That Day in May
(April-May 2018)
15-Back to School
The rest of that week passed so quickly and uneventfully that we don't need to spend a whole lot of time or space on it. I'll sum up.
Thursday found the Ramirez family pulling into the Mystery Shack parking lot at eleven. The kids jumped out and ran to hug Dipper and Wendy, after they petted Tripper and let him wash their faces with his tongue. First things first.
Abuelita asked, "Is safe now?"
"Just as safe as it ever was," Wendy said truthfully. At the Shack, you took little things in stride, like the ghost of a Samurai, a rampaging Gremloblin, or a visiting creature from the planet Yuggoth, which, as we're reliably told, rolls around the darkness at the far, frozen fringes of the solar system, populated by eldritch horrors from beyond the bounds of Time and Space, though they're OK once you get to know them.
Wendy and Dipper helped haul in the luggage. Soos first went to look at the Museum, where he shook his head. "I still feel sorry for Mr. Braun. He used the Tarot Witch for like twenty-five years and never had any trouble with her."
"Yeah, about that," Dipper said. "Grunkle Ford says it was all caused by that extra-fancy deck of cards. It had a curse on it, and when the Witch used it, it sort of brought her to life, I guess."
Soos drooped a little. "Yeah, my bad. I changed the cards."
Wendy said kindly, "It's not your fault, man. You didn't know."
As if he felt a need to explain, Soos said, "The deck she had been using—that was just packed in, like a cardboard box—was all faded. The, like, cursed ones or whatever were in this fancy wood box lined with purple velvet, and they looked nice, you know? But I guess I should have just got an ordinary Tarot deck from the gift shop and not put that colorful antique one in the booth." He sighed. "Did Dr. Pines say anything about the funeral?"
Wendy glanced at Dipper, who nodded, and she said, "Mr. Braun's will asked that he be cremated and his ashes buried next to his wife's. Dr. P is having the urn expressed to the cemetery where his wife's ashes are."
Dipper added, "The mortuary's gonna take care of the burial, and Mr. Braun's lawyer, who's the executor of his estate, will pay for the funeral-home services."
Soos's lower lip was trembling, and he nodded.
Wendy softly said, "Hey, I called our family minister. Dr. Gaspell says if you want, he'll come to the Shack on Saturday morning and we can have a private memorial service for Mr. Braun."
Soos wiped away a tear. "Like, that would be nice," he managed to say in a choked-up voice.
Dipper told him about Stan's plan to bring in a mannequin and some plywood and Plexiglas and rig up a substitute Tarot Witch. "If he can get everything, he'll bring it up this afternoon," Dipper finished.
Soos brightened at that. "Awesome! If the Shack is in shape to open next Tuesday, I can get it put together over the weekend. I might even be able to, like, make her dispense those little fortune tickets, like the old-fashioned scale at the drugstore gives when you weigh yourself. I could use the machinery from the fortune machine that used to be on the porch and never worked right. I got the moving stuff all fixed up and running, but the rest of the machine was so busted up I never replaced it. I can, you know, build a machine that deals out fortune-telling cards! But I won't make them creepy. Just stuff like 'Your smile brightens everyone's day, dawg.'"
"That," said Wendy, with a grin, "is a great idea!"
A little later, Soos went to inspect the gift shop. He made a shopping list for the snack bar—soft-drink syrups and carbonated water, wieners and ground beef for hot dogs and fries, sandwich fixings. "There won't be, like, ginormous crowds the first few weeks, so I'll just get enough to tide us over week to week."
And then he made sure the cash registers were all in working order and said admiringly, "Oh, dudes! You even polished the counter while I was away. It's shining like a mirror! Like a mirror, dawgs! How'd you do it?"
Dipper blushed tomato-red, but Wendy said casually, "You know, some vigorous rubbing, lots of elbow grease, some other fluids."
Away off in Georgia, Teek squired Mabel around. Thursday they saw the Atlanta Historical Museum, which unbelievably to her had an entire locomotive on display. Teek explained it was one of those involved in the great locomotive chase, when Union spies stole a Confederate train in Marietta (a town northwest of Atlanta) and took it to Chattanooga, way up at the Georgia-Tennessee border, which was controlled by the Union army. Pursued by another train, the spies ripped up the tracks behind them, paving the way for the Federal troops' march to Savannah and the sea.
The Union men were captured and executed, but it made a great story. "It ought to be a movie!" Mabel exclaimed.
"Uh—it has been made into a movie. At least twice," Teek said. "Once as a silent film, with Buster Keaton. Once as a modern movie. Well, you know, sound and color."
"Aw, another great Mabel idea stolen," she said. "How about a remake? You could do it! We'll call it Grand Theft Freight Train—The Loco and the Motive!"
"I'll think about it," he said.
They visited Stone Mountain Park, which has, as the name implies, a huge granite dome as the centerpiece, including a bas-relief carving of Confederate leaders on the side. "Man," Mabel said, "didn't these guys lose that war?"
Teek shrugged. "I think some people are really slow to get the word."
And they visited the Georgia Aquarium—"Makes me think of Mermando," Mabel said. "But it's spectacular and beautiful, and I like the penguins, running around with their beaks in the air. They remind me of Pacifica's parents."
And nearby aquarium was the Children's Museum, with antique toys and other displays—
And best of all, they got to spend the nights together. It can't all be Civil War and museums, you know.
Sunday morning came and Dipper and Mabel packed the Land Runner.
A lot had happened. Soos had put together the Mystic Tarot Reading Witch. The copy shop had printed reels of cheery little fortune cards—"You never grow old if your heart stays young," "Your best day is yet to come," "Eat a toad for breakfast and the rest of the day can only get better," things like that. Stan persuaded Soos to upgrade the cost for a fortune from a nickel to four quarters, and he'd snuck in an extra fortune so that one time in every thirteen, the card would read "Future hazy. Put in another buck."
The machinery wasn't nearly as elaborate as an automaton's. The mannequin's hand, its finger pointing, already stretched out over the deck of perfectly ordinary Tarot cards in front of her. When you dropped in your quarters, a small tablet built into the surface would show a rapid series of Tarot cards. Then one—never a scary-looking one—would stop, the finger would lower and touch the picture on the screen, gears would whir, and the benign fortune would come out a slot at the front.
To compensate for all the niceness, Melody had given the mannequin a makeover with a mop for hair, a nose extended and hooked by an application of wood putty, every other tooth in the mannequin's smile blacked out, warts added, a grayish, unsettling complexion painted on, eyebrows made bushy and angry—the usual deal for a witch. Stan was pleased, and Little Soos and Harmony were not even scared.
The memorial service for Mr. Braun, whom none of them really knew, was brief but touching. Dr. Gaspell read from Psalms and took as his theme "No one who passes from this Earth with mourners and memories goes into the darkness alone." Soos wept like a baby, but afterwards felt better.
On Sunday, Dipper and Wendy arrived at the airport in Medlock about an hour early. There wasn't a heck of a lot to do, so they sat in the waiting area innocently holding hands and having a little mental make-out session, right there in public. Tripper in his travel crate on the floor beside Wendy's chair, obviously knew something was up, but human passers-by saw the young couple sitting together, gazing off dreamily into the distance, and occasionally twitching or squirming a bit and thought, "Cute couple. But those seats must be uncomfortable!"
Mabel's flight was about fifteen minutes late—returning, the aircraft usually faced headwinds—but she bounced out, took Tripper outside for a little walk, and left her carry-on, her big suitcase, and the dog crate for Wendy and Dipper to handle.
They stowed everything in the car, Mabel asked, "Hey, can I drive? I haven't driven in a week!" and with her at the wheel and Wendy riding shotgun, they set off for Crescent City.
It is pleasant to report the drive was easy, no accidents occurred, and they agreed to order food for Dipper to go pick up for dinner. He would also stop at the grocery for eggs, bread, and milk.
They were home again, and now the big thing on the horizon—aside from finishing the term with good grades—was that nagging question of Wendy's surprise birthday party.
May was coming up soon, and the twenty-first would be there only three weeks after it arrived.
But Mabel had shifted gears and was on the job.