It Looked Different on the Model - Laurie Notaro [57]
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I have a headache and I think my stomach hurts,” he said, looking despondent. “I think I might throw up.”
“Oh no,” I said in a panic to my husband, and then turned back to Nicholas. “Do you need to go to the bathroom? Are you really going to throw up? If you’re going to throw up, make sure to do it on the aisle and not the rack of shoes, okay? Do we need to carry you now?”
“I bet it’s the whole chicken and the gallon of grease he just ate,” my husband said.
“It’s not,” Nick said, shaking his head. “I think it’s because of the jellyfish.”
“What,” I said, looking at my nephew. “Jellyfish?”
“The jellyfish on the beach,” he said, looking down.
“You did not touch a jellyfish after what I told you in the car,” I said quietly. “What did I tell you?”
“That it’s the third-deadliest animal on the planet and causes a hundred deaths per year, and I have a better chance of surviving a hug from a polar bear and an encounter with a saltwater crocodile than I do from messing with a jellyfish,” he murmured. “And I touched one.”
“Explain to me what you did,” I said calmly.
Now, because I saw that there was not a whole jellyfish on the beach and just clumps of what used to be jellyfish, I really doubted that Nicholas had been stung by a dead pile of goo, but he was an eleven-year-old boy and they will put a hand on anything, especially if it looks like a giant booger. So I tried to remain calm, tried not to believe my own lie that touching a jellyfish was going to kill my nephew.
“I saw a jiggly thing on the beach, and you said not to touch it with a stick, so I kicked it with my shoe,” he confessed.
“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “And then?”
“And then I thought that I was going to die, so that’s when I went and washed the shoe in the ocean, to get the deadly poison off so my leg didn’t soak it up,” he finished.
“And that’s it?” I asked.
“That’s it; then we went back to the car,” he said, terrified. “I have Jellyfish Fever, don’t I?”
“No,” I replied.
“But I’m pretty sure I do,” he told me, looking worried.
“Nicholas, you do not have Jellyfish Fever,” I said firmly. “There is no such thing.”
“Are you sure?” he said. “Because I’m pretty sure I feel like I have it. My insides feel that way. Sort of jiggly.”
“You don’t,” I assured him. “Maybe when we get back to my house we’ll rent Food, Inc., and you’ll understand why your insides feel like they are liquefying. Value Meal Plus Popcorn Chicken and Biscuit Fever is what you have, and it’s very similar.”
“Are you sure I’m not going to die?” he asked again.
“I’m sure,” I reassured him. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Again.”
“I like the shoes,” he said, admiring his feet. “I don’t think I could make these.”
“I’m glad,” I said. “You’re wearing them up to the cashier.”
“Can I get another bag of Chex Mix while we’re here?” he asked. “Someone ate the rest of the one with my name on it.”
It’s a good thing Nick liked his shoes, because the next morning he was certainly using them. There were quite a number of stairs to the Sea Lion Caves, not to mention the elevator we took down to the bowels of the earth. It’s the biggest sea cave in the world, and as soon as the elevator doors open, you know it. The cave itself is open directly to the ocean, with a viewing platform overlooking the vast interior that sometimes has up to five hundred sea lions hanging out on the rocks. And, believe me, there’s no mistaking the fact that something that eats fish is living there. Or that a lot of things eating a lot of fish are living down there. Like a town that eats nothing but fish and just throws the carcasses out the front door to ward off evil. It’s a powerful, encompassing smell. I’m sure on the odor meter it’s officially a “stench,” and I was trying my best to ignore it and enjoy myself, but really. Really. It cost the three of us thirty-two dollars, which is a lot for someplace that smells like a Morton’s processing plant, and if I’m going to pay that much to take an elevator