The Tempest

The southern Arizona desert has an unforgiving climate in the summertime. Temperatures hover around 80 at sunrise and in the low 100s all afternoon and well after sunset. And then there are the monsoons – summer storms that pop up out of nowhere and blast through with gusting winds, thunder, lightning, torrential rains, and even sudden walls of dust called haboobs. Locals know to pull off the road and turn off their car’s engine when a haboob passes. 

Miranda Arden was not a local, so she learned the hard way. She made it through the sudden downpour of rain and clung tightly to the steering wheel as the fierce winds pushed her little van around, but the wall of sand that suddenly appeared before her was too much. She held on to the steering wheel and hit the gas, determined to pass through this obstacle as well. Quickly she lost all visibility, which was possibly a good thing since she did not have time to panic or even see the old gas station sign that had blown over into the highway and which was now imbedded in her van’s hood with one corner penetrating the driver’s side of the windshield. Needless to say, she stopped now as the wall of sand continued to pass over her. After what seemed like an eternity but was more likely only a couple of minutes (haboobs move quickly), she could see blue sky in front of her above the old metal sign planted on her front end. Now what?

“Why,” she asked herself as she closed her eyes and gently smacked her head against the steering wheel now gritty with sand. “Why do these things always happen to me?”

“Because you ignored the signs,” said a voice from above. Really it was just outside the new hole in her windshield.

Miranda opened her eyes and caught her breath. Just outside the big hole in her van’s windshield where the corner of the sign was sticking through stood a tall stranger in greasy overalls wiping his dirty hands on an even dirtier rag.

“The signs?” she asked incredulously. 

“Yep, they’re all up along this highway for out of towners like you who don’t know about monsoon season,” he answered. “You didn’t notice the big yellow signs advising you to pull over and cut your engine in the event of a sandstorm?”

Miranda blushed. She felt stupid now. “I saw some signs, but I thought they were some sort of Arizona version of the old Burma Shave signs. I thought they were cute, she confessed feeling the light blush in her cheeks deepening. 

“Well, Ma’am, what you just did was pretty stupid,” he added. “In fact, the only lucky thing you did was plow into my service station sign which saved you a tow bill.”

Miranda had survived some really bad days in the last few years, but this one quickly added up to being the worst one yet. “What next,” she wondered. 

Just then the door beside her yanked open and a strong arm reached across her to the keys quickly turning off the ignition. Then the hand was extended to her offering his assistance to climb out. “Poor Khao,” she mumbled softly.

“Cow? You call your van a cow?” he asked.

“Not a cow”, she explained, “it’s Khao, the word for white in the Thai language.” At that moment she looked back at her pretty little white van that was mostly khaki (the Urdu word for dusty) at the moment. 

“So, do you speak a lot of Thai language in your line of work?” he inquired.

“Well, no, actually I’m learning the language before I go there to teach English,” she proudly proclaimed. 

“So, you have to learn their language to go there and teach them our language?” he added rhetorically. 

“No, but it seems like I should at least learn some basics before I arrive and then build my skills after I get there," she added without thinking. “But back to the issue at hand, exactly how long and how expensive will it be to get my little Khao up and running again?”

As he walked his lanky frame around the perimeter of Khao occasionally tapping and touching spots here and there Miranda took stock of her savior. Not as tall as he had seemed looking down at her inside the van, she now guessed him to be perhaps 5’10”. The name tag on his overalls said Freddie and had what looked like a magician’s wand beside the name. His hair was dark brown with light tinges of white around the edges. He had a nice face framed by a mostly white goatee and maybe dark eyes. It was hard to tell behind the tinted glasses he wore. 

“Well, you got lucky on the body damage. These little vans are common, especially in “khao” so it will be easy to replace the hood. Everything else is cosmetic and can easily be buffed out. A new windshield is obvious, but again easy to take care of. Front tires are busted from the impact with my sign. Won’t know the internal damages till I get her up on the rack and consult with Ariel.”

Puzzled, she had to ask, “Your mechanic is a woman?”

He laughed and she took note of the adorable dimples on either side of the goatee. “Nope, no, I run a one man show here. Ariel is what I call my computerized diagnostic system. Sounds sexier than FDS2000, don’t you think?”

“So, you named your computer after a magician from a Shakespeare play,” Miranda almost laughed when she said it.

“Actually, Ariel was a sprite. Prospero was the magician,” he added pointing down at the sign imbedded in Khao’s hood.  

The sign boldly proclaimed that she had quite literally run into Prospero’s Garage complete with the magician’s wand emblem she had first seen on his name tag. “Ah, I see, a fan of the bard, are you?”

“What? Just because I live in a middle of nowhere desert town and wear greasy overalls, I am not allowed to appreciate good literature?” he smirked. At that point he instructed Miranda to get back into the driver’s seat, turn on the ignition, and shift the transmission into neutral.

“Why don’t I just drive Khao up to the service bay?” she asked.

“NO! Don’t turn the engine over!” he remarked sternly.

Miranda was taken aback by his sternness and for the second time today felt like crying. Her bottom lip began to quiver, but she pulled herself together. She only wanted to make things easier. She didn’t see a problem with that.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so harsh. Let me explain.” His voice now returned to the even tone from earlier. “One reason the signs advise you to pull off the road and turn off your engine during the sandstorms is to protect the electronics. Your engine “breathes” in the outside air when you are driving and if it breathes in a lot of dust all at once it can destroy the sensitive computerized sensors that keep you going down the road. So maybe your little Cow here didn’t breathe in enough sand and dust to do any damage, or maybe your oxygen sensor is already shot among others. I won’t know till I consult with Ariel. Until then you just sit and steer. I’ll push and we’ll get things rolling.” And just like that she was steering around the post that had held Prospero’s sign and aiming for the open service bay door. 

Miranda watched quietly as Khao rose up on the lift where Freddie could walk around underneath examining the situation from a new angle. While he worked, she walked outside to take stock of her surroundings. It was late afternoon now and the storm has passed to the west. The sun was dropping lower in the sky coloring the sunset like a child’s watercolor; a bright blue background tinted with streaks of pinks and light to dark oranges and dotted with billowing white clouds. The winds were gone leaving the air still and oppressive. A large thermometer on the outside wall near a sandblasted soda machine pointed to a number just shy of 105F. “My God,” she thought, “how does anyone live in this place?”

Miranda walked out into the parking lot shielding her eyes with her hand as she searched the horizon for signs of a town or other businesses. Her mind had shifted now from victim mode to survival, something she had never had to do when her husband was alive. Lawrence had been gone 5 years now. His death had turned her world inside out. He had been quite a bit older than her so they had always known that he would in all likelihood die first. They had been prepared for that, but the way his adult children and ex-wife pounced on her with their lawyers only days after the funeral to be sure they got everything and she was left with as little as possible, had been unexpected.   She had lost not just her husband but also the life she knew and loved. Since then, she had been trying to rebuild. Some days were easy, most were a struggle.

“Nope,” she told herself, “Don’t think about him right now. You need to start thinking about how to get through this night, where to sleep, where to eat. You can do this,” said her internal cheerleader. She looked again but saw no other buildings in any direction. She suddenly had the feeling of being shipwrecked on a deserted island. No buildings, no people, not even another car passed down the highway. Miranda turned back to look inside the service bay. Khao was back down at floor level with her hood and the errant sign removed from her body. A large computer on a wheeled dolly was sitting near the open engine compartment with cables extended into her belly. 

Freddie was walking toward her wearing a ball camp bearing the magician’s wand logo above the brim. Her handed her a cap like his. “You better put this on,” he told her, “it’s not good to walk around in this heat without a hat.” Then he dug into the back pocket of his work overalls and fished out a bottle of cold water. “Drink this. You need to stay hydrated in this heat.”

She put on the hat, which felt odd and took a drink from the offered water. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. The cold water felt heavenly going down her throat. “So, what does your assistant Ariel say about my van? Will I be able to go in an hour or so?”

Freddie chuckled a bit once more exposing the dimples in his cheeks. So boyish looking on such a grown-up face. He took off his dark glasses and she could see his eyes were not really dark. They were almost brown bordering on a greenish tint. “Hazel,” she thought, “yes, hazel eyes.” But suddenly they were turning dark again as he began to speak.

“Well, my examination of the frame says you didn’t hit the sign hard enough to bend it, so once again luck was on your side. Ariel says the oxygen sensor is toast along with damage to the heat sensor on your carburetor. You also need an oil change to get rid of the sand she inhaled in the storm. Engines need a smooth viscosity to operate well. “

Miranda’s heart sank as she thought about the cost, but she didn’t want to ask. It was almost the first of the month and her survivor payment from the trust fund Lawrence had left her would be in her bank account on the first. But that was money earmarked for living expenses once she got to California while she was taking classes for her TEFL license, a requirement for the job in Thailand. She needed to focus on what Freddie was saying.

 “Wait,” she interrupted him, “did you just say a week?” 

“No, I said it could take as much as a week to get the sensors. I’ll go online and see if I can find them in Phoenix and order them for next day delivery. The windshield will have to come from Phoenix as well, but I can probably get that scheduled in a couple of days. I’ll call my buddy Alsonso at King Auto Parts and Pull Apart Yard to see if he can scrounge up a decent used hood for you. The tires are the easy part. Those we can get in Casa Grande which is the little town you passed through just before you drove into the storm.”

Her mind was working fast now. Obviously, driving to this town, Casa Grande, was out of the question. She had her camping gear in the back of the van and had been camping in parks along the way as she drove across the country. She scanned the immediate area looking for a suitable spot to pitch her tent. “I guess I could set up my tent off to the side of your lot there on that level ground if you don’t mind,” she said.

“Well, no, I don’t mind, but I think you will. After dark here you have to deal with the coyotes out hunting for food as well as tarantulas and scorpions and the occasional rattlesnake.”

She looked up at those eyes again. They had returned to their dark green hue, and she noticed the way the corners of his mouth curved upward when he grinned. Right now, he was grinning so hard she thought he would burst out into laughter. True, she had never camped in the desert before but surely it was possible.

The dimples disappeared and his tone turned serious sensing her dilemma.  “Tell you what I can do. I can let you sleep on the cot in my office at the back of the shop. It ain’t much but it’s air conditioned and I can pretty much guarantee no rattlesnakes, tarantulas, or scorpions. There’s even a small washroom where you can clean up. It’s not much but it’s free and beats a tent on the desert floor when the low temperature tonight is predicted to be 89 degrees.”

While it didn’t sound too appealing Miranda had to admit it was doable. Perhaps being here in his shop meant he would be up and working early just to get her out of his way, so she accepted reluctantly and followed him to a door at the back of the garage. While she wasn’t sure what to expect it was certainly not the room she walked into. 

A cold burst of air-conditioned air greeted her quickly cooling her down from the sweaty plus 100 degree temps she had been walking around in outside. The “cot” was actually a metal framed twin bed against the back wall. A small refrigerator acted as a bedside table, and the “small washroom” was a tiled room across from the end of the bunk with a sink, toilet, and walk in shower. Certainly things were starting to look up for the first time today. Most surprising had to be the computer desk with three large screens. On the center screen a Renaissance era warrior sat astride a horse with both horse and soldier geared up for battle. Beneath them was the title Prince Ferdinand Future King. “Obviously Prospero, uh Freddie, likes his gaming,” she thought.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat. “Not what you were expecting I’m guessing by the look on your face.”

Miranda realized she was staring. “No, really, it’s just that I thought when you said a cot…,” she stammered off not knowing how to finish her thought without sounding insulting.”

“Yeah, well, not many folks get to see my headquarters,” he said and as he spoke his voice softened and she could hear the pride. “I wasn’t always a grease jockey, you know. My father is professor emeritus and former head of the English department at State. I tried to follow his path. I love the classics, but I really have a passion for getting my hands dirty, fixing broken things, and the like. Not much chance for that in an English classroom, although I do like a nod to the Bard in everyday life,” he added with a smile. 

She burst out laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation: the storm, the wreck, the convenience of being found so quickly, this handsome (as she was beginning to think) mechanic/magician/Shakespearean scholar in the middle of a nowhere town in the Arizona desert, and now this room. It was just too much. She had to either laugh or cry and frankly she was tired of crying. 

Freddie began to laugh with her. “Now I will believe that there are unicorns,” she quoted from scene III of the Tempest.

And as he laughed with her she noticed the tiny gold flecks again, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, and those dimples. 

She smiled up at him and added, “What’s past is prologue,” with a new confidence in her voice that hadn’t been there in years.

He reached out to take her hand. She accepted. “We are such stuff as dreams are made on.”

Suddenly she realized she wasn’t going to Thailand, or even to California.