“Penne is not just the name of a type of pasta,” Charles said. “I have wanted to say that for the longest time.” Both Simon and Penelope stared at Charles in disbelief.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Penelope said. She was looking at Simon when she said it. He sat quietly looking down at his red and white checkerboard placemat. The restaurant was large, the tables were large, but the dishes, the dishes were the size of baby monsters. Simon was only partially paying attention to the squabble between Penelope and Charles. Whenever he visited this restaurant, he was endlessly fascinated by the type of people who frequented it. This was Texas, and he was used to everyone taking the “Everything is Larger in Texas” statement as something of a religion.

The people in the other tables were oversized as well. He tried not to make a value judgment based on the weight of the people around him, but it was difficult when large heaping plates of pasta and fried food surrounded people who could least use such food. He turned back to the conversation, having already exhausted his measly supply of sympathy for the overly large people in the restaurant.

“Tell me about your home world,” Penelope said to Simon.

Simon laughed. She had a way of jumping genres and surprising him to an almost delightful degree. He had introduced her to the Dune books, and ever since she read them, and sat through the David Lynch movie, she had focused her efforts on making him feel like the main character in that story, at least when she was talking to him.

“There’s not much to tell,” Simon said. “When we get there, you’ll know more than you need to know about it. It’s an easy place to describe, but a difficult place for the listener to truly understand the flavor of it without visiting. I will hopefully rectify that very shortly.”

The waiter came over and Simon ordered a house red wine for the table, and a single meatball and spaghetti dish to be shared between the three of them. The service was family style, and with the bread sticks and salad, he knew that would be plenty of food for all of them.

The waiter returned with the wine glasses and breadsticks as Simon’s phone buzzed. It was his sister, Rebecca. “It’s Rebecca,” Simon said. “I should take this.” He excused himself from the table and answered the phone in a soft voice as he made his way to the lobby. Penelope had taught him early that etiquette was a very important part of being with her, and he tried to follow her rules as much as possible. She had a huge pet peeve of not using her phone in public company. Normally, Simon would ignore such calls, but he knew what it was about, and he wanted more information about what was going on at home. He also had to coordinate his trip with Rebecca to make sure their mother was being taken care of.

When he finally arrived outside, he heard loud birds chirping through the receiver. “Hello,” Simon said into the receiver. A buzzing sound greeted him, growing louder as if it was approaching the other end of the phone. It stayed at that volume for a few seconds before dropping away, as it seeming retreated away from the phone.

“Is that you, Simon?” Rebecca asked in a whispered voice. She sounded as if she had been crying, and her words had that delay that sounded that she was still choked up from whatever it was that had upset her.

“What’s going on?” Simon asked. He was worried about her. The last they has spoke, she was working through her issues with her husband. She was very scared of something he was doing but would not tell Simon what it was. From the messages he received from Darla, his other sister, he knew something was wrong at home. “I spoke with Darla earlier in the day, and she’s worried for you.”

“She’s gone,” Rebecca said, her voice breaking up on the last word. “Darla, mother, they’re both gone.”

“What are you talking about?” Simon asked. “They said they would stay with you until you worked through your problems with Peter. Is it Peter? Has something happened with Peter?”

Simon felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned around in alarm before realizing it was Penelope. Charles was still at the table. He waved slowly as if throwing his support behind him. Penelope mouthed the words, “Is everything okay?” Simon shrugged his shoulders, not sure what was going on.

“Everything is strange here,” Rebecca said. “After Peter’s experiments, things started to change in town. At first it was small things: lightning flashes in the blue sky in the middle of the day. Cars that would stop working in the middle of the road. Tires that would go flat and when people managed to lift their cars up with jacks, find that the tire was not flat. It was small things over the last few days. It’s gotten stranger.”

“What about mother and Darla?” Simon asked impatiently. Rebecca was not making any sense. He needed the facts. He felt like Charles, driving the main points of the story. The fluff that surrounded the story was not important. He needed to know what was going on, when he would have to get there.

“They closed the airport today,” Rebecca said, her voice growing quiet again.

“Did mom and Darla leave on an airplane?” Simon asked, still trying to put the pieces together. Nothing Rebecca was saying made sense. “Where are your kids? Is Peter still around? Are your kids with Peter?”

“What?” Rebecca said. She sounded confused from the onslaught of questions from Simon. “Yes, the kids are here, and Simon is in the basement. He spends most of his time there. He barely eats anymore. I don’t know what to do anymore, Simon. Are you coming?”

Simon grasped Penelope’s hand on his shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. “Yes, we’re coming soon,” Simon said. “Where are mother and Darla? Can I speak to them?”

“They left,” Rebecca said again. “They took off. The strangeness got to them. It’s got to a lot of people in town. This place is not what it was a few weeks ago. Many of my neighbors have packed up and left as well.”

“Why don’t you join them?” Simon asked. “Whatever strangeness is going on in Fishs Eddy, I’m sure if you clear out for a little bit, it’ll settle down. Maybe there’s a water problem, or a gas leak somewhere that’s…” Simon did not know how to finish. What could account for all the strange behaviors that Rebecca was describing.

“That shoots lightning bolts into the blue sky,” Rebecca said. She sounded like she was crying again. Simon wanted to reach out and hug her, like she did for him so many times when they were growing up. She had been his comfort when he had been belittled or made fun of in grade school, before they had left Fishs Eddy. She had laughed with him at the strangeness of the place. She had comforted him and chased him down when their mother had given up on him ever understanding the world. She had tried to protect him in school. But she was much older than Simon, and before he left Fishs Eddy, she had left for college and then to start her family. It was not until she left Fishs Eddy that he knew how much he had relied on her.

“Have you called mom?” Simon asked. Penelope’s hand was moist. He let go of it and looked out the darkened window. The lobby was beginning to fill up with customers waiting for a table. They did not need a reservation system here because of the size of the place. It filled up, but the turnover was so high, even at the busiest time, it rarely took more than thirty minutes for a table. Because of the size of the tables, it did not matter if you were a party of two or fourteen, a table would be available at a reasonable amount of time.

Rebecca spoke to their mother every day, usually multiple times per day. Simon spoke to her once a week on a good week. It was not that he did not love his mother, it was more that he did not have much to say to her. H admitted that was only partially true. He did not have much to say to Penelope, but he managed to call her, or at least attempt to call her, as she would sometimes not take his call, multiple times per day. Even to say hello or ask her what she was up to. With his mother it felt different. He called it the reverse of the empty nest syndrome. There’s a reason that young birds take flight to get away from their parents. It’s the same reason he had to get away from his mother. When he had things to talk about, or when she had things she wanted to talk about with him, then they spoke, and sometimes they spoke often. But when she called him to ask how he was doing, and it had not been a long time, then he grew frustrated with her. It was not that she was nagging him, it was just that he had a limited energy and amount of patience.

That she had disappeared worried Simon. “Maybe I should give her a call,” Simon said to Rebecca. “Have you tried her phone?”

Rebecca did not answer. The buzzing returned, sounding more like an insect this time. “What is that noise,” Simon yelled into the phone, attracting stares from around the restaurant. The buzzing continued in the phone, and he did not hear if Rebecca tried to answer. The buzzing stopped suddenly, and was replaced by the two beeps that indicate that the phone call was lost. He checked the phone and saw that he had a strong signal. He called Rebecca’s phone, but he was thrown into voicemail.

“I have to call my mother,” Simon said to Penelope. “Rebecca said she left and she doesn’t know where she left to.” Penelope nodded in agreement and placed her hand back on his shoulder. Her hand felt very warm through his shirtsleeve. He resisted the urge to tilt his head until his cheek ran against the back of her hand. Her mere presence was enough to calm him in this situation.

He dialed his mother and her phone went right into voicemail as well. He tried Rebecca again, and then Darla and could not get through. On Darla’s phone, he received the all circuits busy message. He hung up in frustration. He squeezed Penelope’s hand and led her back to the table.

A large dish of meatballs and spaghetti sat in the middle of the oversized table. Charles was munching on a breadstick and watching Simon. “Is everything alright?” he asked.

“He doesn’t know anything,” Penelope responded. “He spoke to his sister briefly. The phone cut off. He doesn’t know where his mother or younger sister is. We should leave tonight.” Simon was only half listening to the conversation. He studied the meatballs and watched as the orange oil ran down along the plate. The orange oil did not mix with the red tomato paste. Much of the spaghetti swam in the orange oil, particularly the spaghetti near the edges of the plate.

He felt Penelope shaking him slightly. He returned from his reverie about the spaghetti and looked up. Penelope had spooned some of the spaghetti on the plate, along with two large meatballs. “Eat,” she said. Without responding, Simon grabbed his fork and began twisting the spaghetti around his fork. “We’ll leave as soon as we’re done here,” Penelope said, watching Simon play with his food. “We all need to grab some stuff before heading out. It’ll be a long drive, but we should get there tomorrow morning, earlier than if we caught a flight in the morning.”

Simon nodded and brought his fork to his mouth. He opened his mouth and inserted the fork, realizing that only the orange oil had made the trip to his mouth.

Word count: 2,060

Total words: 12, 418

Words remaining: 37,582

Work has been very busy these past few weeks. It ended (the busyness, not my job) early this morning. I felt drained the rest of the day, as I do whenever I finish a large project. I didn’t start writing until late tonight, after Doolies left for her jazz group practice. After a few false starts, I managed to move the story in a definite direction. Not sure if it’s a good direction, but I was sick of the stagnant conversations and my continued failure to take my uninteresting characters and have them do anything.