Chapter Four: In Which Mush Showers and Sings "Like a Prayer"
When Mush has emerged from the shower and returns downstairs wearing his new khaki pants and an unbuttoned blue shirt (damn tease), I am able to get a good look at him for the first time. With the grime and dirt washed off his face, I see that he has clear, olive colored skin and even white teeth, which has got to be the first hint that this "newsie" did not come from the true turn of the 20th century (well, there's Disney for you). He is awfully cute, and I blush when I realize that I have been staring. Oops. Damn his cute little six-pack.
"That's some interestin' stuff you gave me to wash my hair with," he says, running his fingers through his curly brown hair. I smile, hoping that Mush enjoyed his 'organic experience.' "Smells good. So what now?" he asks playfully as he plops down on the other sofa and begins to button up his shirt. He has been attempting to talk in, as he calls it, my "hoity-toity" accent all afternoon, resulting in something that Henry Higgans undoubtedly would have given an eye to study.
"Well, I suppose we should talk about what is going to be happening for the next couple of days," I respond, fiddling with the TV remote control. "I don't know how long you're going to be here, so you'll have to get familiar with the house and how things work around here."
"But you'll be here too, right?" Mush says hopefully.
"Well I work three days a week," I say. "I babysit two girls who live across town from 7:30 in the morning to around 5 in the evening, so you'll be on your own most of the day."
"On my own!" Mush cries, looking terrified. "What am I supposed to do for...well, howevah long dat is? What if sumpthin' happens and I don't know what I'm s'posed to do?"
"Don't panic, Mush, it'll be okay! You'll always be able to reach me on my cell phone if something happens," I say soothingly. Mush looks slightly less distressed. He is awfully wary of anything electronic, especially if it is portable. "You can always take the bus to go downtown if you get bored, and I'll teach you how to use the television so you can watch movies and shows." He eyes the TV distrustfully, but he accepts the remote control that I place in his hand. I have already explained to him the concept of television and movies, and though he finds the whole idea awfully sketchy, he is soon fascinated by watching real people move and talk on a screen and all reservations are left behind. Pretty soon he has been completely entranced by Days of Our Lives and I am just about to show him how to watch movies when the phone rings.
"GAAHHH!" Mush screams, falling face first off the couch and onto the floor. "What da hell was dat??"
"Oh, honestly Mush," I say evenly, making my way toward the kitchen. "I'll never understand this fear of phones you seem to have. I mean, it's not like you've never seen one before!" Mush mutters something about the phones he is used to being nothing like my phone and I think I catch the word 'demonic' in what he is saying, but I ignore him and pick up the receiver, saying, "Hello?"
"Hi, is Rebecca there?" says a cheerful, familiar voice.
"Holly! What's going on?" I say, happy to hear from an old high school friend. Holly, a fellow member of the alto section in the Madrigal Choir back during my senior year of high school, graduated this year, and was one of my favorite people at school.
"Well I'm having my birthday party next Wednesday and you have to come," she gushes in her usual Holly excitement. "It's going to be at Benihana's and we're going to do karaoke!"
"Oh lord," I say, laughing. "Of course I'll come!" Then a thought hits me. Mush! What if he's still around by then? I can't just leave him. But should I really take him? "Um, Holly? Do you think it would be all right if I took someone with me to the party. It's just that my, uh, cousin is visiting me and I don't think it would be very nice if I just left him at home all evening."
"Did you say 'he'? Duh, of course 'he' can come! Is he cute?"
"He's a little young for you Holly," I say laughing. Holly has a thing for older guys. She tells me the details of the party and we hang up. I return to the family room to witness Mush, who still has not quite completely grasped the idea of the remote control, crouching in front of the television, pressing the remote control against the screen and crying out in despair as the channel stubbornly refuses to change.
"You have to change it from 'TV' to 'cable'," I say gently, plucking the remote out of his hands and showing him the proper way to change the channels.
"Who called?" he asks.
"My friend Holly," I say. "She invited me to her birthday party and she said you could come."
"Me? Go to a boithday, uhh, berrthday party, wit'chu and your friends? What if I do sumpthin' dumb?"
"Don't worry," I say, popping Gladiator into the VCR, "we have almost a week until the party. You'll have learned the ropes by then." Mush is suddenly very quiet. "Or, maybe we'll have already figured out how to get you home by then, and you won't have to worry about it at all," I add lightly.
"Yeah, maybe," Mush murmurs at the screen, then turns to me and gives me an impish smile. "But until then we can have fun, huh?"
"Definitely," I say with a grin. "Now I'm going to put on a movie..."
********************
By 6 in the evening, Mush and I have gone over nearly every source of entertainment to be found in my house: television with VCR downstairs (my decision to introduce modern movies to him through the movie Gladiator probably wasn't the best decision I have ever made, as he completely freaked out the first time someone's head got chopped off and I had to keep reminding him that it wasn't real), DVD player upstairs, CD player with radio in my room (he has taken a great interest in my 5 CD collection of 80's hits, which may or may not end up being a good thing), computer, books (I show him some good ones he won't have too much trouble with, considering his limited education), bus schedules that can take him downtown, as well as what food we have that he can eat. We find that we actually don't have a great deal of food in the house, so we get back in the car and head toward Safeway. Mush fiddles with the radio stations until he hears something familiar.
"Hey, wasn't we listenin' to this earlier?" he asks.
"Yeah, it's Madonna," I say, choosing to ignore the grammatical error. "Like a Prayer." With a mischievous glance at my passenger, I roll down both the windows, crank up the volume, and begin singing along as we speed through a residential neighborhood. Mush laughs, and, to my surprise, starts singing along. By the time we have arrived at the supermarket, he knows nearly all the words. I suppose he catches on quickly because he comes from a world where people regularly break out spontaneously into song and dance.
Once inside, Mush's eyes grow wider than I've yet seen them as he gazes upon aisles and aisles of food, more food than he's probably seen in a lifetime. I grab a shopping cart and we walk down every aisle. Mush is dying to try Lucky Charms cereal, but I persuade him against it, instead choosing Honey Bunches of Oats.
"How come I can't have the colorful kind?" he mutters under his breath. A mother with two little boys who are fighting over the cart seat overhears him, and she and I smile at each other, rolling our eyes and sharing a silent laugh. Soon we are on our way out of the store with a cart full of groceries, and we return home.
Almost as soon as the groceries have been put away, I realize just how exhausted I am, and with one look at Mush I can tell he is tired too. I set him up in the extra bedroom, which doesn't have a bedframe, but it does have a mattress (my mother is awfully strange). Just as I am about to wish my guest a good night and retire to my own room, Mush says, "Wait."
I stop and turn around. He is sitting on his mattress, back in his familiar cut-off trousers in which he had arrived only this morning, suspenders hanging around his waist. He gives me a half-smile and says, "Thanks."
With a smile, I say, "Get some sleep, Mush," and I leave, shutting the door behind me. A horrible, guilty feeling is plaguing my stomach. I feel like I'm lying to Mush by not telling him the truth. But is this one of those cases in which a white lie is preferable to the truth? I lie in bed for hours with this thought on my mind, until sleepiness finally overcomes my worries and I fall into a restless sleep.