Moving Experience

By Marty P.

Johnny Gage, on mop duty at Los Angeles County Station 51, stood upright and flexed his muscle, wincing.  He scanned the room to verify he was alone before expressing his pain.  He thought of Bobby, a special lady in his life.

~*~*~*~

Six months earlier, she moved into his apartment complex.  Since the firefighter/paramedic was pulling overtime he didn’t meet his new neighbor for several days.  Having received a request to cover for someone going out sick, he rushed down the steps and almost bowled over the petite woman.  She struggled to juggle two bags of groceries and he grabbed her elbow to steady her, and then relieved her of one of them. 

He laid eyes on her colorful kerchief first as she fumbled for her key.  “Here, lemme free your hands.”

“Thank you,” Her dark brown eyes bore into his, warming his heart.  “Can I offer you something to drink?” 

Johnny, tempted to accept, recognized his original mission.  “Maybe another time.”

The following morning he rounded the corner and glided by her place.  Her door was open a crack.  Disquieted, he tapped and called out, “Hello?”

“Oh, I have a visitor!”  She welcomed him, “I am Irina.  Irina Glinka.”

“My name’s Johnny Gage.  I live upstairs.”  He remained on the stoop, “Your door was open, everything all right?”

“Oh, my yes, it wasn’t shut?”  She peeped outside, “I guess the gnomes have been causing mischief.” 

Johnny couldn’t contain a yawn, “I’ll be going then.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Johnny!”  The door clicked as he vanished from sight.

~*~*~*~

The following morning Johnny was washing his dishes when his buzzer went off.  Swiping his hands on his jeans, he went to answer it.  Standing before him was Irina, bearing a plate with fingerlike pastries on it.  “For you,” she said with pleasure. 

He put the honey-coated, fried food in his mouth.  “Good, what is it?”

“Russian donuts, chuk chuks.”  She beamed as he consumed two more.  “Like American donuts, eh?”

“Only better,” Johnny licked a sticky dab of coating from the corner of his mouth.

Irina left the platter, “I’ll be by to fetch this.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Oh, no, you are my droog.”  His mystification caused her to translate, “friend.”

“Thank you, droog.”  Johnny responded, taking another sweet roll.

She corrected him, “No, I am your podruga, but you can call me Bobby.”

“Bobby?”  Johnny’s bewilderment deepened. 

She pinched his cheek with her slender fingers, “I am Babushka, a Russian grandma, but my daughter’s little one couldn’t say that so I became Bobby.  Special people call me that.”

“I would be honored to call you Bobby.” 

“And, I call you Ivan, that means John in my language, okay?”

“Ivan, it is.”  Johnny pointed to himself. 

Skimming his messy bachelor digs, she declared, “You need a woman!”  With that she exited with a flourish.

~*~*~*~

Bobby sensed when Johnny was home and often brought him treats.  It wasn’t long before he felt she was his grandmother, a void in his own life.

One morning he gathered his laundry basket and detergent.  As he got to her level she appeared.  “Ivan?  May I ask a favor?”

“Always,” Johnny said with certainty. 

Bobby escorted him into her front room.  Leaning against the wall was a mirror like no other he had ever seen.  The glass itself was thirty inches tall and eighteen inches wide.  However, it wasn’t rectangular but almost oblong and had a burnished wooden frame which was misshapen and asymmetrical. 

“Could you put it up here in my hallway?”  Bobby traced a spot on the wall.  “I wasn’t sure where I wanted it at first.”

“I’ll get my tools.”  Johnny made quick work of hammering a nail.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Bobby caressed the scrollwork.  “My Sergei got it for me many years ago from a neighbor who bought it at a fine furniture store.” 

“It’s very…” Johnny sought for a word, “nice.”

“Do you know what he said about it?”  Irina’s face grew dreamy, “He said, ‘Irina, this looking glass reflects your soul.’”  She became aware of Johnny and saw his lack of comprehension.  “It shows your heart, who you really are.”   She rotated his shoulders and he peered directly into the polished metal.  “Do you see?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied with honesty.

Bobby stared at both figures in the glass, “It shows me a rare man, one who is generous and thoughtful, but who seldom lets others see what he really cares about.  He tries to fit in but is more comfortable being his own man.”

“The mirror showed you that?”  Johnny only noted that his buttons were mismatched.

Bobby nudged him closer, “Look harder.”

Her adopted grandson squinted, and then widened his eyes.  “It’s not happening...”

“Yet,” she finished for him.  “It will,” She espied his laundry soap, “Oh, you were on an errand?”

“My dirty clothes can always wait.”  His snapped his toolbox shut, “Is there anything else you need?”

~*~*~*~

With Johnny’s hectic schedule, it was a week before he caught sight of her again.  “Ivan!  Come in, I just made stew.”

He tagged after her and heard water running.  As she spooned the thick soup into a container, Johnny scanned the kitchen, not finding the source.  While she was occupied, he went to her bathroom and found the tub filling.  Retracing his steps, he accepted her offering.  “Bobby, were you going to take a bath?”

“Not now, I did earlier.  Why?” 

“Let me show you,” he steered her to the bath, and then shut off the waterfall.  She seemed older today.  “Could I ask you a favor?”

“But of course, what is it?”  She straightened, ready to serve.

Johnny mulled over the words he wished to use, “Would you mind if I had a key to your home?  I could check your mail and water your plants when you go away.”

“I may take a trip to my daughter’s some day,” the matron mused.  She tracked one down, “This is an extra.  Never took it off the ring.”  She patted his cheek and pressed the key into his palm.  “You’re a good boy.”

Johnny cleared his throat, as unexpected emotion blanketed him, “I better go.”

~*~*~*~

The single paramedic spun into his complex, and slammed on the brakes to avoid a youth riding a skateboard.  He nibbled his bottom lip to keep from delivering a lecture. 

A taller version of his neighbor bellowed, “Harry, watch what you’re doing!” 

He drew closer, “I live in the same building as Mrs. Glinka.  My name’s Johnny Gage.”

“Daria Kilgallon.  My mom’s something else, isn’t she?”  She rolled her eyes.

“She is.  I’m glad to have her here.”

“Well, you didn’t grow up with her.”  Daria gave her son a stern look, “I know you’re bored but if you get killed on that ‘thing’, I’ll make your life miserable.” 

“Let the boy play,” Irina coaxed.  “Harry, I made you chuk chuks.”  Her grandson whooped and buzzed inside.  “Johnny, Daria’s from San Francisco and came to visit.”

~*~*~*~

From the noise issuing below him, Johnny ascertained Irina’s guests stayed over the weekend, but since he had promised to help several crewmates with projects, he wasn’t home much.

A few days later he sailed up the stairs and halted.  Bobby’s home was still and dark.  Thinking she might be gone, he retrieved her key and let himself in.   Her house, usually pristine, was unkempt.  “Mrs. Glinka?  Irina?  Bobby?”

He found her in bed, her hair mussed, “Are you sick?”  He flicked on the lamp at her nightstand.

“Who are you?”  Fearful, she drew back.

Johnny rose at once and retreated.  “I’m Ivan, Johnny.  I live upstairs.  Don’t you recognize me?”

After a moment, she acknowledged him, “You’re my friend.”

“Yes, are you ill?”  With gentleness he took her wrist in hand to obtain a pulse.

She swiped it away, “I’m fine, just a brief moment of feeling older.”  She motioned for him to leave, “Shoo!  I didn’t invite you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Johnny bowed and departed.  After an hour, he was back at her home, “Mrs. Glinka?”

 

“Who?  I told you to call me Bobby.”  She ushered him inside, and all seemed fine but he vowed to keep a closer eye on her.

~*~*~*~

One day at the station, Roy sensed Johnny wasn’t with him in spirit.  When they were alone, Roy probed, “Problem with a girl?”

“Huh?”  Johnny broke out of his reverie, “Not exactly.  Roy, what if you’re worried about someone but you’re not sure what to do?”

“Have I done something, Johnny?”  Roy averted his attention from the television.

Johnny patted Henry, the station’s beagle, “No, you didn’t.”  Silence lingered, and then he elaborated, “There’s a tenant in my complex, Bobby, I’ve mentioned her to you.”

“And?”

“Well, there’ve been several situations,” he described his worries.  I’m not sure if I should do something.”

“Does she have family nearby?”

“No, her only relative is a daughter who lives in Frisco.”

“It’s a tough call.  Can you suggest she go see her doctor?”

“I could try.”

~*~*~*~

On the way home from the station, Johnny decided to use flowers to broach his concerns to Mrs. Glinka. She’d shared once how she loved the blossoms and missed her garden. 

He was studying stems in the cooler when the owner emerged, “You look like you could use some assistance.”

“I’d like to buy some roses.  Could you tell me how much they are?” The prices sent him reeling, “Better make that one.”

“How about a deep red one for your girlfriend?”

“No, it’s for a friend?”

“Ah, the yellow,” She selected a bud that had not burst into bloom.

Johnny counted change out of his pocket, feeling lighter as he left.  Eager to speak to Irina, he rapped on her door and waited for her to admit him.  “Good morning, Mrs. Glinka, may I come in?”

“It’s Bobby, how many times do I have to tell you that, Ivan?”  With sparkling eyes and a bounce in her step she led him inside.  After inhaling the perfume of the rose, she perched on the sofa and he sank into a nearby chair.

“Bobby, I care about you and wanted to talk to you.”

“Yes?”

“Well, one day I came by and you left your water running, another time you were confused…”

“And you are perfect?”  She grew defensive, “You bring your work home with you now?”  She eyed his uniform.

Johnny pursed his lips, “You’ll tell me if you need help?”

“Of course, is our talk over now?”  Her body relaxed and she teased, “When are you going to find a wife?”

“Me?  When I’m ready, I guess.”  Astonished, the bachelor made a hasty getaway. 

~*~*~*~

Johnny thought fondly of Bobby as he strolled past her entrance.  Perhaps she was right, all was fine.  But then his internal firefighter’s radar activated.  He needed to pop in on her, now.  She gave him a warm reception but he blitzed past her toward a hot scent, the oil on the stove had almost reached flashpoint.  Still unaware of the danger, Bobby nibbled a fried confection. 

“You left your fat on,” his tone was terse.

She paled, “I did?  I frizzled everything, did the dishes and sat down in the living room to knit.”

“We caught it in time,” Johnny wrapped his arms around her in a brief embrace. 

She lifted her face to him, “It was an accident.”

“Don’t take chances, ok?” 

“You smell like smoke, busy day?”

“Yeah, and I don’t want to find fumes here,” He took a last glance at the stove and left.

~*~*~*~

A few days elapsed and Johnny pulled a double shift, stumbled home, and staggered into his flat.  After a long rest on his lumpy recliner, he showered, dressed, and headed out to the gas station for windshield washer.  As he cruised by Bobby’s door, he detected a faint sound.  He thumped the wood, waiting for a reply.

 “Help!”

“Hold on!”  He shouldered through the entryway and discovered Mrs. Glinka in the front room lying on the avocado shag carpet.

“Ivan!  Footstool.  Tripped.”

“Don’t talk, save your strength.”  After making a quick assessment, he phoned the fire department, requesting a squad and ambulance.  “I think you broke your hip and got a bump on your head.  Were you on the floor long?”

“No, maybe an hour.”  She squeezed Johnny’s hand, “Call Daria for me?”

“Sure.”  Johnny greeted Dwyer and Bellingham and conveyed his findings to them, “This is Irina Glinka.  Her pulse is 122 and steady, respirations are 26.  She has a possible broken hip and concussion.”

The paramedics treated the injured woman and transported her to Rampart.  After Johnny got word on her condition, he returned home and contacted Bobby’s daughter.  “This is John Gage.  Your mother calls me Ivan.  I’m afraid she’s had an accident and is in the hospital.”

“Will she be all right?”  Daria asked in a troubled voice.

Johnny’s didn’t sugar-coat his response, “She’ll need surgery and the prognosis is good, but I’m not sure it’s wise for her to live alone.” 

“Oh, why do you say that?”

“Well, there have been several incidents that concerned me.”  He described the recent events he’d observed.

~*~*~*~

Irina was still in the hospital when Daria brought up the subject, “Mom, the doctors say you either have to stay with me or go to a nursing home.” 

“What about my things?”  Irina struggled to accept the news. 

Her daughter was realistic, “You won’t be able to keep it all.”

Irina brightened as Johnny swept into the room with Roy in tow.

“Hey, Bobby, how are you?  This is my partner, Roy.  Roy, Mrs. Glinka and her daughter, Daria.”

“Ivan, I want you to have my mirror, the one you hung for me.” 

Johnny was puzzled, “Don’t you still need it?”

“I will live with Daria.  I go in…?  Irina questioned her daughter, who consulted a calendar.

“Twelve days, on the twenty-eighth.” 

“I’m free that day.  Can I help?”  Johnny caught sight of Roy creeping toward the hallway.  “I’ve gotta go now but I’ll be in touch.” 

~*~*~*~

The twenty-eighth came far too soon.  Dressed in a brown plaid shirt with rolled-up sleeves and his oldest pair of jeans, Johnny braced himself for the day ahead.  When there was a flurry of activity below, he latched his door and submitted to the inevitable.  Harry came into view accompanied by another man, his father.  Daria directed Johnny to the kitchen where her mother occupied a wheelchair.  Irina clasped Johnny’s hand in hers,  “How’s Ivan?”

“I’m going to miss you, Bobby.”  Then he got to work carrying furniture out to the truck.  When the job was nearly done, Daria tarried in front of the mirror.  “You sure you want this?”

“Your mother wants me to have it.”  Johnny surveyed its unusual shape and style.  “She said your father got it from a neighbor.”

“Yeah,” Daria made sure her mother was out of earshot, “Dad told me it was at the curb in our Boyle Heights neighborhood and he didn’t pay a dime for it.  He conjured up a story about its extraordinary powers and Mom ate it up.”  She sized up the accessory, “I find it gaudy and it’s never done a thing for me.”

Irina made a last circuit through her residence.  “I guess this is good-bye.” 

“Thank you for the mirror.”  Johnny leaned down and gave her a long hug.  “I’ll turn in your keys and forward your stray mail.” When the vehicles were no longer visible, he turned on his heel toward the empty dwelling.  When he hoisted the framed glass off the wall, the weight surprised him and he wrenched his right shoulder.  Catching his breath, he lugged it up to his living quarters.  Convincing himself the injury wasn’t significant; he iced it off and on.     

~*~*~*~

Roy was in the apparatus bay when the groan emanated from the kitchen.  Was that Johnny?  Is he hurt?  He continued listening but heard nothing more, maybe I imagined it. 

As Roy waltzed toward the coffeepot, Johnny scrubbed, “O-aw shucks!”

“Something the matter?”  The paramedic eyed his prey.

Johnny was all innocence, “With me?”  He pointed toward the corner, “I missed a spot over there.”

“Yeah, right,” Roy relaxed against the counter, studying his work partner.  “I’m not buying it.”

“You win,” Johnny rose to his fullest height.  “I pulled a muscle in my shoulder helping my neighbor move, but I can do my job.  End of story.”

“Demonstrate.”  Johnny slowly put his shoulder through various motions.  “All right, I’m satisfied, but if it gets worse you’re on your way to the hospital.”

~*~*~*~

When his shoulder no longer ached, he roamed the apartment, desiring to exhibit his showpiece.  As he elevated it into position, the pain reoccurred. 

While he was off work he babied his shoulder, telling himself it would heal on its own.  Whenever the mirror came into view, Bobby came to mind, all she’d done for him and what she told him the looking glass communicated.  Was he really the person she described? 

The following morning Johnny reported for duty.  The strained look on his face, and the way he guarded his movements did not go unnoticed.  Roy took him aside, “Well?”

“Well, what?” Johnny stalled.

Roy stuck to his mission, “You know what I’m asking about.”

“Yeah, but I can gut it out, and no one else has said a word.”

“Didn’t you have pain there a couple weeks ago?”

“Yeah, but that healed.  This is fresh, but it’s nothing.”

“It’s against my better judgment, but I’ll let it go…for now.”

Later, Roy inquired, “What happened anyway?”

“Remember meeting Bobby? I inherited a mirror from her; it’s unique.  Hey, why don’t you come by and I’ll show it to you!  Yeah, let’s go get donuts after work and you can see it for yourself!”

“Joanne and the kids are at her mother’s.  All right, you’re on.  This time you’re buying.”

~*~*~*~

At 9:00, the two men were in Johnny’s pad, where he guided his friend to his new acquisition.  “Bobby’s daughter thought it was gaudy.  I think it’s…different.”

Roy gazed at it and then traced the outline of the wood frame with his finger, “Johnny, this is incredible, you have a Gaudi.”

“A what?” 

“The last time I was at the barbershop I read an article about Antoni Gaudi, a Spaniard born in the 1850s.  People know him more for his architecture, but he designed furniture, too.”

“You mean this is valuable?”

“Priceless!  He’s known for emulating nature and didn’t create many pieces.  They’re all one of a kind.”

“Man, I better let Mrs. Glinka know about this.  I bet she’ll want it back!”

“See you tomorrow, Johnny.”

~*~*~*~

The next time the two paramedics met, Johnny was sitting in his locker, massaging his deltoid.  “Bobby and her daughter told me to hold onto the mirror.  I still can’t believe what you told me about it!”

“Maybe you’ll see things differently when you look into it now.”

“Maybe,” Johnny smiled to himself, maybe I’ll really see myself!

“I see you’re not 100%.”

“Who’s not 100%?”  Chet butted in, eager to needle his favorite victim.

Johnny shook his head, “Roy.  That’s who.”

“Whatever,” Roy put his toiletry kit in his locker and combed his hair.

After stating the plans for the day, Captain Stanley detailed each man’s duties.  “Gage will empty the supply closets, inventory everything, and put them in order.”

“Cap, would you mind if I do that?”  Roy intervened.  “Johnny has a new wax he wanted to try on the squad.”

“As long as the work gets done, I don’t mind if you two swap.”  The tall, lanky man scrutinized the paramedics and returned to his never-ending paperwork.

After an inspection, Squad 51 swung by a hot dog joint.  Johnny inhaled a foot-long and palpated his sore anatomy.  “Thanks for covering for me at the station.”

“If you’re not better the next shift, you’re gonna get checked out.”

“I’m fine, as long as I don’t move.” 

Roy turned the key in the ignition and notified dispatch, 10-8 to Rampart.

Johnny sat up straighter, agitated at the message, “Roy!  You promised!”

“Well, the day you hold still will be when hell freezes over.” 

Johnny opened his mouth to argue, and then thought better of it.  But as they arrived at the hospital, he said his piece, “I can’t help it if I’m active.  Whatcha gonna do, shoot me?”

“Believe me; I’ve been tempted, more than once.”  Roy took in the man’s astonished face and burst into laughter.

Author’s note:  This story took me for a ride.  Gaudi was unfamiliar to me until I sought a mirror to describe.  Intending to use the word “gaudy” originally, this fiction traveled in a new direction as I incorporated him into the world of fiction. 

For more information on Antoni Gaudi:

“Gaudi-Cathedral, Casa, Chair designer.”  Value + Created Reviews Winter 2006.

“Gaudi’s Design Techniques.”  Gaudidesigner.com 2009.

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March Picture 2008                  Stories by Marty P.