Symby (9 page)

"Cryin' like a baby again, huh?" he said scornfully. "When the hell are you gonna act like a man!" His eyes rolled back and he slumped onto the couch, snoring almost instantly.

"Too soon for you," thought Jimmy, comforting himself with thoughts of the payback he would exact from his father when he got old enough.

Jimmy retreated to his bedroom. He ached all over. Remembering Missy and Jody's conversation, he retrieved Symby from his crate. He held Symby in his hand and stroked him. "Seems like you've helped some people, not to mention a dog, Symby. How about helping me out if you can?"

Surprisingly, Symby just sat in Jimmy's hand and made no move to escape. Jimmy kept petting and talking to Symby, hoping that the little creature would give him some of that healing liquid that Jody and Missy had talked about. After a few minutes, Jimmy could feel Symby begin to vibrate. Waves of pleasure washed over him despite his physical pain. He felt as though the creature was warming up to him. Perhaps Symby could be the pet that he never had. A few minutes after the vibrations started, Jimmy could feel warm liquid spreading over his hand. Almost instantly, the pain from his father's blows began to subside.

"This is what they were talking about!" he thought excitedly. "Come on, little Symby, keep it coming!" Jimmy rubbed the liquid on his bare arm. He lay down on his bed, placing Symby on his chest. The liquid spread across his worn t-shirt, causing a huge stain. Any other time, something like this would have generated a stream of curses from Jimmy. Not this time, though. He was feeling warm and fuzzy, awash in the love of his furry little friend. He and Symby were going to get along just fine, he thought.

Missy climbed off the bus and headed for home. She was looking forward to sharing some love with Symby. It was also time for another dose of his curative serum. Scanning the empty driveway as she approached, she realized she would be alone for a while. She used her key to let herself in and called out to Symby to let him know she was home. She did not expect a response, and none was given. Sometimes she wished that Symby could speak, or at least bark or purr. Symby had his own way of communicating through vibrations and pulsations, though, and that was enough for Missy. She grabbed a soda from the refrigerator and walked to her room to greet her happy little companion.

As soon as she opened the door, she knew something was seriously amiss. Some of her dolls had been knocked off the bed and now lay on the floor. Her biggest concern was for her doll trunk. The cover was off. Had Symby somehow pushed the lid off the trunk? Was he under the bed? She froze when she glanced at her window. The screen was gone. She ran to the side of her bed nearest the window and spied the broken screen lying on the floor next to her bed. She screamed.

"Symby, where are you? Symby?! Symby!"

She ran frantically around the room, desperately searching for Symby and calling out to him. She lifted her blanket off the bed. Nothing. She got down on her knees and looked under the bed. Still nothing. She ran to her closet and rifled through her shoe boxes. No Symby. She wandered several times around the room, lifting up every doll, opening every drawer and looking under each piece of furniture. Desperate, she ran outside and began an intensive search in the yard, calling to Symby as she went. There was no sign of Symby. Exhausted, she returned to her room and sat on her bed. Tears welled up in her eyes, ran down her cheeks and dropped into her lap. Her friend and her savior were gone.

A few minutes after Jody returned home, his computer began beeping. Someone was trying to viddy him. He would have been completely surprised had it been anyone other than Missy, as she was the only person he had ever viddied with. As he suspected, he was not surprised when he clicked on the viddy link. She was early.

"Guess she really can't live without me anymore," he thought happily.

"Hey, what's up girlfriend?" he said brightly. As soon as he saw her face, his cheery attitude changed. She looked distraught.

"He's gone, Symby's gone!" she cried. Even through the grainy video his old PC produced, he could see tears cascading down her face. The words she had spoken were the worst words he had heard since his Doctor had diagnosed him years ago.

"Gone? You mean you lost him?" he asked.

"I think somebody broke into my room and stole him," she said, sobbing as she spoke. "My doll trunk has a latch on it, so it can't be opened from inside, and my window screen is broken and lying on my floor. I've looked all over and I can't find him."

"Do you think maybe Symby could do more than he was showing us, so he figured out how to pull the latch up and escaped on his own?" asked Jody.

"I guess it's possible, but it looks like my screen was pushed in from the outside." Missy was choking out her words through her tears. "You know him better than me. Do you think he could open a latch from inside a trunk and push through a window screen? Why would he do that anyway? He seemed perfectly happy to be living here. I loved him, and I think he loved me, too."

Jody's mind flooded with dire thoughts. It was one thing to be regressing because he had given Symby to Missy, but quite another to think that he might never get Symby back. Images of his life as a cripple flashed through his brain. He wasn't sure he could deal with that again. He fluctuated between despair and rage, experiencing both emotions several times in just a few seconds. Ultimately, he said something he immediately regretted, perhaps the worst sentence he had ever spoken.

"Are you sure you're not just saying this so you can keep Symby for yourself?" As the words passed his lips, they seemed to float in front of him. He wanted to swat them down as they hovered before they could get to Missy's ears, but that just wasn't possible.

Missy screamed, "Who do you think I am?! Do you honestly think I would do that to you? I can't believe..."

Jody interrupted her. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said. "I know you wouldn't do that to me. I'm sorry, please forgive me, please!"

Missy stared at him. "I know, you're just as upset as I am. I can't think straight and neither can you. I forgive you. We'd better try to get our act together and figure out how to get Symby back."

Relief stopped Jody's rage in its tracks. "Thank you. I love you. You're right, we need to figure out what can be done that's positive. Is anything else missing?"

"No, not even my computer tablet or my MP3 player," answered Missy.

"So I guess whoever it was only wanted Symby. That means somebody else knows about him. You didn't tell anybody, did you?" Jody was now making a habit of uttering words that he wished he could take back.

"If you don't stop accusing me of doing things I haven't done, I'm going to click off," said Missy. "I swear I didn't tell anybody, so stop it!"

"I'm sorry, Missy," said Jody. "I guess I'm so upset I'm saying things I don't mean. Please don't click off."

Missy took the high road again, to Jody's immense relief. "I know, I know. Do you think maybe the police can help us?"

Jody shook his head. "What are we going to tell them? That somebody took your little pet that you can't even prove you ever had? They're not going to bother looking for somebody's hamster. If we told them that your hamster was curing both of us, they'd just laugh at us."

"Maybe it was Jimmy," Missy suggested. "When I watch crime shows, it's usually the suspect with the biggest motive who did the crime."

"Maybe," agreed Jody, "but how would he know about Symby?"

"Maybe he didn't. Maybe he just broke into my room to rob me, found Symby and took him."

"If that's true, then he must have somehow found out about Symby beforehand. Otherwise, he would probably have taken things he thought were more valuable."

Missy looked frustrated. "Even if it was Jimmy, we can't really prove it. We don't have any evidence."

"What about fingerprints?" suggested Jody.

"Then we're back to the police," answered Missy. "If we do that, then everybody finds out about Symby. Even if they believe us about Symby curing us, they might take Symby away and give him to the government to study. If they don't, then they'll just humor us and go back to what they think are their important crimes."

"Yeah, you're right, either way we're screwed," said Jody. He thought for a while and then suggested another idea. "I think we're on our own here. Maybe we could break into Jimmy's house and see if Symby is there."

"The problem with that is that we really don't know if it was Jimmy who took Symby, so we're risking getting arrested for nothing."

Missy and Jody stared at each other through the glow of their computer screens. They were at an impasse. The reality was that there was very little they could do about the theft of Symby. Missy began crying again.

"Just when I thought I might be getting cured, I have to face it all over again. I was already used to the idea that I might die, but now I want to live as long as I can. I want to be with you forever."

Jody tried to allay her fears. "We don't know that you'll get worse. Maybe your disease is different than mine. We don't really even know if you were actually getting better because of Symby. Maybe it was just remission." Missy was inconsolable.

"I had a remission before and this was different. I just know that my disease was being cured by Symby. Every time he gave me his medicine, I felt stronger," she sobbed. "And what about you? Your disease doesn't even have remission, but you got so much better in just a few weeks, it had to be either Symby or a miracle."

In his heart, Jody knew she was right. The truth was that he was just as depressed and scared as she was. Their conversation turned from the subject of retrieving Symby to their mutually grim future without Symby. They talked for a long time, but resolved only one issue. Whatever happened, they would continue to love and support each other. They would stay boyfriend and girlfriend forever, or at least as long as their version of forever lasted.

Missy lay on her bed surrounded by her stuffed animals and dolls for more than an hour after clicking off with Jody. She was still sobbing intermittently, morosely contemplating the inexorable return of her disease, when she heard her father's car pull up in the driveway. She was too exhausted and glum to get up and greet her father. She listened as the car door closed and waited for him to arrive. She was surprised to hear her father yelling excitedly to her from the moment he got out of his car.

"Missy! Missy!! Good news! I've got good news! Where are you honey?"

Missy mustered the energy to get off the bed and moved to greet him at the door. At least somebody in her family had some happy news to share, she thought. She was pretty sure that whatever it was he had to say would not pull her out of her funk, though.

Missy had made it only halfway to the door when her father burst in, laughing and shouting maniacally. He rushed to her and swept her off her feet, gripping her tightly in a bear hug.

"You're getting better!" he cried. "You're getting much better!" He spun Missy around, talking animatedly. "I just got a call from the clinic! They looked at your biopsy results and told me that your counts are almost normal! They told me that the results are so dramatic that they're actually concerned that they might have contaminated the sample they took today. I had to schedule another biopsy and more blood work next week so they can confirm their results. Awesome, huh?"

Missy did her best to share in his enthusiasm. She was torn between celebrating her father's confirmation of the fact that Symby had truly been curing her and lamenting Symby's loss. As much as she tried to pump herself up and share in her father's joy, she couldn't quite achieve his level of rapture. Her father finally noticed her lack of participation in his celebration.

"What's wrong, honey?" he asked. "Aren't you thrilled? What's with the tears?" He brushed his hand against her tear-streaked cheek. "Look, if you and Jody broke up or something like that, that's nothing compared to your recovery. If you really are almost cured, you'll have a whole lifetime to find other boys."

"No Dad, Jody and I are still together," said Missy. "I just had a bad day at school, that's all."

"Well, get over it," her father said, his ear to ear grin returning. "When your mother gets home, we're going out to dinner!"

Missy summoned the best happy face she could muster. "Cool, Dad, I can't wait!" she proclaimed. She couldn't help but think how sadly ironic it was that one of the happiest days of her life had coincided with the event that might ultimately take all the joy out of it.

Spud arrived promptly for his first day of work at Burt's Hardware store. He wasn't about to jeopardize his new job with his old habits. Burton and Thelma were going to be thrilled that they had given him a chance. It was only eight o'clock in the morning, but Spud had already stopped in at the grocery store and cashed in more than one hundred dollars of bottles and cans. He was anxious to add a paycheck to his growing wealth.

Burt greeted him in the parking lot ten minutes later. "Morning, Spud, good to see you," he said. "It'll be nice to have some help around here for a change."

Spud was surprised to hear this. "Thanks again for hiring me, Burton, but what about Thelma?"

Burt looked crestfallen. "Spud, I didn't want to tell you this last time we met, but Thelma's having problems. She hasn't been with me at the store for quite a while now."

"What kind of problems?" asked Spud. The look on Burton's face told Spud that Thelma's problems were serious.

"A couple of days after we sold you that wagon, Thelma had a stroke," he admitted.

Spud was stunned and saddened. "I'm so sorry, Burton."

"Nothing for you to be sorry about," said Burton stoically. "These things happen when people get old, no gettin' around it."

"Is she in the hospital?" asked Spud.

"Not anymore," answered Burton. "It was a mild stroke, so she was only in there for a few days. She's at home now, but she's needs physical therapy and some speech therapy."

"Will she ever come back here? Will I see her again?"

"Most likely you will," answered Burton. "I'll bring her down here before long, if only to keep us company. Enough about Thelma, though, we've got a lot to get through before we can open."

Burton spent the next hour explaining the cash register and the inventory system to Spud. Spud couldn't help but notice how antiquated the operation was. They were still keeping inventory by hand on large pieces of spreadsheet paper. The cash register was ancient, with keys that did not even connect to a computer. Receipts were hand-written and kept on a small spike next to the cash register. Burton then gave Spud a tour of the store, pointing out the different types of products in each aisle and highlighting the features of a few of the best-selling products. There was a small garden center out back, filled with plants and flowers and the items needed to grow and maintain them. Spud made a suggestion.

"I used to work on a farm, Burton, so I know a lot about gardening. That's probably where I can be most useful, at least for the time being."

Burton liked the idea. "All right, then, you're our garden department expert. But first I need you to help bring in the new deliveries from the back and stock the shelves."

Burton and Spud teamed up to place the newly delivered boxes onto a pallet. Burton pressed the buttons on the pallet truck and brought the pallet into the store, all the while explaining to Spud how the pallet truck worked.

"I want you to be doing this later," he said. "You're a lot younger than me, in case you haven't noticed."

"No problem," said Spud. "We had one of these on the farm."

Burton smiled. "Well, looks like I hired myself an experienced hand without even knowing it. Good for me, right?"

"Good for both of us, I hope," answered Spud earnestly.

By the time the shift was over, Spud had stocked all of the new deliveries on the shelves, cashed out several customers and advised a few customers on how to grow vegetables and flowers. A couple of customers had left the store after he told them they were out of the item they were looking for. Spud was disappointed that he hadn't been able to help them. He worried that they wouldn't be back.

Spud was tired, but still excited about his new job. He and Burton had become better acquainted with each other, to the point where they were trading stories of their lives when there were no customers in the store. Spud noticed that all of Burton's stories involved Thelma in one way or another. Thelma's disability had to be taking an emotional toll on him, but Burton was well-versed in playing the role of the tough old coot. Spud wondered whether Burton had noticed that all of Spud's stories were years old, back before his life had turned sour.

Spud continued working after his shift was over. Burton finally told him to stop.

"I can't pay you more than five hours, as much as I'd like to," he said.

Spud had a ready answer. "Well, let's just call it casual time, then. I really enjoyed myself today."

Burton looked disdainful. "Ain't no such thing as casual time. If you're working, you get paid. A fair day's work for a fair day's pay, right?" Burton winked and smiled.

Spud was really beginning to like his new boss. "Okay, okay, you win," he said, smiling back. Spud gathered the few things he had brought with him and said goodbye.

"You forgot something, didn't you?" said Burton.

Spud reviewed his inventory of possessions and shook his head. "Not that I can think of," he answered.

"Boy, you really are a sucker. Don't you want to get paid?" said Burton.

The thought of getting paid hadn't even occurred to Spud. He had assumed it would be weeks before he got his paycheck.

"Well, of course, but how can you cut me a paycheck already? I haven't even signed a W-2 yet."

Burton winked again and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. "You know, I get kids coming in here almost every day looking for work, but I picked you because you needed the money the most. I figured you'd be the one most likely not to spill the beans about getting paid in cash. Thelma and I have been working this business alone for more than forty years. We never hired an employee, so I've got no idea how to go about putting somebody on the books. If you've got a problem taking cash, speak now or forever keep it shut. Do we have a deal?" Burton pulled two twenties and a ten from his pocket and offered them to Spud.

"Deal," answered Spud. He wasn't about to say no to what amounted to an increase in his compensation well beyond what he had anticipated. He was now a man with virtually no living expenses working two tax-free jobs. The seed money he needed to start his own business was flooding in. There was no stopping him now. He couldn't wait to get back to tell his furry little friend about his windfall.