Wingman

         

         Ananth Rao

Wingman

         Heart pounding wildly, Ted ground his foot into the brake pedal, and his tired Dodge Neon came to a wheezing halt. So much for a quiet commute home after work. Nose to nose with the Neon's rickety old fender, staring him down confidently, was a brown goose. Ted stared back at it, content to wait for a moment, but that wait was not to be, for within a moment came a synchronized caterwaul of rings, beeps, and even the rare ahooga as sixteen SUVS in fifteen different shades of blue came careening to a halt behind him.

         Ted wasn't sure if it was appropriate for him to run a goose down, so he wound down his window and waved the other vehicles on ahead, but that only seemed to make the honking louder. The goose honked back. Ted put on his hazards, and the heavyset woman with tobacco stained teeth in the car behind him stuck her head through her window and chewed out, "Move it, asshole!" The blaring of horns from the line of cars intensified. Ted couldn't understand. He was doing the right thing. Of course, he kept waving them on, but the shouts of "Retard" and "Florida driver" kept flowing in. Ted started hyperventilating. And then he realized he was on a one-way single lane street during rush hour on a Monday, and he understood immediately. People just hated Mondays.

         So that was when Ted adopted Lt. Bradshaw. In a messy and painful ordeal involving screeching, biting, and a whole lot of feathers, Ted grabbed the goose and plopped him into his car. He didn't even know geese had teeth. He sat squirming all the way home as Lieutenant Bradshaw squawked about in the passenger seats chewing his name into the leather upholstery and otherwise marking his property. After weaving his way through an unusual spike in multiple car pileups on the freeway and running an unavoidable thirteen red lights along Pike Avenue, Ted finally pulled into the parking lot of the townhouse complex across from Helios Theater and sighed. At least the car smelled a little more like goose today and not as much like sweaty foot rash.

         He turned off the engine, and Lt. Bradshaw flapped frantically and strewed feathers in every direction. Ted swung his door open and slid out gingerly to avoid scaring his goose, who followed him calmly out as if no maniacal stuntman driving had ever happened. Ted brushed himself off as best he could, and a confetti of down and brown feathers fell to the blacktop. He was busy trying to pat his hair back into order and wipe down the cuts on his arms and fingers when a familiar sultry voice made him freeze. With a sharp gasp, Ted spun around quickly and hunched his shoulders. He clamped his eyes shut and clenched his hands into tight fists, and he turned his legs so the wider side of his slacks could cover the goose. Please, not now. Not when he was like this.

         "Hi Ted," the voice said again. Ted sucked in a noisy breath. There was no avoiding it. He turned back, blushing, and forced what he thought was a friendly smile.

         "Rita, hi, you're here already. Sorry, I didn't see you," he said breathlessly. Rita. Just saying that name sent a wave of shivers up his spine. There she was in that faux leather jacket, leaning against the car opposite his. He could see the concern sprouting on her pretty face as her eyes followed his bites one by one. Then she caught sight of the feathers sprinkled on the floor, and her mouth twitched. "What happened?" she said. "Did you get caught in the filming of Birds 2 or something?"

         Ted suppressed a smirk in spite of himself, in spite of his situation. There was actually a Birds 2 already, it came out in the 90's. Rita didn't know. Nobody knew. "Listen," he started. "I'm very sorry for the inconvenience. I need to take care of something, but I'll be down right away."

         Rita's dark eyes tightened. She pushed herself off the car and stood frowning with her hands clutching at her shoulder bag. "What the hell, man? They're just scratches, I could help you. Why do you gotta be so distant all the time?"

         Ted began blushing even more and started patting down his hair again. He couldn't breathe, and Lt. Bradshaw's nips at his legs weren't helping. "I apologize," he said. "I don't mean to be." He gave her a smile he hoped was endearing. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." Ted started sliding his feet uncomfortably backward, pushing his goose back away towards the door of his car. Please don't do anything stupid, he told it mentally. Lt. Bradshaw honked.

         Rita, who had turned away with a "Humph", spun around with an arched eyebrow. "What was that?"

         Ted winced. There was no hiding it now. He looked at her with a quivering smile, and spreading his legs, he said, "Oh, I decided to get a goose."

         Rita looked at Lt. Bradshaw for a moment and burst out laughing. "Oh, that's so cute! And it's got like half of your pants in its mouth!"

         Ted twisted around, and sure enough, his goose was busy wrestling with a large piece of beige cloth. "Ohh," he groaned, feeling around for the bare spot on his legs.

         Rita smiled at the goose again. Then she looked up at Ted, who had his hands at the back of his slacks and his knees bent uncomfortably, and shook her head slightly. She expelled a hissing breath. "Come on, I'll help you make a home for him," she said. She smiled at Ted and took his arm. Ted smiled. She was touching him. The day was shaping up at last.

         "So, what are you gonna call it?" Rita asked, looking up at him. He stared right into her large brown eyes. "Huh?"

         She laughed. "Remember? 'I decided to get a goose?'" She made air quotes.

         "Oh," he said. "Lieutenant Bradshaw. Like from Top Gun." Ted started dropping small pieces of the ham and cheese he had stolen from his lunch meeting and led Lt. Bradshaw to Building 3's main doors.

         Rita clearly hadn't gotten the Top Gun reference. Funny, they had watched it together in college. "That just sounds so stupid," she said. "Why don't you call it Chuckles or Sunny? Sunny the goose, that sounds pretty good. Maybe Jake? You know, when I was a kid, I had a kitten named Jake."

         Ted opened the door with his key and made his way over to 1B with a trail of bread following behind. "Ok," he said.

         Lt. Bradshaw came waddling over to 1B and stuck his head inside. Rita giggled. "Look, he looks confused. That's adorable!"

         Closing his door, Ted asked Rita to take off her shoes and began to take off his own, but stopped. He looked at her, then back at his feet, then put his shoes back on. "Never mind," he muttered. Looking around, Ted decided he had nothing to put the goose away in and told Rita so.

         Rita walked around the living room and thought for a moment. She wasn't wearing her shoes. Ted sank into his couch and watched the gentle sway of her hips, but suddenly broke away when he realized Lt. Bradshaw had been sitting on the carpet for a suspiciously long time.

         "Oh shit! Oh excuse me. No, pick him up, pick him up!" he shouted, running for a copy of the last week's Sunday Times. Rita, a bit flustered, reached for the goose with her bare hands, and got sharply nipped as a result. "Fuck," she yelled. Lt. Bradshaw honked back. Ted kept one page of the Times in his hand and used it to push the goose onto another page, but not before Lt. Bradshaw slapped him in the face with a powerful wing and dropped a greenish brown pellet onto the white living room carpet.

         "Oh, great, my landlord is going to kill me," said Ted. He noticed Rita's lips quivering and felt a sudden urge to hug her. But then, he thought it might be too forward of him, so he went halfway and patted her on the shoulders instead. "There, there," he said. There, there? Really? Nobody says 'there, there.' What was he thinking?

         Rita shook herself and got up. "I'll tell you what I'll do," she said. "I'll go over to the Home Overhaul, and I'll buy one of those wire cages people have for their chickens and stuff."

         Ted looked at her. "What people have those?" he asked.

         "You know, like they keep on a farm or something. Like in the movies. And I mean, on the way I could pick up some disinfectant and stuff for all the bites and bruises we're about to go through." She looked at him again and chuckled. "So I guess we're not going to watch Time Warp today, huh?"

         "Yeah." Ted thought for a second. "Too bad we don't have a Time Warp of our own, or we could go back and watch it, am I right?" He grinned at her, and she smiled politely. His grin dropped.

         After a moment of quiet, she nodded. "Ok, I'll be back," she said, leaving the apartment.

 

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         Ted sat on his couch again and looked at his goose. Lt. Bradshaw stepped off the newspaper onto the carpet and looked up at Ted. Then, he honked. Wonderful.

 

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         Rita came back to the townhouse forty five minutes later with a metal cage and a plastic bag full of Benzate, and when she knocked at Ted's door, she was with Carl from 2C. Carl was smiling at her way too much, and Ted wanted to punch Carl from 2C right in the nose. "Hi Carl," Ted said, pointedly. "Can I help you?"

         Rita looked at him quizzically. "He was just helping me with the cage," she said. Carl smiled at her again. "Yeah, with the cages," he said.

         Ted glared as discreetly as he could. That slackjawed idiot. "Thank you, Carl, but I can take it from here," he said. Carl from 2C looked at him for a moment, shrugged, and took the hint, thank goodness.

         Ted pulled the cage quickly into his home and went to put more newspaper underneath it. Rita came in, took off her jacket - not her shoes this time - and turned to the TV. "Oh, who's playing?"

         Ted didn't look up from the newspaper he was arranging. "Streakers home, playing the Flakers," he replied. "Oh, by the way," he said, moving over to Lt. Bradshaw. "Look what I can do." He held his goose by its neck and picked it up while it flapped its wings wildly. Then, he carefully put the goose into the wire cage. Grinning at Rita, Ted showed her his hands with a theatrical flourish. "Courtesy of the internet."

         Rita clapped three or four times and dropped into the couch with a yawn. She let out a long sigh. "God, today was tiring, man. I just want to relax and have a good time."

         "Yes, I know." Ted walked over and sat down carefully at the opposite end of the couch, and Rita looked at him with raised eyebrows and a smirk. She knew! With a smile, she patted the spot next to her.

         Ted slid over to her slowly and sat stiffly beside her with his hands at his sides. She knew. She must be toying with him. He kept his eyes glued on the television screen and tried not to think about just how close her slim waist was to his arm right then. But it was really hard to ignore, almost as hard to ignore as the idea that if he leaned just a little to the left, he would drown in the gentle scent of lilac she had in her delicate dark curls. With a sharp intake of breath, he realized that if he could smell her hair, that meant she could smell his feet. Ah, why did it matter anymore! She knew, she knew everything.

         "You ever notice how weird the Streakers' name is?" Rita asked, still watching. "It's almost like they're asking us to make them the skins in a shirt-n-skins game." She chuckled suddenly, eyes glued to the screen. "Man, I'd love to see that. Dwight Knight could roll those shoulders for me any time."

         "Mhmm," Ted responded. At least, he tried to respond that way, but it all came out as a strangled burp. At least, Ted hoped it was a strangled burp, because the way Lt. Bradshaw honked back, it could've been a mating call. Ted sank down in the couch as much as he could. Too bad it wasn't quicksand or something so he could just disappear forever.

         "Come on, dude, relax!" Rita frowned and slapped his arm. "Geez, you're always like this. Have a beer or something, God."

         Ted bolted up off the couch and shot into the small kitchen area in the next room. From the other room, he heard a groan. "You know what, I think I'd rather just go home," Rita called to him.

         Ted ran back into the living room as Rita started getting her jacket off the coat rack. "No, don't. The night is still young!" he said. His voice rose an octave on the last word, and that resounding high note stood still on the air like a plaintive song.

         Rita looked at him, with his shoulders pulled to the ground and his knees bent, and rolled her eyes. "Is the fridge still open?" she asked. Ted nodded vigorously. Lt. Bradshaw provided the sound effects as he fluttered frantically inside his restrictive cage.

         Rita sighed. "Fine," she said. She threw herself onto the couch with her arms crossed. "But you're gonna have to make my beer a dry martini."

         Ted nodded again and ran off into the other room. Rita sighed again and shook her head. He only really got fun and animated when they were watching their shows together. It'd been that way all the way since that first day of freshman year at Madison. That's why he was a TV friend. Sweet, but she really gave him too many chances. Then again, he did have a beautiful 51-inch plasma screen. That wasn't selfish of her, was it? Rita felt her eyes start to droop, so she took the remote from the coffee table in front of her and started watching Risk Takers. She usually wasn't a fan of game shows, but at least this way she felt like she was interacting with something. She called after Ted absently. "With an olive, not the twist."

         Ted, meanwhile, was having a confrontation in the bathroom mirror. He pushed his shoulders back and stared himself down. "Come on, man, relax," he instructed, pointing at himself and speaking in as close to Rita's voice as he could manage, which wasn't difficult given her low contralto. He examined his face and tried as best he could to eliminate the stress lines that creased it like a facial road map. Soon, his chest was feeling tight and he had started breathing like an express train. Ted shook his head. Ok, calm down. Power poses. He put his hands on his waist. The Superman, looking straight through the mirror at timid Ted. Then he put his hands over his head. The Wonder Woman. He twirled around once for effect. Looking through the mirror right at the reflection of his green eyes, he spoke again like Rita.

         "So Ted, how was work today?"

         Back to Ted. "Oh, it was fine." No, he needed more than that. "It was great!" Why was it great? He thought for a moment. "Because I found a goose!" No, that was after work. Hmm.

         "Oh, you know, same old, same old. I'm overworked and underfed. I definitely deserve a raise but the Man's got his thumb pushing me down. It's not like you can just find good engineers anywhere, you know." Well, that sounded sort of normal, but maybe a bit whiny? Rita didn't like whiners. She was an accountant, smart and hardworking. He had to sound strong. "Gah!"

         Ted punched his mirror in frustration, the beginnings of a hot tear forming in his eye. How could someone be confident and relaxed at the same time? Weren't they basically polar opposites? He stopped and looked back at himself in the mirror. There was now a jagged crack running down the vertical length of the mirror, in such a way that it was almost as if his reflection itself was being mirrored across the crack. Half of his hair was the normal black, but the other half looked somehow blue. Maybe it was the light. Ted took a deep breath and tried again.

         "Work? Well, it was absolutely splendid. I optimized the reactions in the combustion engine. Added my own little twist to the grooves on the body of our new model, and they worked perfectly in the wind tunnel. It was awesome." There, make the desk job sound exciting, adventurous, he thought. Throw the wind tunnel in there.

         From the other room came a sound of a scuffle, and Rita hollered again from the other room. "Ted, Jake's acting up, d'you think he wants food or something? And still waiting on that martini."

         The martini! Ted leapt out of the bathroom and moved to the kitchen fridge. The room was definitely chillier for the fridge having been open, and dang it, the booze was warmer. He pulled out a bottle of Gordon's Langdon and poured two glasses. Juggling the gin in one hand and olives in the other, he whisked up a pair of dry tinis and then ran to the living room as quickly as the full glasses would allow.

         Rita had her elbows on the coffee table with her chin cupped in her left hand, her long fingers absently squirreling around a blue stud in her left ear. She was methodically switching channels with the other hand, but her eyes were obviously glazed. Collecting his breath, Ted walked toward her slowly. He was relaxed, he was relaxed. He gulped, downed his martini for liquid confidence, and gasped as the numbing sting burned down his throat. Then, he cleared his throat.

         "Martini?"

         She looked up, suddenly focused, and extended a hand. "Thanks. Did you get the breadcrumbs?"

         Ted scrunched his nose. "Martinis and breadcrumbs? Ok." He started back to the kitchen.

         Rita let out a hoarse little laugh, and her voice cracked. "No, I meant for the bird."

         "Oh." Ted came back in with a nachos bowl full of breadcrumbs and set it on the table. Rita rolled her eyes. "I said for the bird!"

         Ted nodded. "No, I know." He scooped up a handful of the breadcrumbs and walked over to Lt. Bradshaw's cage. Kneeling, he opened the cage and the bird zipped out, honking repeatedly. Rita pulled herself off the couch and stood watching. With his fingers extended, Ted gently moved his hand over towards his goose's bill, and Lt. Bradshaw nibbled out of it hesitantly. Ted laughed. "It tickles."

         The ends of Rita's lips twitched upwards. "Let me try." She plucked a bunch of breadcrumbs from the bowl and reached for Lt. Bradshaw. Ted pulled his hand back, and Rita slowly moved hers toward the goose. Rita giggled. "It does tickle." Ted giggled, too, and he looked at her, his eyes shining. Rita smiled at him, her head scant inches away from his. That meant she could smell his feet. But it was all right. He could smell hers.

         Ted and Rita locked eyes for a while. Ted smiled back. "So," he began loudly. "How was work today?"