The Long and Winding Road

[Mana Aizawa]

Nov. 9th at  8 PM somewhere along Hwy 5 near the Bob Hope Airport in Laurel Canyon

 

It had been a long and winding road.  Mana had headed for Riverside where she had heard cornucopias overflowed.  Somehow she had ended up in Laurel Canyon.  It didn't matter much since she was bound and determined to walk to NYC.  

 

She had made it an astounding 30 km (even without any help from tattoo artists or crazy Texan cowpokes).  How much further could NYC be, Mana had wondered that more than once?  

 

But life had improved.  She had met a "wild plants" person (nut?) named Johnny Milkweed who had taught her all about dandelion greens and cattails and clovers and chicory and chickweed and curled dock and field pennycress and fireweed and plantain and even purslane.  None of them quite tasted like yakitori or gyoza but surprisingly they had improved Mana's immune system and made her healthy.  

 

She wasn't as dirty as before either and had even found a pair of brand name canvas shoes in pretty good shape and a canvas bag with a recycle seal on it.  

 

Now Mana was seriously considering the following options: hitchhiking, hopping a train (were there any?), stealing a horse, or stowing away on a flight.  She doubted that stealing a horse was such a good idea because she didn't know how to ride.  

 

But speaking of flights, she had seen a sign for the Bob Hope Airport.  Anything was possible, Mana firmly believed.  

 

But now it was a wild and windy night.  Despite the wind and chance for rain, Mana was happy but still, she felt like she had been left standing here and only hoped to find the way.  She had been left alone many times (too many times).  So she gave up a prayer: "Please don't leave me here.  Lead me to your door.  I don't care how long and winding the road is, don't leave me standing here.  Don't keep me waiting here.  Please lead me to your door."  

[Mana Aizawa]

"Another day, another dollar."  Mana wasn't sure where that came from, but at least the "another day" part was correct.  

 

The airport had turned out to be a BIG disappointment.  Mana had expected jets, Airbuses, or something.  The things there had propellers and not turbo jet engines.  Worse, she was told there wasn't hardly any fuel for planes in any case.  Just who was Bob Hope?  Well, he certainly would be disappointed in having such a dinky airport named after him.  

 

So, from cardboard and charcoal Mana had concocted a sign: Going to NYC   

 

Squatting by the side of the road was easier than standing and after exactly 12 hours Mana had not had one offer for a ride.  Mana considered her outfit: torn jeans, dirty blouse, white socks (well not really so very white) and canvas shoes.  Not very alluring.  

 

But when someone finally stopped and explained reality to Mana, she understood that it wasn't so much her costume that was putting off potential rides, but that no one was driving east.  It was basically not safe.  And just where would they get gas along the way?  

 

Mana wondered how people did travel.  Surely someone was traveling.  And then she hit upon the idea of just getting from one place to the next and the next stop she decided would be Las Vegas,  

 

The NYC sign was tossed and a new one made: Going to Las Vegas.  

 

Mana thought a bit as she waited.  She remembered the cowpoke, the one who had bought her lunch at that still-open diner.  She had initially had high hopes of something special developing--alas she ended up being disappointed.  And then there was Aki, oh, so strange.  What Mana recalled was that though small, though not as small as Mana, she didn't seem vulnerable. 

 

Mana, on the other hand, was like a K-Mart blue light special just screaming out vulnerability--check out the super vulnerable girl.  But, Mana rationalized, it wasn't easy to not exude vulnerability when one was 40 some kilos and didn't like guns.  Just how that Aki girl did it was just a mystery.  

[Mana Aizawa]

The trip to Las Vegas was both faster and shorter than Mana had imagined.  Her biggest disappointments were that she had no money to gamble with and that she had lost her sign (Mana guessed that those reading her mind had filled in "virginity" rather than "sign".  But that simply wasn't the case).  And no, it was not her astronomical one, either, but her GOING to LAS VEGAS sign.  

 

She was staying at the Church of Re-marriage and Absolution on Wager Boulevard.  Though the bed had that well-slept in smell, it beat sleeping behind the church in the bushes.  And all Mana had to do to get that bed was attend church services.  It was a sweet deal.   

 

Mana was thinking hard about a lot.  First, all those nutritious weeds that she had learned about back in LA, well, they didn't seem to grow in Las Vegas.  Cattails?  Not a sign of any.  She did not really have a lot of fat reserves to burn up.  

 

And she was thinking about that sign and how the back side still had Going to NYC on it.  

[Mana Aizawa]

Going to NYC was turning out to be harder than Mana had anticipated.  A lot harder.  Everyone she asked told her she was lucky to have made it to Las Vegas and she should just stay.  But Mana wondered, "Stay and do what?"  

 

She had grown up in NYC.  

 

A guy, Larry Donovan he claimed his named was, had taken her to the casino.  After he had downed a few drinks, and Mana had not, two men joined him (them).  One was short and looked like a weasel, and Mana instinctively didn't like him.  The other was also short, thick as an oak trunk, with small eyes, lots of heavy gold earrings and a shaved head.  Mana didn't much like him either.  

 

So they took Larry's place and asked, NPC "You want to get to NYC?"  

 

Mana didn't know what to say so she said, "Yes."  

 

They explained that getting there wasn't easy but if Mana were willing to help them out, just do a small, a very small job, they would get her there.  Mana didn't want to help these two, not at all, she wouldn't even have pointed the direction of nearest restroom to either, but she did want to get to NYC.  They showed her a picture of a pretty female, pressed the picture into her hand, and told her to keep it and not lose it.  They said her name was Nora--Nora Sheeley.  

 

Mana felt dizzy and though she hadn't had a drink, she wanted to get outside for some fresh air and away from these two, but they had her wedged in against the bar.  They continued as though Mana had agreed to do their job, even though she hadn't.  They pulled a very small bottle out and placed it in her hand, explaining that all she had to do was go to the Black Mask where Nora hung out and slip two pills into her drink--nothing else, easy as pie, simple as Simon Says, just that and not a single thing more.  

 

Mana thought if it were so simple, why didn't they do it themselves.  

 

Then, they added, as though Mana needed some sort of guiding light, that if she didn't do that little task, they would find her and drip acid over her face.  Yes, there was a small, self-satisfied laugh by the weasel guy.  

 

Mana was to meet them the next day out in front of the casino and her ride to NYC would be there.   Wow, Mana exclaimed, I am actually going to do this?  And she guessed she would, and Nora Sheeley, whoever she was, well, that problem was thousands of kilometers away.  

[Mana Aizawa]

Nov. 15th  AM  LV

 

Mana waited outside the casino, and at 8 AM there wasn't hardly a soul in sight.  She waited there as she had been instructed.  She really didn't want to see those two short guys, Mr. Weasel and Mr. Oak Trunk, again.  And she started feeling a sense of relief when they didn't show up at the designated time.  

 

Mana was still wearing a pair of dumpster-found, used canvas shoes, a very old, frayed and faded pair of jeans, and a baggy, loose-fitting and stained reddish-brown sweat shirt.  High Fashion it wasn't.  

 

Mana scanned her surroundings and didn't see those two--Mr. Weasel and Mr. Oak Trunk--and she began to worry that the whole thing had been a joke, but she still had the photo of some woman named Nora Sheeley and the bottle with pills.  Then she saw a woman, well, Mana thought it was a woman because the figured sort of walked like a woman.  The woman had a crew cut, was dressed in a very nice man's dark suit with a blue tie, and was pulling a small luggage.  

 

The woman walked directly toward Mana and stopped about one meter from her.  She gazed at Mana, looking her up and down with steely dark brown eyes and finally said, NPC "You're a tiny thing, aren't you?"   

 

Mana wasn't sure being called a "thing" was a good sign and in fact, the woman with the crew cut, wearing that ridiculous male's suit, was at most 10 cm taller than she was, making her pretty darn short, too.  Mana guessed that she wasn't really meant to answer that question and in fact the woman continued without letting Mana answer.  

 

"You know what you have to do," she said with a voice that seemed to reek of authority and superiority.  "You also know what will happen if you fail," and then something happened that actually frightened Mana--the woman's eyes changed colors, they went from dark brown to a nearly florescent red.  Now that sort of got to Mana--who was this person?  What was this person?  

[Mana Aizawa]

"Take your clothes off!"  

 

"Huh? You got to be . . . " But Mana didn't finish her sentence.  The glowing red eyes spoke definitively that she wasn't kidding.  

 

Mana slipped out of her dumpster-found canvas sneakers, pulled her reddish-brown and stained sweat shirt off, and finally slipped out of her worn and tattered jeans.  She felt horrible--worse, humiliated.  The crew cut and masculine-attired woman had opened the luggage and inside Mana saw three dresses and two pairs of high heel shoes--all new.  She also took Mana's old clothes and tossed them all--even the dumpster canvas sneakers.    

 

The woman lifted the first dress from the small leather case and handed it to Mana.  "Put it on." 

 

The dress was incredible.  Burgundy, rich and silky, slid over her body like a perfect hot shower.  It was sleeveless and exposed half of her back and was low cut in the front too.  Much worse, in Mana's opinion, it covered nothing of her legs.  It was the shortest dress she had ever had on.  Moreover, it was skin-tight, clinging to her like a second skin.  

 

The lady then handed her the red high heel shoes.  The clothes were expensive, Mana could tell, but the dress was not meant for practicality or warmth and it was at most 21 degrees outside and Mana began to shiver.  Who was this Nora Sheeley?  Why was she being fitted with such a costume?  Was it to do with Nora Sheeley?  Nora Sheeley? Nora? And Mana was beginning to really, really, really dislike this Nora already.  

 

Inside the luggage were two other dresses, one a red cheongsam, and it was the kind that also hugged the body and had a slit that ran all the way up to her hip and maybe even higher.  Mana wanted to explain that she had not even a single drop of Chinese blood, and that a kimono would have been more appropriate but again, Mana doubted anyone would listen.  The last dress was a brilliant turquoise blue party dress and came with a matching set of blue heels.  

 

The woman closed the luggage, handed the extended handle to Mana and said, "There's your ride," and started walking with Mana in tow.  Mana was reduced to strutting in the absurdly tight and short dress towards a semi.  Outside waited a grizzled guy that looked like he might have been a relative of ZZ Tops' band and he was watching her every strut from behind cheap sunglasses--and there was a definite smirk on his whisker-covered lips.  Mana didn't like men with beards--not that creepy tattoo guy back in LA, not any of the bearded men she had met in the past month.  And this guy's beard went down to his belly-button.  Creepy, Mana thought--just Nora Sheeley creepy, just Miss Nora Sheeley creepy.    

[Mana Aizawa]

Nov. 15th AM, Las Vegas--still outside the casino. 

 

The cab door to the semi was open, but Mana wondered aloud just how she was going to get into it.  It was WAY, WAY UP THERE. 

 

The bearded driver scoffed and said, NPC "Beats the hell out of me."  But before Mana could try climbing up herself, the driver's huge hand landed square on her ass, and with a swift boost, Mana was lifted into the air and nearly thrown into the cab of the semi.  "You can thank me later," The ZZ Top-bearded driver laughed.  

 

Mana did not think any of this funny, not her costume, not the driver, and not the woman with the crew-cut and red glowing eyes.  But the driver seemed to think all of it was funny.  

 

The floor inside the semi cab was filthy, covered with Milky Way candy bar wrappers so thick they were like a carpet--only Mana was pretty sure there hadn't been any made since the EVENT, some six years prior.  That made Mana's skin crawl.  

 

The semi was surrounded by an invisible cloud of citrus fragrance, and the driver, as it turned out, was hauling citrus--oranges, lemons, and grapefruit.  

 

The driver had tossed the luggage up and into the cab that the woman had given Mana, and the woman then tossed up a purse, which Mana fumbled.  And it was new, just like the clothes, and then the woman  explained that the picture of Nora Sheeley, the pill bottle with only two mysterious pills and even some cash had been placed into the purse.  For the hundredth time, Mana wondered who this Nora Sheeley was.  

 

The driver got in, revved up the engine and off they were, going to NYC, or at least that was what Mana expected.  

 

Considering just how short the dress she was wearing was, there was no comfortable way to sit and Mana was more or less forced to keep her legs crossed and to continuously tug on the burgundy, skin-tight dress's hem.  She definitely didn't want to be a distraction to the driver--definitely wanted him to keep his eyes on the road.  But just how was she supposed to sit in such a dress for a trip of some 3,000 kilometers? 

 

"I'm really going to New York, New York, New York," Mana said excitedly.  
 

Probably New York was not ready for the likes of Mana Aizawa.  Probably!!! 

[Mana Aizawa]

Nov 16th     Near freezing, somewhere in what was once Kansas

 

The trip (and "trip" was the right word because Bernie, for that was the driver's name, was a wild and crazy guy) so far had seemed long.  According to Bernie the driver, they had gone 1,000 miles and they weren't even close to NYC yet.   Mana had been forced to listen to old cassette tapes (and she had actually had to have the driver explain what they were since she had never seen a cassette tape before) of Deep Purple's "Smoke on the Water" so many times that her ears were numb and her head pounded.  

 

The only thing worse than Deep Purple, Mana discovered, was Grand Funk Railroad (where did they ever get a name like that?) singing some nonsense called "I'm Your Captain" and the whole while the long-bearded truck driver was bouncing up and down on his seat to the beat of the music,  while Mana grimaced and continually tugged on the hem of her way too short dress.  

 

Once they stopped, because it was late, very late night, Mana had a big surprise waiting for her.  It was so black outside Mana saw 10,000,000,000 stars.  She had never ever seen such a sky.  She found the driver, despite his horrible taste in music, to be a wild, crazy but friendly guy.  So, she pulled out the bottle of two pills meant for Creepy Miss  Nora Sheeley and asked him what they were.

 

"I'm getting closer to my goal" was the chorus sung by Grand Funk Railroad droning in the background. NPC "You don't want to know, my pretty little bumblebee," the driver said.  Mana had grimaced and replied that she wasn't a pretty little bumblebee, and had then  put the bottle back into the purse and pulled out the picture of Nora Sheeley.  Bernie chuckled and replied, "My pretty little ladybug, then if you don't like being called a bumblebee." 

 

Mana knew that she should have been satisfied with "bumblebee" and decided not to push it.  

 

Then, Mana again asked herself, "Just who are you Nora Sheeley."  She held the picture of Nora Sheeley in her two very small hands, and pressed the picture to her breasts, as she fell asleep under 10,000, 000,000 stars, inside the cab of the semi-truck, with a floor an inch thick with very old Milky Way wrappers.  

 

When she woke, Bernie the driver was returning from the bushes pulling up his fly and spitting out toothpaste.  Bernie used his finger for a brush--it made Mana shiver with disgust.  

[Mana Aizawa]

They really hadn't been traveling long, not long since getting up.  The day was bright, but cold. The landscape desolate to Mana's eyes.  Bernie, the driver, pulled into a large parking lot and stopped. 

 

NPC "Okay, end of the line. Been good to know ya'."  

 

Mana blinked twice: "What?  Bernie, you're supposed to take me to New York.  What is this, kansas?"  

 

"Used to be Kansas.  That there used to be Salina. Too dangerous for me to go any further."  

 

Bernie got out, walked around the cab, opened the door and helped Mana down, along with her purse and luggage.  

 

"Bernie, come on, you're joking, right?  It has got to be something like freezing here."

 

"Probably almost 50, but dropping, that's for sure."

 

"I'll freeze to death . . . in like, 3 minutes, in this weather."  

 

"Nope, your next ride is coming.  Don't you hear them?" 

 

"Them? What is it, like a herd of wild horses?"  

 

"Nope! Them," and Bernie pointed to about twenty Harley Davidson motorcycles roaring towards them.  "Ya take care of yourself pretty little Ladybug, hear?"  

 

So, there Mana stood, her luggage, her purse, and her body so cold she could have been used to chill a keg of beer, and standing in the middle of twenty over-weight, aging, long-haired, and mostly scary guys on bikes.  There was no way Mana was getting on the back of any bike dressed as she was in a skin tight, low-cut, sleeveless, and super short burgundy dress.  

 

But a thick blanket was tossed her way, it was heavily stained with axle grease and diesel oil or something--it smelled like a repair shop.  She was told to hop on, wrap herself up tight and hang on tighter.  To Mana, this was the zenith of insanity, the ultimate of psychosis, but really it was her nadir, her lowest point ever.  

 

She hadn't used a bad word in her life that she could remember, but she was seriously considering using one now.  Only, the biker guy, with a salt and pepper beard, and Mana hated beards, grabbed her, pulled her onto his bike and then had done a wheelie and tore off at such a speed that Mana had grabbed the guy, wrapped her arms around him and hung on for dear life.  The biker guy's odometer or speedometer or whatever it was read 110, and she guessed that was miles per hour, and not kilometers per hour.   

 

Mana estimated that at that speed she was destined to die an early death in crash up  long before reaching the Brooklyn Bridge.  Oh, Nora Sheeley was maybe luckier than she even knew.  Just how far was Salina, Kansas from NYC?   

[Mana Aizawa]

It was some some 280 km to Kansas City.  By the time they arrived, Mana was so cold that nothing moved, not even her jaw.  She couldn't speak.  She couldn't walk.  She couldn't bend her fingers.  

 

They were at the airport.  The last airport Mana had investigated had been the Bob Hope Airport in LA and no flights were taking off or arriving.  However, here there was a plane waiting.  And Mana had been set, along with her luggage and her purse, a short walking distance away from the Learjet 60 with a Pratt and Whitney engine and room for only about 4 passengers.  

 

Mana didn't even say goodbye to the bikers--mostly because she couldn't.  It took a while, but she began to be able to move and with great effort reached the plane, climbed up and into it feeling like a Zombie that had just come back to life, rigid with cold.  Her skin-tight, extra short Burgundy dress was a bit worse off than it had been a few days previously, but Mana was too cold to change into the Turquoise party dress or the cheongsam.  

 

Her only goal was to search for all the blankets she could find and pile them on top of herself.  

 

Why was there are Learjet waiting in Kansas City for her?  She didn't get around to asking that question until about an hour after downing her second cup of hot chocolate.  It had to be all about Nora Sheeley.  Creepy Miss Nora Sheeley.  

 

Mana's problem was now that she was pretty certain the two pills in the little bottle were some kind of poison.  

 

NPC "Afternoon Miss.  You must something very special because not many people get to ride this plane."  That was the burly guy who looked about 68 and had bounced into the plane wearing a Gandalf costume, and yes, he had a very long beard too.  

 

"I think it is because I might be an assassin," Mana replied amiably.  And to her surprise, Gandalf, or whoever he was, didn't blink an eye.  Oh, just who are you Nora Creepy Sheeley?  

 

Is that what I am, Mana wondered, an assassin?  

[Mana Aizawa]

Mana slept through most of the flight--slept as though she were a child.  An assassin? 

 

Towards the end of the flight, when asked if she wanted another blanket (she had four on her at that moment), she smiled because even Mana could sense irony in language.  Then the man had surprised her by handing her his card: Assassin for Hire 

 

Mana didn't think he was kidding.  What WAS the world coming too, Mana wondered.  She should have wondered what HAD the world already come to?  Mana looked at the card, looked at the man, and his eyes twinkled and he winked.  

 

Mana didn't like men with beards and this guy's beard was full and long.  She didn't much care for assassins either, even though she suspected she was becoming one.  So, what was Mana to do?  Ask for him to share trade secrets?  Yeah, Mana thought, that would be an ice breaker.  

 

Mana could sense that she was rapidly getting closer to that creepy Miss Nora Sheeley and to the Black Mask, whatever that was.  

 

Mana had no idea what type of person creepy Miss Nora Sheeley was or even if she was a person, but she wondered if Miss Nora Sheeley had any premonitions that Mana was on the way?  Acid all over my face if I fail, Mana thought to herself, and Mana tried to imagine the rest of her life with that kind of face.  

 

The Learjet 60 landed and Mana smiled, folded the four blankets and said to the man: "Might see you at the next assassins convention."  Mana cringed at her total lack of prudence and sensibility.  She thought to herself, this is a nightmare.  And that the mask being the BLACK mask was scarier still.  

 

If Mana were becoming an assassin, she was surely going to be the world's absolute worst assassin.  
 

It was freezing cold outside and yes Mana was still dressed in that low-cut, sleeveless, skin-tight, extra short burgundy dress and dark red heels.  As she walked from the plane toward the door and inside, she shivered badly--she was home, but was this really home?  
 

[Mana Aizawa]

Mana took a cab to Kimono House at 131 Thompson in the Soho district.  It was close to the Black Mask and she could use her Japanese to get some help.  Though she had grown up in White Plains, NY, she really didn't know the city at all. 

 

She had changed into the red cheongsam in the airport bathroom.  In some ways it was worse than the low-cut, skin-tight, extremely short burgundy dress: it restricted her steps and made her feel false, as though she were Chinese instead of Japanese.  But she couldn't imagine strutting around in a wild blue party dress either, which exposed all her shoulders to the cold, and which was her only other choice.  

 

How to explain the cheongsam to the Japanese inside the Kimono House was the least of Mana's problems.  Maybe she could trade the cheongsam for a kimono she laughed to herself.  

 

There was housing above the Kimono House and possibly there was a closet Mana could use to call home for a week or two.  The Kimono house was very near to the Black Mask, Mana assumed, since they were both in Soho, and thus close to Nora Sheeley.  Mana checked her purse, the purse that the glowing, red-eyed demon of a woman had given her, checked the bottle and yes, those two pills meant for Nora Sheeley were still there.  

 

First Mana would need a coat.  And getting an affordable coat in Soho was not likely.  Only after that would Mana find out just where the Black Mask was.   *THREAD IS AT AN END