The Worst Romance Novel Ever Written (37 page)

Gloria, however, was not impressed by either his story or his excellent, thrifty purchase. “That is a child’s phone, Johnny.”

“
But it’s all I need,” Johnny said. “I only have to call your cell, Hector, Quick-E Mart, and Marion, right? It’s perfect.”

“
It’s childish.”

“
It’s cute.”

“
It’s embarrassing.”

Johnny rolled his eyes. Angel had been teaching him how. “Whenever I’m with you, I won’t need to use it, right?”

“
That’s not the point,” Gloria said.

Johnny was perplexed. “I will need to use it when I’m with you?”

“
You know what I mean.”

Johnny didn’t, but he pressed on. “I won’t even turn it on when I’m with you, I promise.”

Johnny next showed Angel his phone. “Isn’t it cool?”

“
Where’s the camera?” Angel asked.

“
It doesn’t have one,” Johnny said.

“
Why not?”

“
I don’t need one,” Johnny said. “It’s just a phone.”

“
Can it text?” Angel asked.

“
No. It’s just a phone.”

She hit several buttons. “Where’s the Internet?”

“
Angel, as I’ve been saying, it’s just a phone. If I hit this button here, I can—”

Angel slapped the phone into Johnny’s hand. “It’s … nice.”

A sarcastic adult I can handle,
Johnny thought,
but a sarcastic five-year-old is a bit much.

And Angel was a bit much every time they visited the Hollins Branch Library, one of the largest libraries in the Roanoke Valley. While Gloria and Marion did some Christmas shopping at the mall or simply rested at home, Johnny tried to keep up with the smartest five-year-old on planet Earth.

The first time they had entered the library, Johnny had raced toward the archaeology section, arrived, turned, and—
Where’s Angel?

He had scoured the library for Angel, cruising every row, stack, and rack, worrying and sweating, until he had found her surfing the Internet in a computer lab. At first, he had been happy. Angel was doing something almost normal. Kids around her were playing games, listening to music, looking at funny pictures and videos, updating their MySpace pages, and generally clicking, giggling, and wasting time.

But not Angel.

Angel had been researching pyramid construction, reading screens, and seeming to memorize diagrams.

“
Um, Angel,” Johnny had whispered, “can’t you do this at home?”

“
Our Internet connection is too slow, Johnny,” Angel had said. “This computer is far more efficient.”

Every visit was like this. Angel surfed, read, and studied the computer screen for four hours while Johnny read magazines, attempted not to write anything of literary value on his laptop, and played with the hand dryers in the bathrooms.

And Angel did all her “work,” as she called it, without having to get a drink or go pee.

The child is not human,
Johnny thought.
Aliens dropped her off to research us.

A little before noon one Saturday, Angel announced, “Time to go, Johnny.”

Johnny had found a vacant computer near Angel and had gone to work shooting arrows into a two-dimensional stick figure’s head and body before the stick figure killed him. The enemy stick figure had won every time.

“
It’s time to leave?” Johnny asked. “So soon?”

Angel rolled her eyes. “I printed out some web pages today. You have to pay for them at the main desk.”

“
How much?” Johnny asked.

“
Only ten cents apiece.”

“
I think I can afford that.”

More eye rolling.

I’m still getting to her!
Johnny thought.

At the main desk, Johnny said, “I’m here to pay for a few copies. Still on pyramid construction, I believe.”

Angel nodded.

The librarian heaved a thick stack of pages onto the counter. “Ninety-four pages. That’ll be nine-forty.”

Johnny stared at Angel. “Only a few?”

Angel shrugged. “There was a lot of neat stuff.”

Johnny tried not to grumble as he paid, but he had only brought fifteen dollars of his tip money. He handed the librarian ten crumpled ones, she gave him a squinty smile, which Johnny translated to “Gee, thanks for the yeasty, dirty money,” and she gave him his change.

“
Are we going home now?” Angel asked.

“
Want to get a snack?” Johnny asked.

“
Not before lunch,” Angel said.

Angel is the mother I never had.
“C’mon, Angel, live a little.”

Johnny drove to a McDonalds drive-thru and ordered a large fry and two super-sized Cokes.

“
Apple dippers are better for you,” Angel said, but she munched on a fry just the same.

Johnny didn’t know a thing about apple dippers, though he figured they had nothing to do with the Big and Little Dippers. He did know that getting old-fashioned Idaho spuds soaked in hot grease and coated with two days’ worth of salt was just what his stomach needed.

He reached for some fries as he drove, but Angel pulled them back. “Not while you’re driving. It’s not safe.”

By the time they reached Marion’s house, Angel had eaten all but one of the fries and had sucked her Coke dry.

“
Here,” she said, handing him the bag. “I saved you some.”

Johnny looked at the lonely, cold fry. “Are you sure you don’t want this one?”

“
I’m full,” Angel said, and she burped. “Oh, excuse me.”

Johnny looked at her empty cup. “You can leave the cup in the car.”

Angel looked around her. “Where?”

“
Just throw it in the back with the other ones.”

Angel giggled and tossed the cup into the back. “Thank you for taking me to the library.”

“
It was my pleasure.”
But I have a bad feeling about what all that Coke is going to do to you later.

Johnny should have been more worried about what Gloria was going to do to him for allowing Angel to drink all that Coke.

Little Angel was high on sugar.

“
She’s bouncing off the walls,” Gloria whispered. “Listen.”

Johnny distinctly heard drums echoing through the kitchen. “You get her a drum set?”

“
No.” Gloria shook her head. “Those are her feet, Johnny. Why didn’t you just get her milk? That’s what a child needs.”

To make a body strong.
“I didn’t know it would affect her this way.” He listened to Angel’s feet pounding the floor above them. “Is she dancing?”

“
She’s doing jumping jacks,” Gloria said.

I’d like to think she’s dancing,
Johnny thought.
Real children dance for no reason at all. So that means caffeine makes gifted children dance? What a concept.

“
C’mon, Johnny, you have to know what thirty-two ounces of straight sugar will do to a child,” Gloria said. “And she’s giving me a headache.”

“
I’ll go try to settle her down,” Johnny said, and he stood.

“
Not with one of your stories,” Marion said.

“
Yes,” Johnny said, “with one of my stories.”

Angel was, indeed, doing jumping jacks that occasionally changed to interpretive dance of the Alvin Ailey variety. When she noticed Johnny watching, she quickly jumped onto her bed and looked out the window. “I was just …”

Being a kid high on Coca-Cola and trans fat. It’s cool, kiddo. Really. I’ve been there. I know what you’re going through. Just ride it out and it will pass.
“Would you like to hear another chapter of Angel’s story?”

Angel nodded, her face slack, her eyes blank.

I know that look,
Johnny thought.
Angel is coming down off her sugar, grease, and caffeine high. I had better make this chapter good.

“
Angel next went to … the sands of Saudi Arabia to read
1,001 Arabian Nights
,” Johnny said. “Her most favorite story of all was about Ali Baba and the forty thieves.”

Angel settled her head on her pillow. “It’s just a story?”

Johnny wedged his butt into Angel’s little easy chair. “Ah, but we often learn great truths from stories, and Angel wanted to learn great truths. The story of Ali Baba would teach Angel a very valuable lesson about life and how to live it.”

“
Oh,” Angel said. “What kind of name is Ali Baba?”

“
It’s a Middle Eastern name. Ali Baba was from Damascus, Syria.”

“
Ali Baba …” Angel whispered. “I like it.”

Johnny tried to get comfortable, but his booty was stuck fast in the little chair. He rose as best as he could, lifting the chair off the ground and duck-walking closer to Angel. “Ali Baba had a brother named Cassim, and the two were very poor.”

Angel closed her eyes. “How poor were they?” She giggled.

I take that back,
Johnny thought.
The child is
still
high on sugar, grease, and caffeine.
“They were so poor they added water to their ketchup so often that it eventually turned pink.”

Angel giggled.

I love this Angel! We will eat Mickey D’s often!
“They were so poor they washed and reused paper plates.”

Another giggle, but it wasn’t as giggly.

Johnny decided to continue his story. “One day Ali Baba was cutting wood and saw a vicious, bloodthirsty band of forty thieves, so Ali Baba and his camel hid behind some rocks. The thieves then whispered the magic words, ‘Open,
simsim,
’ and an entire mountain opened up before Ali Baba’s eyes. The thieves loaded their stolen treasures into the mountain, said, ‘Close,
simsim,
’ and the mountain closed.”

“
Really?” Angel propped herself up on her elbows. “That’s not true.”

“
It’s just a story, Angel,” Johnny said, “but it will have valuable lessons for Angel. Trust me.”

Angel slumped back to her pillow and closed her eyes. “When?”

Johnny talked faster than before. “Once the forty thieves were gone, Ali Baba stood in front of the mountain. ‘Open,
simsim
,’ he said, and the mountain opened before his eyes.”

“
So Ali Baba is a thief, too,” Angel said.

“
But Ali Baba was poor, and he only stole enough treasure so he would never be poor again.”

Angel sat straight up. “I know this story. Ali Baba is a duck, right?”

“
No, he’s a man,” Johnny said.

“
Nuh-uh. He was a duck, and he said ‘open, sesame,’ not ‘open,
simsim
.’”

Disney can sure ruin any story.
“That was the cartoon version, Angel. I’m telling you the original story that is thousands of years old.”

Angel slumped back to her pillow. “I hope it’s better than the cartoon was.”

“
It is. Ali Baba goes home and borrows his sister-in-law’s scales to weigh his gold, but his sister-in-law tricks him by putting some wax on the scales.”

“
Why?” Angel asked.

“
So she could see what he was weighing. And she found out what he was weighing because a gold coin stuck to the wax.”

“
Oh.”

“
His sister-in-law immediately told Ali Baba’s brother Cassim about it, and Ali Baba had to tell Cassim how to get into the mountain. Cassim went to the mountain, said, ‘Open,
simsim
,’ and the mountain opened. Once inside, Cassim said, ‘Close,
simsim
,’ so no one else would know he was inside. Cassim gathered all the gold he could, but when he wanted to leave, he couldn’t remember the magic words to get out.”