Norbert and Smedley
Episode 1: THE BEGINNING
Two and a half hours and counting. Smedley could hardly wait. The flowers, yellow marguerites, were in a vase by the door, as was the box of chocolates. He’d bought mixed nuts and chews, and tested one from the second layer to make sure they were as good as the sales lady promised—he hoped Penelope wouldn’t notice that the bow was on a little crooked, and that the top layer dipped a little in the middle. He looked over at the narrow twin bed and saw that the white tuxedo, borrowed from his roommate, was laid out and waiting. He smiled.
Penelope had to say yes. How could she be anything but impressed with the thought and care he’d put into this perfect evening?
He called her again, just to make sure she’d be ready.
“Darling? Guess who?”
“Prince Charles?” said Penelope. “Johnny Depp? Oh, I know. It’s Simon Cowell. You heard me singing in the shower. Well, I’m sorry, I can’t come on your show, I have a date with Prince Charming tonight.” She giggled.
Smedley giggled, too. “Did you find a dress?”
“Yes.” Her voice held a hint of annoyance. “Heather is letting me borrow the one she wore to that Christmas bash last year. Can’t you tell me what’s up?”
“No. It’s a surprise.” He tried to sound mysterious, but he had the feeling he sounded more like a ghost with a frog in its throat. He looked at his watch. “Well, I’ll see you in two hours and seventeen, no, make that sixteen minutes.”
“I love you, you old dork.”
As Smedley was hanging up the phone, he heard scratching and snuffling at the door and a key in the lock. He dove for the bed, but it was too late. Norbert Bennington the Third and Woofington had returned from “walkies,” and as usual, Woofington had not wiped his feet on the mat before entering.
“Norbert!” Smedley yelled. “Woofington, no!”
The dog jumped on the bed, on top of Smedley—and on top of the tux—with his filthy muddy paws and danced happily. He wagged his tail furiously in greeting and licked Smedley’s face in apology.
“Now she’ll never marry me,” wailed Smedley. “What will I do? I can’t take her to dinner in blue jeans and a t-shirt, not when she’s wearing a ball gown. And the theater… and boat ride in the lake past all the swans… and… and…” He gave up fighting tears and let them fall. So what if grown men weren’t supposed to cry?
Norbert looked down his long, slightly crooked nose at Smedley, then at Woofington, and shook his head. “We can’t have that, old fellow, can we? But there are advantages to having a family, aren’t there? I’ll call Jonesy, have him drive around in the car. We’ll just get my other tuxedo from home. It’s summer, but I think you can make do with a black one, don’t you think? There’s a certain convenience to black. Food spills and all, you know.”
Smedley looked up. “You’d do that for me?”
“Well of course, old fellow. You’ve been rather an amusement to me these four years. And Lord knows, there aren’t many that would put up with Woofington. Tell you what, I’ll even be your best man. Now you dry your eyes, and I’ll take care of the whole thing.”
Episode Two: The Beginning, Part Two
Oh dear, thought Smedley. But I’d already planned on asking Wilfred Doohickey to be best man. I’d even hinted at it. Can you have two best men? I wonder. Well, time will tell. Time will tell. “Why, thank you, Norbert.”
“As I said, dear Chap, it’s the least. The very least. Now let me call Jonesy. Have you got your twitterbox on you?”
“My twitterbox?”
“That little silver thing you talk on. The one you keep in your pocket. Devil’s devices, but they do come in handy from time to time, you know. I won’t have one, but I make sure Jonesy carries one.”
“Oh,” said Smedley. “My cell phone. Right here.” He pulled it out of his pocket and started to toss it to Norbert but thought better of it when he caught sight of Woofington. The dog had jumped up from where he’d been doing his best imitation of a bearskin rug and was eagerly eyeing Smedley’s throwing arm. Woofington loved to play fetch and keep-away, and he could snatch any object out of thin air if it came within ten feet of him.
Smedley handed the phone to Norbert instead.
Norbert examined the phone, turning it over in his hand several times, holding it close and then far away. Then he looked up at Smedley. “And how, pray tell, do you dial the damn thing?”
“Oh,” laughed Smedley. “That’s easy. You have to flip it open first.”
“Flip open. Like a wallet. How very clever, ha, ha. Thought you had me fooled for a minute there, didn’t you?” He punched in numbers, held the phone to his ear, waited. “What, eh? Jonesy? Norbert, here. Of course, the Third. Doesn’t sound like the First, now, does it? And the Second died in the war, right?” He put his hand over the mouthpiece. “I truly despise when Jeeves visits his poor Mum and I have to make do with that half-wit of a half-brother. I guess the brains come from the father’s side, if you know what I mean.” He winked knowingly. “Now Jonesy, I need you to run home and get my tux, the black one, and bring it back here immediately. What? No, not the one in the country. The home here in town. And hurry man. This is an emergency!”
Smedley looked at Norbert helplessly. He didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. “Are you sure this is OK? Maybe I should call Penelope? Reschedule perhaps?”
“Nonsense. You just leave it to me.”
The phone rang, the regular one, not the twitterbox.
“Hello?” said Norbert.
“Hello,” purred Penelope. “It’s one hour, forty-seven minutes and counting, and I thought I’d tell you that I have a special surprise for you tonight. Wait until you see what else I’m wearing. Or maybe I should say not wearing.”
Norbert’s face turned red. He handed the phone to Smedley. “It’s for you.”
“Hello?”
“You just said that,” said Penelope.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Don’t tell me what you did or didn’t say.”
“But I didn’t.”
“Then who did?”
“That was Norbert.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“I just did.”
Click.
Oh, dear, thought Smedley. This wasn’t looking good at all. Not good at all.
Episode 3: Ready for the First
“What, ho, old chap,” said Norbert, “you look a bit stunned. Don’t tell me this is your first time.”
Smedley blinked.
“Oh, dear. It is, isn’t it. Well, well. You just let old Norbert here guide you. It will all work out. Norbert knows all about these things, he does.” Norbert nodded knowingly.
He does? thought Smedley. He couldn’t imagine Norbert ever having been turned down, but then again perhaps Norbert had left the girl at the altar. The only time Smedley had ever proposed before was in first grade to Naomi Finkelstein, and he didn’t suppose that counted. He’d tried kissing her, too, and been slapped for his efforts. She’d left a glowing handprint that had still been visible when he’d left school at the end of the day. He rubbed his cheek at the memory and felt whiskers. “Oh. Oh, dear,” he said. “I still have to shave. I nearly forgot. Penelope hates it when my cheeks aren’t smooth.”
“Do you have any after shave?” asked Norbert. “Something musky? The girls love that.”
“After shave? Never use the stuff,” said Smedley. “It makes me sneeze.”
“Well, you’ll need to start. It puts them in the mood.”
“Mood?”
“Mood. To say ‘yes.’”
“Oh. Mood. Can I use some of yours?”
“No. We’ll need to get you your own scent. Let’s just pop down and buy some. There’s a shop one Tube station away.”
“Have we got time?” Smedley checked his watch. One hour, thirty-seven minutes and counting.
“All the time in the world, dear boy. With my Jonesy to help you dress, we’ll have you ready in no time. I’ll have him drive you tonight, too. Then you’ll have no worries about parking. How’s that?”
And to think Aunt Cloris had been worried when he’d moved to London. You’re just like your Uncle Robynne and the rest of the Christophers, she’d said. You haven’t got a lick of sense about you. They’ll eat you alive there, no one to take care of you. It’s not like the states, it isn’t. But she hadn’t counted on him finding a roommate like Norbert.
“Oh, and Smedley?”
“What?”
“Take this.”
“What?”
“A little something special to unwrap when the moment arises. You’ll know when the time is right.”
Smedley accepted what appeared to be a tiny foil-wrapped envelope.
“Just keep it in your wallet for now,” Norbert added.
Smedley looked at him. “Oh. OK.”
Episode 4: The Ring
“So, dear boy,” said Norbert, putting an arm around Smedley’s shoulders as he spoke, “what have you done about the ring? Will you be giving her your mother’s?”
“What? Oh. No.”
“No? Not the heirloom type, eh?” He clapped Smedley on the back. “Well, that makes for an added expense.”
Oh, but Penelope was the heirloom type and that was going to present a bit of a problem. Smedley sighed. Everyone thought his parents were dead, but they weren’t exactly. Only gone. Disappeared. Well, he might as well tell Norbert, since the story was going to come out sooner or later. Aunt Cloris wasn’t going to keep it a secret, that was for certain. “Well, er, you see, my parents aren’t quite dead.”
“Quite dead?” Norbert knit his brows together. “And how exactly is one ‘not quite dead’? Did you leave them in the deep freeze or something?”
“Well, er, no.” Smedley paused to run his ticket through the turnstile. “They’re just gone.”
“I’m not quite following you, my boy.”
“I suppose you’ve heard of the Great Lighthouse Incident, Summer of 1996?”
“Maybe a little something about it.”
“Well,” said Smedley, his face growing hot, “my parents caused it. Dad found a single of Roxanne at a secondhand music store and bought it for my mom—her name was Roxanne. She thought he was speaking to her in some kind of code and didn’t replace the red lantern in the family lighthouse. Resulted in one of the worst shipwrecks in history on our side of the pond.”
Norbert let out a low whistle.
“I was only a toddler, but I still remember the scandal. My parents were devastated. They sent me to live with Aunt Cloris and Uncle Robynne, and then disappeared. We haven’t heard from them since, except for the occasional unsigned postcard.”
“Well that accounts for a lot,” said Norbert, his face grim. “But you do have a ring?”
“Yes. It’s not much, but it’s all I could afford. I’ll get her a better one later.”
“No,” said Norbert. “You’ll give her a better one now. You just leave it to me. We’ve got more rings in the family than we’ll ever have fingers to put them on. And you might as well be one of us. You’ve been like family to me.” He clapped Smedley on the back so hard that Smedley nearly fell over.
“I couldn’t really, but thanks for—”
“You not only can, but you must. I insist. And Smedley, it’s been at least ten years since I’ve failed to get my way. Just hand me your twitterbox, if you will.” He smiled. “With a stroke of luck, Jonesy will still be at the family home. Save him from having to hurry there and back before you get to the dessert, you know.”
Smedley saw Norbert’s hand go back to congratulate him again and ducked out of the way. He’d decided it would be a good thing to start the evening still able to breathe.
Episode Five: A Close Shave
“Thirty-five minutes and counting,” said Smedley. “Norbert, I’d really better hurry now. And where is Jonesy?” Smedley looked around the apartment in a panic. He was already stripping off his clothes, folding them neatly, and placing them on top of his dresser so they would be ready to wear again in the morning. He placed his shoes side by side on the floor at the foot of his bed, bending over a second time when he noticed that he’d gotten the right and left shoes reversed. “I’ve already showered, but I’d better hurry up with the shave.” He reached for his electric razor.
“No, man. Not the electric. Use a blade. You’ll get a better shave.”
"I’ll cut myself.”
“Not if you use a good one. Here, use mine. The blade is brand new.”
Smedley stood tall and firm. “No. I will not go out to propose to Penelope wearing bits of tissue stuck to my face. I’ve done everything else your way, but I’m sticking to my electric.”
Norbert made a move towards him, dish of shaving soap in one hand, brush in the other. “Oh, come on, Smedley. Be a man! I haven’t cut myself yet.”
“Of course you haven’t. You haven’t shaved yourself yet, either. Jeeves shaves you, or else Jonesy does. And I don’t see either one of them here now.”
Smedley grabbed his razor, leaned out the window and began to shave--he knew Norbert had a fear of heights. Three teenaged girls that walked on the street below with their arms around each other whispered, giggled and pointed to him with rude gestures. Smedley waved back. “Don’t get your hopes up, ladies. I’ve already got my Snow White.”
He pulled his head and torso back into the room when he was done, and found Norbert using the phone.
“Then why aren’t you upstairs?” Norbert covered the mouthpiece with his hand and turned to Smedley. “It’s that damn Jonesy. He can’t find a parking space, but he has the tuxedo and the ring. Don’t worry. It will be fine.” He took his hand from the mouthpiece and returned to the phone conversation. “Well, park wherever you have to and damn the consequences. Just get yourself up here!”
Smedley heard Jonesy’s familiar step in the hallway a few minutes later.
“Here are the items you asked for, sir. Will you be requiring anything else? Or shall I move the car?”
“My friend here will require your assistance in dressing for the evening, Jonesy. See that he looks sharp, will you? He’s going to be proposing to a young lady, and we want to make sure that she says yes.” Norbert gestured towards Smedley.
Jonesy looked at Smedley, who had stripped to white boxer shorts and an undershirt. Half-dressed, he stood clumsily balancing on one foot while he attempted to pull a sock onto the other. “Not much practice dressing himself, sir, I gather?”
“Actually, Jonesy, he does it all the time.”