The Golden Telescope

10 - UNCLE EARL & AUNT LIZZIE

FLANAGAN'S HOBBY SHOP - PORTLAND, OREGON - PRESENT DAY

"What is it, Jack? You know you're only allowed to make calls if it's an emergency." Aunt Lizzie asked when, after six rings, she finally answered the phone, her words clipped with annoyance.

"It is an emergency, Aunt Lizzie," Jack blurted in response. "I'm sick. I can't go to school today," he said, glancing up at Bart, who nodded eagerly.

"Sick? What's wrong with you? You sound fine to me." Jack could practically feel her agitation through his cell.

"It's... it's not a cold or the flu or anything like that..." He started but paused, not knowing how to continue.

"I think...I may have had some kind of a seizure or something. And I just need to come home. Can you come pick me up?"

He hated asking either Uncle Earl or Aunt Lizzie to do him any favors. They always acted like he was such an enormous inconvenience for them. Despite taking him into their care all those years ago, he couldn't help but wonder why they even agreed if he was such a burden.

"A seizure?" Her voice was high-pitched and accusatory. Then, more thoughtfully—"A seizure? What kind of seizure?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone while Lizzie waited for a response. Jack looked at Bart in frustration. How was he supposed to know what kind of seizure? He didn't even begin to understand the experience himself. So, he was pretty sure there was no way he could expect her to understand.

"I don't know, Aunt Lizzie!" He said, fighting to keep his voice from becoming hysterical. "I just had some kind of spontaneous attack, maybe something to do with my asthma. Can I please come home?" Geez, could she make this any more difficult? He stared imploringly at the floor as he spoke, willing her to feel the desperation in his words. Though he didn't like to admit it, he was scared.

"Well, I suppose you can miss a day of school," she said. "But you'll need to take the train. I have my ladies group coming over for tea soon and—-"

"Don't you get it? I can't take the train! What if I have another stupid attack?!?" He rolled his eyes at Bart. "Do you want me spazzing out in public?"

Jack knew her hyper-concern over their public image would get the better of her, so when he heard Lizzie's sigh in his ear, he knew he had won.

"Oh. Well, you do have a point there. No, we wouldn't want that." She paused for a moment, then said, "I'll send someone to pick you up. Where are you?"

Jack looked at Bart and rolled his eyes again in exasperation, throwing his left hand into the air. They were both standing in front of Flanagan's Hobby Shop when suddenly Bill, Bart's father, came strolling around the corner.

"Dad!" Bart said. "I'm so glad you're here!" And he rushed to where his dad stood and grabbed him by the arm. "Jack is sick. Can we give him a ride home?" He said, looking over at Jack, still on the phone.

Bill looked down at his son, then across at Jack, who waved meekly with his phone still pressed to his ear. Bill Flanagan was in his mid-40's and looking at him; Jack could see where Bart got his Portlandish look from. Of medium height and build, his lightly tanned, weather-worn face had a pair of matching lines deeply etched from cheek to jawline and just enough stubble to mark him as an outdoorsman. His sun-kissed, sandy-colored hair was a little long for his age and gave him an unusually 'hip' look that made him seem laid-back and approachable. He had intense, light-blue eyes, and today he was wearing a muted green, button-down shirt tucked into khaki jeans and taupe-colored suede Birkenstocks with tan and brown nubby socks.