Read Online The General and the Elephant Clock of Al-Jazari by Sarah Black - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sarah Black
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smile. I tried to look desperate or lost.”
“And you weren’t making eye contact when you played?” John looked at Kim. “Maybe you better study how homeless people behave on the street. Or better yet, why don’t you just take some pictures for your MFA show and leave Abdullah and Billy alone? Aren’t you already addressing social issues with your kid pictures?”
Kim sat down, pulled the lemon curd over and scooped a spoonful onto an English muffin. “Let me review the film. I wanted to have a loop film playing during the exhibit.”
“Abdullah, you want some eggs?”
He shook his head, reached out and took the second English muffin off Kim’s plate. “I’m just gonna eat this lemon curd with a spoon. Is this homemade? Man, it is awesome!”
“Billy made it.” Miss America’s cheeks turned a pretty rose pink. “He’s the best cook in the house.” Billy had a cup of rose-hip-and-hibiscus tea with honey in front of him. “Billy, what was your experience with Kim’s art project?”
“It was interesting,” Billy admitted. John ignored the hand signals Kim was giving Billy across the table. “I got more offers than actual change. I mean, I guess I looked like I was trolling for johns. Did you know you can get fifty bucks for a blow job? I always thought it was twenty.” He shrugged. “It’s the economy, I guess. But I was surprised.”
John forced himself to put the frying pan down on the stove. He had been very tempted, just for a moment, to hit Kim across the back of the head with it.
Gabriel came into the kitchen, stopped, and took the temperature of the room. He bent over and kissed Kim on the top of the head, as he seemed to be the most likely culprit. “You fixing eggs, boss? I could eat a couple.”
“I never left him alone, Uncle John. And as soon as I saw what was happening, we stopped. Okay? I’m not an idiot.”
“It was kind of interesting,” Billy said again. “The way some people worked so hard not to see me. The other thing I thought was interesting was the way people would bring me food. It wasn’t food I would have picked, but they wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to use their dollars for beer or something, so they would give me a carton of orange juice or a ready-made sandwich, like tuna fish. And how many people just don’t like tuna fish? But it was like, if I was hungry enough, I should be grateful they were giving me food. What would it be like to be really, really hungry, and you hate tuna fish, and somebody hands you a tuna fish sandwich?”
“People were always bringing me coffee,” Abdullah said. “Nobody asked me if I wanted it black or with cream and sugar. They just fixed an extra one like their own and brought it to me. I thought it was a nice gesture, sort of, though sometimes I got this weird look, like people wanted me to congratulate them for being so clever. I actually thought it was more about control than anything. They wanted to make sure I knew they were in control of our interaction. It was a linear interaction, one way, from them to me. They got to choose how it would go. But the real problem was I had to leave my spot to go to the bathroom and I had to take the cello with, and it’s really pretty awkward to lug around. You had to stand in line at the Safeway customer courtesy counter to get the code for the bathroom. So three cups of coffee and a long line to get lottery tickets, and I’m carrying the cello… man. I was about ready to kiss it off and go home and take a nap with the AC turned up high.”
“Why didn’t you?” John could tell the worry had turned his voice a bit acidic. “That would have been the prudent thing to do.”
“Because it was for Kim,” Abdullah said. “And I’m in love with Kim.”
“W HERE are you going?”
Gabriel turned down Carlisle, away from the airport. “The Whataburger drive-through. They’re not going to feed us on the plane, and I’m hungry. I know you are too.”
“I
“And you weren’t making eye contact when you played?” John looked at Kim. “Maybe you better study how homeless people behave on the street. Or better yet, why don’t you just take some pictures for your MFA show and leave Abdullah and Billy alone? Aren’t you already addressing social issues with your kid pictures?”
Kim sat down, pulled the lemon curd over and scooped a spoonful onto an English muffin. “Let me review the film. I wanted to have a loop film playing during the exhibit.”
“Abdullah, you want some eggs?”
He shook his head, reached out and took the second English muffin off Kim’s plate. “I’m just gonna eat this lemon curd with a spoon. Is this homemade? Man, it is awesome!”
“Billy made it.” Miss America’s cheeks turned a pretty rose pink. “He’s the best cook in the house.” Billy had a cup of rose-hip-and-hibiscus tea with honey in front of him. “Billy, what was your experience with Kim’s art project?”
“It was interesting,” Billy admitted. John ignored the hand signals Kim was giving Billy across the table. “I got more offers than actual change. I mean, I guess I looked like I was trolling for johns. Did you know you can get fifty bucks for a blow job? I always thought it was twenty.” He shrugged. “It’s the economy, I guess. But I was surprised.”
John forced himself to put the frying pan down on the stove. He had been very tempted, just for a moment, to hit Kim across the back of the head with it.
Gabriel came into the kitchen, stopped, and took the temperature of the room. He bent over and kissed Kim on the top of the head, as he seemed to be the most likely culprit. “You fixing eggs, boss? I could eat a couple.”
“I never left him alone, Uncle John. And as soon as I saw what was happening, we stopped. Okay? I’m not an idiot.”
“It was kind of interesting,” Billy said again. “The way some people worked so hard not to see me. The other thing I thought was interesting was the way people would bring me food. It wasn’t food I would have picked, but they wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to use their dollars for beer or something, so they would give me a carton of orange juice or a ready-made sandwich, like tuna fish. And how many people just don’t like tuna fish? But it was like, if I was hungry enough, I should be grateful they were giving me food. What would it be like to be really, really hungry, and you hate tuna fish, and somebody hands you a tuna fish sandwich?”
“People were always bringing me coffee,” Abdullah said. “Nobody asked me if I wanted it black or with cream and sugar. They just fixed an extra one like their own and brought it to me. I thought it was a nice gesture, sort of, though sometimes I got this weird look, like people wanted me to congratulate them for being so clever. I actually thought it was more about control than anything. They wanted to make sure I knew they were in control of our interaction. It was a linear interaction, one way, from them to me. They got to choose how it would go. But the real problem was I had to leave my spot to go to the bathroom and I had to take the cello with, and it’s really pretty awkward to lug around. You had to stand in line at the Safeway customer courtesy counter to get the code for the bathroom. So three cups of coffee and a long line to get lottery tickets, and I’m carrying the cello… man. I was about ready to kiss it off and go home and take a nap with the AC turned up high.”
“Why didn’t you?” John could tell the worry had turned his voice a bit acidic. “That would have been the prudent thing to do.”
“Because it was for Kim,” Abdullah said. “And I’m in love with Kim.”
“W HERE are you going?”
Gabriel turned down Carlisle, away from the airport. “The Whataburger drive-through. They’re not going to feed us on the plane, and I’m hungry. I know you are too.”
“I
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