5. Geneene, That's Not A Costume

Geneene was oblivious to the whole backyard as she inched herself out of her tall pick-up truck and strode back to the bed, retrieving her groceries.

Amadeus tilted his head to the other side and, with a curious frown, pointed and asked, "(Something-something) shuttle (something)?"

"Uh...not quite," I replied, shaking my head as my mind raced. How was I going to explain this to Geneene? I didn't even know what was going on myself!

He and I watched in silence as she lowered her sun glasses from the top of her head and onto her face; as she took two bags in each hand and confidently strode in through the garage. Yup, that was my adoptive mom, always sure of herself even when there was nothing to be sure or unsure about. Always on top of things and always right (as far as she was concerned, anyway). She was proud in her walk and, with her chin up, she could take on the world. I wondered if her composed manner would falter at all upon being confronted with...this guy.

♫ I! Hate! Everything about you!♫ 

The Roman and I leapt out of our skins at the ringtone blaring from my pocket. Amadeus even went as far as to raise his shield and draw his sword, shouting something I'm sure translated to something like, "What the hell is that!"

Geneene ran out of the garage and back to the driveway in quick short steps, her heals clacking over the pavement. "Jazz? Was that you -- Oh my God!" I couldn't see her eyes through her glasses, but I could see her eyebrows go up and her jaw drop.

♫Why! Do I! Love you!♫

"Shut up, shut up, shut up..." I murmured, shaking and fidgeting as I fished for my cellphone and pressed the "Ok" button ceaselessly until Three Days Grace stopped singing. It took me a moment to remember what a cellphone was, and that I'd just answered it. "Hello?" I asked upon bringing it to my ear.

"Hey, Jazz," greeted the mechanical version of Troy's voice, "Just got home. Did you find the clip on youtube yet?"

"Huh? Clip? What are you talking -- oh, wait, yeah."

"You did?"

"No, I didn't, but listen, I'll do it later, okay? And, uh, I'll call you back?"

"Quis ut est?" my Roman grumbled threateningly, "Quisnam es vos sermo ut?"

"Jazz, is something wrong? You sound...different --"

"Alright, talk to you later, bye --" Then I paused. Black hole. Worm hole. Shuttle. Guy-from-ancient-Rome. "No way," I breathed out slowly. 

"Jazz?"

I'm sure I was staring wide-eyed now at the big, macho guy. This was just way too out-there for me to grasp. Amadeus. Was he really...? No, this was too big of a coincidence, and things like that didn't happen. This was all probably just some...actually, it couldn't have been a practical joke, because no body I knew was dedicated enough to their jokes to dig a giant hole in my backyard, build a shuttle, learn Latin, and make or buy Roman clothing.

"Are you a lost and crazy astronaut?" I asked, "Or are you a lost and sane Roman Prince?"

"Uh, Jazz? Who are you talking to?" I could hear it in his voice - Troy was very concerned. I might've found it amusing if I wasn't otherwise distracted.

"I'll tell you about it later," I went on dreamily, "Right now I have to calm down Geneene. She's a bit freaked about the gaping hole in my backyard."

"A hole?"

"Yeah. Looks like someone tried to build a pool."

"Pool? Jazz, what --?"

"I'll call you later. Bye." I hung up, still staring at my Roman. "You're taller than me," I noted, "People from your time are shorter than the people of now, right? So you must've been a giant."

His stance was gradually softening, his shield lowering as he mumbled.

"JAZZ!" screamed Geneene, "WHAT HAPPENED TO OUR BACKYARD?"

Excuse me if I felt and acted a little bit indignant after that, but seriously, did she honestly think I had something to do with the destruction of our property? That I managed to make it look like our house was just inches away from being crushed by the foot of a giant? How would I do that!

"Grr," I monotoned, trudging my way up the hill and through some mud, rolling my eyes. I sighed an interior sigh of relief, for our great big foreign friend followed without a word or an indication of wanting to make a run for it.

"We're over here!" I called when I saw my mom start to storm indoors to find me.

"We?" Confused, her head snapped in my direction, and I knew her eyes were darting everywhere to spot me. I was now close enough to see her eyes, and to know she was looking straight at me, but still didn't see me; her gaze kept on roaming. Then there was a dramatic double take, after which she stared intensely at the strange guy in costume. "Jazz? Who is this?"

"Amadeus," I replied as casually as could be.

"Uh...huh. And why is he in costume?"

"Um - I don't think that's a costume," I whispered.

With the exaggerated rise and drop of her hands and the backwards head-tilt she exclaimed, "Please, Jazz, please, enough with the jokes! Not now - now is not the time; I've had a bad day at work; my client had a mental break-down; my boss blames, and is taking it out on, me - me, of all people! I swear that woman just needs an excuse to scream at somebody for at least one full day a week! And now there is a hole in our backyard? How did this happen? How! Why!"

Macho's eyebrows went up. I assume I had the same appearance.

"Um, Geneene," I mumbled, "I wasn't joking. And he doesn't speak English, either. I'm sorry about your day at work, and I don't know how the hole got there."

She ran her frustrated finger through her hair. "Alright. Okay. Joke all you want, but you must tell me the truth later. At the moment, you are helping me bring the God damn groceries inside." This said, she strode back into the garage, picked up the bags she'd dropped, and was making her way inside.

"But uh, what about - "

"Oh, the Spartan warrior can help, too! Have him bring in the sodas!" she called back. She didn't even pause; she only continued on her way through the threshold.

"Umm. Okay." I turned and looked up at the confused action figure, who pointed at Geneene and asked something.

"I can't even guess at what you're asking now," I replied, climbing up into the truck's bed, "Maybe we can Google translate that later. But, uh, here," I said, handing him two bottles of soda, "You can carry these inside in the meantime."

For a few seconds he only starred at the beverages, lifting up a hesitant hand to touch them, or not touch them. He then looked up at me, asking something and gesticulating at the soda and the general direction of the garage. I nodded in response, for I figured he understood my meaning. With the warm reassurance of having comprehended my request, he grinned from ear to ear, giggling somewhat as he took the Sprite and Coke and walked inside.

I smirked. Yeah, if I was unsure before, I now knew for certain he'd have any other girl falling at his feet, begging him to merely touch her hair. He probably got that a lot, wherever he came from. There was something about him that, even though he was scared, he was still obviously confident in his physical appeal. Our oversized action figure was probably expecting me to throw myself at him, as any other girl would do. The thought of this only made me laugh out loud, for I knew that wasn't gonna happen. Ever. I was not like them.