Subject to Change by Nonni

Excerpts:


Chapter 1

Setting out to slay dragons while on a quest to add zest to my life, I decided to go deep-sea fishing. Large bodies of water terrified me but everything was going so well. I had to neither bait my own hook nor take the fish off my line. No seasickness, this was a sign from Heaven. What a beautiful day. Then there was the call of nature but the facilities consisted of only a large plastic bucket. It had been forty years since I last went camping as a teenager. The waves were choppy as the wind picked up. My mission accomplished, I was proud to be able to rough it. I knew I had to rinse the bucket for the sake of courtesy. Before anyone could stop me, I leaned over the side of the boat to let the ocean do the washing. I then heard someone yelling, “No! Use the rope with the hook there.” Too late. Common sense had never been one of my strong points. Looking up as I drifted down, I thought how magical the surface world and sky looked through the water. Shouldn’t this life jacket have forced me to float? Strangely, I felt no panic; after all, this sort of thing surely happens to “other people”.

Chapter 2

I wake up to calm and bright sunlight coming through the window. I wonder, “What was I dreaming?” Hunger is merciless, I feel nauseous and dizzy. I see a covered bowl and bottled juice on a small tray. I open the bottle and quickly drink half the contents. The bowl contains a mixture of still warm vegetables and meat over rice. Doc must have checked on me and left the food. After my hunger is satisfied, I want to freshen up. The water closet has a small shower with a single handhold; I’m able to have a good wash up. Later, looking into the mirror, I ‘recognize’ myself. I am definitely familiar to me. “How odd,” I mutter to myself. My face is pleasant, not a classical beauty or runway model material, but easy to live with. I’m thinking that my nose is nearly as tiny as Nanette Fabray’s nose. How in the world do I know about Nanette Fabray, an actress whose career began in the early 1940’s, and yet not have a clue as to my own name? Anyway, my nose is small, and like everything else seems to be where it should. A fit and trim body is a nice bonus. Well, I should have some compensation for the grief of ‘losing’ my identity.

Chapter 3

Doc is busily rummaging around in the room. He turns and says, “Good, ye are awake.” He hands me another bowl of food and while I eat, he explains, “We are docking soon. It is a shame that you couldna observe our trip up the River Clyde to the docks. However, ye must play “Least in Sight”. The risky time for us will be when the crew debarks. Murdoch and I have ‘produced’ a set of ID papers for you. We have cobbled together some of our old documents and inserted some applicable information. You will go through the customs check behind me and before Murdoch. The crew thinks ye are a stowaway that we are trying to slip past regular protocols. They are all for sneaking you in, most of them have no fondness for the customs people. There are diversions planned by the crew, if needed, but the officials know and respect Murdoch. If there are any questions, Murdoch will do some bluffing and claim computer error. You are to say as little as possible, keep your head down and nod or grunt if anyone questions you. Do ye ken?” I nod and grunt giving him a grin. “You are a cheeky monkey, aren’t ye? Put this packet of papers in your jacket. Be ready for us to come get you.”



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This is so great, Nonni.
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When next I wake, the light is weakly coming through the window. Peering out, I see it is raining, not heavily but steadily. I smell sausages cooking. When will I not wake up ravenous? Descending the stairs and following the delicious odors, I find the kitchen where Murdoch is standing before the stove tending sausages. Glancing over his shoulder, he says, “Coffee is ready, help yourself.” Mugs, sugar and cream are on the table along with some oatmeal and toast. I have to swallow or drown in my saliva.

“You want a mug, Murdoch?” I ask. He nods affirmative and soon the steam rising from the two mugs joins that of the oatmeal. A plate of sausages meets the table and nobody has to tell me to ‘dig in’. Where is Doc?” I query between spoonfuls. Murdoch tells me that Doc and Mrs. O have gone to purchase some clothes and a few feminine essentials for me. My first thought is slightly indignant because I would like to participate in choosing my own wardrobe.

As if he is reading my mind, Murdoch adds, “They thought it best you not be out and about in the neighborhood just yet.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. Murdoch, do you know, I think being on land has improved your speech. I am beginning to understand more and more of what you say,” I respond thoughtfully. Scrapping the bottom of my bowl, I miss his headshake and eye roll as he gets up to refill his coffee.