FICTION
LINDA BELL
One egg or two?
I was the only patron in the Ritz café. There was one lonely-looking waitress who seemed impatient with me as if I was taking her away from more important tasks. At least she left me alone with my thoughts, which is a gift I’m sure she has no realisation that she granted me. She probably thought I was lonely and would like to borrow her ear if she gave me half a chance. She seemed practised at giving wordless signals of unavailability. She avoided eye contact, looking across the empty tables and chairs as if something of great fascination had captured her interest for the time it took me to read the menu and make a decision. When I indicated I’d made my selection she shifted her eyes, raised her pen and notepad to chest level and focused on the task of recording my choices. Then she turned with the words ‘Won’t be long’ and was gone.
Another traveller in need of sustenance intruded into my private world of thought. A woman in her forties, I would guess. Plump, using a walking stick painted what can only be described as ‘hot pink’. I say forties but her laboured walking aged her, perhaps she was only in her thirties. She obviously dressed for comfort over style. Her ample body unrestrained in a loose top and a long skirt and her swollen cracked feet free to roam in a pair of misshapen sandals. Her hair outshone even her hot pink walking stick. Wild and thick, seeming to defy gravity, shooting out from her scalp in all directions, multicoloured, not in the usual sense that women thread colour through their hair, but rather the first few inches were black then a few inches from the scalp it was orange. The ends, dark brown. A truly startling effect.
She shuffled, dragging the thick sandals along the ground until she reached the table next to mine. She had spent almost five minutes struggling to cross the entire expanse of the café to reach the table right next to mine. She pulled two chairs next to one another then hung her lurid stick over the back of one and lowered herself onto the two seats wriggling and wobbling, presumably to find a position in which the line where the two chairs met was in such a position that it caused her minimal discomfort. I decided I would follow the example of the well-practised waitress and create around me an impenetrable barrier. I took a book from my briefcase and skewed my body around away from the woman as subtly as I could. I opened the book in the middle, though I hadn’t actually started reading it yet. I looked as if I was immersed in a gripping tale.
‘Scuze us.’ Her voice was as large as her body. It boomed across the small space separating our worlds. Every fibre of my body and mind wanted to continue reading. It was only some sense of propriety lodged in my brain that said I could not so blatantly ignore another human being who had, as yet, caused me no harm. I raised my eyes from the vicar’s picnic and was almost devoured by the intensity of the dark eyes glowing in that overblown face which had lost all indication of structure and more resembled a bread bun than a human face. She was sweating profusely from her upper lip and forehead. Before I could answer she boomed a follow up.
‘What did you order? I can’t decide.’
‘Just a pot of tea and a bacon sandwich.’
‘Sounds good to me.’ She turned her face towards the counter where the waitress had her back turned, keeping herself mysteriously occupied.
‘Love, love, I wanna order.’ The waitress turned and sighing, walked towards her second customer of the day. ‘Bacon sandwiches and a pot of tea.’ The waitress scribbled and left.
She patted the vacant chair at her table. ‘Come and sit here, no sense in me leaning across, and I can see you’re the type who’s interesting. Sorry.’ She laughed. ‘That didn’t sound too good did it?’ I moved chairs sensing that this was going to be one difficult situation to get out of.
‘I’m Gwen. What’s your name and what do you do?’
‘My name’s Peter and I...’
‘No, no, no let me guess.’ She closed her eyes tightly, her face contorted with the effort.
‘Give me your hands, don’t worry, give me your hands.’ She held hers out waiting to take mine. I placed mine into hers. She grasped them and squeezed her eyes tighter. I hoped she’d washed them some time that morning.
‘Doctor. I can always tell doctor’s hands.’
‘Close.’ I should have said yes to have freed my hands from her clammy grip but I knew it wouldn’t work. The waitress left our food with a look of poorly veiled disgust. Gwen let me go, leaned forward and whispered.
‘A doctor of animals. That’s what you are.’
‘Is it that obvious?’
‘To me it is. I can feel it.’
‘You’re a pretty amazing woman.’
‘Don’t make me blush. So you are, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, yes I am.’ She smiled. Then she placed her palm across her sandwich and pressed hard. The bread sank to a thin trace of its former self.
‘This way the bacon fat seeps into the bread, mmm.’ She picked up the flattened sandwich and took a large bite. I bit into mine with somewhat less enthusiasm. To my surprise it was very tasty. I’ve always been a fan of bacon while being fully aware of its health challenges. For a few moments we ate in silence. Gwen finished while I still had several mouthfuls to go. She rubbed her greasy hands together.
‘Get the leftover fat into my skin. Cheaper than hand cream.’ She paused. ‘I want to ask you something.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Do you know much about griffins?’
‘Griffins?’
‘I know, I know. Well, do you?’
‘Not really, except they seem to be on coats of arms.’ Gwen checked over her shoulder then leaned in and lowered her voice. Around her mouth was a shiny ring of bacon fat. ‘OK, they have a lion’s body and an eagle’s head. The females have wings and the males have spikes growing from their shoulders.’
‘Curious, and what’s your interest in them?’
‘No, hang on, let me finish. They represent the two sides of our nature – good and evil, earth and heaven, that sort of stuff.’
‘But they’re mythical, fantasy.’
‘Of course, beasts from another realm.’
‘So what’s your interest in them?’
‘I’ve got one.’ She’s mad, I thought. I knew it. A complete fruitcake.
‘Have you now?’ I was sounding patronising.
‘You think I’m mad, don’t you?’
‘Possibly.’
‘Come to my place. Come on, finish up and come to my place.’
‘Gwen, really, I have to go.’
‘It’ll take half an hour. You won’t regret it. I want you to look at her, you’re a vet. I think she’s sick.’
‘Gwen, this is outrageous. No, I’m sorry. I must get going. It’s been really nice talking to you ...’ I started to get up. ‘Hey,’ was all she said but the way she said it and the way she bored her gaze into my eyes, I didn’t move. ‘Come with me.’ There was something about her tone that made me doubt she was crazy after all. ‘Go on, I dare you.’
‘Appealing to my male ego.’
‘Peter. Half an hour. You won’t be disappointed.’
‘That’s an old line.’
‘So, are you game?’
‘OK, you show me your griffin and I can get back to work.’ I was caught. She heaved herself to her feet and called the waitress over.
‘Here take this for both of us. Keep the change.’ The waitress smiled slightly and took the money over to the counter. Gwen and I were making for the door. ‘I’ll need a lift.’ She said.
I parked next to her front door, which was actually at the side of the house. Gwen struggled to get out but by the time I’d reached the passenger side she was standing. She reached the door of the house, opened it and showed me in. The air smelt strange. A tinge of a sort of musk. ‘In here.’ She pointed.
I followed her into what was obviously a spare bedroom. The smell was so strong it caught in my throat. There was a single bed against one wall and that was it, nothing else. On top of the bed was a creature curled up asleep. It was about a metre long and curled round as animals do in sleep. I followed Gwen over and leaned across to get a good look. The room was full of sunlight, so it was easy to see the creature. I don’t know how to describe how I felt. I think my heart was racing, in fact I’m sure it was. I stared at the huge talons on the front feet, the back paws, the eagle’s head, the feathered wings and furred rump ending in a long tail.
‘Did you put something in my tea back there?’
‘I told you.’
‘Gwen, you’re not serious. This thing’s not real.’ She didn’t answer, she simply tapped the creature’s head. The eye facing us opened. ‘No,’ was all I could say. ‘Oh yes, oh yes.’ ‘Where did you get this?’ ‘Found it. Unusual things are attracted to me. Found it in a drain after a rainstorm.’
‘Where?’
‘Somewhere around the station, can’t remember now. Nothing romantic or anything.’ ‘Have you told anyone?’ ‘Course not, do you think I’m mad or something? Yes you do of course.’
‘I don’t know, I think maybe I’m mad, I’m having delusions right now.’
‘You know you’re not.’
‘What are you going to do with it?’
‘Her. Keep her of course. She’s happy here. But I think she’s a touch unwell.’ ‘How would you know if a griffin was unwell?’ ‘I know her, I’ve had her since she was a baby. I know.’ ‘And what am I supposed to treat a griffin with?’ ‘Dunno. She’s part eagle, part lion – you choose.’ ‘I’m not doing anything.’ ‘Refusing to treat a sick animal?’ She had me and she knew it. ‘OK, what’s the problem?’ ‘She’s lost her energy. She used to be jumpy and excitable and now this is all she does all day.’
‘How long?’
‘The last week.’
‘I’ll come back tomorrow with a few things and have a good look at her.’
‘OK, you’d better.’
‘Goodbye, Gwen.’ I left the house and drove home in a daze. Bewildered is the only word I can think of to describe how I felt. All evening I spent researching griffins on the net. I really thought I was going out of my mind.
I rang Gwen’s doorbell three times before she answered. ‘Impatientbugger, aren’t you? Don’t you realise it takes me a while to get here?’She waved her stick in explanation.‘How’s the patient?’‘You’re not gonna believe it.’‘No, I probably won’t, what?’ She was opening the door to the griffin’sroom. It was on the bed, still looking lethargic. Two green eggs, thecolour of agate, lay next to it on the bed-cover.
‘Gwen, don’t joke with me.’
‘Not.’ She was pointing at the creature. ‘That’s why she wasn’t well.
What do I do now? I’ll have three bloody griffins. I can’t manage that.
You’ll have to take them.’
‘Me? You are crazy.’
‘Well, I’ll have to smash them then. No choice.’ As she walked towards the bed I knew I had to stop her.
‘No, no, I’ll take them. I don’t know what I’ll do with them. I know, I’ll take them to the university.’
‘Don’t tell them you got them from me.’
‘OK, OK, I’ll tell them I found them in a drain near the railway station.’ As I approached the bed the griffin lifted its eagle head and moved its whole body. I spoke to the creature in a soft voice. ‘Look, I’ll just take these if you don’t mind.’
‘You don’t want to stay and have a better look at her?’
‘No, Gwen, I must go.’ Gwen took the two eggs, put them into a small box and handed them to me. I took them and started to walk from the room. The griffin made a strange noise and stretched its body. It didn’t seem to notice that the eggs had gone.
‘I really appreciate you taking those for me. I didn’t know what to do with them. I’ve got enough on my hands looking after her.’
‘I’ll call in every so often and see how you’re going with her, OK?’
‘Oh you’re a lovely man. I could tell that from your hands.’
‘Yes, yes, lovely, now just be careful what you do with her. We don’t know anything about these creatures – how to handle them.’
‘I do, I’ve had her since she was a baby. I know her.’
‘I’ll see you, maybe next week.’
‘And tell me what they said about the eggs.’
‘Yes, I will. Don’t see me out. I’m fine. Stay with her.’ I rushed out, being careful about the box. I put it on the floor in front of the passenger seat, so that it wouldn’t fall if the car jolted. I started the engine and reversed slowly, anxious about the care of the eggs. I packed a jacket around the box to stop it moving. As I joined the traffic flow I drove slowly, so was tailgated all the way home.
I turned carefully into my driveway and pulled up under the carport. I turned off the engine and leaned down to lift the box lid and check the eggs. As I stared down at the two green spheres I felt a wave of nausea hit my abdomen. There was an unmistakable crack across one shell and a pool of yellowish brown slime covered the bottom of the box.
‘Jesus Christ.’ I remember saying, ‘Shit, what am I going to tell her?’ I picked up the box, put the lid back on and carried it inside the house into the kitchen where the light was brighter. I could see now that it was more light brown than yellow, as slimy as any ordinary egg with greenish streaks in the slime. ‘Shit.’ I put the lid back on so that I couldn’t see the sight any more.
The following day I pulled into Gwen’s street feeling the same nausea that I had felt the evening before when I looked at the mess inside the box. I pulled up at number 15 and sat next to the kerb, staring at the vacant lot in front of me. I felt the same sick feeling in my stomach that I’d had when I first saw the griffin. What was happening to me? I rechecked the map and noticed the house next door that I’d noticed yesterday because it had a bright orange roof. I got out and walked onto the block. The grass was tall and coarse and there were no trees, nothing, just a ‘For Sale’ sign nailed onto a stake near the corner of the block. ‘You right, mate?’ A middle-aged man from the orange-roofed house was leaning on the dividing fence. ‘Not a bad buy. Prices going up round here.’ ‘Yes, not bad at all. Never had anything on it?’
‘Not in the fifty-one years I been here. Dunno about before that, though. Interested?’ ‘I don’t think so.’ I started striding towards the car. I needed to leave. ‘Could do a couple of townhouses on it.’ ‘Yes, yes, look, thanks. Have a good afternoon.’ ‘Yeah, mate and you.’ He walked back inside and closed the front
door. I got in my car. My hand was trembling as I turned the key.
I knew that when I got home there would be no box in the kitchen. What was going on? I decided I’d better take some time out. Something was seriously wrong with my mental state. It’s a frightening feeling realising that your mind has slipped from your control. That you’ve imagined a whole episode in your life and thought it was real. Driven to a place you thought existed. I tried to take slow deep breaths and focus on the here and now.
I turned on the kitchen light. The box was there. I blinked hard and rubbed my eyes. Yes, it was there. I felt as though when I reached for it, it wouldn’t be there. God, this is madness. This is what it feels like. I rubbed my hands against my shirt to get rid of the sweat. I reached for the box and felt the ridged cardboard against my fingertips. I lifted the lid. There, curled up the corner, was a tiny little creature with a beak, minute wings and a threadlike tail surrounded by broken egg shell.
LINDA BELL is a writer and teacher. She particular enjoys writing short stories and has been published in a number of literary journals and newspapers. She co-edited BodySpeak a collection of women’s writing on body image and has written a home study course on life writing. She teaches creative writing at the Petrea King Quest for Life Centre and is completing a Master of Creative Writing at University of Sydney.
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