X-Ray Vision Ch. 08: Monetized

I needed cash. Serious cash. Gonna run some expensive errands. Probably should get a credit card some day.

Briefly I considered raiding Jillian's stash but rejected that outright. It wasn't that I couldn't replace it, the bank account had hundreds of times that.

That cash represented Jillian's freedom, independence, self-reliance. Not being beholden to me for her needs. I touch that, I'm pissing all over that symbol, that promise. Her stash was sacred.

The fishbowl? Depleted, sadly just a bare bottomful of mangled bills, stained Jacksons and Lincolns. Our routine expenses had about doubled, and I'd not kept up on foraging.

Go to the bank? Sure, that was doable, but it'd take a bite out of my busy afternoon.

Busy! That gave me a happy feeling deep inside. I'd not been busy for years. Purposeful, needed. Doing things to make our life better. It felt so good.

I scanned my room, smiling, thinking. Ah! The bottom of my sock drawer, rolls of thousands, destined for the bank and forgotten. When the fishbowl got full, I'd roll up a thousand, put a band around it, stuff it in the drawer for the next bank run. I'd not made a run since well before Jillian came into my life.

Six or seven rolls should do it! I stuffed my shorts pockets like a squirrel collecting nuts. Still a couple left, leave them for later.

Hey! That picture hadn't been on my dresser before. My family, me just a baby, Mom and Dad happy and young. Jillian! She'd found it when putting my laundry away, set it where she could enjoy it. I didn't remember that day, too small. But I remembered them looking like that from my earliest recollections. I'm glad Jillian saw that, sees that.

A twinge of regret for her, that she'd never had memories like that. No memory of any family, zero, nada. No Mom, no Dad, no siblings. Well, that was all fixed now.

Shoes on, leave the house, out on the porch and down to the beach, stop hands on hips, consider.

Highway, jeweler, tailor. Homer, Mr. what? I didn't know the jeweler's name! And Phuong.

Homer first. He wouldn't be there much longer, left when he sold out. I headed up the bank, climbed to the road, kept going toward the highway.

It was maybe two miles to the interchange. Getting a little nervous as the minutes ticked by, maybe Homer had already packed up, I'd miss my chance until next week! As I went up the alley between Shaw's and the tire shop, I saw his rig, parked in the empty lot, still belching smoke.

More confident now, I slowed down, began considering what I'd say.

No other customers in sight, Homer filling a trash can with greasy paper and empty coleslaw tubs. He spotted me as I crossed the parking lot.

"Too late for ribs! Burnt ends long gone! A little brisket; a little chuck! No slaw!"

I was going to say No thanks! But decided on the more politic approach.

"Wrap it up! I'll take what you have! It's all good!"

That worked; he grinned a ragged gold-toothed grin and tore off some butcher paper from a roll. Uncovered a dented foil pan, began loading up.

"You still here after all these years! Gotta wear on a fellow. When are you gonna retire!"

He was piling up a package the size of a two-year-old! What on earth was I going to do with all that?

"When the old lady lets me! She's not yet 65, she goes on the Medicare, I'm home free!"

He had to be in his eighties, robbing the cradle.

"You ever consider getting some help? Somebody young? Do the heavy lifting? Maybe learn the ropes?"

He didn't answer, named a ridiculous price, and I paid. Beef was going up, so barbecue was going up, no help for it.

"Tried that once! Nephew! Worthless! Wanted to yammer with the girlies, wouldn't get his hands dirty! I told my sister, you find something for your lazy grandson to do! I got better things to do than babysit.

"Young people, don't know how to work! Don't want to! Everything's going to shit, nobody cares."

Homer could be a little negative, but he was smiling the whole time, continued to put his gear away. Closed some dampers on the rig, heaved a milk crate of spices into the passenger seat of his pickup.

That rig was still sound, some grease buildup but firebox not burned thru, dampers still effective. Charcoal almost burned out today; he'd judged the fire expertly.

I was losing his attention. Had to do something.

"The thing is, I have a girlfriend! She'd like to learn barbeque, from the ground up. I thought of you, out here alone, maybe she could give you a hand..."

He was hitching up the rig to his ancient pickup, rusted out at the fenders, lights fogged from age. Tires little but sidewall, belts showing through in places. Cylinders scored; gas tank rusted nearly through. Seat springs only symbolic at this point.

"Nosiree! Folks been wanting to learn my secrets, steal my recipes for maybe fifty years!"

This wasn't going well. I had to change tack.

"Yeah, I get that. But you get injured, strain something maybe, where are you then? That wife needs you whole and healthy."

He looked up from the hitch chain, gave me a look. "You suggesting something? Like maybe something might happen to me? Lessen I do what you want?"

Horrified, I backtracked. "No sir! No! I just mean... You look healthy as a young buck! But we're getting older, all of us, every day. Not a bad idea to have a backup, somebody to take some of the load? And she'd be so lucky to learn from an expert."

He softened, finished hitching up. Went to his ancient folding table, started breaking it down.

"See here, you don't look like a bad feller. But everybody got a girlfriend, wants to take the easy road, play at cooking, get it all handed to her. Be a barbeque queen! I heard it all before.

"Tell her, she work in the business, ten twenty years. Come up with her own secrets, make her own name. Sames I did! There aint no shortcuts."

That made sense; I pondered on it for a while, helped him load the wooden table into his pickup box, not much box remaining for all the rust.

"You aren't wrong. But how's she gonna do that? Without somebody like you giving her a start. They aren't making them like you any more. You said it yourself; young folks don't want to work; not like you did.

"Who's she gonna work for? Dickie's?"

That got a snort out of him. He clearly didn't think much of Dickie's. He was silent for a while, policing the area of stray wrappers, stuffing the trash can, wrangling the lid on the over-full container. I helped him heft it into the truck bed.

He straightened slowly, one hand on his back, clearly sore and worn out. Looked every minute of his 80 years. He looked at me, clearly on the fence. Finally spoke.

"She gonna show once, yammering with her friends, getting in my way? Talking like a parrot, nagging me with questions? I never see her again after that one time?"

I shook my head. "She manages a roomful of folks, keeps them on task. Knows what it is to lead, and how to follow too. What it takes to learn a job. Jillian won't give you..."

He bird-dogged at the name. "Jillian? That your girlfriend?"

I nodded, unsure where this was going.

"Girlie that takes in those poor kids on the strip? Get em a job, a room?"

I must have looked a fool, my mouth handing open; he laughed.

"I heered of her from my lady; she got it from her manicurist, got it from her granddaughter, got it from her tailor."

This was making sense; Khang had bragged of her sister to a girlfriend. The community grapevine had done the rest.

I stirred myself. "That's my girl Jill! She's out now, looking for more. That's why she can't be here, doing this herself."

He nodded, satisfied. Went to his cash-stand, just an end-table with a cash box, and the now-raided foil pan. Took a takeout cup from a cardboard box underneath, usually for coleslaw. Rooted in the pan for a scrap or two, put them in the cup. Put a lid on it, handed it to me.

"You tell her, you tell Jillian, she come back next week, tell me what spice I use on my brisket. She get at least four of them, I give her a try."

I took the cup, held it close to my chest, cradled it.

"She won't disappoint you sir! She's a great cook! Learned the hard way, kitchen work in foster homes, in summer jobs. Knows her stuff! Midwest food anyway."

He nodded, relaxed.

"You cook too?"

"Nossir! I'm more on the consumption end of things. That was our deal to start - I got her a room, she cooked two days a week. Best deal I ever made."

He laughed. Homer laughed! That was the first time I ever saw that.

"Next week. I set up at 6! She can come then. And we'll see."

I was dismissed; Homer went to finish packing, and I left without another word, holding the precious cup and my beef-baby. Like Jillian had said to me, that first day I met her, all I could do now was talk myself out of a deal! Know when to shut up.

...

"Ho Ba Quan"

That's what was painted on the jeweler's window, down in one corner in scratched gold paint. Looked old, nearly as old as the jeweler himself.

Jingle! and I squinted in the dimness. Viciously actinic lights shone on the counter, designed to make jewels sparkle against the general dimness.

Placing my packages on the ancient oak surface I waited silently, hearing Mr. Ho in the back. Patient! It was an elder's prerogative to take his time; my place to wait without complaint.

He shuffled through the beaded curtain, saw who I was. Smiled, held up one finger, turned back.

I closed my mouth, too slow to get a word out. No matter: he knew why I was here.

In not too long (by Vietnamese elder standards) he reappeared, bearing two(!) velvet bags. Approached the counter, set them in the tray.

The first he untied, emptied gently onto the padded surface.

My ring! But now sparkling, shining, spectacularly bright, looking new as the day it was made, maybe three quarters of a century ago.

I gasped. "Mr. Ho! You have performed a miracle!"

He smiled gently, indicated I should pick it up, look closely. Adjusted a lamp to shine conveniently.

The ring was clearly three sizes bigger, yet the band still engraved with hatch marks, miniscule and precise.

"You are a master! This is as good, no better! than when first I brought it."

He bowed graciously. A long life spent in the jewelers' trade, and it was no more than his due.

When I finished admiring the stone, now polished to an incredible shine, almost a mirror! And the gems surrounding, all diamonds, like little rosebuds. Every one perfect, bright, brilliant in their pierced platinum setting.

I shook my head in wonder, placed the ring carefully back in the tray.

Opening the second bag, he tipped out a jade necklace, strung with black spool beads almost invisible in the bright light, absorbing light like soot. The silver bead spacers, each now brilliantly polished, flawless.

And the stone! The jade dark as the emerald in the ring, but deeper, velvety, polished. The silver inlay as bright as spring water splashing in the sun!

Where did I get this poetic side? Yet something in the necklace demanded superlatives.

"How did you know? That I..."

"Your Em dâu, sister-in-law, brought it to be cleaned. Told me the story."

Here he pulled a face, lips pouting, head tilted, looked at me like a naughty child. I flushed, not immune to an elder's reproof.

"You need only have said where you found it. Recovered! After all these years. Destined for the wrecker's fill; now returned to glory, worn with pride! Restored to the community, to settle the spirits, satisfy their hunger. This is a good thing."

I bowed, twice for some reason, chastened.

"I will not do that again. I am sorry to have misled you Mr. Ho."

He was satisfied, said no more about it.

"You are a sensible suitor, to make such a gift to Khang. You owe her much; she is sister to your bride, senior woman in her family. This is no more than she deserves."

"And good luck!" I interjected. He smiled at that. "I was unaware! But the luck of jade was with me, helped me make the right choice."

"It is good for the family; good for you. Jillian will be a happy woman, that you regard her so highly. A happy union!"

I thanked him, accepted the bill, paid him, paid for Khang's charges as well which pleased him more. Less than he was worth. He could double his fees and I would find it fair. Was I getting a 'community' rate? I would never know.

Taking the ring in the bag I put it in my shirt pocket, close to my heart. Let it fill with some more of my love!

Wow I was getting sappy! I guess a suitor with a ring was entitled to be a little giddy.

One errand to go.

...

Phuong accepted my bundle curiously, hefting it.

"For you! And for Khang. I know she is fond of barbecue."

Enlightenment! He took the bundle to the back, and I heard some door open, 'saw' the cooler full of vegetables, fish, balls of unknown protein stuffs.

On his return I accepted his offer of tea, a seat. Poured for the both of us. Chatted of idle things, of the local team's chances, of the weather.

I broached my first topic.

"It seems I have accumulated an embarrassing debt! You have been so good to endure my thoughtlessness. Please, may I make amends? Will you tell me the balance?"

Smiling, he accepted my apology, named a shocking number, clearly having it on the tip of his tongue, for how long I was embarrassed to ask.

I nodded, happily shelled out one, two, three, four and a fifth bankroll.

"If you would be so kind, could you keep the balance against any unforeseen need? Jillian may have certain, um, requirements."

He made the rolls disappear into some pocket of his suit, nodded, this disagreeable duty done.

He took the floor. "Now if we could talk of your progress? Your attempts to persuade my granddaughter of your intention?"

I was happy to comply.

"I've attended to her professional requirements, supporting her ambitions. She selected a vehicle to suit herself, to ensure prompt attendance at her job, allow her the freedom to make purchases, retrieve goods, support her family, her colleagues."

He nodded, approved. Already knew of the truck through Khang I'm sure.

"Participated and supported her community efforts! Helped find her lost girls a room, suitable attire."

He knew that; he'd met Nick, fitted her.

"Provided her with entertainments! We've attended musical events, dined out, tried foods new to her."

Again, patient approval.

"Oh! Today I engaged a master cook to help her learn barbecue! A long desire of hers! To please her big sister!"

This got the biggest approval, in the form of a smile and a nod. I was doing good so far.

Stiffening my back, I readied myself for my biggest item, the ask.

"With your permission, I have had prepared an item of jewelry, suitable to her generous nature and in accordance with my high regard for her, which I wish to present to Jillian. To sound her out on the prospect of a union, a marriage?"

He looked severe, stayed silent, eyed me for a time, considering. Finally cleared a saucer, gestured for me to show him. Was his reluctance a show? I knew he wanted this too.

I would play the supplicant to his demanding grandfather. He'd waited a lifetime for this.

I took the velvet from my shirt pocket, untied it with curiously shaking hands, tipped it onto the porcelain. The ring rattled as it came to rest, suddenly loud in the small space.

The expression on his face betrayed his surprise, astonishment. He quickly recovered, resumed his serious demeanor.

I understood; even in this light it looked spectacular, serious, impressive. I was again astonished at its vivid, liquid depth and brilliant shine.

He looked to me for permission; I took the ring, put it in his hand.

Every bit as skilled as Khang he eyed the fitting, turned it to show off the diamonds, finally examined the central jewel from every angle.

Stared at it for perhaps a moment too long, then suddenly put it down on the saucer.

"It is adequate."

I released a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. He hid his smile by taking up his cup, sipping his wretched tea.

"Nearly as good as Jillian deserves! The best I can manage! I hope it pleases her, helps her to overlook my many flaws."

This he accepted.

"Now we enter the next phase of the arrangement. Some difficulties present themselves."

I went from relieved to high alert. "What difficulties? How can I remove them? Is it a matter of money?"

I was babbling. He shushed me, one hand held palm down.

"It is a matter of family duties." Of course; everything was a matter of family duties.

"Normally, the next steps would be coordinated by Di, by Bác. Aunties."

I saw the difficulty. We had no Aunties to engage.

"What can be done? Can Aunties be recruited?" From where I had no idea.

"Let me think on it. Sometimes Aunties can be found in the community. From childhood friends of the bride. We will see."

A hairy problem indeed. Local candidates for Aunties always seemed very busy with their own extended families, their own nieces and nephews getting married and having babies. Khang's business was in large part supported by such events.

As for childhood friends, I didn't think Jillian had any, or any she kept in contact with.

Sigh. Frustration.

"Gregory! This small trial will be overcome! As you two have overcome so much already."

I brightened. Of course, we would figure something out. And I had one more question.

"Is it time? To present Jillian with this token? To suggest she consider a union?"

"Yes! Yes! That can be done at any time you choose! No obstacles remain!"

I grinned foolishly. This I could do; had wanted to do for some time.

Phuong saw my foolish joy, reached out, took my hand in his, pressed it and smiled.

...

Jillian

This was a 'lost girls' afternoon. My time to canvass the shoreline, the boardwalk. I decided to start where I'd had success before, the bar where Trevor worked.

He was behind the counter, polishing glasses. Why did bartenders do that? Did they all have crappy dishwashers that left water spots?

At the end of the bar was a youngster, chowing down on a platter of bar food. Dressed in traveling clothes, with a suitcase beside her on the floor.

A niece? Trevor hadn't shared his family connections with me. We didn't have that sort of acquaintance. Ours was just the saving-stranded-women-from-ruin kind of deal.

"Hi Trevor! A coke? Thanks!"

He filled a glass from the soda gun behind the bar, wiped it of overflow, set it in front of me.

"How's Nick working out?" He was genuinely interested.

I took a long draw. It had been a busy morning, and I'd skipped lunch.

"Fabulous! Like a fish to water! She'd gonna be a skip-trace one day!"

He smiled at that, familiar with Nick's fierce energy.

"Who's this? A niece visiting?" A wild guess.

He shook his head, but before he could tell me more, she spoke up.

"Billie! Glad to meet you. Just in off a Transcontinental. Trevor here is helping me get on my feet. I'm a little skint, spent all my wad on the bus ticket."

That was new. Trevor, feeding strangers? I looked at him incredulously, and he had the grace to look consternated.

"I wasn't going to, but she's so darn persuasive! I was telling her about you, next thing I know she's got me feeding her, offering her my phone!"

Billie smiled, stuck a cheese-straw into her mouth, chewed rudely.

"What brings you here?" I was going to approach this slowly, so as not to startle her. Like hunting deer, young women down on their luck could be evasive, suspicious.

"Farthest I could get from back home! Ketchum Idaho!"

"You look a little young? To be making the trip alone?" She didn't; she could be 15, 16 which was old enough, but it was a conversation starter.

She set down a wing, fished in her jacket pocket, pulled out a much-used folded paper. Unfolded it on the bar, spread it out with her palm, handed it to me.