Getting Old is a Disaster Part 8

"Did the driver describe him?"

"No, he never really looked at Grandpa."

Sophie says, "I like that he calls himself Robin Hood and leaves the green feather. He steals from the rich to give to the poor."

I'm not so sure of that. "Maybe yes-maybe no. We'll ask him when we find him."

The wind outside is picking up, rattling the windows of the building. "Everybody got their flash lights ready if the power goes out again tonight?" Evvie is always on storm duty. She gets the appropriate number of nods.

"Bella," I say, "you look puzzled."

"I still don't know how he can rob a bank without legs."

Ida throws a handful of popcorn at her. "Get it through your head already. He has legs. He hid them under the box he was sitting on."

She pouts. "It looked real to me."

"Which brings me to a few puzzling questions," I say. "Didn't Morrie tell us that the police warned all the local banks about him? So, why were the tellers surprised?"

Evvie refills my popcorn cup. "And how does Grandpa make his getaway?"

Ida says, "I'm guessing he hides things nearby, in his car. Or in a backpack. What we saw was a legless-man routine. I wonder how many other getaways he has in his bag of tricks?"

Evvie adds, "What I want to know is how he knows us-does he live here in Lanai Gardens? Is he someone we see often?"

"And we should pay attention to this map," I say, indicating the Fort Lauderdale map I've taped to the board. I used a marker to circle the locations of the six banks. Grandpa has. .h.i.t so far-all within a five-mile radius of one another. "Within this same area there are at least three more banks that haven't been robbed yet. I wonder where he'll hit next time? We also need to figure out if there is a pattern to how often he robs and if there is a similarity to the time of day . . ." My cell phone rings, interrupting my daunting list of next steps. It's Jack. I tell him what we're up to. I turn so the girls won't see me blush as Jack informs me he's coming to my apartment tonight for our next attempt at a "sleepover."

"What was that about?" Evvie asks when I hang up. But I'm saved from having to answer her question when a loud burst of thunder and lightning hits right above us.

I quickly erase the board. Everybody hurries to the door. Evvie tosses suggestions as we go: "Keep safe. Pull the blinds. Stay away from windows."

We race back to our apartments, holding hands. But I'm not thinking of the amount of rain or the velocity of the wind or Grandpa Bandit- I feel warm and fuzzy at the thought of my own thunder and lightning show on for tonight.

12.

Let's Try Again.

It's after midnight. The weather outside is wild- the worst storm we've had in many seasons. But indoors we are comfy. Jack and I are wrapped in a blanket and stretched out on my couch in the living room, in front of a romantic fire sizzling in the fireplace. Candlelight takes the place of the power we no longer have. Wine warms our insides. Our clothes are still on, but in much disarray.

"I really missed you," Jack says, nuzzling my neck.

I nuzzle him back. "It's only been three days, silly."

"It felt like a week to me."

"What have you been doing?"

"Helping out. Stanley Heyer's been leading a group of residents from building to building, looking for damage from all the recent rain. And what mischief have you and the girls been up to?"

"Trying to find our Grandpa Bandit. He's very elusive."

We kiss. Then kiss again. Our hands are exploring. Our breaths shorten. No need for words. I am happy to realize that even at our ages s.e.x is still an active urge. And to think I was sure I would never have these tingling feelings again.

The candles are burning down. The room grows dimmer. Our bodies are well heated. I am softly moaning with pleasure. Jack indicates the bedroom. He's ready. I'm ready.

As we get up there's a knock at the door.

We stare at each other in utter disbelief. It can't be happening again.

"Someone's knocking?" Jack asks incredulously.

"Impossible. On a stormy night like this? Must be a branch hitting the door."

"Or maybe a whole tree falling down on the building," he suggests jokingly.

The doorbell rings. Then there is the sound of a key turning in the lock. In the near-darkness we see the door open, and a small apparition enters. At first I don't recognize it-it's all bundled up with rain jacket, large floppy rain hood, boots, and a broken, upturned umbrella.

It's Bella. She flings the soaking-wet umbrella to the floor, drops the rain jacket from her shoulders, and kicks off her boots. She is wearing her favorite lobster and squid pajamas; her hair is in curlers. Her teddy bear is tucked in under the waistband of her jammies.

She slogs toward me, shaking her damp head.

"What are you doing here, Bella dear?" I ask gently.

She walks through the hallway and into the living room without stopping.

"The storm is scaring me. I don't want to be alone." Her voice is slurry and sleepy.

"But, Bella! Dear, you live next door to Evvie. Why did you walk clear across the courtyard to my building? It's dangerous out there."

She doesn't even look at me as she moves through the living room. "I tried Evvie. But she was sleeping so soundly she didn't hear the bell. I used the key, but she double-locked the door. So I came to you."

With that, she enters my bedroom.

Jack and I stare at each other. Jack whispers, "She has keys to all your apartments?"

"Yes, we all do, in case of emergencies."

"She didn't even see me."

"That's because she forgot her gla.s.ses." I smile weakly.

We tiptoe into my bedroom. Bella is already snuggled up in my queen-sized bed, comforter tucked under her chin, sound asleep. Her teddy bear rests on my pillow.

I can't help it. I start to giggle.

Jack scowls. "This is funny?"

The giggle becomes a laugh. "My turn to say 'Can't you see the humor in it?' "

Jack sighs, then gives in to a wry smile. We tiptoe back to the living room and sit down on the couch. "Shall we continue where we left off?" he asks dolefully.

I giggle again. "You know what this reminds me of? Being seventeen and having a date in the living room and trying to smooch while my parents were sleeping in the next room. No way. I mean, horrors, what if they woke up and saw us?"

"And now you have this woman well into her second childhood in your bed and you still can't make out."

"What if she wakes up and heads for the kitchen to get a gla.s.s of water or something?"

"You said she can hardly see without her gla.s.ses. She'll never notice us."

"It won't work." I sigh. "I'm sorry, Jack."

"I know," he says, sighing, too. "I guess I should head for home."

"No. Stay. It's awful out there." I leave him standing there while I bring him a blanket and pillow. "Should I tuck you in?"

"Sure. Why not. Want to read me a bedtime story?"

I swat him playfully.

"And, darling Gladdy, I'll make sure to leave very early in the morning so Bella won't even know I was here. Okay?"

We kiss good night. As he rolls over in an attempt to get all of his over-six-foot-tall body comfortable, I head for the bedroom to my unexpected sleepover guest. Behind me I hear Jack mumble, "How far do we have to go to be alone? Tell me. I'll book us a flight anywhere. Just name it."

I pretend to count off names as I call back to him. "Timbuktu. Bimini. Lower Botswana." I can't resist using the new computer terms I overheard in the library. "Google Travelocity and pick somewhere."

13.

The Next Morning

A s I drink my morning coffee, I have the TV s I drink my morning coffee, I have the TV on low. I don't want to wake Bella. The newscasters making small talk agree that it was quite a storm last night, with winds up to twenty miles per hour. The screen shows image after image of downed trees and flooded streets and highways backed up for miles.

My original houseguest, Jack, did what he said he would: He woke up very early in the morning and snuck out. What a comedy of errors. I looked in on him around three a.m., during a bathroom trip. It's the first time I'd ever seen him asleep. His long legs hung over the couch. Poor thing, he looked so miserable, yet adorable. He probably thrashed around half the night trying to fit his body into that small s.p.a.ce. Oh, well, one of these days I'll get to see him sleeping in my bed. I'm really looking forward to it. Waking up next to him-how wonderful that will be. To see him sitting opposite, having breakfast with me, is something I will treasure. Though the way the fates have had it so far, who knows when that will happen.

I'm sitting at my kitchen table, enjoying my fantasies, when Bella walks in. Talk about another kind of adorable. She stands there in her cute PJs, rubbing her eyes and holding her teddy bear. I can picture Bella as she was as a child, in that same posture. Sweet and gentle. And as usual, confused.

Bella asks, "What are you doing in my kitchen?"

I smile at her. "No, you mean what are you you doing in doing in my my kitchen." kitchen."

She looks around, realizing that indeed she is in my apartment. "I don't know. How did I get here?"

She sits down and I pour her a cup of coffee. "Don't you remember coming over here last night during the storm?" I indicate the cl.u.s.ter of rain gear that we both can see in the adjoining hallway.

"I did?"

"You tried Evvie's door but couldn't open it, so you sloshed across the courtyard to me."

She blows on the top of the cup to cool her drink. Bella likes her coffee lukewarm.

We sit there quietly sipping and enjoying the silence and comfort of longtime friends.h.i.+p. Suddenly Bella perks up, remembering: "I had the funniest dream last night. I was in a strange bed and some man was standing over me, looking at me. Isn't that weird?"

I cough, sputtering my coffee slightly. "That's quite a dream. Did you recognize this stranger in the night?"

"No, it was too dark. But I think he was nice."

The sun is out, although it's weak and weary. Black thunderclouds darken the horizon.

Ida is at her mailbox when Bella and I exit the elevator. She looks Bella up and down, eyebrows raised. Bella is still holding her teddy bear. "Are those your pajamas you're wearing under all that stuff?"

"Don't ask," I say.

Bella blushes, and hurries across the courtyard to her building, where she pa.s.ses Evvie talking to her ex, Joe. Before Evvie can comment, an embarra.s.sed Bella scampers into their building's elevator with her eyes closed against curious expressions on anyone else's face.

Evvie and Joe are standing near Joe's old Ford V8. He's parked, with his door open, right in the middle of the street. I can hear their voices clearly.

"I don't want them," Evvie says loudly.

"Why not? They're just flowers." Joe is obviously frustrated, but trying to stay cool.

"So, what's the occasion?" My sister busies herself reading her mail.

"Does there have to be an occasion? All right, maybe it's a peace offering so you'll stop treating me like dirt under your shoe."

She snorts. "As far as I'm concerned, this war is still on."

"How about amnesty?" he begs. "After so many years."

"How about you shut your car door before another car bangs into it?"

As he does so, Evvie is aware of me looking their way and she beckons me to hurry over-I suppose to get her away from Joe yet again. As I cross the courtyard, I see Denny busy sweeping up last night's mess. Many of my neighbors are brus.h.i.+ng leaves, and whatever else the wind brought, off their parked cars and balconies. Palm fronds and debris clog the street. Trash barrels are overturned. Denny waves to me and I wave back.