The Waiting Room
~ Chapter Eighty-Three
When You Wish Upon a Star
Barrie
snuggled deep into the side of Porthos as the night began to descend
upon the Room. He had never been happier as he was now since his
arrival. Oh, how he missed Peter and the boys, and Tinkerbell too.
He glanced up to the hidden shelf near the ceiling, thinking
about how he had accidentally brought the fairy’s sister, Alice
with him that first day. It seemed as if it were a lifetime of dreams
ago.
“Oh, Porthos,” he whispered into the bear’s ear.
“How I long fer Hook’s ship t’come so that we could but sail
away to Neverland and be rid of the shadows and cobwebs of this
place. Do ye not agree?”
The bear grumbled his agreement.
But Barrie sighed, deep and long, knowing that it was but a
wish on an empty star and a dream that would never be fulfilled, and
closed his eyes…knowing that in the morning he would still be here,
in this Room and not in an English field flying a kite, or playing
amongst the wild bluebells dressed as an Indian or any of the other
wonderful, wonderful games that so delighted him and kept him forever
young.
“There is not a star to wish upon that I can see
here, Porthos, but I know somewhere there be one and so I send me
wish up to it…see there!” Barrie pointed to a star in his
imagination, watching as the wish flew skyward, leaving behind a
trail of golden slumber dust. The bear raised his head to watch as
Barrie’s words brought to reality the star and the wish. Then he
lay his head back down, feeling the blanket of sleep come over him.
“Aye…there goes me wish. Do ye know what I wished fer
Porthos? I know ye not suppose to tell such things, but I can tell ye
for it is one thing to tell a man but quite another to tell a bear.
“I wished that all boys never had to go t’sleep. That
they never, ever have t’grow up. Fer what do they become but mere
reminders of themselves that they no longer be. Look, Porthos, look
about ye.” Barrie waved a hand indicating the men who now lay about
The Room.
The bear did not move.
“Oh, that’s
okay.” the author soothed the creature, patting him. “Sleep, me
friend. There is no need to look for I can see quite clearly fer the
both of us. Yes, quite clearly I see. They have lost it all…their
youth…their dreams…their hopes. Tis a sad thing to lose, ye know?
We all grow old in the blink of God’s eye. Time…time be the enemy
of young dreamers who grow up to become foolish cynics. They all
became disillusioned that life is downhill once they leave childhood
behind.”
Barrie looked at the sleeping bear.
“Oh,
look at ye. Sound asleep. I’ve sent you off, have I? Tis me way. I
ramble on so, I do. But that is me nature. I do not want t’miss one
minute of life. Sleep comes and steals the precious minutes and
b’fore ye know it, it is but another day, another walk among the
trees, the flowers, the creatures of the earth…but we ignore them
all…keeping our nose and minds straight on the narrow, we do…and
we miss that what is around us.”
So Barrie settled against
his friend, fighting heavy lids as his eyes closed and finally
succumbed to his own enemy of sleep.
The
morning brought a pounding to the door, waking the sleeping and
jolting the half-awaken to a full mind.
The director was the
first up, as always, the only one bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, always
ready to greet the day with vigor and to welcome any visitor to The
Room.
“Come in, come in, my friend!” He shouted through
his megaphone. Everyone could not help but notice that Wood wore a
banana-yellow sweater. A little too bright in their opinion, but it
was not their place to say.
Noodlemantra opened the door,
stepping inside. Curious was The Room as that this morning he did not
push along his signature cart. In his hand he carried an official
looking envelope.
He glanced about, his eyes falling briefly
on Dean who waved him to the table.
To the book buyer’s
surprise, ON shook his head, indicating there was no delivery for him
today. Dean shrugged, stuck his cigarette back into his mouth and
continued reading.
ON found who he was looking for. “Oh!
Constable Crane!”
Ichabod straightened from Mort’s
mangled computer that he now had confiscated and was working on at a
nearby table.
“Mr. Noodlemantra,” Ichabod lifted his
inspection glasses to his forehead, reaching out to take the man’s
hand in greeting. “Good to see you again, my friend. Is that for me?
Is that from Detective Hozro?”
ON nodded and handed over
the manila envelope. Eagerly Crane began to open the package.
“Oh,
wait,” ON said producing a clipboard. “They wanted you to sign
for it. Officia, you know,” he said nodding towards the envelope.
“Considered legal evidence now and you have to sign for it,
indicating you have it in your possession for the time being.”
“The time being?” Crane looked surprised and glanced at
the envelope. “But it is my evidence. I sent it to them.”
ON
let his head bob in agreement. “Yes, yes, but when you sent it to
the lab, it became state’s evidence. Sorry Constable, that’s how
things work today.”
Crane sighed and put his signature to
the paper, then bid ON good day.
After he was alone once
again, as alone as he could be in The Room, Crane tore open the
envelope and dumped the contents to the table.
A small
plastic bag dropped first. Inside was the tell tale bullet. He lifted
it between two fingers, staring at the spent cartridge.
“What
did you have to say, I wonder? Can you tell me once and for all who
shot Mort Rainey’s computer?”
The constable put the bag
back to the table and shook the envelope again and out fluttered a
yellow paper, the official report.
Crane lifted it with
curious eyes and began to read.
Meanwhile, two tables over,
by the kitchen door, Crane’s conversation with himself had been
overheard.