Before I had a chance to answer, Sir
Percy turned to the right and began to walk as if leading the way in
this world that didn't seem to suit him. I followed, walking along
beside him. I noticed he kept to my left, always walking between me
and the street.
“What do I like to do?” I said,
remembering his question. “What do I like to do?” It
wasn't that it was a particularly hard question. I just felt at a
loss describing anything in my every day life to this man who was
seemingly a visitor from the past.
“Do you go to the opera?”
“Well, I've only gone to the opera
once that I can remember.”
“Ah. Which one did you see?”
“Phantom of the … Well,
technically, I don't think it's an opera at all, although it comes
very close.” There was more music than dialogue in the play. Didn't
that make it a kind of opera?
“Phantom … I don't think I'm
familiar with that one,”said Sir Percy.
I then began wondering if the book,
Phantom of the Opera, which was a lot older than the musical,
might be more familiar to him and wondering what year the book was
published. What was this? Was I really accepting the idea that Sir
Percy was a visitor from a past time? Maybe Grandpa and I were both
perfectly sane, and it was Sir Percy who had delusions. Possibly, he
had done so much reading of history that he now believed himself to
belong to the Victorian era. I thought about the delusional “Teddy
Roosevelt” Brewster in Arsenic and Old Lace.
“Sir Percy, are you Sir Percy every
day or are there days when you are, say, … Teddy Roosevelt?”
He looked at me, his brow furrowed.
“You ask very strange questions, and I don't know who this Teddy
gentleman is.”
It was a very strange question. It
would only seem un-strange – perhaps – if you had the sort of
madness I was trying to uncover.
“I'm sorry,” I said. “I'm just
trying to make sense of this strange situation and you popping in
from wherever you pop in from.”
As we walked along, I sometimes saw Sir
Percy taking in the atmosphere. We were wandering through a charming
downtown area. We passed stone sidewalk planters overflowing with
vinca, a woman walking her Yorkshire terrier and a well-dressed
businessman walking along with his newspaper and coffee.
Passersby were taking note of Sir Percy
too, with wide curious eyes and smiles. I was glad of this, because
it made me feel more sure of my sanity. No one outright gawked, but
they certainly looked at him a bit longer than they might at someone
in more commonplace dress. They'd smile and turn to their companions,
making small talk, likely chatting curiously about what new play must
be underway at the local theater.
A male cyclist in fitted cycling shorts
glided towards us when Sir Percy took me by the crook of the arm and
quickly spun me around to face a potted hibiscus. “Good heavens!”
said Sir Percy. “What sort of gentleman … Why he's practically
naked! I'm terribly sorry you had to see that, Miss Rose.” I noted
that he didn't call me Laurie and that he knew my last name, likely
learned from my grandfather on his previous poppings-in.
I bit my lip to try and keep from
laughing. Dare I tell him that this scandalous sight was not so
uncommon and that I was accustomed to it by now? Ah well. I was
practically nose to nose with a bright fuschia opened hibiscus bloom,
and it very well might be a prettier sight than the cyclist in
Spandex. After a time, we wandered once more down the sidewalk.
I was actually very curious what he
thought of the modern bicycle and how different it was from the penny
farthing with its giant front wheel, but I was afraid to broach the
subject relating to its scandalous rider and didn't want to be
accused of bringing up an unladylike subject.
“Ah, where were we?” asked Sir
Percy. “I know, yes, what you like to do for leisure?”
“Well, sometimes, my friends and I
like to go to the movies.”
“Movies?”
“Well, you're familiar with
photography?”
“Yes?”
“Well, it's a little like
photography, what we'd call still photography, only the camera
captures action, not just still images, and the action is then
projected onto a screen.” This was only true in part. How could I
even begin to explain animation, particularly computer generated
imagery and the computers used to create such effects or any special
effects really?
“Amazing.”
We would approach a movie theater
before long, and I began to worry that Sir Percy would suggest we go
there. I wasn't sure Sir Percy was ready for the movies. There might
be F-bombs or actual bombs exploding or actors or actresses in states
of dress and undress more scandalous than women in trousers and men
in cycling shorts. Of course, I could take him to a G-rated animated
film in 3D. He might not be morally shocked, but it could certainly
wow the waistcoat off of him.
“Of course, on some days,” I said,
“we just go to the mall.”
“The mall?”
“Right. It's stores. It's not like
these little side by side shops here. It's a giant building filled
with stores, giant stores, and you can buy anything there.”
“Anything?”
“Right, clothes and shoes and food,
well, prepared, cooked food ...” How could I even explain some of
the other items in stores at the mall like cell phones, DVDs, Xbox
games … “Games …”
“Like parlor games?”
“Yes?” My affirmatory statement
came out more like a question. The Xbox was played in the living room
or den and that was sort of a parlor, wasn't it?
“And other amusements, and, you just
have to see it to believe it.”
“Well, Miss Rose, let's go to the
mall.” I suppose a lot of ladies long to hear a gentleman say this,
but I kept on thinking that this was one social experiment that was
going to be quite an adventure.
To be continued …
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