Late Edition

~tarotgal

 

Wednesday January 8, 6:03am

 

            If you were to pick one season anywhere, it would be springtime in New York. Or it could be summer in Orlando. Or it might be autumn in the Appalachian Mountains. But it would not, by any stretch of the imagination, be winter in Chicago.

 

            Meow!

 

            Gary rolled over in bed, pulling the fluffy covers and his pillow with him. The chill in the room was terrible and his bed was so very warm. He'd been out until midnight in the subway station, freezing and waiting for the rails to freeze just so he could call it in and save a few dozen El passenger's lives. He'd tried calling earlier but they only reassured him that they would take care of it. But they thanked him and jumped on his second call, especially when he claimed to be an El driver. Then it broke down briefly on his way home, and he had to spend another hour doing some inventory Marissa had left for him at the bar. It was nearly four in the morning when he'd showered and slipped into bed. And now the paper wanted him up at six? He didn't think so.

 

            Merrrow!

 

            "Not yet!" came Gary's muffled, rough reply from beneath the pillow as he pulled the blankets up from his chin to just below his nose. "Another hour?"

 

            Merrroow! Hisssssss!

 

            Gary sighed and threw off the covers. "All right! I'm coming!" He walked briskly, barefooted in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Crossing his arms over his chest, he shivered, and walked a little more briskly. He unlocked the door and swung it open to find the cat. It darted in past him, brushing up against his leg in a blur. The tail was all Gary saw disappear around the counter in search of food or milk. "Good morning to you, too," he mumbled as he squatted down to pick up the paper.

 

            But there was no paper to be found. His eyebrows narrowed as he surveyed the hallway. Not a person or animal in sight. Nor was there a newspaper. He headed back in, leaving the door open just in case. "Cat, where's the paper?" he asked, poking his head around to see the cat lapping some water out of its bowl as if it were any normal morning. He looked up at him, then darted across the room to his bed and curled up in the nest of blankets, still warm from Gary's few hours in them. "Oh, big help you are." He walked over to a chair and fell into it, picking up the phone and dialing Marissa's number.

 

            One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Answering machine. Gary sighed. She must already have left for work. He hung up and dialed down to the bar.

 

One ring. Two rings. Answering machine. Gary listened to himself going through the normal hours of operation speech and thanking himself for calling. He then waited for the tone and left a message. "Marissa, when you get in, come up here. I have a situation. Thanks." He put the phone down again and rubbed his nose roughly with a fist as he thought. Gary sniffed roughly and sat back in the chair, bracing himself with the arms as the handsome man "ahhhEhshhhh! arrSHoooo!" sneezed twice. He rubbed his knuckles beneath his nose and sniffed again, mumbling something about keeping his apartment too cold. Walking over to the wall, he turned up the heat a little more.

           

Loud purring sounded from the bed where the cat was stretched out and sleeping.

           

"Must be nice!" Gary muttered through a yawn, pacing around, checking the hallway every few moments to be sure the paper was not there. And Gary was not thinking clearly. He felt as if he were in a daze, with a headache and a cloudy mind.

 

            It wasn't there. No paper. Where in the world could it be? If the cat was here, and the paper was not... it must have been taken. But why? And who would have? Only a handful of people knew about it. And none of them would have... except for maybe... "Chuck!" Gary raced back to the phone, punching in the numbers.

 

            One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four rings. Five rings. A groggy voice answered, "'Lo?"

 

            "Chuck, it's me. What did you do with my paper?"

 

            He heard a yawn and a pause of confusion. "What are you talking about? I didn't touch your paper. What time is it?"

 

            Gary sighed. "Don't give me that. I need it back!"

 

            "Look, Gare, you just woke me up. I'm still in bed. And unless your paper turned into a warm bed or pillow, I do not have it!"

 

            Running a hand through his hair, Gary sighed. Maybe Chuck hadn't taken it. Wouldn't be the first time Chuck told a lie, but something told him Chuck was being truthful this morning. Besides, he sounded too tired to have just darted to his apartment and back. And he sounded too tired to be lying convincingly. "Kay... talk to you later." He hung up the phone, more confused than ever. If the paper wasn't there and Chuck didn't have it... where was it?

 

            Thunk!

 

            Gary's ears perked up and he darted to the door to find a newspaper, clean and neat at his doorstep, and a paperboy heading down the hallway towards the stairs. A paperboy?

 

            "Hey!" Gary called out to him, grabbing the paper and walking over. "Where'd you get this?"

 

            The boy looked stunned, confused. "The printing offices, Sir... just like all the others." He gestured towards the bag of rolled up newspapers slung over his shoulder. "Why, is there something wrong with it?"

 

            Gary glanced down at the paper. It seemed ordinary... too ordinary. "This has today's date on it!"

 

            The paperboy looked more confused than before. "Right... and... you wanted yesterday's again?"

 

            Gary stood open-mouthed, thinking. "I'm on your delivery list?" He rubbed the bottoms of his nose absent-mindedly with the knuckles of his paper-holding hand.

 

            Nodding, the boy answered, "Sure. Like always."

 

            Mystified, Gary waved the boy on. "Thanks."

 

            With a sigh, reentered the room and closed the door behind him. He stared hard at the newspaper as he walked over to put on a pot of coffee. His head was killing him and this was much too much excitement so early in the morning with so little sleep under his belt. The date on it was January 8. That was today's date, right? Right? As the coffee brewed, he turned on the television, searching for a date.

 

            "And in the news this morning, a bank was found robbed at the early hours of the morning. Bank officials have no leads and unfortunately no witnesses. On the other side of town, a pipe froze in a school and burst, injuring several janitors who were there this morning. They were taken to country general and are expected to be released by the end of the day." Gary's eyes grew wide. He stared at the date in the little black box in the corner. 1/8/99 6:24:32am. Two preventable mishaps... why had Gary not been given the chance to stop them? Where was his paper? And why was he suddenly getting a regular paper?

 

            A terrible feeling settled in his stomach. Maybe this was the end of it all. Maybe he'd served his time and was now set free for a real life. Maybe the paper didn't need him any more. And maybe this was its way of telling him. Gary felt ill at the thought and threw the regular paper down on the floor. Whatever it was, he didn't like it. "aeehhhCheooo! AhhhSheshhh!" He didn't much like this either. Gary ducked into the bathroom, pulling a few tissues from the box on the toilet tank and giving his nose a hearty blow. This is what he got for keeping his place so cold, waking up to a runny nose. A tickling nose rather. He stood, dazed a moment, frozen as the feelings slowly crept upon him. Finally, he bent forward with another double, "ahhh-Cheshooo! Ahhh-Chishh!" After giving his nose another thorough blow, Gary went back and turned the heat up a little more.

 

            "Gary?" The door opened and Marissa entered, walking in a few steps over the newspaper. She bent down and picked it up, setting it on the counter gently. "Gary, what's wrong?" she sounded terribly concerned.

 

            "Morning," he sighed, walking over to a stool in the kitchen and sitting down. "It's the paper."

 

            "All right," she was calm, quiet, and sensible. He felt blessed to have a friend like her, especially with all the other weirdness in his life. "What about it?"

 

            Trying to present it as neutrally as possible, "It's not tomorrow's paper, it's today's."

 

            She hesitated to answer, thinking. Finally, "Maybe someone stole--"

 

            "Nothing came when the cat arrived, and then the paperboy came and gave me a normal one as if I get one every day."

 

            "Maybe it was a mistake--"

 

            "How could it be a mistake? What does this mean?!" Suddenly Gary realized how emotional he sounded and quieted back down. His nose seemed to be running again, and he rubbed at it.

 

            Marissa calmly walked over to the cupboard, took out two mugs, and carefully filled them with coffee. After fixing hers as she liked it, she placed the other on the counter in front of Gary with the sugar bowl. "I don't know what it means, but you sound terrible. Are you all right, Gary?" Her dark face was filled with concern.

 

            Gary shrugged, sniffling and rubbing at his nose absent-mindedly. "Just a little worried is all. Several accidents and what not have happened today already and I wasn't there to stop them."

 

            She nodded understandingly. "No, I mean are you well? You sound congested. Coming down with something?"

 

            Gary considered it for a moment, then chuckled. "Nah, I'm ok. Just really cold in here."

 

            "Cold!" she exclaimed. "Not at all, it's burning up in here! What do you have the heater cranked up to?" Not expecting an answer, she paused in wonder. "Gary, sit still a moment." She reached out to find his shoulder, then the side of his head, and then gently touched the back of her hand to his forehead. With a nod, she took it down, "MmmHmm..."

 

            He pulled back. "MmmHmm? What's that supposed to mean? MmmHmm?"

 

            Marissa took a few sips of coffee. "You've got a fever. You're coming down with something."

 

            Gary shook his head. "No I'm..." he rubbed his nose violently to make it stop tickling. "I'm fine."

 

            One of Marissa's eyebrows raised. "Were you about to sneeze?"

 

            Still rubbing at his nose, he answered, "No..." The tickling was only getting worse, the urge to sneeze upon him.

 

            She laughed. "MmmHmm. You sound congested."

 

            Unable to stop what was becoming a very strong urge to sneeze, his head tilted back slightly as his eyes closed. "ehhhh...ahhhShooo! ahhhIhhshhh! ahhhChishoo!"

 

            "God bless you, Gary." She put down the cup of coffee and put her hand on his back, rubbing up and down gently. "You're sick, and you need to be in bed."

 

            He had to admit he was rather tired. But sick? No. Not at all. "I'm not sick..."

 

            Marissa sighed as she pushed him off the chair and towards his bed. "You've been up an hour and you're still not dressed, you've cranked the heat up because you've got the chills, and you're stuffed up and sneezing. And you say you're not sick? I may be blind but I'm not deaf or dumb." She hovered by his bed, taking his bathrobe as he got in reluctantly. "Now, let me make you some breakfast and you rest."

 

            He shook his head. "Marissa, I can't go back to bed. I have... ehhh...ahhh... I have to--"

 

            "You have to what?" she asked, one hand on her hip. "Save the city with the newspaper? Nope, you didn't get it this morning."

 

            "ahhhEhhshoo! AhhhChooo!" As Gary pulled the covers up around himself, the cat stirred and stretched, and settled himself on Gary's stomach in a purring ball. Gary smiled and sniffed, rubbing his runny nose. "Someone else wants me in bed I think."

 

            "The cat?" Marissa guessed knowingly as she heard the purrs.

 

            "Yeah." Gary yawned and closed his eyes as he warmed beneath the blankets. "Marissa?"

 

            Halfway on her way to the kitchen, she turned back around. "Yes, Gary?"

 

            He sniffed and rubbed at his nose. "When you get a chance, could you get me some tissues... from the bathroom?"

 

            Smiling her charming, characteristic smile, "Of course, Gary. You just lie there and relax."

 

            Gary attempted to follow the suggestion, but his nose was tickling terrible now, and his head was aching, making his thinking slow and fuzzy. He kept a hand up by his nose, cupping it and rubbing beneath rather violently. When the urges were too much for him, he held his hand up. "ehhh...ahhhhKshhhhh! ahhhChoooo! ahhhehhShooo!" He sniffed wetly and realized how much he needed to blow his nose. He looked up to see Marissa was nowhere in sight. "Barissa?" he called out hopefully, not wanting to get up now that he was indeed down.

 

            She came over with the box of tissues in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other. "Right here, Gary," she replied, feeling around for the bed stand and putting the drink down.

 

            "I deed a tissew," he said in the meantime, glad Marissa could not see how miserable he must look.

 

            Smile, she handed him one, then thought better and handed him a few.

 

            "Dags," came a muffled thank you as he blew, closing his eyes.

 

            Marissa felt around, then sat down on the side of Gary's bed. "Maybe I should call down for them to cover the bar without us."

 

            Gary shook his head, scrubbing at his nose with the tissues. "No, don't. I want you down there in charge... if I can't... be there my... myseehhh..." his grasp tightened on the tissues, pushing the bunch against his nostrils. "ahhhCushhh! ahhhChechhh! eehhh... ehh-ahCHOO!"

 

            "God bless you, Gary."

 

            Gary noisily cleared his nose, then took a deep breath. "Dag you, Barissa." He sounded awful.

 

            Marissa felt around, then patted his leg comfortingly. "I'll finish breakfast, then stay here until you fall asleep."

 

            He shook his head again, struggling to get up from beneath the cat. "I deed to go dowd to the bar at least--"

 

            She reached over and held him down, one dark, slender hand on his shoulder. "Oh no you don't. You're staying in bed today. The paper says so, the cat says so, I say so, and your body says so. And if that's not enough saying so I'll call your parents. You will stay in bed!"

 

            Well, he certainly didn't want that by any means. "I'll stay... id bed..." he agreed, rubbing more at his nose. At least for the morning. "ahhIhshoo! Ahh-ehhchoo!"

 

            "Good," she replied cheerfully. "And God bless you again. Now drink up that orange juice while I finish making breakfast."

 

            He coughed and sipped at the orange juice. "You're all right id the kitched, thed?"

 

            She nodded. "I'll call if I can't find something. I do cook for myself you know."

 

            "I dow." Despite being blind, Marissa was one of the most capable women he had ever met. He didn't like questioning her abilities, but he also didn't want to heap on a responsibility she was uncomfortable with. After all, it wasn't her kitchen. "Just baking sure."

 

            She nodded, "Thanks, Gary." Only about five minutes later, she took his breakfast over to him on a tray. "Bon appetite!"

 

            There was toast and jelly, and scrambled eggs, along with the appropriate condiments for the eggs. "Thags, Barissa," he snuffled, picking up a fork and taking a bite of eggs to humor her. "I'll be ok dow."

 

 "I'm sure you will. Let me go clean up the dishes while you eat your breakfast and I'll see to you again before I go." And she headed over to the kitchen.

 

            Admittedly, Gary wasn't very hungry. More sleepy and achy than anything else. "ahhhIhshhh! ahhChooo! AhhhCheoo!" Well, aside from the sneezing of course. "ahh-Heshhoo!" Of course. "Sniff, sniff! Sniff!" He blew his nose thoroughly and took a second bite. The eggs, even plan, were absolutely delicious and just right- not too runny and not too stiff. They tasted delightful; he just wished he were hungrier.

 

 

*                      *                      *

 

 

            One hand crept out from beneath the blankets, reaching over to the cordless phone and dialing. It was brought to his ear, ringing, as he coughed to clear his voice.

 

            The voice that replied was friendly, "McGinty's restaurant and bar, Marissa speaking."

 

            "Barissa, cad you get be ode bore thig?"

 

            A short, soft sigh. "Of course, Gary. What do you need?" They had been playing this game of 'one more thing' all morning long and now it would continue into the afternoon it seemed. She'd already moved the television set next to his bed. She'd already gotten him a hot water bottle. She'd already made him a hot cup of tea with honey.

 

            "Cad you get be sub cold bedicide frub the store? By doze is all stuffed ub add I keep coughing add I still have a fever add I cad't breathe very well add--"

 

            "All right, Gary. Let me run down to the corner store and I'll be right back."

 

            "ehhhChooo! ahhhChishoo! Sniff, sniff! Dags, Barissa." And they hung up.

 

            Marissa explained she'd be running an errand and, with Spike on her right, she left.

 

            It was only 10 minutes later when she let herself into Gary's place. The television was on low and the sounds of his deep breathing signaled that he was indeed asleep. Thankful that he was getting some sleep at least, she left the small bag of medicine on his bed stand and tried to quietly tip toe out.

 

            Tried being the operable word. "Barissa?"

 

            She turned around with a sigh. "I didn't mean to wake you up. Just brought you some medicine. The man at the drug store said it was just the thing to clear up your symptoms."

 

            A cough, then another clearing of the throat. "Dag you... oh! Ode bore thig?"

 

            Here they went again. "Yes, Gary?"

 

            "Cad you sniff get be sniff a glass of sniff ice water sniff for takig the bills?"

 

            "Sure, Gary." She paused, then, "You're sniffling a lot. You should probably blow you nose."

 

            He nodded wearily, taking up two tissues and doing just that. The bed and ground were becoming littered with half-used, balled-up tissues by now.

 

            She brought over the glass of water, handing it to him and patting his shoulder. "There you are, Gary. You just read the box and take exactly what it says to."

 

            He nodded again, knowing she wouldn't be able to see anyway. "Okay." He sipped the water, then dug the box of medicine out of the brown paper bag.

 

            Marissa lingered, just in case he had any questions. And in the meantime, made some concerned small talk. "Have you been able to get much sleep?"

 

            "A little. Off add od."  He popped out two pills and swallowed them.

 

            Making sure she heard him correctly, "Off and on?"

 

            "Yeah. It takes a log tibe for be to fall asleeb. Whed I do, I edd ub wakig ub sdeezig or coughig." He yawned. "But I ab still very tired."

 

            Marissa wasn't too sure she'd caught all that; Gary was sounding worse and worse as the day progressed and she was more than glad he hadn't received the paper that morning. "Well, the best thing you can do right now is sleep."

 

            "I dow." Putting down the glass of water, he yawned again, burying his face in the pillow. Struggling to breathe freely, he inquired, "Cad you get be ode bore thig?"

 

            She had been hoping all this talk of sleep would have done its trick. The more he slept, the less he asked her to do things for him. Still, she replied politely, "What's that, Gary?"

 

            "Cad you get be ad extra billow frob the closet?"

 

            Certainly not a difficult request. "Of course, Gary." It took a few minutes to find her way there, locate a pillow amongst towels and blankets and much more, but she returned with a pillow in a fresh pillowcase for him. "Is that better?" she asked after handing it over.

 

            Gary plumped the pillow, then leaned back into it, much more elevated than before. "Ahhh... yes, buch, feels better dow. Ub, Barissa? Ode bore--"

 

            "Gary!" she laughed, exasperatedly. "I told you I could just take today off and hang out here if you wanted me to take care of you." Men could be such babies. Even a man who saved the world from time to time.

 

            With a cough. "Bud you should't have to--"

 

            "Gary, I don't mind." Sitting down on the side of his bed, she rubbed her fingers down the side of his face. "You're sick in bed, and I don't mind. Now, what would you like?"

 

            Very softly, "I could use adother box of tissues frub the bathroob. Should have sub udder the sig"

 

            She nodded. "All right... under the... sink?"

 

            "Yeah." He blew his nose again.

 

            "Then I'll be right back. Is there anything at all you want while I'm up?"

 

            "Do, sniff, sniff, dothig."

 

            "All right." She retrieved the box of tissues, opening them up for him on the way back. "If there's nothing else, I'm going to go back downstairs. Just call me again if you need me. Hopefully for more than one thing at a time. And I want you to try to get a good sleep, ok?"

 

            "ahhhchooo! aarshooo! ahhhChishhoo!" he sneezedm snuffling a reply, "ok."

 

            "God bless you. And sleep tight, Gary."

 

Marissa gathered Spike and was just closing the door behind her when Gary called out a last time, "Barissa, ode bore thig?"

 

            She repressed a sigh of frustration and called back as politely as possible, "What do you want now, Gary?"

 

            She grinned. "Dothig, just wadted to say thag you agaid."

 

            Smiling back, "You're welcome." Quietly, she shut the door behind.

 

 

*                      *                      *

 

McGinty's was busy when the commotion began. It started with a woman at one of the far tables breaking into an attack of sneezes and complaining that only cats made her sneeze. Not seconds later, an orange cat was spotted darting around beneath the tables, around patrons' feet. Spike, Marissa's dog, having recognized the cat, took off after it, upsetting two waitresses with drink and entree orders in the process. Marissa, who had been just leaving the office, suddenly found the cat bounding into her arms with a soft meow and a purr. While the others cleaned up, she hurriedly took the cat outside with a scolding, only to find that as she sat the cat down in the new-fallen snow, her hand brushed up against another familiar item: a newspaper. In a panic, she stuffed it inside her coat. She couldn't read it, but she didn't need to. This was a special edition meant for her, and she was certain that the date in the upper right hand corner read January 9.

 

            She made it a block in the light snow before finding a phone booth. Quickly she called Chuck and arranged to meet him at a small place a few blocks from there. Marissa didn't want to involve Gary... the paper apparently thought there was some reason they shouldn't, and as he had finally been able to get to sleep, with some help from the cold medicine, she certainly did not want to wake him back up.

 

            Chuck was already at the café when she arrived, slipping quickly into a booth and pulling the paper out. "Yep, that's the paper," Chuck said, keeping his voice low as they always did when discussing the paper.

 

            "The cat just jumped into my arms and I found it on the ground in front of the store. I can't imagine it has been there all day, we've all walked in and out of that door a number of times today," Marissa explained. "For some reason it wanted me, not Gary."

 

            Chuck was silent.

 

            "What's it say?" she asked eagerly.

 

            "This morning's bank robbery made the headlines. A lot of news that's already happened today... except for this one story.. about a fire." He coughed, reaching for his water and swallowing a few gulps to clear his throat.

 

            "What's it say?" Marissa asked, on the edge of her seat and inching forward more.

 

            Quickly, Chick read, "At eight-fifteen last night, fire engines reported on the scene of a fire in downtown Chicago. The fire seems to have begun in an upstairs apartment and spread steadily through the rest. It demolished all residences in the block as well as a popular bar and restaurant, McGinty's. There's a picture of a bunch of people looking up at the burning building, including Gary. Hey... he doesn't look so hot..."

 

            Marissa was already rising to her feet. The hands on her watch read that it was already half past seven; they would have to hurry. "He's sick. There's no time to explain."

 

            "I'll call the fire department," Chuck echoed, sounding a little uncertain all of a sudden. Perhaps it was the number of predicted events that seemed to the authorities to follow Gary around. It was all they needed to have Gary as a suspect... but it would be better than having him homeless and out of work.

 

 

*                      *                      *

 

            "Gary?" Marissa knocked heavily on the door, trying not to sound to dreadfully worried. It took several minutes for the door to open, by means of a tired, sniffley Gary.

 

            "Hey," he snuffled, letting her in, rubbing at his nose. "I fidally got to... to sleeb. Ehh... ahhCheshh! AhhKeshoo!"

 

            "Get your coat on, and your hat," she said, feeling around for his shoes and tossing those to him as well. "We need to get going, now." Just as she spoke, a smoke detector sounded in the hallway, and Spike began to bark and pull Marissa toward the door.

 

            As they made their way out into the hallway, there were already fire-fighters coming through and spinning lights out the windows. Gary, cold and tired, made his way out with Marissa right behind him. He took his place in the crowd of people outside, looking up to watch their building, smoke billowing from the top window of an apartment.

 

            "Don't worry, everything'll be fine now," Chuck said with a smile, rounding a fire engine and patting Gary on the back.

 

            Gary shook his head. "Add just how do you dow?"

 

             "Late Edition," he replied, slapping a folded newspaper against Gary's chest. "You picked a fine day to get sick."

 

            Sniffling, Gary raised the back of his hand to his nose and mouth, while securing the paper against his chest with the other. He turned, to the side, and snapped forward. "ehhKeshooo! Ahhh-Cheshhh!" He dug a tissue out of his pocket and rubbed at his nose, unfolding the paper with his other hand. He blinked to focus in the dark, in the lightly-falling snow, on the paper. There was a picture of the building as it was now, with the smoke, but nothing more. "Firefighters were able to contain the blaze before it spread. The fire was apparently started by neglect in the kitchen and caught in time by firefighters responding to an anonymous phone call. The fire was contained and there was only minor damage to the apartment." He looked over at Chuck with a smile. Laughing, "So you did steal by dewsbaber!"

 

            The laughter died down as the snow around became thicker. Marissa treated them to coffee at a nearby diner until they were able to re-enter the building and be sure both restaurant and apartment were in perfect order. Chuck headed home for the night, and Marissa did the same after making sure Gary was back in bed for the night.

 

            He stayed up a while, though, hugging a pillow to his chest as he half sat up, reading through the newspaper for the day. "ahh-Ehhshoo! ahh-Keshoo!" With all the tissues around, he was sure the fire would have eaten his apartment for snack if it had gotten this far. Quite fortunate he was to have such friends. A break from the paper had most definitely been appreciated this day. But as the Cat curled up at the foot of his bed, he had a feeling his adventures were far from over, head cold or not.