Wild Orchids: Chapter Eleven
Have you read the previous chapter yet?
Another day dawned and yawned its lack of promise and relief from the mind-numbing sameness it had presented the day before.
‘Archie it’s your turn to do the shopping,’ George said, not looking at Archie, who was hunched over his mug of tea. George added another bunch of sticks to the small fire, struggling to stay alight.
‘Five dollars each, see what you can get for that,’ he said and pulled from his thin wallet a five dollar note, part of the small amount he had withdrawn from his pension. Archie nodded his agreement and pocketed the money.
Feeling his age, tired and out of sorts, Archie wearily left the Bridge. Hope I’m not sickening for something, he thought, as he headed for Sergio’s.
‘How’s it agoin’ Arch?’ Sergio asked. ‘I’m expecta you sooner.’
‘Not so good today, Sergio, a bit on the slow side, got a bout of the mullygrubbs; just not meself,’ he answered, leaning on the counter, scanning the fruit and vege boxes. ‘Sergio, you always have a great show of fresh fruit and vegetables.’
‘Thanksa mate, sorry to hear ya notta so good. Hope it won’t last. Now whats ona your list?’
‘I’ve got five dollars to spend, what can you give me for that?’
‘I’ma go the storeroom anna see what I can finda fer ya.’ Sergio disappeared and returned minutes later with a brown paper bag filled with fruit and vegetables, seconds he had ready to be collected; all under the watchful eye of Rosa.
‘Here’sa da fruit anna the vegies for to cook tonight.’
Archie handed the note to Sergio who received it with as much appreciation and the same dignity he would afford a customer who had just spent a hundred dollars in his shop.
‘You’re a good, kind man Sergio.’ Archie said with a smile and a firm handshake. Sergio held Archie’s hand, and with an anxious frown on his usually genial face, said in a loud whisper,
‘Eh, Arch, what’s with dissa complain, ah, wodyacall a dis molling grumbles?’
‘Oh, it’s nothing serious. Just feeling a bit off ya know,’ he replied with a small smile.
‘OK, see ya nexatime, anna I hope the molling grumbles they gone away.’ Sergio patted Archie on the back and walked with him to the entrance.
‘Hope it’s notta catch,’ Rosa whispered when Sergio returned. Sergio just shook his head,
‘Nah, they live arough, musta be tough.’
Coffee was on Archie’s mind, and he knew exactly where to head next. He was starting to feel better; the thumping headache had subsided to a dull ache and with coffee in his belly, he knew he would feel better still. Deep in thought with his mind on what he had read to George from the New Testament, suffer the children, for they are the lambs of God, which stayed with him. Hauntingly, they brought chilling flashes of a time when he had been unable to protect his child from the harsh religious doctrine.
The toe of his ugg boot caught the lip of a raised paver and with a yelp of surprise, he went flying arse over tip and landed on the road in a crumpled heap. Stunned, he lay trembling, afraid to move.
Footsteps stopped beside him, followed by a loud voice.
‘Hey old timer, are ya OK?’ Archie opened one eye, afraid to do more with the other; it was shut tight. A blurry image of a face peered down at him.
‘I …. I think so,’ Archie stuttered.
‘Let’s see, make sure you haven’t busted anything,’ the hovering image said.
Archie grunted and made small moves, beginning with his arms, legs, and head. Each move was met with a good response, albeit tentative.
‘So far so good, Mister. Now I’m going to sit you up, okay?’
‘Yeah, let’s give it a go,’ Archie grunted.
Strong arms pulled him into a sitting position. He blinked and looked up to his Good Samaritan, a lanky young man with a weird red spiky hairdo. It was not only the hairdo which had Archie’s eyes open to a stare of amazement, it was the array of multi-coloured tattoos covering his arms, neck and one side of his face: a far cry from Archie’s simple inked tattoos.
Archie quickly recovered and croaked, ‘Thanks, young man. Can you help me to the footpath? My God look, the fruit and vegies, they’re scattered all over the road!’ He moaned his distress.
A young mother, with a child in a pusher, saw Archie fall and watched the young man leap to the rescue. She quickly responded to Archie’s cries, called for someone to hold up the traffic while she gathered the spilt contents from the road and reloaded the shopper.
‘Thanks so much, everybody,’ Archie said looking to the people who had gathered around him. Some who knew the young man were not surprised at the way he so readily came to the rescue of the old man. On first judgement, his appearance suggested he would react with indifference. Contrary to that, satisfied that the young man had put Archie to right, the small crowd dispersed.
‘What’s your name?’ Archie rasped, as he stood tentatively, on quivering legs, slowly recovering from the buster which had shaken him up no end.
‘Pooky’s the name.’
‘What sort of name is that?’
‘It’s what I’ve been called since I was a kid. Suits me fine, don’t like me real name.’
‘Well, Pooky, you’ve done me a great service; can’t thank you enough.’
‘Don’t need thanks Mister. What’s your name?’
‘Archie, that’s what they call me. Don’t like my real name either.’
‘Well Archie, can I help you home? You still look a bit shaky,’ Pooky frowned.
‘Would like a hand, just for a little way, until my legs get working again.’
Pooky hooked his skateboard under one arm and took hold of Archie’s arm with his other hand and steadied him. Archie caught a whiff of a most pleasant hint of incense on Pooky’s clothes and was relieved that he had showered recently. Slowly they began to move on with Archie pushing the shopper and directing Pooky to a nearby street, giving no indication of his actual destination, the Bridge.
‘Here we are, not far now, you can leave me to get home by myself.’ Archie pointed to a small bungalow on his right.
‘You sure?’
‘Absolutely.’
Archie bent into his shopper and pulled out an orange, apple and banana and handed them to his Good Samaritan.
‘What’s this then,’ Pookie said,
‘Just my thanks,’ Archie answered.
Reluctantly, Pookie took them, gave Archie a firm handshake and a pat on his shoulder.
‘See you around Archie. You take care and no more busters, mind.’
‘Sure thing.’
Pooky waved as he planted one well-worn Nike clad foot on his skateboard and pushed off.
Archie walked slowly to a house, hesitated at the gate and waited until the young man with the wild hairdo and tattoos had disappeared out of sight. He returned to the footpath and limped his way back to the Bridge, his right knee was sending jolts of pain with each step. To keep his mind off the pain he thought about what he was going to read to George that night; it was certainly going to be the parable of the Good Samaritan.
