Pioneers are not cautious people. They are playing the long odds.
They are optimistic lunatics
As Margo and Jeff pack during the days before their flight, there is surprisingly little conversation about the reason Margo’s going on the trip: nothing about the decisions to be made in the next few weeks that could greatly alter the life of Tinkerbell. Margo’s quietly marinating the idea while outwardly busy with the details of the office. Dr. Hudini’s animals were becoming regular visitors and so far nothing unusual’ s been detected. Allison’s “research” had not lead to the investigation of his bedroom, yet. She assures Margo that she is diligently working on that, but “he’s not as easy as he looks.” Jeff’s been spending extra hours at work on the new project, reviewing and writing documents and developing a model to analyze compression and spring characteristic of the trampoline material. For long periods of time, he totally forgets about the fifth limb discussion. The whole technology seems so farfetched, he doesn’t seriously think it’s going to happen. The trip would be a much deserved lark for Margo before dealing with a newborn – for the last time. It’s a good excuse for an exotic vacation, mainly paid for by his boss, before the little bundle of milk sucking, upchucking, diaper pooping and high pitched noise maker uproots their near perfect lives. I’ll turn 64 years old before she gets out of high school, Jeff thinks humming “Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I’m 64”. This is about 6 fewer years of golfing, sailing, serious skiing, and whatever else he decides to take up when the kids are no longer a full time endeavor. Tinkerbell’s one big, lovable mistake.
Packing her suitcase, Margo wonders how long she’ll be gone and if she’ll outgrow the clothes she’s packing before she returns home. She looks down at her belly and thinks about how it might suddenly bloom out – no longer held in by the young (OK, younger…) muscles she had during her last pregnancy. Glancing at her chart at the doctor’s office, she saw that it called her a “geriatric” patient. Christ, the indignity of that! She wonders if having a baby this late in life will cause the skin to never shrink back to its normal tight covering. It will just sit on her tummy like a loose collar on a sweater. Not all the coconut nut oil and rubbing in the world will help. And, who’ll even have time for that??? She’ll be lucky to wash her hair regularly. Perhaps a little nip and tuck will be in order and there’ll just have to be time for that. It will come under mental health. She did not, would not, look like a Shar-Pei.
Allison would be arriving with her good friend George in a few minutes to get some instructions for the backup baby sitter and technical support to Suzy and the grandparents. Margo and Jeff have never gone to the lengths of having backups and IT support for his parents and Suzy, but they’ve never left the kids for this long before nor gone this far. And, if the Internet didn’t work, they wouldn’t get to have zoom meetings with everyone. So, new rules seem to apply. Or maybe they are trying to prove that they are NOT the worst parents on earth.
What would I do without Allison, Margo wonders. A great employee who is also a great friend’s truly rare. They would have to be an employee first, Margo knows, since she would never, ever hire a good friend. Too much can go wrong. The chance that one would think the other was taking advantage of the situation was way too high and the consequences way too dire. Margo rated the possibility of a disaster at near 100%. Since Allison arrived on the scene five years ago, she’d been an excellent technician, as well as the unofficial human resource liaison to Margo. During some periods, Margo just didn’t have time to deal with what seemed like petty concerns of some employees. Her job was taking care of the animals, not listening to every employee’s problems or even their joys. Allison could fill that role, which Margo thought came under the “other” category in Allison’s job description – right next to seducing potentially large clients (aka “sales”). It’s obvious to all that Allison loves being around the animals – the little things are so telling. Her doctors’ appointments are made at the beginning or end of the day, vacations are routinely missed, she stays late most nights and she’s the self- anointed den mother of activities around the office. As a surgical assistant, Allison always has the right implement before being asked and Margo would trust her with performing almost any procedure over some of the other veterinarians. Perhaps the best part of the relationship was Allison’s ability to tell Margo what she needed to hear, not what she wanted to hear. Like the time she told Margo she needed to fire Emily the bookkeeper who came to them from the High Horizon’s Project. Yes, the project had noble goals of giving young gals another chance by training them with business skills and then setting them up with a job. But, once given this chance, if a person took that trust and tried to embezzle funds, it was time to cut them loose. Allison convinced Margo to give High Horizon’s another chance, but not Emily the Embezzler. That move brought Juanita into their lives, along with her somewhat wild stories from her weekend, that Allison took as a challenge and Margo enjoyed vicariously on those rare occasions when she had time on a Monday to listen.
The advice extended to personal matters, too. When Austin was about Astrid’s age now, he had a bit of a lisp that everyone told Margo was “oh so cute”. Allison accused Jeff of taking Austin out to the bars when the two of them stopped into the office one Friday afternoon. When the subtle approach didn’t quite sink -in, she point-blankly told Margo she needed to “go get that shit fixed.” Then she pointed out all the people who yes, were successful, but none the less sounded ridiculous. Poor “Barbawraw” Walters always made it to the top of that list. Margo listened, brought Austin to a speech pathologist and 3 months later, the lisp was gone, never to reappear.
Yes, employee would have to have been first with Allison, because where else would a middle aged, busy veterinarian meet and befriend a tattooed rocker chick?
As soon as Allison and George arrive, Jeff grabs George and drags him to the garage to give him the low down on the finicky sprinkler system for the flower pots and to show him the main Internet router. Allison walks in and notes Darwin and Budweiser curled up together. “It seems Darwin and Budweiser are getting along quite well. I bet you are glad that has been settled,” she says to Margo.
“Astrid is already super attached, so I don’t know what we’d have done if Budweiser wasn’t such a pussy cat. Drug one or both of them, I guess. “
“I assume you are referencing the animals, and not Astrid.” After being assured that was the case, Allison continues, “let me know what you see over there in the 5 and over legged animals. Just wondering what Hudini might be up to here. I fixed up another pair of dogs and cats today – some pretty nasty scratches. These seemed like pound animals to me, too. Kind of creeped me out, so not sure I want to exam under that bed until this gets sorted out”
“I’ll ask and also sneak around, if I need to,” Margo responds. “You’ve said precious little about my trip and my decision. “
“You’ve said even less”, Allison points out. “Let me know when you’ve decided to deal with it”.
“OK, I’ve been distracting myself with the planning of the trip, not the reason FOR the trip. I plead guilty. I think the whole idea is fascinating and perhaps it‘s the next great frontier. I’m not so sure I am a good frontier woman. I’m not sure I can do that to Tinkerbell.”
“What an excellent analogy. How do you think those pioneer women justified packing up their kids and heading out on a dangerous trip across Indian territories? Then, lots of them even settled on lands where they faced sickness, starvation, and attack from Indians and outlaws. No offense, but what you are doing is way safe in comparison. I mean, what is the worst that can happen? The operation won’t be a success and the limb will fall off or Tinkerbell won’t like it and she’ll ask to have it removed? I had a nose job when I was 16 because my mother insisted- can’t be much different than that.”
“I’ll have to look at some pictures of you from before the operation to see if I agree with your mother.”
“Oh, trust me, I had quite a snozzola, so, it wasn’t the wrong decision, but one I couldn’t undo. Can you see me going into a plastic surgeon and asking them to install a banana on my nose?”
“Well, it might be considered art these days, and probably is no worse than some of those face tattoos. Have you had any conversations with Dr. Hudini about more than his animals?”
“Well, we did go out to dinner together after he stopped into the clinic the other night. Quite romantic, me in my scrubs and eyeglasses, him ordering the Indian food above the high pitched Hindi voices. I did find out he isn’t married, and the entire female Indian population apparently knows. Those hussies were drooling all over him. If I hadn’t been there, I’m sure some blow jobs or at least hand jobs would have been on the menu. I bet he brought me there to protect him.”
Margo let the sage advice from her friend seep in, knowing no amount of adoration of the fine doctor would influence Allison, at least not much. When had Allison last had a boyfriend, or even a date??
In the garage, Jeff hands George the instructions for the sprinkler system. “Geeze, seems so simple until you have to put it in writing. Then it turns into 5 pages of if than else statements. The final line is probably the most useful: “if water still refuses to turn on, call Nature’s Landscapers at 1-800-H20- buds. “
“If it rains, this needs to be shut-off right here,” Jeff points out. “Call me if you have any questions. We are only on the other side of the world. If the flowers die, my mother will probably try to smoke them.”
“So, Jeff, while you are over there, do you think you can find out about some other microvascular surgery that Dr. Hudini is doing? “
“Sure, anything in particular? “
“UMMM, you know.”
“No, what? I’ve had a million bizarre requests, trust me.”
Welllll, I was thinking that perhaps he could install a spare, you know,” George says swiping his hand past his crotch, “just in case there is a flat. Happens to everyone from time to time. Come on, people must have asked you.”
“Yes, it is probably the most popular request from males, but funny not even one woman has asked for an extra for her mate. So, I will put it on the list and see what he says, But, George, perhaps you don’t one to be one of the pioneers in those woods,” Jeff says pointing at George’s crotch.
“All pioneers must be crazy and optimistic in equal proportions,” George responds and Jeff thinks he got that about right.
Five movies, six meals and two long naps followed by a quick stop in Doha after leaving LAX, Margo and Jeff arrive in Chennai. Throughout the 22- hour ordeal, their conversation was finally sprinkled about the looming fifth limb. They vowed to remain open minded and came to the conclusion that the decision would become crystal, crystal clear. They agreed that any other outcome was unlikely, but in that event, the answer would need to be no additional limbs for Tinkerbell. An Indian couple sitting behind them caught enough of the conversation to put the story together: the man has some business in Chennai while his wife is a veterinarian visiting India related to neurological experiments on her dog (maybe a cat, or perhaps a mouse) Tinkerbell. By the end of the trip, they couldn’t stand it anymore and had to ask, “what kind of an animal is Tinkerbell?” To which Jeff responded, “a duck” while Margo simultaneously responded “a raccoon.” Then, Margo quickly amended her answer to “a raccoon duck, quite rare.” The couple looked at each other and decided their English needed a bit of work.
After leaving customs, their host quickly spots them from pictures Dr. Hudini provided.
“Hi, welcome to Chennai! I’m Mirza from corporate headquarters and I am here to help! You were right on time, same as 86% of the flights. Come, this way, let’s get out of here. My car is waiting right outside. “
Mirza grabs their luggage and leads them out to the busy street where his car is parked. He opens up the trunk with a third arm that juts out from his shirt – you had to be quick to see it. After their long flight, neither Jeff nor Margo are quite sure what they had seen. And, at that point, they would have hopped into the smelly end of a garbage truck to get to their hotel 10 minutes faster. As soon as Mirza shuts them in and gets behind the wheel, he takes off like a bat out of hell, which only feels faster to Jeff and Margo due to their state of exhaustion. They give each other that knowing look and decide to just go with the flow. There’s a good reason they aren’t driving in India.
“I have strict orders to get you to the hotel as fast as possible so you can get some rest. I understand we have a little Darwin in there,” says Mirza.
How odd, think both Margo and Jeff, sharing another look. How does he know about Darwin? Margo answers for the team, “No, Darwin is our cat, this is Tinker Bell,” she says patting her stomach.
They both see the pained, “oh shit” look cross Mirza’s face.
Recovering very quickly, Mirza responds, “So, you know it’s a girl?”
Good deflection, thinks Margo, but I won’t forget this tidbit. “We aren’t quite sure yet, the ultrasound tech couldn’t be sure if the baby was just not in quite the right position to see a little penis. We’ll know soon enough, and until we see evidence to the contrary, the fetus is a girl named Tinker Bell.”
“I actually think Tinker Bell could be asexual or a gay man,” says Jeff.
Mirza, sounding very American responds, “Tinker Bell? No, she is not that kind of fairy I am sure. I’ve seen her as just a light on stage in one production. Perhaps she was a twinkle in your eye. Now, Peter Pan, for sure gay, and I think Captain Cook is really just a macho guy covering up his homosexuality. You know 50% of all fairy tale writers from the 19th century were gay.”
Mirza continues driving like a cat on fire through the streets to reach their hotel, using his third hand on the wheel – two hands on the wheel and one on the shifter. Now a bit revived, Margo and Jeff are both sure what they are seeing.
“We couldn’t help noticing your extra arm. I thought you’d be too old to have one,” Margo says with a questioning intonation of raising her register at the end of the sentence.
“I am one of the original success storied, from the days where they grew the limbs in a lab and then implanted them surgically. I was 6 years old at the time,” says Mirza, anticipating the usual follow-on question.
“So, how long before you could control it?” asks Jeff.
“I vaguely remember the operation, but I really don’t remember ever being without the arm or being unable to control it. They tell me it took about 6 months to heal and for me to not even think about it any differently. I understand that puts me in about the 70th percentile.”
Jeff picks up a little bag on the seat. “That is yours,” says Mirza, keeping an eye on them from the cockpit. “It is a little emergency supply kit.”
Jeff starts taking things out of the bag. First, he finds a jar of peanut butter and crackers. Margo wishes Jeff would wait until they were stopped, since Mirza spent half his time looking in the rear view mirror. She wishes he had two sets of eyes, not the additional limb.
“Thanks for the snacks,” says Jeff. “Is peanut butter available here?”
“It isn’t normally available, but we keep a supply for our guest. Indian food doesn’t always go over well with our pregnant guests. Everyone loves peanut butter. My wife and I use it in cooking, too.”
Next, Jeff pulls out some water bottles and water purifier bottles and hands them to Margo. “Water, great,” says Jeff. “We will try to be very good about not eating on the streets and only eating cooked foods.”
Then, Jeff pulls out toilet paper. “Toilet paper?” he asks.
“That is in case you aren’t always careful with the food. Oh, and you know our hygiene habits might be a bit different than yours in the States.”
“Is there some butt gum in there? Margo asks.
“Butt gum?” asks Mirza. “I can try to find some… where would I look?”
“Never mind, Mirza,” Jeff responds. “I think Margo needs a long, long rest.”
Mirza pulls up to the hotel, much to Margo and Jeff’s relief. Using all available arms, he removes the luggage from the car, while bystanders stare. As he walks them to the hotel door, he gives them a few pieces of advice: dine in the hotel where every cooked food should be safe, only drink bottled water, use bottled water to brush your teeth (even though the hotel’s water should be fine, why, he reasons, should they take the chance) and get a good night’s sleep. He reminds them that he’ll pick them up at 9:00 sharp, business timing, not tourist timing. Since Jeff has a meeting in the afternoon, Mirza recommends that he and Margo go site seeing. Then he bows, returns to the car as people begin to gather around it, jumps in and squeals off. “Not exactly Sacagawea,” says Margo.
“And we aren’t exactly Lewis and Clark,” replies Jeff, as he directs the bellman to portage their luggage up to their room.