Out Of This World (7 page)

“Okay, Celeste. Are you up for a little adventure?”

“Of course. I am here to learn as much as I can. I knew you were the correct choice.” She smiled and appeared to lose her fear.

“Seattle, here we come. It’s a great city to visit. Consider me your personal tour guide.” I decided it didn’t matter if Celeste was looney tunes. I liked her just the way she was. She was colorful and if she happened to have an overly expansive imagination, well then so be it. Everyone has their little faults. I could do far worse in a friend or a lover. It’s not like I’d had a whole passel of friends to compare her to and I’d definitely never had a lover—so what the hell.

Celeste touched my arm again and I felt that immediate flood of warmth. I wondered if this is what people experienced when they were falling in love. “Bella, I know you have your doubts about me and I want you to know I understand. Everything will work out as it should. I will not let any harm come to you, I promise.”

Okay this was an odd thing to say, but then I considered that her paranoia most likely extended to me. At least she was a protective paranoid schizophrenic and so far she’d not done anything remotely aggressive or violent. I shrugged and continued to concentrate on driving to Seattle.

Seattle is one of the worst cities to navigate because the traffic sucks at all times of the day or night. You’d think that Sunday morning would be clear sailing on the highway into the city, but you would be wrong. Traffic slowed to a whopping thirty-five miles per hour. Either there was an accident or maybe some big event was happening. I didn’t have a social life so I rarely paid attention to the numerous entertainment options the city had to offer.

Finally, we cruised into the downtown area and I found one of those all day parking lots a couple of blocks from Pike Street Market. I was starving because we hadn’t stayed for breakfast and it had taken us nearly two hours to get to Seattle because of the crappy traffic. We made a beeline to the market because it was one of the best places to graze for a scrumptious meal.

†

Pike Street Market is a major tourist attraction and always a flurry of activity regardless of the day of the week, but Sunday was particularly busy.

Celeste and I got lost in the crowd as I led her to a row of market vendors selling fresh seafood, baked goods, and ethnic specialties from every possible nationality. One of my favorites was a vendor selling chicken gyros. Although fresh fish and Seattle are synonymous, I was hankering for some Greek food and politely declined offers from the fish vendors. I ordered two gyros and a large Greek salad for us to share. I was looking forward to hearing Celeste hum again.

“Everything smells so wonderful.” Celeste was looking from side to side trying to take in all the activity around her. When she noticed the flower vendor across the way, she made a beeline for the vibrant display. The bouquets presented a visual burst of color and invaded the senses of both sight and smell. It was as if an artist had personally arranged the canvas to heighten our experience. I took a deep breath and inhaled the sweet scent of Asian starburst lilies.

Celeste stuck her nose inside one of the lilies and the pollen left a large streak of orange all over her face.

I knew it would be difficult to remove so I giggled at the absurdity of this beautiful woman with a ridiculous smudge on her nose and cheek. She looked like a child who had gotten into something she shouldn’t have.

I took a napkin and tried to brush it off, but the pollen stubbornly refused my efforts.

The owner of the gyro stand called out my name to let us know the order was ready. I grabbed Celeste’s hand, led her to an empty table, and then walked over to pick up our order. Placing the gyro in front of Celeste, I dramatically proclaimed, “Your food, m’lady.”

Celeste giggled and took a nibble of the tasty treat.

“What is this food?” she asked.

“It’s Greek food. Greece is this wonderful country by the Mediterranean Sea and the gyro is their version of the American hotdog. It’s Greek junk food, except in Greece, they stick French fries in the middle. They don’t make gyros like that here in the US.”

Celeste just stared at me like I had two heads or something.

“Oh, you probably want to know what’s inside. It’s basically seasoned chicken with condiments.”

She took another big bite and mumbled, “I like this gyro.”

She started humming again and I grinned at her. I was getting used to her eccentricities. Except for the fact that I had to explain a lot of things to her and she insisted she was from another planet, you’d never know she was a nut case.

We gobbled down the salad and I tossed our garbage in the nearest trash can before venturing out into the rest of the market. On a whim, I stopped at the flower vendor and bought a bouquet of Asian lilies. I figured if Celeste was going to wear their mark of shame, the least I could do was introduce her to the way that the flowers permeate the air and take over whatever enclosed space they end up blessing.

Our next stop was the famed Pike Place Fish Market where the workers put on a show by throwing fish at each other, joking, and playing with the tourists. There was usually a large crowd around the booth since they have the freshest fish around.

This company had developed and produced a famous management training video around their propensity to have fun while working. They called it the Fish Philosophy and it was so simple that hordes of major companies began to adopt their four simple principles—be there or be present at work, play and have fun, make their day, and choose your attitude. These guys loved what they did and it showed.

One of the guys spotted Celeste and pulled her into the show right away. “Hey, what’s your name, pretty lady?” The guy joked while opening and closing the fish’s mouth as if the fish was asking.

Celeste grinned and answered, “Celeste.”

“Well, come on over here, gorgeous, and show everyone how you catch a fish,” the fish monger shouted out.

I pushed her in his direction, encouraging her to get the full experience of the market. These guys were a hoot. Celeste seemed to embrace this new adventure with gusto as she followed the fish guy behind the counter, ready to catch the king salmon his partner was playfully swinging around for all to see. As soon as we entered the market, Celeste had safely secured her pack on her back leaving both hands free.

“Okay, now you gotta reach your arms out. Don’t be afraid of the fish. You gotta grab it, you know, get a good grab on it cause we’re not gonna sell this one.”

Celeste giggled. “I do not know if I can do this.”

“Sure you can. Say ‘I’m gonna catch this fish.’ You can do it.”

Celeste grinned. “I am going to catch this fish.”

“Yeah, there you go. Okay, now lock your fingers and put that back hand a little higher,” he coached.

Celeste imitated his stance.

“There you go. Now grab it. How about Celeste!” he yelled out.

“How about Celeste!” the crowd mimicked.

“Hey, yeah,” he called out.

“Hey, yeah,” the rest of the fish mongers repeated.

The fish went flying in the air and Celeste reached out and, just like a skilled football receiver, she grabbed for that fish with everything she had, plucking it perfectly from the air. The crowd cheered as Celeste held her prize up.

I burst out laughing as Celeste proudly displayed her fish.

“Can we buy this please?” she asked.

“Sure, why not. He said he wasn’t going to sell it, but I bet he’ll sell it to us,” I responded.

“You betcha. Ten bucks and it’s yours,” the monger replied.

“Deal,” I said. For a ten-pound salmon, ten dollars was a steal.

He wrapped up our fish, added ice, handed us our trophy, and we giggled like schoolchildren all the way to the bathroom. I thought Celeste might want to wash her hands after her fish catching adventure.

We strolled through the rest of the market and made a final stop at a bakery. I wanted to purchase some cinnamon pastries and a dozen cookies for the road or maybe for dessert later tonight.

I didn’t have the foggiest idea what we would do after visiting the market, and decided I’d better broach the topic with Celeste. I knew we couldn’t hide out in Seattle forever, but I didn’t exactly have a plan in my back pocket.

We walked along in the swarm of people, and I felt like a cow herded into an enclosed area before being sent off to slaughter. I shivered at that thought. Suddenly I was claustrophobic.

“Celeste, I’m not really sure what to do now. I wish I could just skip work tomorrow and hide out in Seattle until things cool down.”

“I do not wish to cause you distress,” she whispered.

“The only friend I have is Sydney and she lives with Hollie...”

“Hollie does not have good energy,” she responded.

“That is an understatement. She’s a first class bitch.”

Celeste cocked her head. “Bitch?”

“Bad energy,” I replied. I didn’t want to explain the nuances of profanity. She was certainly good at remaining in character and true to her delusion.

“We shall return to your residence. Now that I am aware of the danger, I will be able to defend myself by using my energy reserves and mind probes. I just need to avoid the chemical injections.”

I cringed when she mentioned the chemical injections. They’d obviously felt the need to drug her and I wondered if she became combative. I wasn’t so sure that returning to Roslyn was the best strategy, but I didn’t have a better idea. I’d forgotten about my phone and decided it wouldn’t hurt to at least try to get more information about Greg from Sydney. It was a long shot, but maybe she could help us out.

I pulled my phone from my bag and gasped as I saw twenty-seven texts—some from Sydney and some from my mom. I scrolled through quickly getting the general gist of my mom’s messages, which essentially communicated
what the hell do you think you’re doing going off with some mental patient
. The intensity of her tone increased as the messages went unanswered by me. Sydney’s were definitely less judgmental, but just as insistent. She wanted to know if everything was okay and if I needed any help.

Celeste was watching me as I scrolled through my messages and she picked up that something was wrong.

I looked at her and gave her a sheepish smile. “Um, I have a few text messages, so I need to let my mom and Sydney know that everything is okay.”

I sent my mom a quick text, Everything ok. Promise I’ll explain later.

Sydney’s text would be trickier. I needed information and help. My fingers flew over the keypad on the phone,
Need ur help. Call me
.

The response from Sydney was instantaneous as my phone buzzed in my hand. “Hey, Sydney. Thanks for calling… No, I’m okay… Can you give me the scoop on Greg?… Shit, okay… I’m sorry, Sydney, I didn’t mean to drag you into this… Of course you can stay at my house… Yeah, the key’s under the big rock to the right of the welcome mat… No, we’ll be back in maybe two or three hours… Yeah, that would be great if you can throw him off for tonight… Thanks Sydney, I owe you.”

I ended the call and then I realized that Sydney was going to have free reign to snoop around and there was no hope of remaining in that big ole closet I’d carefully erected around myself.
Crap
. I guess confirmation that I was a card-carrying lesbian was imminent. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. On the one hand, it was a relief because I’d been keeping this secret for my whole life and it was getting rather burdensome. However, I was sure to hurt Sydney’s feelings and she was the one person who’d always stuck up for me. How could I explain to her why I wasn’t honest? She would never understand. She was one of the beautiful people.

Celeste touched my arm and my distress dissipated like early morning fog after the sun made its appearance known. She sure was handy to have around. I reveled in her touch. Maybe if she went on medication, we could make a go of it. Of course, if she did take her meds, she probably wouldn’t be interested in someone like me. It was a catch twenty-two. Either I could have the woman of my dreams whose elevator didn’t exactly make it to the top floor, or she’d be gone from my life like the dreams that wisp away when you wake each morning.

I cleared my throat to explain my phone call. “Sydney and Hollie had a big fight and she asked if she could crash at my house. She told me she would help us. She doesn’t trust Greg any more than I do. The jig’s up for me now, because I didn’t exactly hide um…the books…or um…the movies.”

“I still do not understand what appears to be forbidden about sharing energy or the human concept of love between two females,” she remarked.

“Fortunately it is becoming less and less
forbidden
, but I just wasn’t quite ready to share this with anyone, even Sydney. Being teased and bullied all your life has a devastating effect on your confidence. The idea of Sydney knowing my secret is growing on me. I am surprised that she asked to stay with us. She’s never done that before and it’s not like she doesn’t have another place to crash. They break up every week it seems.”

“Sydney and Hollie are not energy mates. You and Sydney could be energy mates. Although she was not compatible with my energy signature, her signature was positive and strong and I sensed the syncopation with yours. She looks upon you fondly.”