A PLANET FOR THE MISREMEMBERED

PART ONE
The Three Characters

1.

"Well, dumbbells and donuts!" she shouted across the street to him. "You've forgotten all about me!"

The man stopped by a lamppost on the quiet street and peered across at her. She stood with her hands on hips and one foot tapping the curb. But she was smiling. He thought poetically that her eyes had captured stars. It was a clear dry night, a Mediterranean night as someone once remarked of California's late autumn evenings. He smiled back at her, confused by his inability to remember where he had seen her before, and under what circumstances. This irked him, but in a pleasant way, because he could see how pretty she was.

"Venice Beach," she called out, as if haling a taxi. "The Halloween party. My God, have you gone senile? You ARE Manly Storm?"

Grinning at the mention of his full name, he straightened his denim jacket. With neither a glance up or down the residential street he crossed it, casually, his eyes fixed on her face. Could this be Cleo What's-her-name? He saw in his mind the shattered glass pitcher and the line of blood on the other girl's ankle. The other girl... There had been a lot of tension there. He remembered that well enough. The course of the party had changed after the accident. The other girl... No, this was undeniably Cleo. It was not a name that anyone could forget.

"I haven't changed too much, have I?" said Cleo, stepping back from the curb. "It's only been a year. Not quite a year. Well, YOU haven't changed one iota."

Manly looked very pensive for a moment. "Not in any way that can be seen," he said. He stood facing her in the beam of a porch light from the house whose lawn had encroached upon the sidewalk. "Yes, I remember you. It's Cleo. I'm afraid I don't recall your last name."

"Well, it hasn't changed," she said provocatively. "It's Cleo Nelson-Chutsby. Hyphenated names are dreadfully hard to remember. I'll forgive you this one time." She then put a hand to her breasts in feigned alarm. "Oh, I'm not keeping you from an engagement, am I? After all," she laughed, "it IS a Friday night."

He smiled thinly at her theatrical manner. It reminded him of the party, out on the cool hard sand in the flickering light of Tiki torches, where she held the attention of half a dozen men. "No, I was just... " He shrugged, his handsome blondish head tilted to one side. "Taking a walk. Are you headed somewhere?"

"Nowhere earth-shattering."

Shattering. He saw in slow motion the pitcher leaving her hand and striking the flagstones of the patio floor, the explosion of glass like the blossoming of a flower. A poisonous flower. The cut. The blood. The other girl jumping back with a gasp of shock and a frozen grimace.

"Something's on your mind," Cleo said accusingly, still smiling, but warily now. "I'm keeping you from... Well, I'm glad I saw you. Had no idea you were in Petersville. Really too small of a burgh for the both of us. What brings-- I'm sorry. Don't mind me. Don't let me keep you from--"

"No, really, I was going to catch a movie at the Fox, but meeting you again is much more... entertaining."

"Yes and you don't have to buy a ticket!" she said, pleased by his comment. "What movie was it?"

He looked embarrassed. "There wasn't much of an option. 'Mona Lisa Smile.' I've already seen the others. But since I had nothing... That is, I needed a break from... Well, it was something to do. What are you up to in this jerkwater town?"

Cleo looked down the street and then back at him with a dissatisfied smile. "Staying with my grandmother until she can pick up the pieces. My grandfather passed last month. I'll be here a few more... months."

She had started to say 'days,' Manly was sure of it. He smiled crookedly. "So you're not working?"

"I put in an application at the new drive-thru coffee shop. 'Espresso-- Ice cream-- Smoothies.' A cinch job and it'll get me out of the house." She looked past him at the sound of girl talk coming softly up the sidewalk from the corner. She frowned, and Manly saw the glare of annoyance in her shining eyes. Such eyes. He remembered now how taken he was by them.

"Would you like to come over to the house?" she asked him brightly; somewhat desperately, he thought.

He could see two young women approaching. That tension. He kept thinking of the shattered glass pitcher. Cleo stood there in a proud indifference, smiling at him expectantly.

"I'd like that," he said. But she knew as well as he did that he wanted to hold back. It was all about the girls.

"I brought some DVDs with me from home," Cleo said. "We can find something better than Mona Lisa. We've popcorn too. Maybe not as good as--"

She wanted to ignore them. But the one whose hair was styled just like hers, only not raven black but a glitzy purplish red, stopped with her arm extended out to the side to halt the girl beside her, a frail petite blonde. "Why it's Cleo," she said in a voice that mimicked civility.

"I'm sorry. I don't know you," Cleo said with mock politeness.

Manly did. He remembered her from the party. He had seen her with the Other Girl. Not this shrinking violet blonde. The Other Girl had short auburn hair and wore fashionable glasses. He looked at Cleo and saw that she seemed genuinely unable to remember this tall strident girl who was gazing at her with a controlled aggressiveness.

"That's a shame, but I remember YOU."

"You might tell me your name."

"Rhonda. And I beat you at the limbo contest."

Manly saw the bamboo crossbar knocked loose by Cleo's chin. Rhonda jumped, clapping her hands and whooping. He could almost smell the barbecue.

"Congratulations," Cleo said.

"Hello, Manly Storm," Rhonda said. He supposed she meant it. She certainly acted like it. But he was irritated by her tactic. She wanted to annoy Cleo. The short blonde looked uncomfortable. She stood a little back from them, twisting her fingers.

"Hello, Rhonda," he said. "I wasn't expecting a beach party reunion."

"Oh I live in Santa Barbara. I'm here to take classes at Ganesha College. This is my roommate, Zelda. You wouldn't be attending Ganesha, would you? Say yes!"

Manly straightened his jacket. He had to say something. They were all staring at him as if a divine revelation was coming.

"Yes. Actually, I'm the assistant professor in the music department. Just got the position last week."

He heard Cleo snort her surprise. Rhonda raised her eyebrows and showed all her teeth. She was on the good side of plain. The more animated her face, the more attractive she was. She smiled at Zelda, then said to him: "I'm taking Commercial Art, but, you know, I play piano."

"That's nice."

There was a long insufferable moment of silence. They listened to the distant clanging of a railroad crossing. An Amtrak went slowly across Main. This meant it would be stopping at the Petersville station. Not that any of them cared, but it was a blessed distraction from the sudden awkwardness.

"How do you like the town?" Manly asked Rhonda. He realized that his attention to her was not winning him any points with Cleo.

"It's... okay," Rhonda said dubiously. She flipped back her bruise-colored hair. "Zelda and I are staying at the Cheshire Cat motel, the monthly rate. It's across the park from the college, you know. My uncle's paying our living expenses."

"They're not forcing you to stay in the dorm?"

"Trying to, but we're stalling."

Cleo made an impatient gesture. But then Zelda spoke. Her voice startled them. "It's such a lovely..." She was gazing up at the moon. "How odd it is, but a full moon is only half as bright as the half moon. It's like when it shows its complete face it steps back..." She blushed, smiling bashfully at her twisting fingers.

Rhonda gave a laugh. Manly couldn't help doing the same. The train whistle echoed over the roof tops.

"Well," said Cleo questioningly.

"Yes, I would like that," Manly said to her. "Nice meeting you two," he said to the freshman students. "Perhaps I'll see you in the corridors."

"Goodnight," Rhonda said, flicking a glance at Cleo. She and Zelda crossed the street.

"Thank God," Cleo whispered. "Limbo..."

Her grandmother's house stood next to an abandoned house that was in an advanced state of decay, its lawns choked with high weeds over which a drooping willow reigned resignedly. On the other side of Mrs Chutsby's house was a narrow orchard of grapefruit trees. Manly thought the setting was both picturesque and spooky.

It was an old fashioned two-story with a swing chair on the porch, a patch of outdoor carpet for a doormat, and a string-pull doorbell. Inside, in the Edwardian style living room, a discreet fire licked the smoke in a rounded hearth. A portrait of old Mr Chutsby hung above the mantelpiece. He glared through a monocle at infinity, his other eye squinting suspiciously.

The grandmother was in the kitchen.

"She's nearly deaf," Cleo said. "Always afraid of draining her hearing-aid battery. Hardly ever wears it. Let me introduce you. Then we'll go up to my room, if you like."

Manly didn't look at her when she said that. He was seeing the shattered pitcher burning in the hearth flames.