapping mouthfuls of wine with Jason, but I just can't do that with you guys. Not with my little brother and his sexy girlfriend. That's just too close. Hey bro, why not play some guitar? I haven't heard you for way too long."

What? She, too, called me 'sexy'? I guess sleekness and a smooth face counted. And the way I filled my bikini at the gym pool. She looked damn good, too.

Nate fetched the guitar and sat on the easy chair's ottoman. He played instrumental blues, jazz, and bossa nova, plucking and brushing doubled strings with his bare fingers.

"I'm too stoned for classical stuff, I'd fuck it up too much, so you'll have to get by with this."

He played a rocking riff on the top strings and a thumping bass line on the bottom. I have heard guitar duets of lesser quality.

"You're still goddam good and you probably don't play any more with that... Oops, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up... Y'know who, and... I'm sorry, I just... I should go to sleep now."

My head was not terminally fuzzy. I figured she meant Nate's ex-friend and ex-collaborator, and so his ex-wife. He had never told me more than vague details. Lyn knew he hurt from that. Had he gone through worse crap? She had hinted earlier.

We put Lyn to bed on the sofa. It was barely long enough for her. I heard the kids quietly use the bathroom after Nate and I cautiously made tender love. We slept intertwined.

===== Friday, week 4 =====

The alarm rousted me and Nate from bed. Our bathroom and getting-dressed noise roused Lyn from the sofa. Figgy appeared, and then the twins; he undoubtedly forced them awake so he would not miss his morning kibble.

Lyn made breakfast; I saw that she had replenished my food stocks. The kids had obviously read Bay Area travel guides. They talked of desired destinations, which surprisingly (to me) included science museums, as well as Mission Dolores, the top of Mount Tamalpais, and 'Unca Natey's' suggestions. Their agenda would take some time. We still had not talked about tomorrow, their last day here.

Have-a-good-day hugs, and Nate and I trotted to the bus stop.

My working Friday was typical, only slightly maniacal. Loralei, another pleasant Quicksilver Girl, made several stops. She said Anthea had taken the day off for 'a family thing'. Nate drove a bundle from the airport. Mr Johannes was not too obnoxious and Tracy was not too frenzied. Mr Salman's secretary Marva was as calm as usual. A typical maelstrom descended before my quitting time but the paralegals could handle it.

=====

Nate had not phoned so I went straight home. All were inside, squatting around my beautiful low coffee table, hunched over my scruffy Scrabble set, closely watched from the sofa by Figgy.

I had arrived just in time. Lori jumped up, called "I win!", and knuckled her twin's head.

"None of that!" Lyn admonished. Lori backed away but did not look contrite. "Don't even think of revenge!" Lyn told Larry. His face was angelically innocent. What devilish thoughts lurked within?

Lori saw me. "Anty Lidee!" she cried, and ran to hug me. Larry jumped to hug me too. What, I was an auntie now? Oh my...

"Unca Natey and Anty Lidee! Hah!" they squealed in unison.

My eardrums nearly popped. But I thought, hey, they're little kids. They're smart as hell and pretty sophisticated, but they're still, what? Eight years old; only children. But I wished their voices were pitched a bit lower.

Nate pried them off me and hugged me himself. "Ya wee beasties," he told them in a horrible fake accent, worse than Scotty on Star Trek, "lay loose of m'lady. Ya nae may restrain her. 'Tis for me only to do the imprisoning." He held my wrists, pulled me close, and kissed my forehead. "More later," he whispered, then returned to the kids. "Now, ya must render thy respects."