back at the doorstep

chapter 4

Saturdays were usually the loud days. For as long as Mira could remember, Saturdays meant spending the whole day with her papa doing everything she wanted to do. They made clay out of flour, salt, and water and reconstructed Michaelangelo's David to their liking. Spent the whole day in the second-hand stores finding little treasures that others didn't appreciate. Invited her friends over for a round of footie before watching the match on the telly, drinking beer (this only after she turned fourteen) and downing anything spicy enough to bring tears.

Sundays, they lazed about and slept until noon, but Saturdays were the loud days.

Which was why it felt so strange to have to tip-toe around. Uncle Nick had taken American Sean to the airport to pick up his family. Billy went back to bed-- a real bed this time, not the floor-- to recover from last night's excesses. CJ and Dom were in the market hunting down goodies for the next few days and Papa was at the studio preventing certain disaster. She was supposed to take Elijah around but she'd only just heard the radio in his room go on.

Since afternoons very quickly turned into the evenings on cloudy days like these, Mira decided to check on him and perhaps hurry things up a little. She pushed the door open not even thinking about what might be on the other side.

As it ended up, an underwear-clad Elijah was on the other side, his back turned to her as he rummaged through his luggage for appropriate clothing. Now this was not the first time that Mira had ever seen a man unrelated to her in his underwear. She was, after all, a Bloom. Knocking was optional, partial nudity normal, and sharing everything a way of life. Mira hadn't known about personal space until the third grade when a girl said kissing anyone but Mums and Dads was icky.

They weren't even revealing undies like boxer-briefs or thongs. Elijah was humming to a song on the radio-- a classic alternative song, Mira's mind registered-- wearing white boxers with thick green stripes. Dye from the stripes had run into the white and there was a point along the hem where a long piece of loose thread trailed down the back of his knee. Altogether, a normal, off-the-rack set of underpants.

Mira gaped for what seemed like hours, her heart dancing the polka on her ribs, before Elijah spun around holding a pair of jeans on his front.

"I didn't hear you knock," he said. His uncombed hair made him look more frantic than he probably was.

He looked so uncomfortable-- who would have thought that men his age could still blush?-- that Mira snapped out of her daze although she could only stare at a point over his left shoulder for a little while. "Don't worry about it. I never knock. Privacy isn't exactly a known word in this household."

"Ah, yeah." Elijah shook his head, still hanging onto his jeans. "I'm being a puritanical Yank, right?"

"Exactly. It's nothing I've never seen before. But if you're uncomfortable." Mira cupped her hands over her eyes. "I promise I won't look."

"Erm... whatever you're comfortable with as long as it won't get me arrested."

There were shuffling noises, denim sliding over skin. Mira counted backwards in French from thirty before uncovering her eyes once more. Elijah had his arms over his head, and was pulling on a striped shirt with those trendy collars and cuffs.

Pity he's covering up that lovely treasure trail. The thought popped up before she could censor herself. She hoped her blush would be gone by the time he turned around.

"Is this all right?" he asked, pressing down on his torso with both hands to get rid of any creases.

"Erm... it's fine," Mira said. In a voice that was a little less choked, she added, "It looks like rain, though. You might want to bring a light jacket."

"Rain. London. Got it." He snagged the polyester one he'd worn the night before. "Is OB in a hurry or can I grab something to eat before we go?"

She shook her head. "Papa had to go see to something in the studio so I'm afraid you're stuck with me driving." She flashed him her teeth. "Haven't killed anyone in the past few weeks. You should be safe. Can't speak for the pedestrians."

He answered her grin with one of his own. "Christ, you're driving. I think I feel my hip dislocating already." He clutched his side dramatically.

"Well then, old timer, you'd best get to gumming your porridge before it gets too cold."

"Sure thing. Let me just charge up the batteries on my wheelchair and I'll be right there."

Chuckling softly, Mira led the way to the kitchen, letting her hands trail on the wall, tracing the dips and swells of the decorative moulding. "We've got some left-over eggy bread or normal toast. I could cook you up an omelet, too, if you want."

"You eat meat?"

"Sometimes. Eggs and dairy products, too, as long as they come in desserts." They turned into the brightly lit kitchen. Snagging the kettle, Mira headed for the sink to fill it up. "Sometimes I eat the dairy stuff just to make Papa sick. Cuppa?"

"Coffee, if you can," he said, opening one of the cupboards for a mug.

Mira shook her head but put the kettle away. "Barbarian."

"Snob. Can I do anything?"

"Let me know what you want to eat." She spread her arms out. "Chez Bloom is open for business. We special in toast, porridge, scrambled eggs..." She paused, ran to the pantry, then called out, "Muesli, apples, half a banana, I hope that's a kiwi fruit..."

Elijah lifted an eyebrow. "Anything else on the menu?"

"Nope," Mira replied, completely unapologetic. "That's why CJ and Dom went to the market."

"I'll take some muesli then." He peered into the fridge. There was a lone bottle of milk. Elijah took a cursory sniff before taking it to the breakfast table; apparently, he'd found nothing too terrible assaulting his nose. Mira was already there with a bowl of the grain and fruit mix for him and a glass of juice for herself. There was something stiff about his gait... no, not really his gait just one leg and then not even that much. The only reason Mira noticed it was because she was rather obsessed with details.

"So, what would you like to do today?" she asked as soon as Elijah got his first mouthful in. "You've been away a long time. Plenty's changed."

Elijah munched for a few seconds. "Just give me the ten cent tour." He paused. Mira didn't think it was because of the food; he looked like he was working out what to say. "Or ten pence rather. All that I really want to see in London is the Fellowship anyway. I was... I've been..." He stopped again, reaching for his coffee mug. It was empty; the brew was still perking. A sigh escaped his lips. "It's your call," he said finally. "Wherever it is, I'm sure it'll be cool."

Mira wanted to say something but she didn't know what. She wasn't sure of the situation other than she hadn't seen him since she was in grammar school. In any case, the coffee machine bleeped and she stood up to fill his cup.

Twenty minutes later, Elijah slid into the passenger seat of the car, grinning as he recognized the first-car smell of the interior. "Man, I'm never going to get used to this."

"To what?" asked Mira as she buckled up.

"To driving on the other side of the road." He, too, strapped his seat belt on, fumbling a bit with the three-point harness that had become standard in most countries except the States. "To the wheel being on the right-hand side. To teenagers driving me around. Did you know that my nephew almost got me killed?"

Mira laughed. It was a great laugh, loud and unrestrained, a sound of real pleasure instead of those simpering giggles or throat-hacking chuckles that were supposed to be sultry. Wanting to hear it again, he continued his story.

"We were trying to find a friend's place at night. He's really jittery about going to new places, tends to be really jumpy; I have no idea how he managed to get a licence." Elijah rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I told him at one point to 'turn here,' meaning the next intersection. But he jerks the wheel to the left as soon as I finished talking, jumps over the median, and keeps going into oncoming traffic."

"Good Lord!"

"That's not all. His brother was following in the car behind us and when we jumped the island, he did, too. So anyway, Nate-- the nephew that was driving me-- floors the gas pedal, swings the car around and jumps back over the island with his brother right behind him."

"You're joking!"

"I only wish. I was hyperventilating and shouting and thinking that it was a shame I'd just gotten out of physical therapy because it looked like I was going right back at it."

"Oh, stop, please stop!" Tears slipped out the corners of Mira's eyes. "I won't be able to stop thinking about it an we'll truly be in trouble then."

"You're laughing at my troubles?" Elijah placed a limp hand over his heart. "And here I thought that nothing Orlando did rubbed off on you."

"It's just that I can see you." Mira took several deep, calming breaths before continuing. "I can see you with these big bulgy eyes, gripping the arm rests, yelling your bloody head off and both feet slamming on an imaginary brake pedal a-a-as if it w-w-would really he-he-help!" That set her off again. She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel and howled.

Elijah watched her become caught up in the grip of hilarity and grinned. The grin turned into chuckles, gradually getting louder and stronger until he, too, was bent over double laughing.

London weather proved true once again, the heavy grey cloud cover that had been threatening rain for the past few pays finally breaking open to release water by the bucketful. The drops splashed against the windshield of Mira's VW Golf, large as ping-pong balls.

"So much for strolling downtown," muttered Mira. "I'll have to give you the drive-by edition."

Peering through the glass at the water-slicked buildings, Elijah claimed, "I think I can handle a bit of wetness. Look at all those other people."

"Those are Londoners born and bred," Mira pointed out. She steered around several jay-walking specimens.

"Are you saying I'm not tough enough for London weather?"

She shrugged. "Well, you are American and from California at that."

"Hmph." Rolling back the loose sleeves of his shirt, Elijah declared, "That sounded distinctly like a dare. If there's once thing that I haven't been able to decline, it's a dare."

The corners of Mira's lips twitched but she schooled it back into a sombre expression. "I was in no way maligning your manhood. I only meant to say that you aren't tough enough for London weather."

That was how Mira and Elijah found themselves half-running down the streets with nothing to protect them from the elements save light, waterproof jackets. Elijah had a hat but, seeing Mira bareheaded, he stuffed it into a pocket.

He wished cameras could capture smells as well as sights and sounds. London reminded him of an older, more distinguished New York City. Mingled accents yelled between buildings, sang off-key, whispered pardons as they whipped through the crowd. Subdued colour marked the buildings like a veil over an eager bride. The scent of food wafted through it all, finding empty stomachs unerringly and teasing them into the small restaurants dotting each block between pubs and offices and clothing stores.

Elijah took it all in with his camera, sweeping up to the highest cornices then down to the awning-laden avenues. His camera loved Mira the most. Like Orli's, her face was constantly animated, a dimple in her left cheek playing peek-a-boo with the world, her eyes speaking a language of their own as each story changed. When she talked, her hands joined the dance, fluttering every which way. This was her favourite bookshop and that was where her friends loved to eat; there was the spot where a group of fanatic tourists managed to rip off her dad's shirt and to the left was the office building she ached to buy for the decorative detailing alone; around the corner was where she and her best mates kicked a football around for a half-hour straight without a break in the volley.

"We almost caused a moped to turn over because David accidentally-- what are you looking at?" Mira tipped her head to one side.

"Huh?" Elijah snapped the camera out of her face.

"You were laughing at me," she accused, not without some humour.

"I was remembering when I was eighteen," he said, thumbing the power button off. "And all the days before the whole Lord of the Rings thing happened."

"There was life before Tolkien? Tell all!"

"Ah, shut up." He flicked the camera on again, this time deliberately focusing on her face. "So, Mira Bloom, tour guide to the stars, are you sure your dad's not going to kill me for getting your completely drenched and exposing you to a helluva case of pneumonia?"

"I never get sick" Mira threw her head snobbishly to one side. "Healthy as a horse and about as heavy."

"You're fishing for compliments." Elijah wagged a warning finger at her. "You look great and you know it. Move for me, baby! Feel the camera! Make looooove to ze camera!" He let out a pleased sound as she hammed it up with him. Some people even stopped to watch for a second before it occurred to them that no sane photographer would be doing a shoot in the rain without an entourage. A few braver souls stood around when they realised who it was playing photographer and model but British politeness and reserve remained true and no one bothered them.

By the time they slipped into a Vietnamese restaurant whose soup Mira pronounced incomparable, they were soaked to the skin and likely resembled a pair of rats who'd managed to survive the sinking of the Titanic by sheer luck alone. Added to the effect was the fact that they were now laughing so hard they needed to prop each other up as they walked in. It was understandable that they proprietor of the restaurant placed them in the far corner of the room.

"I've never been able to get the hang of chopsticks," Mira confessed after ordering a fork along with her house special soup.

"It's easy. Here, look." Elijah held out his right hand in pincer position. "Put one of there here to rest in this little valley--" He pointed to the place between his thumb and fore-finger. "-- and let it rest on your ring finger. All right?"

Mira nodded, copying his form.

"Now, hold the other one with your thumb and your point and middle fingers like this." He wiggled said fingers before demonstrating. "This is the only chopstick that should move, like one of those levers."

She wiggled her fingers. The chopsticks immediately knotted around each other. With a sigh, Mira picked them up and tried again. This time, she managed to click them together twice before they slipped.

Elijah bit back a snicker. "You're... you're getting it."

Smiling wryly as she picked up the uncooperative utensil, Mira asked, "You think I'll get it by the time the food comes?"

"No harm in trying."

They practised with a plate full of raw bean sprouts, mint leaves, and chili sauce that came as a bit of a teaser. Mira had some success with grasping a bunch of sprouts but the mint leaves were beyond her. The soup come soon afterwards, smelling like Heaven. Elijah dug in with gusto, slurping up noodles and thin strips of beef, chopsticks in one hand, spoon in the other so as to not miss a bit of the fragrant broth. Mira tried to use her new-found skill but gave up in a few seconds.

"I'll starve before I can get enough," she said, using her fork to capture noodles and bite-sized Chinese cabbage.

"You just need a bit of patience." Elijah lapped up more of that soup. He could die happy now with this flavour in his mouth.

"You can be patient with this scrumptious feast before you?" Mira tucked in a generous mouthful. "You're a bloody masochist." Pursing her lips, she sucked in a few rogue noodles that didn't seem to have an end. Broth flicked against her face.

He laughed. "You've got something on your cheek." Elijah reached out across the short distance to wipe it away. He had a brief impression of soft skin with a bit of chill still left form the rain, had time to count five freckles under his fingertips and wonder at the feel of a face without make-up before she lifted her hand up as well.

Elijah pulled away. "It's gone now."

"Oh, thanks." Mira lowered her gaze to her soup for a moment, letting out a funny little exhalation. "I'm a horribly messy eater. I fancy I look a bit like the Cookie Monster sometimes."

Children's TV shows. Safe topic. "I've always liked the Count the most but they don't show him much any more." He looked at a point over Mira's left shoulder as he spoke. He must need a vacation more desperately than he first thought.