Transcription
We sat in the same positions as on the journey coming in. The height of the seat backs meant I could see the mother only partially as she drove, and Miss Helen hardly at all, except when she peered around her seat to emphasize what she was saying. Once we were still in the city's slow-moving traffic, Miss Helen turned to us in this way. "In," said, "No, Ricky dear, I don't want you to say anything else unpleasant about him. You don't know him at all, and you understand, how could you? And you don't understand, how could you?"
Then her face went away, but her voice continued, "I suppose I said a lot of things myself last night, but this morning I realized how unfair that was. What right do I have to expect anything from him?" Miss Helen had appeared to address this last question to the mother, but the mother seemed far away as she drove us through another intersection. The mother murmured, "Paul isn't so bad. I think sometimes I'm too hard on him. He's not a bad guy. Today I feel sorry for him."
"It's funny," Miss Helen said, "but this morning I woke up with more hope. I feel it's quite possible Vance will still help us. He rather worked himself up last night, but once he calms down and reflects, he may well decide he wants to be decent. He likes you, you see. He likes you, you see, to nurture an image of himself as a very decent person." Rick Stewart, beside me, said, "I've told you, Mom, I'm not having anything else to do with that man, and neither should you."
"Helen," the mother said, "is this really getting you anywhere? Going around and around like this? Why not just wait and see? Why torture yourself? You both did your best." Josie, on the other side of Rick from me, took Rick's hand and entwined her fingers with his. She smiled at him encouragingly, but also, I thought, a little sadly. Rick returned the smile, and I wondered if they were exchanging secret messages just with their gazes.
I turned back to the window beside me, resting my forehead against the glass. I'd been watching and waiting since the earliest signs of dawn, but though the sun's first rays had come straight into the second bedroom through the gap between the buildings, I hadn't for a second mistaken this for his special nourishment. I'd remembered, of course, that I should be grateful, as always, but I hadn't been able to keep the disappointment from my mind. Then, all through the early breakfast, in the packing, and as the mother moved through the friend's apartment checking security, I'd continued to watch and wait. And now, leaning forward and gazing past Rick and Josie, I could see the sun still on his morning ascent, flashing between the tall buildings as we moved past them.
I thought then about the father closing the door of this very car, looking beyond me towards the yard and the Kuding's machine, saying, "Don't worry. I heard it. The little fizzing sound. That's the tell-tale signal. That monster won't rise again." And then, a moment later, his face looming in front of mine, his voice asking, "Are you okay? Can you see your fingers? How many do you see?" And I experienced again, as I had all morning, a wave of anxiety that the sun wouldn't keep the promise he'd made in Mr. McBain's barn.
"Listen, Rick," the mother said, "never mind what else happened last night. Your work, your portfolio, got a thumbs up. You have to take heart from that. That's all the more reason to believe in yourself." "Mom, please," Josie said, "Rick doesn't need big lectures just now." The adults couldn't see, but she tightened her grip on Rick's hand and once again smiled at him. He gazed back at Josie, then said, "I appreciate that, Mrs. Arthur. You're always being kind to me. Thank you."
"There's no telling," Miss Helen said, "no telling with Vance." I'd been aware for a few moments of the tall building now approaching on my side. It shared some characteristics with the RPO building, but if anything, was even taller. And because the traffic had slowed right down, I could study it carefully. The sun was casting its rays onto its front, and one section of it had become like the sun's mirror, throwing back an intense reflection of his morning light. The building's many windows had been organized into rows, vertical and horizontal, and yet the result was disorder. The rows often lining up crookedly, sometimes even running into each other. Within some of the windows, I saw office workers moving across, sometimes coming right up to the glass to gaze down at the street. But many of the windows were hard to see at all because of a gray mist, mist drifting past them.
And then, in the next instant, as the mother brought the car forward a little, I saw through a gap between neighboring vehicles the machine sitting in its own space, protected from the oncoming traffic by the overhaul men's barriers. The machine was pumping out pollution from its three-panel funnels, and the start of its name, the letters C-O-O, was there on its body. And even as I felt this disappointment flood my mind, I was able to observe that this was not the same machine the father and I had destroyed in the yard. Its body was a different shade of yellow, its dimensions a little greater, and its ability to create pollution more than a match for the first Kuding's machine.
"Just wait and see now, Helen," the mother said. "Maybe there are other options for Rick." Anyway, we moved beyond the new Kuding's machine, and the gray population pollution mist drifted past the windshield so that the mother, noticing, muttered under her breath, "Look at this. How did they get away with it?" "Even if we—even if there were," Mom," Josie said, "would those be colleges you'd let me go to? I don't understand why you and Rick need to go to the same college." "What are you married already?" the mother said. "Young people go to all kinds of places. They can still keep in touch." "Mom, do we have to talk about this right now? Rick really doesn't need this."
I looked to—I turned to look back through the rear windshield. The tall building was still visible, but the new Kuding's machine had become hidden by other vehicles. I now knew why the sun hadn't acted, and for a moment, I might have let my posture slump and my head hang down. Josie, leaning forward in her seat, looked at me. "See, Mom," she said, "you've upset Clara, too. And she was upset enough, what with her store moving away. We need happy talk right now."
Part Five. Josie began to lose strength 11 days after our return from the city. At first, this phase seemed no worse than the ones she'd gone through before, but then came new signs, such as strange breathing and her semi-waking in the morning, eyes open but empty. If during these spells I spoke to her, she wouldn't respond. And the mother took to coming up to the bedroom early each morning, and if Josie was in her semi-waking condition, the mother would stand over the bed, repeating under her breath, "Josie, Josie, Josie," as though this were a part of a song she was memorizing.
There were better days when Josie sat up in bed and talked, even received tutorials on her oblong. But there were others when she just slept, hour after hour. Dr. Ryan began coming every day, his expression no longer smiling. The mother went to her work later and later in the mornings, and she and Dr. Ryan would have long conversations in the open plan with the sliding doors closed. It had been agreed during the better days immediately after our city visit that I would assist Rick with his studies, so he came often to the house during this period. But as Josie grew worse, he lost interest in the lessons and took to hovering in the hall, waiting for the mother or Melania, housekeeper, to call him up to the bedroom. Even if this occurred, he wasn't permitted any more than a few minutes standing just inside the doorway, looking at Josie's sleeping figure.
Once, when he was watching her in this way, Josie opened her eyes and smiled. "Hey, Rick," she said. "Sorry, too tired to draw pictures today." "That's okay," he said. "You just keep resting. You'll be fine. How are your birds?" "Rick," she said, "my birds are fine. They're coming in fine." That was all they were able to say before Josie's eyes closed again. After that occasion, because Rick seemed so discouraged, I walked with him down the stairs and out the front door. We then stood on the loose stones together, looking at the gray sky. I could see he wanted to talk further, but perhaps aware we could be heard from the bedroom, he remained silent, prodding the stones with the toe of his sports shoe. So I asked, "Would Rick perhaps walk with me a little?" and indicated towards the picture frame gate.
When we stepped into the first field, I saw that the grass was more yellow than it had been the evening we'd crossed to Mr. McBain's farm barn. We walked slowly along the first part of the informal trail, the wind intermittently parting the grass to allow glimpses of Rick's house in the distance. We reached a spot where the informal trail widened into a kind of outdoor room, and there Rick stopped and turned to face me, the grass rustling around us. "Josie's never been this bad before," he said, looking down at the ground. "You kept saying there was reason to hope. You kept saying it like there was a special reason, so you had me hoping, too."
"I'm sorry," I said. "Perhaps Rick is angry. The truth is, I've been disappointed, too. Even so, I believe there's still room for hope." "Come on, Clara," he said. "She's just—she's just getting worse. The doctor, Mrs. Arthur, you can see it. They're just giving up hope." "Even so," I said, "I believe there's still hope. I believe help might come from a place the adults haven't yet considered. But we need to do something now, quickly."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Clara," he said. "I guess it's to do with this big deal you can't share with anyone else." "To be truthful," I said, "ever since we returned from the city, I've been unsure. I was waiting and hesitating, hoping the special help would come regardless. But now I believe the only right course must be for me to go back and explain, if I made a special plea plea. But I shouldn't talk anymore about this. I need Rick to trust me once more. I need again to go to Mr. McBain's barn."
"So you want me to carry you again?" he asked. "I must go as soon as possible. If Rick isn't able to take me, I'll try on my own." "Whoa, hold on," he said. "Of course, I'll help. I don't see how this helps Josie, but if you say it will, then of course I'll help." "Thank you," I said. "Then we must go without delay this evening. And like the last time, we must get there just as the sun is going down to his rest. Rick must meet me here, this same spot, at 7:15 this evening. Will you please do that?" "100%," he said. "I will. Thank you."
"There's one thing further," I said. "When I reach the barn, I'll of course offer my apologies. It was my error. I underestimated my task. But I must also have something else, something extra, with which to plead. This is why I must ask Rick now, even though it might be stealing privacy. You must tell me if the love between Rick and Josie is genuine, if it's a true and lasting one. I must know this because if the answer is yes, then I'll have something to bargain with, regardless of what occurred in the city. So please think carefully, Rick, and tell me the truth."
"I don't need to think," he said. "Josie and I grew up together, and we're part of each other, and we've got our plans. So of course our love's genuine and forever. And it won't make any difference to us who's been lifted and who hasn't. That's your answer, Clara, and there won't be any other." "Thank you," I said. "Now I have something very special. So please don't forget. Meet me here again at 7:15, this very place where we're standing now."
I was more accustomed to riding on Rick's back. I often reached out a free hand to help part the grass. Not only was the grass more yellow than on our previous journey, it was more soft and yielding, and even the clouds of evening insects broke kindly against my face as we passed through them. This time, the fields never became partitioned, and once the third picture frame gate was behind us, I had a clear view behind of Mr. McBain's barn, the wide orange sky above it, and the sun already close to the top of the roof's triangle.
As we came into the low-cut grass area, I asked Rick to stop and let me down. Then, as he and I stood watching the sun sink lower and lower, the barn's shadow, as it had been the last time, came stretching towards us across the weave-patterned grass. Once the sun went behind the barn's roof structure, I remembered how important it was not to take any more privacy than necessary, and asked Rick to leave me. "What's going on inside there?" he asked. But before I could give any sort of response, he touched my shoulder kindly and said, "I'll be waiting. Same place I was last time." Then he was gone, and I was alone, standing, waiting for the sun to reappear below the roof level and send his last rays to me through the barn.
It occurred to me that not only the sun might be angry about my failure in the city, but also that this could well be my final chance to beg for his special help. And I thought about what it might mean for Josie if I failed. Fear entered my mind, but then I remembered his great kindness, and I walked without further hesitation towards Mr. McBain's farm. Before the barn was filled with orange light, and it was hard at first to see my surroundings, but I soon discerned the blocks of hay stacked up to my left, and I could see the low wall that they formed had become even lower. There were the same particles of hay caught within the sun's rays, but instead of drifting gently in the air, they were now moving agitatedly, as if one of the hay blocks had recently crashed down onto the hardwood floor and disintegrated.
When I reached up to touch these moving particles, I noticed how my fingers cast shadows stretching all the way back to the barn's entrance. Beyond the hay blocks was the real wall of the barn, and I was pleased to see the red shelves from our old store still attached to it, though this evening they'd become crooked, slanting noticeably towards the rear of the building. The ceramic coffee cups had maintained their orderly line, but there were also signs of confusion. For instance, further on the same tier, I could see an object that was unmistakably Melania housekeeper's food blender.
I remembered how the last time I'd waited for the sun, I'd sat on a metal fold-away chair and turned towards the other side of the barn, hoping to see again not only the chair but also the front alcove of our store, and perhaps even an AF standing proudly within it. What I actually saw was the sun's rays streaming by before me, following a near-horizontal trajectory from the rear entrance to the front one. It was almost, almost as if I were watching passing traffic in a busy street. And when I managed to throw my gaze over to the further side, I found it had been partitioned into numerous boxes of uneven dimensions. Only after a few seconds did I spot the metal fold-away chair, or rather, various parts of it, within several of the boxes. And recalling how much comfort it had brought me the last time, I began to move towards it.
But no sooner had I stepped into the sun's rays, it occurred to me that if I wished to catch his attention before he moved on, I'd have to act without delay. So I began forming words inside my mind, even as I stood there caught in the intense light. "You must be so tired, and I'm very sorry to disturb you. You'll remember I came here once before, in the summer, when you were so kind and gave me a few minutes of your time. I'm daring now to return this evening to discuss the same very important matter."
These words had barely shaped themselves when the memory came into my mind of that day of Josie's interaction meeting and the angry mother striding into the open plan, shouting, "Danny's right! You shouldn't be here at all!" Almost simultaneously, I noticed in one of the boxes to my right, angry cartoon writing, like I'd seen from the car on a building in the city. Regardless, I let more half-formed words rush through my mind. "I know I've no right to come here like this, and I know the sun must be angry with me. I let him down, failing completely to stop pollution. In fact, I see now how very foolish I was in not considering there'd be a terrible second terrible machine to allow pollution to continue without a pause. But the sun was watching at the yard that day, so he will know how hard I tried, and how I made my sacrifice, which I was only too pleased to do, even if now my abilities aren't perhaps what they were. And you must have seen how the father, too, helped and did his utmost, even though he knew nothing about the son's kind agreement, because he who saw my hope and placed his faith in it. I sincerely apologize for underestimating my task. It was my error, and no one else's. And though the son is right to be angry with me, I'm asking he accept that Josie herself is completely innocent. Like the father, she never knew about my agreement with the sun and still has no idea. And now she's becoming weaker and weaker each day. I'd come here this evening like this because I've never forgotten how kind the sun can be, if only he could show, would show his great compassion to Josie as he did that day to beggar man and his dog. If only he'd send Josie the special nourishment she so desperately requires."
As these words swept through my mind, I thought of the terrible bull on the way to up to Morgan's Falls, of its horns and its cold eyes, and of the feeling I'd had at that moment of some great error having been made to allow a creature so filled with anger to stand unconstrained up on the sunny grass. I heard the mother's voice somewhere behind me on the path shout, "No, Paul! Not now!" And not in this goddamn car. Ann saw the lonely woman sitting by herself in Mr. Vance's diner, unnoticed even by the diner manager, manager pressing her forehead against the window towards the dark street outside. And it occurred to me how very much the world, the woman resembled Rosa. But I realized I couldn't afford to become distracted, that the sun was likely to leave at any moment, and so I let more thoughts stream through my mind, no longer shaping them into formal words. "I don't mind that I lost precious fluid. I'd willingly have given more, given it all, if it meant you're providing special help to Josie. As you know, since I was last here, I've discovered about the other way to save Josie, and if that was all that was left, I'd do my very utmost. But I'm not yet certain the other way would work, however hard I tried. And so my deep wish now is that the sun will show his great kindness once more."
The hand I'd been holding out whilst crossing the sun's rays made contact with something hard, and I realized I was clutching the frame of the metal fold-away chair. I felt happiness to have found it again, but didn't sit down in case it appeared disrespectful. Instead, I studied myself behind it, holding its back with both hands. The sun's rays coming from the back of the barn were too intense to face directly, so though it might seem rude, I turned my gaze once more to the drifting shapes to my right, perhaps hoping to glimpse Rosa sitting in the lonely diner booth.
But now the sun's pattern had fallen across the front alcove, momentarily illuminating it, and I saw there not an AF, but a large oval-shaped photograph fixed to the wall. It showed a green field on a sunny day, dotted with sheep, and in the foreground, I recognized the four special sheep I'd glimpsed from the mother's car returning from Morgan's Fall. They seemed even more gentle than I'd remembered, lined up as they were in a neat row, their heads lowered to partake of the grass. These creatures had filled me with happiness that day, helping to erase the memory of the terrible bull, and I was pleased to see them again, if only in this oval picture.
But something was wrong. Although the four sheep were positioned in a line in just the same formation I'd seen from the car, here they'd become oddly suspended, so they no longer appeared to stand on the surface of the ground. As a result, when they stretched down to eat, their mouths couldn't reach the grass, giving these creatures, so happy on the day, a touch of sadness. "Please don't go away just yet," I said. "Please give me one more brief moment. I know I failed to perform the service I promised you in the city, and I've no right to ask anything else further of you. But I'm remembering how delighted you were that day coffee cup lady and raincoat man found each other again. You were so delighted and couldn't help showing it, so I know just how much it matters to you that people who love one another are brought together, even after many years. I know the son always wishes them well, perhaps even helps them to find each other. Please then, consider Josie and Rick. They're still very young. Should Josie pass away now, they'd be parted forever. If only you could give her special nourishment, as I saw you do for beggar man and his dog, then Josie and Rick could go together into their adult lives, just as they wished for in their kind picture. I can pick—I can myself vouch that their love is strong and lasting, just like that of coffee cup lady and raincoat man."
I now noticed a few steps in front of the alcove, a small triangular object left on the floor. I thought for an instant that it was one of the pointed pie slices the diner manager had been displaying in a see-through counter, and I recalled Mr. Vance's unkind voice saying, "If you're not seeking favoritism, then why am I sitting here in front of you now?" And Miss Helen's saying, "Quickly, we are asking him to exercise favoritism, of course we are!" Only then did I realize the triangle on the floor wasn't a piece of pie, but a corner of Josie's paperback, the one she let fall from the sofa in the friend's apartment while waiting for the father. In fact, it wasn't triangular at all, but had merely appeared that way because only the one corner was protruding from out of the shadows.
To the left of the front alcove, boxes were drifting and overlapping as if in the evening wind. I saw in several of them the flash of bright colors and noticed they contained, even if only in the background, the bottles display I'd glimpsed in the store's new window. The bottles were illuminated in contrasting colors, and in certain boxes, I spotted also parts of the sign that said "Recess Lightning Lighting." I knew then that my time was running out, and so continued quickly. "I know favoritism isn't desirable, but if the sun is making exceptions, surely the most deserving are young people who will love one another all their lives. Perhaps the son may ask, 'How can we be sure?' What can children know about genuine love? But I've been observing them carefully, and I'm certain it's true. They grew up together, and they've each become a part of the other. Rick told me this himself, only today. I know I failed in the city, but please show your kindness once more and give your special help to Josie. Tomorrow, or perhaps the next day, please look in on her and give her this kind of nourishment you gave beggar man. I ask you this, even though it may be favoritism, and I failed in my mission."
The sun's evening race had started to fade, leaving the beginnings of darkness inside the barn. Although I'd been trying to remain facing the rear opening through which his light had been coming, I'd been for a little while aware of some separate light source behind me, over my right shoulder. I'd assumed at first it was some further manifestation of the color bottles display, but as the sun's own light in the barn continued to reduce, this new light source had become harder to ignore. I now turned around to look at it and was surprised to see that the sun himself, far from leaving, had come right within Mr. McBain's barn and installed himself almost at floor level between the front alcove and the barn's front opening.
This discovery was so unexpected, and the sun's presence in the lower corner so dazzling, that for a brief moment I was in danger of becoming disoriented. Then my vision readjusted, and ordering my mind, I realized the sun wasn't really in the barn at all, but that something reflective had been left there by chance and was now catching his reflection during the last moments of his descent. In other words, something was behaving as the sun's mirror, in much the same way the windows of the RPO and other buildings sometimes did.
As I walked toward the reflective surface, the light became less fierce, though it remained glowing and orange amidst the surrounding shadows. Only when I was standing over it did the nature of the reflective object become clear. Mr. McBain, or one of his friends, had left leaning against the wall at this spot several rectangular sheets of glass, stacked one upon the other. Perhaps Mr. McBain was finally planning to do something about his missing walls and perhaps hoping to create windows. In any case, I could see reflected inside the glass rectangles, I estimated seven in all, propped up almost vertically, the sun's evening face.
I stepped closer still, almost speaking the words aloud, "Please show your special kindness to Josie." I stared at the glass sheets. The sun's reflection, though still an intense orange, was no longer blinding, and as I studied more carefully the sun's face framed within the outermost triangle, I began to appreciate that I wasn't looking at a single picture. That in fact, there existed a different version of the sun's face on each of the glass surfaces, and what I might at first have taken for a unified image was in fact seven separate ones, superimposed one over the other. As my gaze penetrated from the first sheet through to the last, although his face on the outermost glass was forbidding and aloof, and the one immediately behind it was, if anything, even more friendly, the two beyond that were softer and kinder. There were three further sheets, and though it was hard to see much of them on account of their being further back, I couldn't help estimating that these faces would have humorous and kind expressions. In any case, whatever the nature of the images on each glass sheet, as I looked at them collectively, the effect was of a single face, but with a variety of outlines and emotions.
I continued to stare intently, and then all the sun's faces began to fade together, and the light inside Mr. McBain's barn grew dim, and I could no longer see even the triangle of Josie's backpack or the sheep stretching down their mouths towards the out-of-reach grass. "I said thank you for receiving me again," I said. "I'm so sorry I wasn't able to perform the service I promised to you. Please consider my request." But even within my mind, I spoke these words softly, because I knew the son had departed.
In the days that followed, Dr. Ryan and the mother often argued in the open plan about whether or not Josie should go to a hospital. And although their voices collided, I could hear them through the sliding doors. They seemed always, in the end, to agree that such a place would only contribute to her misery. Despite this agreement, each time Dr. Ryan came, they would go into the open plan and go through the discussion all over again. Rick came each day and took his turn sitting in the bedroom, watching over Josie, while the mother and Melania, housekeeper, rested. Both adults, by this point, had ceased to keep traditional hours, sleeping only when they became overwhelmed by tiredness. My own presence, though appreciated, was for some reason considered insufficient by itself, even though the mother knew I was likely to spot danger signals before anyone else. In any case, as the days passed, the mother and Melania, housekeeper, became so tired, it showed in their every movement.
Then, six days after my second visit to Mr. McBain's barn, the sky grew unusually dark. After breakfast, I say after breakfast, though by then all household routines had become so disrupted, there were no breakfasts or any other meals being taken at their usual times. That particular morning, the sense of disorientation was made worse by the sky's darkness, and Rick's arrival was one of the few things to remind us it wasn't all—it wasn't still night. As the morning continued, the sky became even darker, the clouds more dense. Then the winds grew more very powerful. A loose section of building started to bang at the rear of the house, and when I looked from the bedroom front window, the trees at the rise of the road were bending and waving. But Josie slept on, oblivious, her breathing shallow and rapid.
Midway through that dark morning, while Rick and I were together watching Josie, Melania, housekeeper, appeared, her eyes half closed with tiredness, and said it was her turn to take over. I then watched Rick descend the staircase in front of me, shoulders heavy with sadness, and sit down on the lowest step. Deciding at best to give him privacy for a few moments, I'd gone past him and into the hall when the mother came out of the open plan. She was in the thin black dressing gown she'd been wearing throughout the night, which displayed the fragility of her neck, and strode past quickly, as though in need of her coffee. But at the kitchen doorway, she turned and, noticing Rick sitting on the bottom step, stared at him. It took Rick a moment to realize the mother was looking at him, but when he did, he smiled with courage. "Mrs. Arthur, how are you?" The mother went on staring at him, then she said, "Come on in here." And disappearing into the kitchen, Rick gave me a puzzled look as he rose to his feet. Although the mother hadn't invited me, I thought it best to follow behind him.
The kitchen appeared different because of the darkened sky outside. The mother hadn't switched on any lights, and by the time we came in, she was gazing out of the large windows towards the road she normally took to her work. Rick stopped uncertainly near the island, and I myself paused at the refrigerator to give privacy. From that position, I was able to see the large windows and, beyond the mother's figure, the highway rising into the distance and the waving trees. "I wanted to ask you something," the mother said. "You don't mind, do you, Rick?" "Please, go right ahead, Mrs. Arthur."
"I was wondering if, right now, you might be feeling like you're the winner? Like maybe you've won?" "I don't understand, Mrs. Arthur," he said. "I've always treated you okay, haven't I, Rick? I hope I have." "You certainly have. You've always been very kind and a great friend to my mother. So I'm now asking you, I'm asking you, Rick, if you feel like you've come out the winner. Josie took the gamble, okay? I shook the dice for her, but it was always going to be her, not me, who won or lost. She bet high, and if Dr. Ryan's right, she might soon be about to lose. But you, Rick, you played it safe. So that's why I'm asking you, how does this feel to you just now? Do you really feel like a winner?"
The mother had said all this while staring at the dark sky, but she now turned to face Rick. "Because if you're feeling like the winner, Rick, I'd like you to reflect on this first. What exactly do you believe you've won here?" I asked, "Because everything about Josie, from the moment I first held her, everything about her told me she was hungry for life. The whole world excited her. That's how I knew from the start I couldn't deny her the chance she was demanding—a future worthy of her spirit. That's what I mean when I say she played for high stakes. Now, what about you, Rick? Do you really think you were so smart? Do you believe of the two of you, you've come out the winner? Because if that's so, then please ask yourself this: What is it you've won? Take a look. Take a look at your future." She waved a hand at the window. "You played for low stakes, and what you want is small and mean. You may feel pretty smug just now, but I'm here to tell you, you've got no reason to be feeling that way. No reason at all."
While the mother had been speaking, something had ignited in Rick's face, something dangerous. Till he was looking very much as he had done during the interaction meeting when he challenged the boys wanting to throw me across the room. He now took a step towards the mother, and suddenly she too seemed to feel alarmed. "Mrs. Arthur," Rick said, "most times I've come here lately, Josie hasn't been well enough to talk, but last Thursday she had a good day, and I was sitting close by the bed so I wouldn't miss anything. And what she said was that she wanted to give me a message, a message for you, Mrs. Arthur, but one she wasn't ready for you to hear. What I mean is, she was asking me to hold this message for her till the correct time. What I'm thinking, perhaps, is now the correct time."
The mother's eyes became large and filled with fear, but she said nothing. "Josie's message," Rick went on, "was something like this: she says that no matter what happens now, never mind how it plays out, she loves you and will always love you. She's very grateful you're her mother, and she never once wished for any other. That's what she said. And there was more. On this question of being lifted, she wants you to know she wouldn't wish it any other way. If she had the power to do it again, and this time it was up to her, she says she'd do exactly what you did, and you'll always be the best mother she could have. That's about it. As I say, she didn't want me to pass it on until the correct time, so I'm hoping I've judged this right, Mrs. Arthur."
The mother stared expressionlessly at Rick, but while he'd been speaking, I'd spotted something, something possibly very important, through the large windows behind her. And now, taking advantage of Rick's pause, I raised my hand. The mother ignored me and went on staring at Rick. "That's some message," she said finally. "Excuse me," I said. "Jesus," the mother said, inside quietly, "that's some message." "Excuse me," this time I'd almost shouted, and both the mother and Rick turned my way. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's something occurring outside. The sun's coming out." The mother glanced at the large windows, then back at me. "Sure, so what? What's the matter with you, honey?" "We must go upstairs. We must go up to Josie straight away."
The mother and Rick had been looking at me with puzzled expressions, but when I said this, they looked fearful. And even as I turned toward the hall, they both rushed past me so that I found myself hurrying up the staircase behind them. They may not have understood why I'd called out as I had, and perhaps believed Josie was in sudden danger. So when they burst into the bedroom, they must have been relieved to find her asleep as before, breathing steadily. She was lying on her side, as she often did, her face mostly hidden by the hair falling over it. There was nothing unexpected about Josie herself, but the room was of another matter. The sun's patterns were falling over various sections of wall, floor, and ceiling with unusual intensity: a deep orange triangle above the dresser, a bright curved line crossing the button couch, brilliant bars across the carpet. But Josie herself, in her bed, was in shadow, as were many other parts of the room.
Then the shadows started to move, and I realized, my vision adjusting, that they were being created by Melania, housekeeper, standing at the front window, tugging at the blind in the curtains. The blind was already fully lowered, and she was pulling the curtains over it to form a double layer, and yet the piercing light was somehow coming past the edges to create the shapes around the room. "Damn sun!" Melania, housekeeper, called out. "Go away, damn sun!" "No, no," I went quickly to Melania, housekeeper. "We must open them. Open everything. We must let the sun do its his best." I tried to take the curtain material from her, and though she at first didn't let go, she did so eventually with a look of surprise. By then, Rick had appeared at my side and, seemingly coming to some intuitive conclusion, also reached forward to raise the blind and pull back the curtains.
The sun's nourishment then came into the room so abundantly. Rick and I reeled back, almost losing balance. Melania, housekeeper, her hands covering her face, said again, "Damn sun!" but she made no further attempt to block his nourishment. I'd stepped back from the window, but not before noticing that outside the window was as powerful as ever, and that not only were the trees still waving, there were many tiny funnels and pyramids, each looking as though drawn in sharp pencil lines, blowing swiftly across the sky. But the sun had broken through the dark clouds, and all at once, as if each of us in the room had received a special message, we turned to look at Josie. The sun was illuminating her and the entire bed in a ferocious half-disc of orange, and the mother, standing closest to the bed, was having to raise her hands to her face. Rick now seems somehow to have guessed what was occurring, but I was interested to observe how both the mother and Melania, housekeeper, seemed also to have grasped its essence. So for the next few moments, we all remained in our fixed positions as the sun focused ever more brightly on Josie. We watched and waited, and even when at one point the orange half-disc looked as if it might catch a light, none of us did anything.
Then Josie stirred, and with squinting eyes, held a hand up in the air. "Hey, what's with this light, anyway?" she said. The sun continued relentlessly to shine on her, and she shifted till she was on her back, propped up by the pillows and headboard. "What's going on? How are you feeling, honey?" the mother asked in a whisper, staring at Josie as if in fear. Josie slumped back against her pillows till she was almost looking up at the ceiling, but there was an obvious new strength to the way she maneuvered herself. "Hey," she said, "is the blind stuck or something?" The loose piece of house structure was still hanging somewhere, and when I next glanced out of the window, the darkness was once more spreading across the sky. Then, even as we watched, the sun's patterns faded over Josie till she was lying there in the gray of an overcast morning.
"Josie," the mother asked, "how do you feel?" Josie looked at her with a tired expression, shifting herself to face us better. The mother, seeing this, moved forward, perhaps with the intention of making Josie lie down again, but even as she reached Josie, she appeared to change her mind and began to assist Josie in finding a more comfortable sitting posture. "You look better, honey," the mother said. "Look, what's going on?" Josie asked. "Why is everyone here? What are you all staring at?" "Hey, Josie," Rick said suddenly, his voice filled with excitement. "You look a complete mess." "Thanks," she said. "You're looking pretty good yourself." "Then," she said, "but you know, I do feel better. Kind of dizzy, though." "That's enough," the mother said. "Just take it easy. Do you want to drink something? Water, maybe?" "Okay," the mother said. "Let's assume nothing. We have to take this one step at a time."
Part Six. The sun's special nourishment proved as effective for Josie as it had for beggar man, and after the dark sky morning, she grew not only stronger but from a child into an adult as the seasons and the years went by. Mr. McBain's vehicles cut down the tall grass in all three fields, leaving them a pale brown color. The barn now looked taller and more sharply outlined, but Mr. McBain still didn't build additional walls for it, and on cloudless evenings, as the sun went towards his resting place, I was still able to see him sinking further, sinking to the far side of the barn before fading into the ground.
Josie worked hard on her tutorials, and there were many arguments about which college she might go to. Josie and the mother each held strong views on the matter, but Atlas Brookings—now Rick, no longer wished to go there—was rarely mentioned. The father seemed to agree with neither Josie's nor the mother's ideas, and once turned up at the house to make his points more strongly. It was the only time I saw him come to the house, and although I was happy myself to see him again, we all understood he'd infringed a rule in doing so.
Josie herself went away from the house much more over this period, sometimes for several days at a time, to visit other young adults or to attend retreats. These trips, I knew, were an important part of her preparations for college, but she preferred not to talk much about them to me, so they remained largely outside my knowledge. Rick had continued to come regularly in the early days after Josie's recovery, but as the time passed, and certainly by when Mr. McBain cut the grass, he was coming far less. This was partly because of Josie's being away so often, but Rick too had become busy with his projects. He bought a car, which he'd named "The Wreck," and would regularly drive to the city to meet his new friends. Rick preferred to leave The Wreck in the loose stones area because he said it was easier for him to start his journey from there than to negotiate the narrow and circuitous route out from his house. So it was increasingly the presence of The Wreck, rather than Josie, that brought Rick to us, and it was there on the loose stones that I had my last conversation with him.
Both Josie and the mother were away that morning, and so when I heard his tread outside, I saw no reason not to go out and exchange greetings. He wasn't in his usual hurry to drive away, so we talked for several minutes, a light breeze moving over us. Rick leaning against the body of The Wreck while I stood just a little way away. The sky was overcast that morning, and that was perhaps why Rick was reminded of that day. "Do you remember, Clara," he asked, "that morning the weather went really strange and the sun came right into Josie's room?" "Of course," I said. "I'll never forget that morning. I often think about it now. It almost seems like that was when Josie first started to get better. Maybe I've got this all wrong, but when I look back, it almost feels that way." "Yes," I said. "I agree. You remember that day? We were all so exhausted and in despair, and then everything turned around. I always wanted to ask you, except you seem so closed up about it. I always wanted to ask if what had happened that morning, all that strange weather, everything else, if it had to do with the other stuff, you know, me carrying you over the fields, you making some secret deal? At the time, I thought it was well—AF superstition, something just to bring us good luck. But these days, I keep wondering if there was more to it." He was watching me carefully, but I said nothing for quite a long time.
"Unfortunately," I said eventually, "I don't dare speak about this matter, even today. It was such a special favor, and if I speak about it to anyone, even just to Rick, my fear is that the help Josie received will be taken back." "Then stop there," he said. "Don't say anything. I don't want to open up even a tiny chance of her getting ill again." "But the doctors always say once you get through the stage she did, you're safe." "All the same," I said, "we must be cautious, because Josie's was such a special case. But since Rick is now talking about this matter, perhaps I might mention something related to it that's been worrying me." "And what's that?" Rick asked. "Clara and Josie still show kindness to each other, and yet they're now preparing such different futures." He turned towards the rise in the road, his hands playing with The Wreck's wing mirror. "I think I follow you," he said. "I'm remembering that day, the second time we went over to the barn. How before we went, you became very serious and asked if our love was genuine, the love between me and Josie. And I think I told you it was real, real and everlasting. So I'm guessing that's what you're now worrying about, Rick?"
Correct it. It brings me anxiety to see Rick and Josie with such separate plans. He gently prodded the loose stones before him with his foot. Then he said, "Look, I don't want you to say anything to put Josie's health at risk again, but let me say this much: When you passed it on that Josie and I really loved each other, that was the truth at the time. No one can claim you misled or tricked them. But now we're no longer kids. We have to wish each other the best and go our different ways. It wouldn't have worked out me going to college, trying to compete with all those lifted kids. I've got my own plans now, and that's how it should be. But that was no lie, Clara. And in a funny way, it still isn't a lie now."
I wonder what Rick can mean by that. "I suppose I'm saying Josie and I will always be together at some level, some deeper one, even if we go out there and don't see each other anymore. I can't speak for her, but once I'm out there, I know I'll always keep searching for someone just like her, at least like the Josie I once knew. So it wasn't ever a deception, Clara, whatever, whoever that was you were dealing with back then. If they could see right into my heart and write into Josie's, they'd know you weren't trying to pull one, some fast one."
After that, we stood there on the loose stones, not talking for a little while. I thought at any moment he would straighten and get into the wreck, but he asked in a lighter's voice, "Do you ever hear from Melania?"
"Someone said she went to Indiana. We believe she's now in California. When we last heard from her, she was hoping to be accepted by a community there. I used to be so afraid of that lady, but I got kind of used to her. I hope you're—I hope she's okay and that she finds someplace safe. And what about you, Clara? Are you gonna be okay? I mean, once Josie leaves for college?"
"The mother is always very kind to me. Look, if you ever need help, just say so, okay?"
"Yes, thank you."
As I sat here, as I sit here on this hard ground, I have been thinking again about Rick's words that morning, and I'm sure he is correct. I no longer fear that the son will feel cheated or misled, or that he will consider retribution. In fact, it would could be that even as I was making my plea to him, he already knew Rick and Josie were bound to go their separate ways and yet understood that despite everything, their love would last. When he posed his question about children really understanding what it meant to love, I believe he was already sure of the answer and was simply raising the question for my benefit. I even think at that moment he may have been thinking about the coffee cup lady and raincoat man. After all, we'd been talking about them the previous moment. Perhaps the son was supposing that after many years and after many changes, Josie and Rick might once again meet, as the coffee cup lady and raincoat man had done.
As Josie's college days grew closer, there were frequent visits to the house from other young adults. They were female and mostly came one at a time, though occasionally in pairs. A hired driver might bring them, or sometimes they would come driving their own car, but the young adults were now never accompanied by parents. Two nights, sometimes three, was the average length of visit, and I would know when such a visit was expected because a day or two beforehand, the new housekeeper would move a futon or camping cot into Josie's bedroom. It was because of the young adult visitors that I discovered the utility room. Naturally, there was not enough space during such visits for me to remain in the bedroom myself, and in any case, I understood that my presence wasn't appropriate as it once had been. If Melania housekeeper had still been with us, I believe she would have made a plan for where I might go, but as it was, I found the room myself, up on the top landing.
"No one's saying you have to hide," Josie had said, but she didn't come up with any alternative plan, and so that's how I came to occupy the utility room. These were busy weeks, and even when Josie didn't have visitors, I could—I would hear her moving hurriedly around the house, shouting at the mother or the new housekeeper.
Then one afternoon, the door of the utility room opened, and Josie was looking in with a smile. "So," she said, "this is where you've been hanging out. How are things?"
"Everything is fine, thank you."
Josie stretched out her arms, a hand resting on each vertical of the door frame. She was looking into the room with a stoop, as if she feared she might accidentally hit her head on the sloping ceilings. Her gaze went quickly around the various stored items, then settled on the room's one high, small window. "Do you ever get to look out of that there?" she asked.
"Unfortunately, it's too high. Its purpose is to provide ventilation, not a view."
"We'll see about that." Josie stepped further into the room, her head still stooped, her gaze moving everywhere. Then she began to work, lifting one item, pushing another, creating new piles where none had existed. Once, failing to anticipate her rapid movements, I nearly collided with her, and she laughed loudly. "Clara, just stay over there, right over there. I'm trying to do something."
Before long, she'd cleared a space immediately beneath the high, small window, then pushed a wooden trunk into the place. She next picked up and carried over a plastic crate with a tight-fitting lid and lowered it carefully on top of the trunk. "There you go," she stood back, pleased with what she'd done, though the rest of the room had become very untidy. "Give that a go, Clara. Just be careful. The second step's quite high. Come on, I want you to try it."
I came out of the corner and, without difficulty, negotiated the two steps she'd created till I was standing on the lid of the plastic crate. "Don't worry, these things are really strong," she said. "Just treat it like a floor. Trust me, it's safe." She laughed again, and I kept watching and kept watching me. So I smiled, then looked out the high, small window. The view was similar to the old one from Josie's rear window, two floors below, of course. The trajectory had altered, and a part of the roof was intruding into the right of my picture, but I could see the gray sky stretching over the cut fields, all the way, all the way to Mr. McBain's barn.
"You should have told me before," Josie said. "I know how much you love looking out."
"Thank you. Thank you very much." For a moment, she looked—we looked at each other with gentle smiles. Then she glanced around at the items strewn over the floor. "Boy, what a mess. Okay, I promise to tidy everything, but just now, I've gotta attend to something, okay? Don't try doing any of this yourself. I'll do it later."
The mother, like Josie, had less to do with me during this period, sometimes not even looking my way when she encountered me around the house. I understood that this was a busy time for her, and also that possibly my presence brought back difficult memories. But there was one occasion when she gave me special attention. Josie herself was away that day, but it being the weekend, the mother was at home. I'd been up in the utility room for most of the morning, but when I'd heard the voices below, I'd gone out onto the top landing. I then realized the man speaking with the mother down in the hallway was Mr. Capaldi. I was surprised because there hadn't been any mention of Mr. Capaldi for a time. He and mother were talking in easy tones, but as they continued, I could hear tension enter the mother's voice. Then her footsteps sounded, and I saw her looking up at me from the three floors below.
"Clara," she called up, "Mr. Capaldi's here. You'll remember him, of course. Come on down and say hello."
Then, as I was descending carefully, I heard the mother say, "That wasn't the agreement, Henry. That wasn't what you said to which Mr. Capaldi said, 'I just want to put it to her, that's all.'"
Mr. Capaldi was heavier than when I'd last seen him that day in his building, and the hair around his ears had become a lighter gray. He greeted me warmly, then led the way into the open plan and said, "Just wanted to run a few things past you, Clara. You could be of a great help to us." The mother said nothing as she followed us in. Mr. Capaldi sat down on the modular sofa, leaning back into the cushions, and this relaxed posture reminded me of the boy Danny at the interaction meeting, sitting on the same sofa with his leg extended across it. In contrast to Mr. Capaldi's manner, the mother remained standing very straight in the center of the room, and when Mr. Capaldi invited me to sit, she said, "I think Clara's happier standing. Let's get on with it, Henry. Come on, Chrissy, this is nothing we have to stress about."
Then he came out of his relaxed posture, leaning forward towards me. "You'll remember, Clara, how much I've always been fascinated by AFS. I've always regarded you as our friends, a vital source of education and enlightenment. But as you know, there are people out there who worry about you, people who are scared and resentful."
"Henry," the mother said, "please get to the point."
"Okay, here it is, Clara. The fact is, there's growing and widespread concern about AFS right now. People saying how you've become too clever. They're afraid because they can't follow what's going on inside anymore. They can see what you do, they accept that your decisions, your recommendations are sound and dependable, almost always correct, but they don't like not knowing how you arrive at them. That's where it comes from, this backlash, this prejudice. So we have to fight it. We have to say to them, 'Okay, you're worried because you don't understand how AFS think. Fine, then let's take a look under the hood. Let's reverse engineer what you don't like are sealed black boxes. Okay, let's open them up. Once we see inside, not only do things get a lot less scary, we'll learn, learn amazing things.' So this is where you come in, Clara. Those of us on your side, we're looking for help, for volun—for volunteers. We've always already succeeded in opening a number of black boxes, but we really need to open up a whole lot more. UAFS, you're magnificent. We're discovering things we've never have believed possible. That's why I'm here today. I've never forgotten you, Clara. I know you'll be uniquely useful to us. Please, will you help?"
He was staring at me, so I said, "I'd like to assist, so long as it doesn't inconvenience Josie or her mother."
"Wait a minute," the mother moved swiftly around the coffee table until she was standing beside me. "This isn't at all what we talked about over the phone, Henry. I just wanted to ask Clara that's all. This is a chance for her to make a lasting contribution. Clara deserves better than that."
"You may be right there, Chrissy, and I may have badly misjudged this. Even so, now I'm here, and Clara's standing in front of me. Do I have your permission just to ask her?"
"No, Henry, you don't. Clara deserves better. She deserves her slow fade, but we have work to do here. We have to resist this backlash, then go resist it elsewhere. Find some other black boxes to pry open. Keep our Clara out of it. Let her have her own slow fade."
The mother had stepped in front of me as though to shield me from Mr. Capaldi, and because in her anger she'd taken her position hurriedly, the rear of her shoulder was almost touching my face. As a result, I not only became very conscious of the smooth woven fabric of her dark sweater but was reminded of the moment she'd reached forward and embraced me in the front of the car, the time we parked outside the Grind Your Own Beef cafe. Peering around the mother, I saw Mr. Capaldi shake his head and lean back towards the cushions.
"I can't help feeling," he said, "that you're still mad at me, Chrissy, that you've been mad at me a long time, and that's unfair. Back then, it was you who came to me, remember, and I just did my best to help you. I'm glad it worked out well with Josie at the end, I truly am, but that's no reason for you to be so mad at me all the time."
The last days before Josie's departure were filled with both tension and excitement. Had Melania housekeeper still been with us, things might have been calmer, but the new housekeeper often left tasks undone until the last moment, then tried to do several all at once, and this added to the nervous atmosphere. I felt it important not to get in the way and remained in the utility room for long periods of time, standing on the platform Josie had made for me, looking out of the high, small window across the fields, listening to the noises around the house.
Then one afternoon, two days before the departure, I heard Josie step on the top landing, and she appeared in the doorway. "Hey, Clara, why don't you come down for a while to the bedroom? I mean, if you're not busy, that is."
So I descended with her and found myself once more in the old bedroom. Many details had changed. Aside from Josie's own bed, there was now a permanent second cot for her visitors, while the button couch had been removed altogether. Many smaller details had also changed. For instance, Josie was now sitting in a new desk chair with casters on its feet, so that if she wished, she could move about while she was still sitting. But the sun's patterns on the wall were just as I'd remembered them from the many afternoons we'd spent there together. I sat down on the edge of her bed, and for a while, we talked happily.
"Everyone you speak to says they're not scared of college," Josie said, and at one point, said, "at one point, but you wouldn't believe, Clara, just how scared some of them really are. I'm kind of scared too. I'm not gonna pretend I'm not, but you know what? I'm not gonna let fear get in my way. I've made myself a solemn promise about that. Hey, did I tell you this before? We're all supposed to get these official targets, two targets in each of five categories. I had to fill in a form about it, but I cheated because I figured out my own secret targets. Nothing to do with the ones on the form. Boy, would they not let like my real list, and no way is Mom ever hearing about it either." She laughed cheerfully. "Even you, Clara, I'm not sharing my secret targets with you, but if you're still here when I get back at Christmas, I'll tell you how many I've got through."
This was one of a few allusions Josie made during this period to my own possible departure, and she referred to it again on the morning she finally drove away with the mother. She'd hoped I knew that Rick would come to wave her off, but as it turned out, he was many miles away that day, meeting his new friend to talk about his hard-to-detect data gathering devices. So it was just myself and the new housekeeper who stood in the loose stone area, watching Josie and the mother make the last of her luggage, take her last of the luggage to the car. Then, once the mother was ready behind the wheel, Josie may came back towards me, the caution that had never left her walk making her feet sink noisily into the pebbles with each step. She looked excited and strong, and before she'd reached me, held up her arms as though trying to form the largest 'Y' she could. Then she held me in an embrace that lasted many moments. She'd become taller than me, so she now had to crouch a little, resting her chin on my left shoulder, and her long, rich hair fell across a section of my vision. When she pulled away, she was smiling, but I could see also some sadness.
That was when she said, "I guess you may not be here when I get back. You've been just great, Clara. You really have."
"Thank you," I said. "Thank you for choosing me."
"No brainer." Then she gave me a second hug, this one more brief, stood back, and said, "Bye, Clara. You be good now."
"Goodbye, Josie." She was waving cheerfully once more as she was getting into the car, the wave aimed at me rather than the new housekeeper. Then the car moved way up the road, past the windy trees and over the hill, in just the way Josie and I had watched it do so many times before.
Over the last few days, some of my memories have started to overlap in curious ways. For instance, the dark sky morning when the sun saved Josie the trip to Morgan's Falls and the illuminated diner Mr. Vance chose will come into my mind, merged together into a single setting. The mother will be standing with her back to me, watching the mist from the waterfall, yet I'm not watching her from the wooden picnic bench, but instead from my booth in Mr. Vance's diner. And although Mr. Vance isn't visible, I can hear his unkind words coming from across the aisle. Meanwhile, above the mother and the waterfall, the dark clouds have gathered, the same dark clouds that gathered the morning the sun saved Josie. Small cylinders and pyramids flying by in the wind. I know this isn't disorientation because if I wish to, I can always distinguish one memory from another and place each one back in its true context. Besides, even when such composite memories come into my mind, I remain conscious of their rough borders, such as might have been created by an impatient child tearing with her finger instead of cutting with scissors, separating, say, the mother at the waterfall and my diner booth. And if I looked closely at the dark clouds, I would notice they were not, in fact, quite in scale in relation to the mother of the waterfall. Even so, such composite memories have sometimes filled my mind so vividly I've forgotten for long moments that I am in reality sitting here in the yard on this harsh ground.
The yard is large, and from my special place here, the only tall object I can see is the construction crane in the far distance. The sky is very wide and open, and if Rick and I were once more crossing Mr. McBain's fields, he's especially now the grass has been cut, the sky might appear to us just like this. The wide sky means I'm able to watch the sun's journeys unimpeded, and even on cloudy days, I'm always aware of where he is above me. I thought when I first came here that the yard was untidy, but I've now come to appreciate its good order. The initial impression, I realized, was due to many of the objects here having in themselves an untidy identity, with the remains of severed cables protruding, or with dented grill panels. On closer observation, it becomes clear how hard the yardmen have worked to place each piece of machinery, crate, or bundle into orderly rows, so that a visitor walking down the long passages that have been created in this way, even if that visitor might be careful not to trip on a rod or a wire, will be able to take in the objects one by one. Because of the wide sky and lack of tall objects, I become quickly aware of any visitors in the yard. I spot their figures, even if they are far in the distance and only small shapes moving among the rows. But visitors aren't frequent, and when I hear human voices, they most often belong to the yard men calling to each other. Sometimes birds will come down from the sky, but they soon discover there is little in the yard to interest them. Not long ago, a group of dark birds descended in elegant formation to perch on some machinery not far in front of me, and I thought for a moment they might be Rick's birds, sent to observe me. Of course, they weren't Rick's birds, but natural ones, and they remained calmly perched on the machinery for some time, not moving at all, even as the wind ruffled their coats. Then they flew off at once.
Around the same time, a kind yard man stopped in front of me and told me there were three AFS on the south side and two in the ring. If I wished, he said, he could transport me to one or the other of these areas, but I told him I was content with my special spot, and he nodded and went on his way.
Several days ago, there was a very special incident. Although I'm not able to move from place to place, I can turn my head easily to see everything around me, so I've been aware for some time of the long-coated visitor moving behind me. Once, when I turned, the figure was in the mid-distance, and I saw it was that of a woman, and that she was wearing at the end of a strap a pouch-like bag. Whenever she leaned forward to examine an item on the ground, the bag would swing before her. Because she was behind me, I couldn't keep close watch on her, and then, for a while, perhaps another memory had presented itself, I stopped thinking about her altogether. Then I heard a sound, and the long-coated visitor was standing before me, and even before she crouched down to look at my face, I recognized Manager. Happiness filled my mind.
"Clara? It is Clara, isn't it?"
"Yes, of course," I said, smiling up at her.
"Clara, how wonderful! Just a moment, let me bring something to sit on." She returned, dragging a small metal crate that made an unpleasant noise along the rough ground. When she placed it in front of me and sat down, despite the wide sky behind her, I was able to observe her face clearly. "I'd been hoping I'd find you here. Oh, once, almost a year ago now, I found something here in this yard, and I thought for a moment it was you, Clara, but it wasn't. But this time, it's definitely you. I'm so glad."
"I'm happy to see Manager again," she went on, smiling at me. Then she said, "I wonder what you can be thinking just now to see me again after all this time. It must be so confusing."
"I feel only happiness to see Manager again."
"Then tell me, Clara, have you all this time, until you came here, I mean, have you all this time been with the people you went to the—to from the store? Forgive my asking, but I no longer have easy access to such information."
"Yes, of course. I was with Josie all the time until she went to college."
"So it was successful, a successful home?"
"Yes, I believe I have gave good service and prevented Josie from becoming lonely."
"I'm sure you did. I'm sure she barely knew the meaning of loneliness with you there."
"I hope not. You know, Clara, of all the AFS I looked after, you were certainly one of the most remarkable. You had such unusual insight and observational, observational abilities. I noticed it right away."
"I'm so glad to hear it all went well, because you never know, even with abilities as remarkable as yours."
"Does Manager still look after AFS?"
"Oh, no, no, no. That finished some time ago." She glanced around the yard, then smiled at me again. "That's why I like to come here from time to time. I sometimes go to the yard at Memorial Bridge, but I like this place the best."
"Does Manager come just to look for AFS from her store?"
"Not just that. I like to collect little souvenirs." She indicated her pouch bag. "They don't allow us to take anything substantial, but smaller things, they don't mind. The workers here know me, but you're right, whenever I come here, I'm hoping to come upon one of my old AFS. Did you ever come across Rosa?"
"Rosa? Yes, actually, I did. I found her here, oh, it must be at least two years ago. Things didn't go as well for Rose as they did for you."
"So she didn't like her teenager?"
"It wasn't so much that, but you mustn't worry. Never mind Rosa. Tell me about you. You had such a special ability. I hope your child came to appreciate it."
"I think she did. Everyone in the house was very kind to me. I was able to learn so many things. I remember the day they came in and showed you the lady testing you, first asking you to walk like the daughter. It made me worry after you left. I kept thinking about it."
"There was no need for Manager to worry. It was the best home for me, and Josie was the best teenager."
Manager for a moment remained silent, gazing at me and smiling. So I continued, "I did all I could do, was bet that was best for Josie. I've thought about it many times now, and if it had become necessary, I'm sure I would have continued Josie, but it's much better the way it turned out. Even though Rick and Josie aren't together."
"I'm sure you're right, Clara, but what do you mean, 'continue Josie'? What's that mean?"
"Manager, I did all I could could to learn Josie, and had it become necessary, I would have done my utmost, but I don't think it would have worked out so well. Not because I couldn't have achieved accuracy, but however hard I tried, I believe now there would have remained something beyond my reach. The mother, Rick, Melania housekeeper, the father—I'd never have reached what they felt for Josie in their hearts. I'm now sure of this."
"Manager, well, Clara, I'm glad you feel things worked out for the best. Mr. Capaldi believed there was nothing special inside Josie that couldn't be continued. He told the mother he'd searched and searched and found nothing like that, but I believe now he was searching in the wrong place. There was something very special, but it wasn't inside Josie, it was inside those who loved her. That's why I think now Mr. Capaldi was wrong, and I wouldn't have succeeded. So I'm glad I decided as I did."
"I'm sure that's right, Clara. It's what I always want to hear when I come across my AFS again, that you're glad about how it all went, that you have no regrets. Did you know there are some B3s over there, over on that far side? They're not from our store, but if you'd like some company, I could ask the men to move you."
"No, thank you, Manager. You're as kind as ever, but I like this spot, and I have my memories to go through and place in the right order."
"That's probably wise. I wouldn't have said this in the store, but I was never able to feel towards B3s as I did toward your generation. I often think the customers felt something similar. They never really took to them. For all the B3's technical advances, I'm so glad I came across you today, Clara. I've thought about you so often. You were one of the finest I ever had."
She rose to her feet, her bag swaying again in front of her. "Before you go, Manager, I must report to you one more thing. The son was very kind to me. He was always kind to me from the start, but when I was with Josie, once, he was particularly kind. I wanted Manager to know."
"Yes, I'm sure the son was always good to you, Clara." As she said this, Manager turned to the wide sky behind her, raising a hand to her eyes, and for a moment, we looked at the sun together. Then she turned back to me and said, "I have to get on. Well, Clara, goodbye."
"Goodbye, Manager. Thank you." She reached down to the metal crate she'd been sitting on and dragged it back to its original position, making the same unpleasant noise. She then walked away down the long passage between the rows, and it was noticeable how she walked differently to the way she had in the store. With each step, she would lean to her left in a way that made me worry her long coat on that side might touch the dirty ground. When she was mid-distance, she stopped and turned, and I thought she might look back one last time at me, but she was gazing at the far distance, in the direction of the construction crane on the horizon. Then she continued to walk away.