HOLLYWOOD—As Officer Matamoros fell silent and stopped showing his very white teeth, in which a gold incisor would not have been out of place, Jason Finch became aware of an abrupt exodus. Teachers were emptying the bungalow with the sudden liberating rush of water flowing from a toilet unclogged. He all but expected to hear a final gurgle after the office was so completely and swiftly flushed of people.
Jason bounded down the back steps, followed by Matamoros. The last switch was flicked off; the bureaucratic nerve center was plunged in darkness. Darkness engulfed the paper-smothered desks and box-filled hall, and it blotted the goofy sign by the copier that said, “This is my way of keeping busy till I win the lottery.
The red lights of Matamoros’s tricked-out pick-up turning onto the street were the last trace of another human presence here. Jason was alone; the holidays spread before him like the warm sands on an untread beach.
The Valley was cold enough to complain about but not chilly enough to warrant the display of the dramatic herringbone overcoat draped over Jason’s drooping shoulders. Walking to his car, Jason was reassured when his hand felt the familiar bump in the back of his pants’ pocket, protruding beneath the ribbed weave of overcoat. He sped up his gait, knowing he had to pick up Kit, his little girl. If he ran one second over, the babysitter would charge him the full hour.
When Jason reached his Mazda, he laughed. His laugh turned into a cackle. Jason must have been really stressed by the advent of vacation and the end of classes. His car was a Nissan, not a Mazda! Then he proceeded to get out his key. It took him a moment to assimilate its silver and octagonal shape. He shuddered at recognition of the key to room 39. His car key was missing! Rats! He’d have to call a locksmith. That would cost a fortune, and he needed new headshots. Kit would spend the whole night at the sitters.
He called Lidia, the babysitter: “I’m gonna be late, Lidia. I lost my car keys.
As Jason prepared for a long night, one of the janitors rounded the corner of a building. His whistling mingled with the hollow plastic rumble of wheels on his cart, topped by a forest of mop and broom handles. Jason had a flash. His mouth raced.
“ithinkileftmycarkeyintheboxinthebungalowandi’vegottapickupmylittlegirlatthesitters.”
“Whoah!” said the Janitor. “One thing at a time.”
“I think I left my keys inside. Do you have the keys to the bungalow?”
They got inside, thanks to the janitor’s pass key. But the box where all the keys were hanging was locked. Jason and the Russian janitor sprained their eyes looking for a key to open the cabinet. No luck. The janitor radioed. Soon a skinhead entered the bungalow, went straight to the top drawer of the secretary’s desk and extracted a key.
“The trick is knowing where to look, boss,” said the skinhead.
The battle-ship gray wall cabinet opened—voilà . There dangled Jason’s car key. He thwacked himself on the forehead and said, “Idiot!”
The miracle manifest, he was flooded by gratefulness for Alex and the young Janitor.
They ran out of verbal bouquets wishing themselves the merriest of holidays and the best of times for their dysfunctional families.
The Russian janitor said, “See you next year,” like it was the pinnacle of wit.
“See you next year, boss,” mouthed the skinhead.
Before remembering to call the babysitter, Jason merged back on the Hollywood 170 Freeway, into the caravan returning to civilization. Amazingly he caught up in the slow lane with Miss Fenwick and Harold; they were going about 30 miles slower than the slowest neighboring traffic. Harold was her blue 1972 Dodge Dart.
The chief problem of the lost key solved, other problems in the wings shuffled down on the Christmas list of dilemmas. Jason soon forgot about the miraculous aid that got him to his car. He forgot that he was free, and one of his students was in jail for leaving a child locked in a car. What on earth was he going to give Kit for Christmas? She’d been very secretive and sent her letter only to Santa Claus.
(to be continued)
