What on earth was a bending sickle compass? She went to her car and touched the paint. It wiped right off.
“I think it’s chalk,” Denise offered in a tone that suggested she’d forgotten all about their spat.
Yeah. It was chalk. She went to work untying the balloons, marveling at how many colors there were—did this many colors even come in a bag of balloons?—and careful not to drop the card buried inside the ribbons. Why did he include a card if the poetry was painted on the car? Was this going to be a two-for-one? He was certainly picking up the pace with his gifting. Two in one day! Maybe he had a deadline.
A small crowd was gathering now, and in her hurry to get away from the audience, she got behind the wheel, intending to pull the balloons in behind her. This did not work.
And now that she was seated behind her steering wheel with a horde of balloons to her left, it seemed so obvious that it wasn’t going to work.
Maybe if she pulled them in one by one, instead of trying to pull one giant rhinoceros through a basketball hoop. But that would take forever. She relaxed her tension on the ribbons, expecting the balloons to easily back out of her car and float up until they reached the end of their respective ribbons—but no.
They were all jammed in the opening. She was trapped behind a latex rainbow.
Maybe if I just move one, that will create enough space for the others to float free.She couldn’t stand sitting there stupidly, knowing everyone was watching her. Well, they weren’t watchingher, exactly. They couldn’t see past her kaleidoscope.
She pushed one of the balloons out, and it squeaked as it left its spot. Then she pushed another, enduring another squeak. But the others didn’t leave; they only filled the gap. She was a magnet drawing them in. A little claustrophobic, she pushed another, but this time her car key got in the way, and the balloon popped. It scared her, she screeched, and then her panic worsened, and she started punching wildly at the balloons, adrenaline coursing through her at a maddening rate.
Finally, the balloons gave way and floated free. So free in fact, that a few purple ones escaped and headed straight for the heavens. She could feel the environmentalists judging her, or she would have considered letting them all go, rather than enduring being the star of this particular show.
She sat there behind the wheel with her arm stuck out through the open doorway holding the ribbons, trying to come up with her next move.
“Here, let me help.”
She couldn’t see anyone. Was that Jesus talking?
With her spare hand, she parted the sea of balloons and peeked out through them to see her favorite guitar player. Oh, terrific.
“Where did you come from?” she asked
“Originally? My mother’s womb.” Jake held out his hand. “Come on, give me the balloons.”
She jabbed her tangled mess of ribbons out toward him.
“Ah, a shiny rat’s nest. How nice.” With both hands he started untangling the ribbons from her hand but ended up pulling some of them tighter.
She tried to hide her wince.
“Sorry. You know what ...” Like some kind of expert handyman, he deftly pulled a knife out of his jeans pocket, flipped it open, and cut her free in about two seconds.
She pulled her arm back into the car and started massaging blood back into her hand. “Thank you.”
“You bet.” He stepped away and reached for the handle on the back door. “Uh, can you unlock this?”
She moved to grant his request and saw the swelling crowd of onlookers. Why were there so many people in this parking lot? Why were there so many people in Hartport?
“I hear there’s a fistfight over on Cottage Street!” she called, but no one moved.
Jake laughed, though, which was rewarding. He was a pretty funny guy. She’d never made him laugh before.
Like a sane person, he tucked the balloons into her car one at a time and shut the door. “I don’t think your rearview is going to be much good for a while, but there you go.” He slapped the roof of her car. “You’re all packed up.” And then he started to walk away as if this was something they did every day.
“Thank you!” she called after him, but he didn’t respond. She started the car and stomped on the gas so hard she laid rubber. The squeal of her tires would have embarrassed her, but she’d reached her upper limit of embarrassment. Her face was pressed against the ceiling. There was no higher to go.
Finally, she pulled into the small lot beside her apartment building, turned the car off, and sat there waiting for her heartrate to slow. Hard to believe she only had one heart in there. It felt like a herd of buffalo.
Her eyes fell to the red box on the seat beside her, and she gingerly picked it up. She couldn’t believe she’d dented its cover. It wasn’t a flimsy box. She untied the silver ribbon and tried to flip the top of the box open, but that wasn’t how it worked. She was stymied for a moment but then figured out that the box was more like a scroll. She unfurled it to see four little trays full of gorgeous brown treasure. If she hadn’t smashed the top, this could be her new jewelry box.
They were almost too pretty to eat. She took her time choosing one and then unwrapped it slowly, relishing every second of the experience. She took a small bite and let it dissolve in her mouth, and it was so good it made her body tingle. Creamy, sweet, just a tiny hint of bitter for balance—it was heaven.