Mio, part 2
Mio stared at the black screen of his laptop. He hit one key, then another, but nothing happened.
“Was it on?” said Jess, coming by with the coffee pot. “I’ve heard it’s worse if it’s on when you drop it.”
“It was on,” Mio said. “It was...oh god. My senior thesis was on there.”
“You had a copy somewhere, though, right? I mean, you didn’t just keep it on your laptop?”
Mio stared up at Jess as though he didn’t understand her language, but he understood all too well. He was an idiot. He was a geek, but unfortunately he was a history geek, not a geek of the computer variety. He was a computer idiot. He had just proved it.
“Look,” said Jess. She put the coffee pot down and slid into the booth opposite Mio. “Don’t panic yet. Try turning it off and on again and see what happens.”
Good. That was good advice. Mio nodded rapidly and did as she suggested. The laptop beeped a few times, then made the quiet, micro version of the sound of a lawnmower sputtering out.
“I don’t think it’s supposed to do that,” said Mio.
Jess winced in sympathy. “I guess that karma thing with buying the coffee didn’t work out for you after all,” she said.
Mio sank his chin into his hands. “I didn’t even get her name.”
Jess looked away, and Mio caught her guilty look.
“You know her name, don’t you? She comes in here a lot? A regular?”
“Mio, I’m sorry about your laptop, but...”
“I just want to know who she is.”
“You’re acting just the tiniest bit stalkerish, you know?”
“Aw, come on!” said Mio. He gestured at himself. “Does this look like a scary stalker, or does this look totally harmless?”
Jess smiled. “Looks can be deceiving.”
“I just trashed my laptop and my college career and maybe my life to buy this woman coffee, and you won’t even tell me her name?”
“Miss!” said a guy by the counter. “Can I get some service here?”
“Ah, yes sir, right away!” Jess scrambled up and grabbed the coffee pot. “Petra,” she whispered, leaning in briefly. “Her name’s Petra.”
Mio sat back. The ringing voice inside him said Petra, and he savored the sound. Wow, how like her to have such a perfect name. Petra, the rock, like the beautiful ancient city. He’d never met anyone named Petra. He wanted to know more, but suddenly the Evil Coffee Shop was bustling. Three young families with kids had just sat down, and there was a line at the counter of folks wanting coffee to go.
Mio stared at the laptop again, waiting for it to spring to life, for the screen to come on with the message, “Just joking! Everything is fine.” It didn’t.
There was a harsh scraping noise which he thought at first was from the laptop, until he felt a shadow next to him and looked up. An old man with a cane, in a trenchcoat and a plaid cap stood beside him, clearing his throat.
“Hi,” said Mio uncertainly.
“You need to talk to my friend Robbie,” said the old man. He coughed.
“I do?”
“Robbie Salazar,” the old man said slowly. “Computer genius. If anyone can fix that thing, Robbie can.”
“Thanks,” said Mio in a hopeless, toneless voice. He didn’t have the money to get the laptop fixed. He didn’t have the money to get a new laptop. He had eighty-two bucks in the bank, and thirteen in his pocket.
“For cheap,” said the old man, reading his mind. He dug a business card out of his pocket. It was stained with something purple, and it said simply, “Robbie Salazar. Behind the movie theater.”
“Thanks,” said Mio again. The old man hobbled off, clearing his throat. Mio stared at the card. There wasn’t even a phone number. It had the whiff of something illegal. On the other hand, anyone whose address was “behind the movie theater” probably didn’t expect to get paid hundreds or thousands of dollars. Might as well try.
Mio packed up his sad, broken laptop and the rest of his stuff. Jess was still bustling around trying to take care of twenty people at once. Mio glanced at his bill - he owed $3.25 for the coffee and cheese danish. He fished into his wallet and unwrinkled a few bills - then on sudden impulse left all thirteen dollars on the table for Jess. What better time to be generous than when you’re totally broke?
Mio checked his watch. He didn’t have to be back on campus for two hours. Time enough to go see what was behind the movie theater. Beautiful day, anyhow. The sky behind the mountains was clear turquoise blue, the sun was warm and the shadows were cold, just the way they should be. Two blocks up the street he stopped, mid-sidewalk. He was staring at the awning over an art gallery he’d passed a million times without ever seeing. Silver Otter Gallery, it said. Silver Otter. Like the earrings. Petra.
Mio practically threw himself on the door, turning the knob back and forth, despite the “closed” sign that hung prominently in the window. He mashed his face against the glass to look inside.
She was there. Perched on the edge of a desk, sipping her coffee, laughing, swinging her red-booted feet back and forth as she talked. Mio’s heart did a backflip in his chest. If only she were talking to him, instead of to a girl in overalls with short, spiky blond hair.
Mio watched for another few minutes. He considered banging on the door, but didn’t think that would win him any points. Anyway, he knew where to find her now. He could come back in 45 minutes when the Silver Otter Gallery opened. But it was hard to tear himself away from watching her.
The overalled girl came toward the door, and unlocked it.
“Later!” she called over her shoulder on her way out. Mio hovered, watching hungrily as Petra clicked the lock shut again after her. She caught Mio’s eye and turned away. Just turned away.
Mio sighed and headed down toward the movie theater, right behind the girl in overalls. In fact, when she turned into the alley by the theater and he followed her, she turned sharply and asked, “Are you stalking me or something?”
Mio flinched. This was twice in one day -- in one hour -- that someone had called him a stalker.
“No, I...I...” Mio fumbled in his pocket for the business card, feeling that it validated his presence. “This old guy told me to come here. I’m looking for Robbie Salazar.”
“I’m Robbie Salazar,” said the girl. There was a big purple paint smear on her overalls that matched the smudge on the card. “What’s up? Art or computer?”
“Um...”
Robbie Salazar continued down the little alley to a warehouse, a metal building tucked right behind the theater. At the door, she glanced back at him.
“Computer, is my guess. Laptop?”
“Yeah, I...”
“You dropped it?” said Robbie. “Do you have it with you? Come on into my office.”
Mio followed her into the metal building. It smelled of paint and turpentine, which was oddly fresh and inviting, considering that it was probably toxic. Paintings were everywhere, huge canvases hung all over the broad white walls and even on the ceiling. Dropcloths covered the floor, paints and brushes and supplies spilled from open drawers and cabinets. The works seemed mostly abstract, but they were interesting. That same purple color seemed to be everywhere, little touches of it in every painting.
“Laptop?” Robbie reminded him. She had sat down at a desk cluttered with papers. She swept enough of them aside to make a clear spot.
“Oh, yeah.”
Mio pulled out the laptop and they went through the whole beeping, dying lawnmower sequence again.
“Hmm,” said Robbie, examining the laptop from all angles. “Well, you didn’t crack the screen. That’s good.”
“There’s...” Mio’s voice cracked. “There’s stuff on there that I really need. I...uh...”
“Okay, don’t worry,” said Robbie cheerfully. “I can probably get that back. Can you leave it? Pick it up this afternoon?”
“This afternoon? Seriously? I thought it would take a week!”
“Nah.” Robbie grinned at him. “You’d be surprised how often this happens. I got it under control.”
“Wow, that’s awesome. Except...” Oh no. Mio suddenly regretted the $13 tip. It would be good to at least have some bills in his pocket. “I have, like, no money.”
“’Sokay,” said Robbie. “I do a lot of barter.”
“Barter?”
“In-kind payment. Goods and services. Like, Jasper, the guy who owns the movie theater, he lets me have this space rent-free, and I manage his website and walk his dog when his leg acts up, plus I gave him a painting for his lobby. What’ve you got?”
“Um...” Mio felt in his pockets, stupidly. There was nothing there but a receipt from the Evil Coffee Shop. Nothing, that’s what he had. He was a big fat zero.
“Got any skills?” Robbie persisted. “Play an instrument? Bake cookies?”
“I can play the clarinet, kind of. And I ...uh... my mom taught me to knit.” He couldn’t believe he was admitting this to a stranger. “Sometimes when I’m stressed out, I knit to keep my hands busy.”
“Bingo,” said Robbie. “Can you make me a sweater?”
Mio shrugged. “I guess. If you give me the measurements and maybe pick out a pattern.”
“Oh, man, that would rock. I would totally love a hand-knit sweater.”
It actually sounded kind of fun. He’d been doing nonstop schoolwork lately - it would be cool to have a project, something kind of creative.
“I’m not as good as my mom, though. I mean, I can knit okay, but...”
Robbie stared at him with round, serious brown eyes. “Hey,” she said. “That’s not what you say. I mean, I don’t paint like Van Gogh, but I don’t going around saying, ‘I’m not as good as Van Gogh.’ I’m not even trying to be Van Gogh. I paint like Robbie Salazar.”
“Uh huh,” Mio said. “But my mom’s not Van Gogh, either. It’s just, like, a hobby.”
Robbie closed her eyes and shook her head. “Look, you’re going to knit me a sweater - I’m thinking maybe purple? - and every time I wear it, I’m going to think, ‘Nice guy, dark eyes, kind of shy, dropped his laptop, followed me from the gallery.’ I’ll remember you. It’s a nice way to do business, remembering people. We have a deal, my friend. Just write down your name and address, okay?”
Mio wrote his name on the torn scrap of paper she pushed at him. Then he shifted his weight from one foot to another, unwilling to leave.
“You know Petra?” he finally blurted out. “At the Silver Otter?”
“Yep. Why? You in love with her?” Robbie grinned as Mio felt his face change color. “Get in line. I don’t know what it is about that girl, guys declare their eternal devotion to her all the time.”
“All the time?” Mio’s voice barely worked.
“Yeah, maybe three or four a week. Don’t know what she’s got. Some kind of pheromone, maybe.”
Mio was stunned. This happened three or four times a week? Not just him? That unique, personal passion that had swept over him was not so unique? He was just like every other man who saw her?
“She has cool boots,” he said, feeling stupid.
“Ha!” Robbie laughed a short, sharp laugh. “The red ones? Those were my boots! They pinched my feet, so I gave them to Petra. They were cool, but I gotta be able to move.” She stretched her feet out, in paint-spattered white sneakers. “Hey, Mio, it’s okay. Nothing wrong with falling for the Goddess. That’s what I call her, just to bug her about her fan club. Maybe she’ll even like you back. It could happen. You’re cool. You’ve got the clarinet thing going on, right?”
“Right,” said Mio. “I’ll, uh, be back for the laptop later.”
Mio couldn’t get out the door fast enough. Once outside, he gasped for breath and tried to collect himself.
In her cheerful, generous way, Robbie had just turned Mio’s world upside down. Petra had men falling in love with her all the time. It was ordinary. It was banal. He wasn’t even the first person to call her “the goddess.” The red boots were hand-me-downs. He was a boring guy who fell, predictably, for the same girl everyone else fell for. He was just a geek, a history geek who was going to be late for his archaeology seminar if he didn’t get going.
Outside the movie theater, the old man in the trenchcoat stood, chewing on a smelly cigar. He did that scrapy throat-clearing noise.
“Talk to Robbie? She help you out?”
“Yeah,” said Mio, coming out of his self-pitying fog. This guy must be Jasper. Mio wondered what kind of dog he had - probably one of those sad-eyes hounds. “Yeah,” he said with more certainty. “She did.”
Jasper took the cigar from his mouth and blew a smoke ring. “Girl’s a genius,” he said.
Mio felt a little more like himself, after a thought-provoking seminar, a special event with a guest lecturer, and free cookies at the reception afterward. He’d made a couple of intelligent comments. So maybe he wasn’t a total loser-geek after all, just a student whose social graces needed a little work.
But as he made his way down the hill toward town and Behind the Movie Theater, he knew he had to face up to his morning embarrassment. He stopped at the Silver Otter Gallery.
She was there. The magenta streak, the red boots, the whole Petra mystique. He studied it from a slight distance, as she talked with an older couple who looked like tourists, money dripping off them in the form of silver and turquoise jewelry.
She was attractive, there was no question. Mio’s heart gave a little skip when he looked at her - but just a little one this time, not the acrobatics it had indulged in earlier. She caught him looking at her and glanced over, and he could see the oh-so-subtle eyeroll as she turned her attention back to the tourist couple.
Mio examined the art. It was mostly not to his taste, very self-consciously Western, with cowboys and skulls and so forth. One painting toward the back of the gallery caught his eye. He moved toward it gratefully. It was abstract but had a sunny optimism to it somehow, and he knew without even looking at the signature that it must be a Robbie Salazar. Mio smiled. He could hear her encouragements now: “You’re cool,” she’d said, even citing “the clarinet thing” as evidence. “Nice guy.” Mio chuckled. When the tourists stepped aside, he forced himself to go right over to Petra.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For this morning. I’m afraid I was a little pushy.”
Petra shrugged. “Dude, you bought me coffee. It’s all good.” But he could see the way her eyes wandered away from him as she spoke. She obviously hoped he’d leave.
He did. He let the door jingle behind him as walked out of the Silver Otter, and a voice from deep within himself said distinctly, “You were right. It wasn’t She. It was just her.”
Behind the movie theater, Robbie had his laptop up and running.
“Lookee here!” she said proudly, and Mio went through his files. It was all there - senior thesis and all.
“Wow,” he said. “Wow. Jasper said you were a genius, and you totally are. I’m going to have to make one heck of a sweater for you.”
“I’m counting on it,” said Robbie, and she beamed at him. She was like a dandelion in overalls, with her spiky yellow hair and the brightness of her smile. There was a splash of yellow paint across her nose.
“Say,” Mio said, “Would you like to maybe get some breakfast at the Evil Coffee Shop sometime? Or just coffee or something? Or - damn! I forgot! I still have no money.”
Robbie waved a careless hand. “We don’t need money at the Evil Coffee Shop! They had some bigtime computer problems last summer. Those guys owe me.”
“Wow,” said Mio. He was kind of liking this barter thing Robbie did. “So...would you?”
“I would,” said Robbie. “How about Wednesday?”
“Wednesday’s good.”
On his way out the door, Mio did a quick check-in with the voice of his inner self. It was absolutely silent, and Mio felt that that was a good sign.