Symby (7 page)

"Sure," said Jody, "but just don't name it something stupid, like 'Peaches' or 'Pinky', okay?"

Jody hadn't said it, but Missy could tell that "stupid" meant "femmy." She wondered, though, who had named Snuffles. She took her eyes off the creature and spoke.

"So you think that this creature needs us as much as we need it, right?"

Jody nodded.

"And you don't think it can survive on its own, so it tries to attach itself to any animal that can help it survive, right?"

Jody nodded again.

"Then it helps the animal survive in return by giving them its liquid, right"

"Yeah, I think that's what it does," Jody agreed.

"Well, maybe it's one of those 'symbiotic' organisms Mr. Belden talked about in bio class a couple of weeks ago. So how about if we name it 'Symby'?"

"I like the name even if it doesn't turn out to be symbiotic," said Jody.

Missy turned her attention back to the pulsating ball of fur in her hand. She stroked it again.

"Okay, little one, from now on your name is Symby. So hurry up and do your thing."

Symby began vibrating louder. Missy could feel drops of liquid spread across her hand.

"I'm getting droplets," she said excitedly. "It's happening!"

"Awesome," said Jody. "Make sure you keep the liquid in your hand, don't waste any of it. If you have extra, rub it into your arm like a cream."

Missy did as she was told. Soon her arm was covered with the syrupy liquid.

"I think Symby has a way of detecting how sick someone is," Jody informed Missy. "He starts out by emitting a whole lot of stuff. Later on, when you feel better, he only gives you a few droplets."

"Good to know," said Missy. "Chemo's like that too. I just hope this works better than chemo."

"Well, whether it works or not, it won't make you sick or cause your hair to fall out, that's for sure. I just hope it works like it did for me and Snuffles. Your disease is totally different than mine."

Jody didn't want to get Missy's hopes too high, though he knew he had probably already done so. He rifled through his coat pocket again and retrieved a clear plastic bag filled with pellets.

"This is some of Snuffle's dog food," he said. "Symby really seems to like it. He doesn't eat much, so this ought to keep him going for a long time. Don't forget to feed him every day. He needs water too."

"Wow, you thought of everything," gushed Missy.

"Whatever you do, don't tell your parents. I haven't told my mom either," said Jody.

"Why not?" inquired Missy.

"Because they're parents. They'll get all freaky and mess things up."

This made a lot of sense to Missy. Jody continued.

"Do you have a safe place to keep him during the day? I let Snuffles take care of him when I'm at school."

"How about if I put him in my doll trunk?" she answered, pointing to a big trunk in the corner.

"That should work," said Jody. "I once put him in a big coffee can for a day and he seemed fine."

"When do I have to give him back to you?" she asked.

"I think I'm in pretty good shape now. The one thing I don't know is whether I'll stay this way without the liquid or whether I'll have to keep taking it. Right now, you're more important than me, so just keep him. If it turns out that Symby can help you, then you'll probably start feeling a little better right away like I did, so maybe we'll see each other at school tomorrow. I sure hope so."

"Me too," said Missy. She took his hand with the hand that wasn't holding Symby. "Thank you so much for doing this, whatever happens."

"Don't thank me, thank Symby if he helps you," said Jody.

Missy didn't want Jody to leave, but she desperately needed sleep. She wanted one more thing from Jody, just in case she never woke up.

"Jody," she asked. "Have you ever kissed a girl?"

Jody turned a deep, dark shade of red instantly. He stammered as he replied.

"J-just my relatives."

"Would you kiss me?" she asked.

"Sure I would," replied Jody, turning a whiter shade of pale. "Now?"

"No time like the present," she answered. There was her favorite phrase again.

"Do you know how to do it?" asked Jody, immediately regretting his infantile question.

"Not really," said Missy. "Why don't we just count to three and see what happens?"

"Sounds like a plan," said Jody, trying to act as adult-like as possible.

The two of them counted nervously to three. Jody leaned towards her and closed his eyes. Missy leaned forward and closed her eyes as well. Neither of them had any idea where the other one's mouth actually was. The result was a collision of noses. They opened their eyes and laughed together at their failed efforts.

Missy laughed so hard her eyes were moist. "I guess we should keep our eyes open next..." The word "time" was left unspoken, as Jody gently placed his lips onto hers.

As far back as he could remember, Jody had never felt as mixed up as he did the next morning. He had barely slept. Thoughts of the kiss raced through his head. He soared, only to crash when he realized that the only girl who had kissed him might actually leave his world, perhaps much sooner than he had ever imagined. He tried to jog to school, picking up speed as he reflected on the kiss, but faltering when his thoughts turned to her wraith-like appearance. The idea that Symby could help her was almost certainly a fantasy. He began to feel guilty about raising her hopes. As he neared the school, he prayed that he would see her sitting on the railing at the top of the steps. His prayers went unanswered. There was no sign of her.

Jody walked slowly up the steps, feeling more alone than he had ever felt. He tried to lift his spirits, telling himself that her bus was late, but he was sure he was just deluding himself. He stared into space with glazed eyes. The minutes passed and his heart sank. The bell for first class rang. Ms. Beecher began moving towards him. Jody knew the drill. He turned and walked towards the huge double doors.

"Jody, wait up!" said the mellifluous voice from behind him. He recognized her voice instantly. He turned and watched her climb out of her father's car. "Wait up a second!" she repeated. Jody had no problem with waiting. He eyed Ms. Beecher nervously, but the teacher simply smiled at him. Jody watched her run, yes run, towards him. She ran all the way to him, embracing him when she arrived.

"I think it's working!" she exclaimed. "It took me a while to realize it, but I feel better than I've felt in a long, long time." Jody lifted her feathery body off of the ground and spun her around. Her legs spun out like the chair ride at the state fair. The two of them hugged until Ms. Beecher stopped smiling. Jody released her.

"So why were you late?" he asked.

"Jody, to be honest, I didn't really have any faith in Symby. I was just going along with it to make you happy. I also figured I had nothing to lose. When I first woke up, I just assumed that I would feel as bad today as I did yesterday. But after a while, I started to realize that I really did feel a whole lot better. I was already too late for the bus, so I asked my Dad if he would bring me. So here I am. I really think Symby did something, I really do!"

Jody couldn't contain his excitement. "That is so cool! I knew Symby could do it, I just knew it. Now you know what I've been going through for the past few weeks. It's awesome!"

Ms. Beecher had reached her patience limit. "It's time for you two lovebirds to go to class," she said, still smiling.

"Okay, Ms. Beecher, we're going," said Jody. Missy took Jody's hand as they walked into the building. The hallways were empty, except for a few stragglers.

"I've been thinking," said Missy. "Do you think we should ask Mr. Belden what Symby is? I've heard he used to be a research professor at the state university, so he might know."

"Maybe later," replied Jody. "I really think it's better that we keep Symby a secret for a while, at least until we learn more about what he does and how he does it. What if he takes Symby away from us?"

"Why would he do that?"

"To study him, I guess. I think Symby might be some kind of undiscovered species. He might even be an alien species, for all we know."

Missy chortled derisively. "Oh, come on, that's ridiculous."

"Probably, but maybe not," said Jody. "Just before Snuffles started feeling better, I noticed a big dent in his water pot, and there were some weird rocks that had kind of a green glow."

Missy laughed again, "Ooh, little green space aliens. How many movies have they made like that?"

Jody laughed at how outlandish his theory was, too. "A lot. I guess you're right. But I still don't want to tell anybody yet, okay?"

"Okay," agreed Missy. "See you at lunch." She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. Jody flew to class.

Spud's life was rapidly improving. He sang classic rock tunes as he pulled his wagon behind him. The big, red wagon was fully loaded with bottles and cans. The wagon had proved to be an excellent investment, allowing him to collect far more bottles and cans than he'd been able to previously. Moving his treasure from his campsite to the grocery store was no longer a problem, either. He and his wagon were now ranging far and wide in search of new foraging territory.

People in town were beginning to recognize him. A few of them even engaged him in conversation if he greeted them first. And why not? He was washing his clothes at the laundromat rather than the river or not at all. He had purchased a small toiletries kit. His beard was gone and his teeth were white again.

His search for bottles and cans led him past the local barber shop several times. The barber had a habit of smoking his cigarettes in front of the shop. When Spud greeted him cheerily for the third time, the barber began asking him questions. Spud didn't try to hide the fact that he was homeless from anyone. He readily admitted that he had "messed up his life pretty bad" with the "silver-tongued devil." He explained that he had been straight for a couple of months and he was trying to accumulate enough money to start a small business, maybe a hot dog cart. The barber eyed Spud sympathetically.

"You know, if you're going to apply for a loan, you're going to need a nice haircut," he said. "I'm not doing much right now, why don't you come on in?"

Spud would have loved a haircut, but he knew he needed to be careful with his money. "I'm a ways off from getting enough money for my business, so maybe later?" he answered. The barber smiled.

"You can wait on it if you want, but I'm running a big discount for folks who are trying to put their lives back together."

"How much?" asked Spud.

"Free," answered the barber. "Free is as low as I can go, take it or leave it."

"I wouldn't expect you to pay me for a cut. Your price sounds pretty reasonable. I'll settle up when I get my business going, how's that? Just don't ask me for a piece of the profits, okay?"

The barber shook Spud's hand. "Deal," he said. "My name's Bill, by the way. Come on in."

Twenty minutes later Spud walked out of the shop having acquired both a haircut and a friend. He was looking good and feeling good. He towed the wagon back to the grocery store. His version of an ATM dispensed almost one hundred and fifty dollars before the wagon was emptied of its contents. He spent some time shopping for food, adding sacks of potatoes, rice, beans and spices to his other staples. He was looking forward to doing a little cooking to help him pass the time. After much thought, he added a radio with small stereo speakers. His old radio had stopped working two months ago. He was looking forward to hearing music and voices again at his campsite.

Just before he checked out, he decided to put himself to the ultimate test. He pushed his cart down the entire length of the first row, perusing bottles of wine and sixes of beer as he went. He could think of nothing more pleasurable than downing a few beers on a hot day like this one. He broke down and decided to treat himself to a six-pack. He pushed the cart back up the aisle and pulled his chosen six-pack out of the cooler. He was looking forward to downing a few refreshing colas.

"Wow, you look nice," said the cashier, the same teenaged girl who had ignored him a few weeks ago. "New haircut, right?"

Spud beamed. He couldn't remember the last time somebody had complimented him on his appearance. "The barber up the street gave me a free one. He knows I'm trying to get things back together. I told him I'd pay him back when I get my business going."

"You're starting a business?" she asked. "What kind of business?"

"I haven't figured that out yet, maybe a hot dog cart. But I'm saving up money for it, so when I figure it out you'll be working for me." He smiled as he spoke to let her know he was kidding.

"You let me know when you get something started," she said. "I'm sure whatever it is will be better than working here." Spud could tell she wasn't serious. She was assuming he was just a loser with dreams. He didn't mind. She might be right, only time would tell. After you'd sunk as low as he had in life, it was hard to get your cred back. The important thing to him was that she now seemed to genuinely enjoy talking to him. That was what really mattered.

Spud chugged a cola as he walked back to the hardware store. He needed a few more things. Burton looked up from the cash register when he walked in.

"Good morning, Spud, nice to see you again," he said warmly. His attitude towards Spud had changed dramatically after Spud had paid his debt for the wagon. "You're looking well," he added. "A haircut and a shave, eh?"

"Thanks," answered Spud, basking in the glow of his second compliment on his appearance in less than an hour. "Do you sell seeds?"

"Yes, we have a small selection in aisle five. What are you looking for?"

"Tomatoes and potatoes," replied Spud. "Staples for the homeless, right?"

"I don't recall any other homeless people who had the industry to start their own garden," Burton responded. "Pretty good idea, though."

"Thanks again," said Spud. "Can you help me out with the tools I'll need?"

"Be glad to," answered Burton. "Come on back."

Ten minutes later, Spud pulled cash from his pocket to pay for the seeds, a small shovel and a hoe. Burton waved him off. "You know I was skeptical about you when you first walked in looking for that wagon. Thelma had a lot more faith in you than I did. Now I'm going to do my share and pay some penance. You just take these things with you and don't worry about it."

Spud tried to insist on paying, but Burton was adamant. Spud thanked him profusely and then added a question.

"Where's Thelma?"

"She's not feeling well today, she's taking the day off," said Burton. Spud detected sadness in his demeanor.

"I hope it's nothing serious," said Spud, genuinely concerned.

Burton changed the subject. "Spud, I've been thinking that I could use some help around this place, especially if Thelma continues to feel poorly. I don't suppose you might be interested in helping out around here? I can't pay much, but you'll make a lot more than you're making from bottles and cans."

Spud jumped at the chance. This was a real break. "I'd be pleased to work with you," he said. "Full-time?"

"I can't afford a full-timer, much as I'd like to, but how does twenty hours per week sound?"

"Well, I'll have to weigh my options and figure out which of my many offers to take," cracked Spud. Burton looked disappointed, having failed to catch the humor. "Oh, wait, I don't actually have any other options or offers, so when do I start?"

Burton brightened. "How about Saturday morning at eight? We open at nine, but it takes an hour to make sure the store is in shape. Is ten dollars an hour all right with you? That's really the best I can do."

"Ten dollars is just fine. I'll be back on Saturday at eight o'clock. See you then, and thanks again for the stuff. Tell Thelma I'm really sorry to hear she's not feeling well. I'll be looking forward to seeing her again, hopefully Saturday."

The two men shook hands and Spud left the store.

Once outside, Spud placed the tools and the seeds in his wagon and began the long walk back to his makeshift home. He was having a great day. It seemed as though each day that passed since his first encounter with the little creature was better than the last. He was beginning to wonder how much more happiness he could handle. He couldn't believe his good fortune at being offered a job. People like him virtually never had jobs simply handed to them. Even when they managed to straighten out, employers were afraid they might steal from them or fall off the wagon. This was a stroke of good fortune he hadn't counted on. Adding two hundred dollars per week to the money he was already making from collecting garbage would dramatically shorten the time he would need to start his own business. Saving money was easy for a man who had virtually no living expenses. Most importantly, he would be back in the real world. Other people were in the real world. He wouldn't be alone any more.

When Spud arrived at the small clearing he called home, he walked over to the old plastic cooler he had found in the woods and unlatched it.

"Hey, little guy, how are you?" he asked, staring down at his furry little friend, fully aware that his little companion was incapable of replying. This was not to say that his new friend couldn't communicate. The little furry thing began vibrating, obviously excited to see him, or sense him, or whatever it was he did. Spud had done his best to keep his companion safe and happy while he was away. The creature lay on a soft blanket inside the cooler. A small can of cat food lay next to him.

"Chowed down some, eh?" said Spud, observing that a small amount of the cat food had disappeared. There was no need for kitty litter, as the creature never emitted anything more than a few drops of liquid per day. The little animal, if that's what it was, was a perfect pet. "Love without poop, can't beat that combo," Spud liked to joke.

Spud still hadn't figured out exactly what the creature was, but he really didn't care. He loved his fuzzy, living ball and he believed that the droplets it emitted had done something he hadn't been able to do for himself. He no longer craved booze. One other characteristic of the creature had helped him get through his recent sober times. He was convinced that the creature loved him. When he was drinking, he hadn't cared about love or companionship, but those needs had now returned.

"Got a few drops for me today, little guy?" he asked, picking up the creature and placing it on his shoulder. "I just walked out on a whole store full of booze, so I could use a little pick-me-up."

With the creature attached to his shoulder, Spud went about the business of preparing his garden. He had already cleared a small, sunny area of underbrush, so it was just a matter of hoeing the soil, digging small trenches and depositing the seeds. Spud knew how to grow things. He had worked on a farm as a teenager and had planted and harvested vegetables. His co-workers had taken to calling him "Spud" because he had made a habit of eating some of the raw potatoes he had pulled from the earth. The name stuck, partially because Spud covertly promoted it. Spud sounded way better to him than Milton.

After a few minutes, Spud could feel his shoulder dampen. "Thanks, little guy," he said, addressing the source of the wetness on his shoulder. The creature's pulsing accelerated. "I know, I'm welcome, right?" said Spud.