Transcription
Sitting beside the Sushi Sushi Cafe's window, looking out at the shadows growing longer outside the theater, I'd become excited by the possibility that the sun might conceivably pour in his special nourishment straight away through this very window to Josie, now sitting across the table from me. But I realized how tired the sun must be that he'd all but finished for the day, and that it was both disrespectful and unreasonable to expect such an immediate response.
A small hope continued to linger in my mind, and I watched Josie closely. But I soon accepted I'd have to wait until the following morning at the very earliest. I'd also realized the reason I couldn't see so clearly through the Sushi Cafe's window was because it was dusty and smeared, and not so much to do with what had occurred in the yard. Indeed, despite its constant billowing in the breeze, I could still read the large cloth banner above the theater entrance saying "Blissfully Brilliant," and I had no difficulty deciphering the people arriving to join those already milling around outside the theater. Each time more people came, there would be greetings and humorous shouts. I couldn't hear their words clearly, but there was a thick glass separating us, so this too was consistent with the prevailing conditions.
Our tasks in the yard hadn't delayed us unduly, but by the time the father and I had finally located the correct Sushi Cafe, Josie, Rick, the mother, and Miss Helen had already been sitting for several minutes around the table beside the window. The father had greeted everyone cheerfully, as though there hadn't been any tension at Mr. Capaldi's. But soon afterwards, the mother had risen and gone out to join the crowd outside, her oblong held to her ear. Now, across the table, the father was turning the pages of Rick's notebook and making appreciative sounds. But I was concerned at how uncharacteristically quiet Josie had become, and soon the father noticed this too.
"You okay there, animal?"
"I'm fine, Dad. We've been on the go for a long time now. Do you want to go back to the apartment?"
"I'm not tired. I'm not sick. I'm okay, Dad. Let me just sit here."
Rick, sitting beside Josie, was also looking at her with concern.
"Hey Josie, do you fancy finishing this for me?" he said, this quietly, almost into her ear, as he slid the remainder of his carrot cake towards her. "It might give you energy."
"I don't need energy, Ricky. I'm fine. I just want to sit here, that's all."
The father looked carefully at Josie, then turned back to Rick's notebook.
"These are really interesting, Rick."
"Ricky darling," Miss Helen said, "it just occurs to me it was an excellent idea to bring your diagrams along. But perhaps it's best you don't offer them to Vance unless he specifically asks you."
"Mom, we've been over this. It's just that it might look inappropriate, too eager. This is supposed to be just a social meeting, after all, a spontaneous encounter."
"Mum, how can this be spontaneous when it's been so carefully set up and we've come in specifically for it?"
"I just mean darling, you must try and behave as though it's spontaneous. That's just what will work best with Vance. Only if he asked specifically to see some of your work."
"I understand, Mom. It's all under control."
Rick looked tense, and I wished to do something to give him reassurance, but I was across the table from him and couldn't reach over to touch his arm or shoulder. The father was again looking at Josie, but she didn't seem to seem unwell, so much as simply lost in her own thoughts.
"Drones were never my area," the father said after a while, "but this, Rick, is truly impressive and exciting. Then to Miss Helen, 'Lifted or not, genuine ability has to get noticed, unless this world's completely crazy.'"
"Now, you were always encouraging me, Mr. Arthur," Rick said, "right from where I, right from when I first started getting into all this. So much of what you showed me back then forms the foundation of what you see there."
"That's kind, Rick, but I'm sure it's entirely unwarranted. Drone technology was never my area, and I doubt if I was ever much help to you, but I appreciate you saying that."
Through the window, I could now see the sun's last patterns of the day falling across the black-suited women with bow ties, the theater's waistcoat officials handing out leaflets, the bright costume couples, and the musicians with small guitars moving amidst the crowd. Snatches of their music coming from the glass.
"Hey, animal," the father said, "did your mother happen to say something to upset you? This isn't like you, sitting there so quiet."
"I'm fine, Dad. I'm just not like a show, okay? I can't sparkle and entertain all day. Sometimes I just want to sit and chill out."
"You..."
"We do miss you, Paul," Miss Helen said. "It is four years already."
"Oh, look, even more people arriving. I wonder when they'll let me go inside."
"It's just as well there's no traffic allowed through there."
"Where's Chrissy now? Is she still out there?"
"I see her, Mom. She's still on her phone. I'm so glad she's with us today, so reassuring. She's such a good friend to me. And I do appreciate all of you too, being here like this, extending your support to Rick and me." She looked around the table, appearing to make a special point of including me in her gaze. "I won't pretend I'm not getting nervous, the hour being almost upon us, and not just on Rick's account, if I'm honest."
"Did I tell you, Paul, the man we're about to meet? He and I were once passionate. Not just for a weekend or a few months, but for years."
"Mom, please!"
"Should you get a chance to talk with him, Paul, I think you'll find you have certain things in common. For instance, he too has fascistic leanings, i.e., always has done. Though I, he always has done, though I always tried not to notice."
"Mum, for God's sake!"
"Hell and easy there," the father said. "Are you implying that I..."
"It's only because of what you were saying a moment ago, Paul, about your community."
"No, Helen. I can't have this, and in front of the kids too. What I was saying earlier has nothing to do with fascism. I, we have no aggressive agenda beyond defending ourselves should the need arise. Where you live, Helen, maybe you don't have to worry yet, and I sincerely hope it'll be that way for a long time. Where I am, it's different."
"Then why, Dad, don't you move out of there? Why keep living in a place with gangs and guns?"
The father seemed pleased Josie had finally participated. "Because that's my community, Josie. It's not nearly as bad as this as this makes it sound. Uh, I like it there. I'm sharing my life with some very fine people, and most of them came down the road I did. Same road I did. It's become clear to all of us now, there are many different ways to lead a decent and full life."
"Are you saying, Dad, you're glad you lost your job?"
"In many ways, Josie, yes. And it's not like I really lost my job. It's all been part of the changes. Everyone's had to find new ways to live their lives."
"I do apologize, Paul," Miss Helen said, "for suggesting you and your new friends were fascists. I shouldn't have done so. It's just that you did say you were all white people, and all from the ranks of the former professional elites. You did say that, and that you were having to arm yourselves quite extensively against other types, which does all sound a little on the fascist, fascistic side."
"Helen, I won't have this. Josie knows it's not that way, but I don't like her even hearing you say it. I don't like Rick hearing it either. It just isn't true. There are different groups where we live. I'm not denying it. I didn't make the rules, and it's just the way it naturally divided. And if another group won't respect us and what we have, they need to know they'll have a fight on their hands."
"Mom's way out of order," Rick said. "She's getting anxious, that's all. You'll have to excuse her."
"Don't worry, Rick. I've known your mother a long time, and I'm very fond of her."
"His name is Vance, Miss Helen said. The man we're waiting to meet. Rick and I are so grateful you're all here to lend moral support, but from here, we're on our own."
"Let me tell you, Paul, there was a time when Vance was quite besotted with me."
"Rick darling, please don't pull that face. Rick's never met him, but this was all before his time."
"Oh, there was that one occasion, I suppose, but that hardly counts. When you see him, Paul, I dare say you'll wonder what on earth I saw in him. But I assure you, he was once even more handsome than you are. Oddly, the more success he had in life, the less handsome he became. Now he's rich and influential and looks appalling. Still, I'll try and see the handsome young man he once was within all those folds of flesh. I do wonder if he'll do as much for me."
"What's happening out there, animal? Can you see your mother?"
"She's still on her phone. I guess she's mad at me. She probably won't come back in as long as I'm sitting here."
Perhaps the father was hoping someone would contradict him, but no one did. Miss Helen even raised her eyebrows and made a short, laughing sound. Then she said, "Nearly time, Rick darling. I suppose we ought to go out there now."
When I heard her say this, a fear filled my mind. I was no longer certain that the effects from what had occurred in the yard weren't growing more pronounced with the passing minutes, and that my new condition wouldn't become obvious to everyone if I attempted to negotiate the unfamiliar terrain outdoors.
"I do wonder," Miss Helen was saying, "when Vance suggested meeting outside a theater, if he realized there might be a show about to start in a crowd gathering."
"We should go out there. He might come early, and the crowd will confuse him."
Rick placed a hand on Josie's shoulder and asked quietly, "Are you sure you're okay, Josie?"
"I swear I'm okay. So you go and do your best, Ricky boy. That's what I'm wanting more than anything."
"That's right," the father said. "And just remember, you've got talent."
"Well, maybe we should all leave now." He rose to his feet, and as he did so, his gaze fell on me, examining me more carefully than would have been normal. I immediately became worried the others would notice, even though the inclusion was well hidden under my hair. Incision was well hidden under my hair. Then the father's gaze moved once more to Josie. "Animal, we need to get back. Let's go and find your mother."
As we came out of the Sushi Cafe, the sun was making his final patterns for the day, and I let go of any small hope that he might send a special help in the short time remaining. I could now hear without hindrance the theater people's voices and music, and noticed how the street light outside the theater entrance was becoming their main light source. Indeed, for a moment, I thought the theater people were trying to circle around the street light in a previously agreed formation, but then their pattern dissolved, and I saw that the crowd's face shape was shifting randomly. The father and Miss Helen were a few paces in front of me, striding toward the crowd, while Rick and Josie were just behind, walking so close that if I had been obliged to halt suddenly, they would have collided with me. I could hear Josie saying, "No, Rick, later. I'll tell you about it. Then let's just say, for now, Mom's having one of her definitely weird days."
"But what did she say? What's going on?"
"Look, Ricky, it's not what's important right now. What's important is this guy you're about to meet and what you're going to say to him."
"But I can see you're upset."
"I'm not upset, Ricky, but I will get upset. Absolutely upset if you don't focus and do your very best with this guy. This is important. Important for you, and important for us."
I thought that once I was no longer observing them through glass, the theater people would become more distinct, but now I was in their midst. Their figures became more simplified, as if I constructed out of cones and cylinders made from smooth card. Their clothes, for instance, were devoid of the usual creases and folds, and even their faces, under the street light, appeared to have been created by cleverly placing flat surfaces into complex arrangements to create a sense of contouring.
We kept walking until the noise was all around us. At one point, I stopped and reached back for Josie's arm, but she was no longer behind me. And even though I could hear her voice saying to Rick, "There's Mom over there," when I turned to it, I saw neither Josie nor Rick, but a smooth forehead coming towards my own face. Someone pushed my back, though not unkindly. Then I heard the father's voice, and turning again, I saw him and Miss Helen standing beside a stranger's elbow. I could hear the father saying, "I didn't want to say this back there, in front of the kids, but Helen, look, it's all very well calling me a fascist. Call me what you want, but where you're living now, it may not always remain so peaceful. You hear what happened in this city, this very city, last week? I'm not saying you're in danger right now, but you need to think ahead. When I speak to Chrissy about this, she just shrugs. But you need to think about this. Think ahead about Rick, as much as about yourself."
"Oh, but I am thinking ahead, Paul. Why do you suppose we're here today? Why do you suppose I'm looking left and right for my long-lost lover? I'm thinking ahead, and I'm planning. And if I've done so correctly, Rick will soon be elsewhere, and not, I hope, in any community barricading itself with weapons. I mean, for Rick to do well, and for what that I need Vance's help."
"Oh, where can he have got to? Perhaps he went to the wrong theater."
"Rick's turned into a fine young man. I hope he's able to find a path through this mess we've bequeathed to his generation. But if things don't go well, Helen, either for you or for him, then I want you to get in touch. I can find you both a place within our community."
"That's very sweet of you, Paul, and I'm sorry if I was rude earlier. This might surprise you, but I'm not actually angry about the way we've become. If one child has more ability than another, then it's only right the brighter one gets the opportunities, the responsibilities too. I accept that. But what I won't accept is that Rick can't have a decent life. I refuse to accept this world has become so cruel. Rick wasn't lifted, but he could still go far, do very well. I wish him the very best."
All I'm saying is that there are all kinds of ways to lead a successful life. Many faces had been pushing in around me, but now a new one appeared in front of the others and kept moving closer till it was almost touching mine. Only then did I recognize Rick.
"And like out a sound of surprise," he asked, "Clara, do you know what's up with Josie? Did something happen earlier?"
"I don't know what was said between Josie and the mother," I said, "but I have very good news. The task that was given to me that evening, you helped me reach Mr. McBain's barn. It's now been completed. It was a task I so wish to complete, but for a long time, I couldn't see how to do so."
"Rick, it's really been done?"
"That's wonderful, but I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."
"I can't explain yet, and I was obliged to give you, give up something. But that doesn't matter at all, because now we can have hope again."
Even more cones and cylinders, or what appeared to be fragments of them, were squeezing into any spaces left around me. I then realized one of these fragments, a shape moving in to replace Rick, was in fact Josie. Once I'd recognized her, she became immediately more distant, and I had no distinct, and I had no further difficulty holding her in my mind.
"Hey, Clara," a voice said. "This here's Cindy. She was waitressing our table earlier. She knows about your old store."
There was a touch on my arm, and I heard someone exclaim, "Hey, I used to love your store!"
When I turned towards the voice, I saw two tall funnels, one inserted into the other, the upper one tilting slightly forward towards me.
"When I smiled and said, 'How do you do?' the funnels went on. 'I was telling your owner here, I walked past it last weekend, and it's become that furniture place.'"
"Hey, you know, I'm sure I saw you in that window once. Clara wants to know where they moved to. Cindy, do you know?"
"Oh, I'm not sure if they moved."
Someone was talking, tugging my arm, but before me now were so many fragments, they appeared like a solid wall. I'd also started to suspect that many of these shapes weren't really even three-dimensional, but had been sketched onto flat surfaces using clever shading techniques to give the illusion of roundness and depth.
I then realized that the figure now beside me, leading me away, was the mother. She was saying, almost into my ear, "Clara, I know we said a lot of things earlier in the car, I mean, but you have to understand. I was thinking about three, four things at once. All I'm saying is, don't take too seriously anything we said. You understand, right?"
"You mean when we were in the car alone, when we were parked near the bridge?"
"Yes, that's what I mean. I'm not saying we're going back on anything, uh, but I'm just saying, so you know."
"Okay, this whole thing's getting so confusing, and Paul doesn't help. Look at him. What's he telling her now?" Not so far from us, the father was leaning forward so that his face was close to Josie's, saying something earnestly.
"He's so full of these days," the mother said, and began to go to them, but before she could do so, an arm came out of the crowd and grasped her waist.
"Chrissy," Miss Helen's voice said. "Leave them alone for another minute. They don't get to be together much these days. Paul's distributed this brand of wisdom quite enough for one day, it seems to me."
"And now look, they're quarreling."
"They're not quarreling, Chrissy, I assure you they're not. So let them talk to each other."
"Helen, I really don't need you to interrupt, interpret for me. I can still read my own daughter and husband. Ex-husband."
"Chrissy and ex's are unfathomable, as I'm having underlined this very moment. Vance swore he'd not keep us waiting, and now look. We weren't married as you and Paul were, so the bitter aftertaste has a different flavor. But don't underestimate, Chrissy. I haven't seen him in 14 years, and then only fleetingly, quite by chance. Is it possible we passed each other in this crowd and didn't recognize one another?"
"Do you regret it, Helen?" the mother asked suddenly. "You know what I mean. Do you regret it, not going ahead with Rick?"
For a moment, Miss Helen kept looking towards where the father and Josie were talking to one another. Then she said, "Yes, if I'm honest, Chrissy. The answer is yes. Even after seeing what it's brought you, I feel, feel I didn't do my best for him. I feel I didn't even think it through the way you and Paul did. I was somewhere else in my mind, and I just let the moment go past. Perhaps that's what I regret more than anything, that I never loved him enough to make a proper decision one way or the other."
"It's okay," the mother placed a gentle hand on Miss Helen's upper arm. "It's okay. It's difficult, I know that, but I'm doing my best now. I'm doing my best for him. This time round, I just need former lover to turn up."
"Oh, that's him there. Vance."
"Vance, excuse me, would you care to sign our petition?" The man who had appeared in front of the mother had a white-painted face and black hair. The mother took a quick step back, as if the white face material would come off on her, and said, "What's it about?"
"We're protesting the proposal to clear the Oxford Building. There's currently 423 post-employed people living inside it, 86 of them children. Neither Lexin, Lexdel, nor the city have offered any reasonable plan regarding their relocation."
I didn't hear any more of what the black and white man was saying to the mother, because the father moved in front of me and said to her, "Jesus, Chrissy, what have you been saying to our daughter? He was keeping his voice down, but he sounded annoyed. She's acting really strange. Do you, by any, did you by any chance tell her?"
"I didn't, Paul. No," the mother's voice was uncharacteristically uncertain. "At least, at least not about all of that."
"So what exactly did you..."
"We just talked about the portrait. That was all. We can't keep everything hidden from her. She suspects so many things, and if we don't speak to her about any of it, we'll lose her trust."
"You told her about the portrait?"
"I only told her it wasn't a painting, that it was kind of a sculpture. She remembers Sal's doll, of course."
"Jesus Christ! I thought we agreed Josie isn't a small child, Paul. She can figure things out, and she's right to expect us to talk to her honestly."
"Rick," I recognized Miss Helen's voice behind me. "Rick, come on. Vance is here. I found him. Come and say hello."
"Oh, Chrissy, I want you to meet Vance, a dear friend. Here he is." Mr. Vance was wearing a high-rank suit with a buttoned-up white shirt and blue tie. He was as bald as Mr. Capaldi and less in height than Miss Helen. He was looking all around himself, as though puzzled.
"Hello, nice to meet you," he said to Mother. Then to Miss Helen, "So what's happening here? Is everyone, everyone going to this show?"
"Rick and I have been waiting for you, Vance, exactly as you told us to. How wonderful to see you again. You've hardly changed. You're looking very good, too, Helen. But what's going on here? Where's your son?"
"Ricky over here." I could see now Rick standing a little away, his hand raised in response. Then he started to move through the fragments towards us. I couldn't tell if Mr. Vance, who was looking in the correct direction, had identified Rick or not. In any case, at that moment, one of the theater's waistcoat officials came and stood between Mr. Vance and the approaching Rick.
"Do you already have a ticket for the show?" the waistcoat official said. "Or maybe you do, but you'd be interested in an upgrade?"
Mr. Vance stared at him, saying nothing. Then Rick came past the waistcoat official, and Mr. Vance said, "Hey, this your boy? He looks terrific."
"Thank you, Vance," Miss Helen said quietly.
"Hello, sir," Rick said, and his smile was like the one he'd had when his first, when first greeting the adults at Josie's interaction meeting.
"Hi, Rick. So I'm Vance, old, old friend of your mother. Heard a lot about you."
"It's kind of you to meet with us, sir. So here you are."
Josie suddenly filled the space before me. Beside her was a girl of 18, who I realized was Cindy, the waitress, far less simplified now than what I, when I'd last seen her.
"Yeah, I don't think your store actually moved," Cindy said. "But there's a new store opened inside Delancey's, and maybe some of the AFs from your old store could have relocated there."
"Excuse me," a lady in a high-rank blue dress, who I estimated at 46 years old, came in front of me, but facing Josie and Cindy. "We were just wondering if you were intending to bring this machine into the theater."
"Hey, what's it to you if we are?" Cindy said.
"There are sought-after seats," the lady said. "They shouldn't be taken by machines. If you take this machine into the theater, we'll have to raise an objection."
"I don't see how it's any of business of yours."
"It's okay," Josie said. "Clara isn't going into the show, and neither am I."
"That's beside the point," Cindy said. "I'm angry about this." Then to the lady, she said, "I don't know you. Who are you? Just coming up and speaking to us that way."
"So this is your machine?" the lady asked. "Josie, Clara is my AF, if that's what you're asking. First they take the jobs, then they take the seats at the theater."
"Clara," the father had brought his face close up to mine. "Are you still feeling okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Are you sure?"
"Perhaps I was a little disoriented earlier, but now I'm fine."
"Good. Look, I have to be on my way very soon, so I'm wondering if you'd tell me now, exactly what did we go do back there, and what can we hope will happen as a result?"
"Mr. Paul trusted me, and that was wonderful. Unfortunately, as I said before, I can't tell you anything more without jeopardizing the very thing we achieved. But I believe there's real hope now. Please be patient and wait for good news."
"As you please. I'll call in at the apartment in the morning to say goodbye to Josie, so I may see you then." The mother's voice said something behind me. "We'll talk about this back at the apartment. We can't talk here."
"But that's all I wanted to say. Josie's voice said, "I definitely don't want you sealing it up the way you did with Sal's. I want it so Clara gets sole use of my room, and she gets to come and go as she pleases."
"But why are we even talking about this? You're going to get well, honey. We don't have to talk about any of this."
"Oh, Clara, here you are." Miss Helen had appeared beside me. "Clara, look, I've just been speaking with Chrissy. You're to come with us for now. With you, Chrissy wants to take Josie back to the apartment and have a quiet word with her, just the two of them. So you stay with us for now. Chrissy will come and collect you in half an hour." Then, leaning forward, she spoke quietly into my ear, "Can you see Rick and Vance are really hitting it off? All the same, dear, Rick will really appreciate having you beside him as he goes through this. It could still be something of an ordeal. Yes, of course. But the mother, she'll come and collect you in very good time. Don't worry. She just needs a few minutes alone with Josie."
"What I want more than anything else," Mr. Vance was saying with a laugh, coming towards us, "is for us to get out of this crush. Over there, that diner. That looks fine, just somewhere we can sit down, look at one another, and talk."
There were arms encircling me, and I realized Josie was holding me in an embrace, not unlike the one she'd held me in that day at the store, following the great decision. But this time, she spoke into my ear so only I could hear, "Don't worry. I'll never let anything bad happen to you. I'll talk to Mom. You go with Rick for now. Trust me." Then she released me, and Miss Helen was pulling me gently away. "Come along, Clara, dear."
We emerged from the theater crowd, Mr. Vance leading the way towards the diner, Miss Helen hurrying us, hurrying to walk alongside him. Rick and I followed the adults a few steps behind, and as the emptiness and cool air moved in around us, I felt my orientation returning. When I looked back, I was surprised to see how dark and quiet the street actually was, aside from the single dense cluster of people around the streetlight. In fact, as we moved even further away, this crowd, of which I'd so recently been apart, appeared like one of those insect clouds I'd seen in evening fields, hovering against the sky, each creature within it busily changing position, anxious to find a better one, but never for straying beyond the boundary of the shape they made together. I saw Josie waving with a puzzled expression from the crowd's edge, and the mother staying behind her, a hand on each of Josie's shoulders, watching us with empty eyes. The darkness grew, and the noises of the theater crowd became more faint, but I knew my observational abilities hadn't been too badly impaired, because I continued to see clearly before me the illuminated diner towards which we were walking. I could see how it was shaped like a pie segment, the sharp end pointed towards us, and how the street forked on either side of it, and how the diner's windows ran alongside both the diverging walls sidewalks, so that no matter where, which way passers-by went, they'd be able to look into its lit interior, at the shiny leather seats, the polished tablecloths, and the bright see-through counter behind which the diner manager was waiting for customers in his white apron and white cap. With no vehicles approaching and the surrounding buildings so dark, the diner was this area's only light source, throwing slanted shapes onto the paving stones. I wondered which side of the fork Mr. Vance would choose, but as we came closer, I noticed a door just at the pointed corner itself. The only reason I hadn't spotted it earlier, I suppose, was because the door so resembled the diner's windows. It was made mostly of glass and had painted writing going across it. Mr. Vance opened the door, then stood out aside to allow Miss Helen to go in first.
When I came in behind Rick a moment later, I found the light lighting so strong and yellow, I couldn't immediately adjust to it. Only gradually did I make out the slices of fruit pie, each one shaped like the diner itself, displayed inside the see-through counter, and the diner manager, a large black-skinned man, standing very still behind it, his face fixed away from me. I then realized he was sit watching Mr. Vance and Miss Helen as they chose their booth and settled themselves into it, facing one another. I saw Rick's figure cross the shiny floor and sit down beside his mother. As I did so, Josie's parting words to me returned to my mind, and I wondered what important matter the mother wished to discuss with her at the friend's apartment, and why my absence was necessary. Miss Helen and Mr. Vance continued to gaze at each other silently for the entire time it took me to go over to them. I didn't feel I knew Mr. Vance well enough to sit beside him. Also, he was sitting midway across the seat intended for two, and I could see I wouldn't be able to take my seat without disturbing his comfort. So instead, I sat down alone in the neighboring booth across the aisle. Mr. Vance finally stopped gazing at Miss Helen and turning in a sea called out instructions to the diner manager. Only then did it occur to me that though there were no customers but us, all the tables and seats had been carefully made ready in case others came in. I thought then that this diner manager might be lonely, or at least that he was lonely while he was in his diner, illuminated on both sides to anyone passing by in the night.
"Sure," Rick said. "I'm very grateful you're giving up time for me, and that you're even considering helping me."
"You know, Rick," Mr. Vance said dreamily, "I haven't seen this mother of yours for quite some time."
"I appreciate that, sir. And you've never even met me before, except once fleetingly when I was two or something. So that makes this all the more generous of you, agreeing to see me like this. But then, Mom's always saying how generous a person you are."
"I'm relieved your mother has been speaking well of me. Maybe she's told you one or two negative things also?"
"Oh, no. My mother's only ever spoken of you positively."
"Is that so? And all these years I've thought..."
"Well, never mind. Helen, I'm already impressed by this boy of yours." Miss Helen had been watching Mr. Vance carefully. "I need hardly tell you, Vance, how grateful I am also. I'd also, I'd thank you at greater length, but this is Rick's chance, and I'm not wishing to speak on his behalf."
"That's very well said, Helen. So Rick, why don't you tell me, what is this about?"
"Well, I'm not sure where to start, but here goes. I have a keen interest in drone technology. You could say it's a passion. I've been developing my own system, and I now have my own team of drone birds."
"One second. When you say 'own system,' Rick, are you saying you've gone beyond what anyone else has done?" Panic crossed Rick's face, and he glanced towards me. I smiled at him, trying to convey, as I did so, that the smile wasn't just mine but on behalf of Josie. Whether he understood this or not, he appeared to take encouragement.
"No, sir, hardly," he said with a laugh. "I'm not claiming I'm a genius, but I'll say that my drone system is one I've worked out for myself without help from any tutors. I've used various information sources that I found online, and my mother's been very supportive, ordering in some expensive books. Actually, I brought with me some drawings, just in case you wanted a vague idea. Here they are. But no, I don't believe I'm doing anything so groundbreaking, and I know I'm not likely to without expert guidance."
"I follow you. So now you aim to get to a good college in order to just do justice to your talent?"
"Well, something like that. My mother and I both thought that maybe Atlas Brookings, being a generous and liberal college, sufficiently generous and liberal to be open to all students of high caliber, even some who haven't benefited from genetic editing."
"Exactly, sir. And no doubt, Rick, you understand because your mother will have told you that I currently chair the college's Founders Committee. That's to say, the body that controls the scholarships."
"Yes, sir, that's what she's told me."
"Now, Rick, I'm hoping your mother hasn't been implying that's this, that the selection procedure at Atlas Brookings is subject to any favoritism."
"Neither my mother nor I would ask you to help me out of favoritism, sir. I'm only asking you to help if you think I'm worth a place at Atlas Brookings."
"That's well said. Okay, let's take a look at what you have here." Rick had already placed his notebook on the table, and Mr. Vance now opened it. He stared at the diagram at which the notebook had fallen open, then as he turned over the page and found another, he appeared to become absorbed. He continued to leap slowly through the notebook, sometimes returning to an earlier page. At one point, he murmured something without looking up.
"These all refer to what you plan to create in the future?"
"Mostly, yes, though some designs I've already realized, like that one on the next page." Miss Helen was watching silently, a gentle smile on her face, her glance moving from Mr. Vance to Rick's notebook.
At that moment, I felt once more, fleetingly but vividly, the father's hand holding my head at the required angle, and heard the trickling noise as the fluid entered the plastic bottle he was holding up close to my face with his other hand.
"Now, Rick," Mr. Vance said, "I'm very ignorant about these matters. Even so, I'm getting the impression your drones have high surveillance capabilities."
"The birds are data gathering, that's right. But that doesn't necessarily mean they have to be used for privacy-invasive activity. They have many potential applications: security, even babysitting. Then again, perhaps there are people out there we need to keep an eye on, like criminals, you mean, or paramilitaries, or weird cults."
"And I follow you. Yes, these are all very interesting. You don't see any real ethical issues here?"
"I'm not sure, sir. There are all kinds of ethical issues, but in the end, it's for legislators to decide how these things are regulated, not people like me. For now, I just want to learn as much as I can so I can take my understandings to the next level."
"That's well said." Mr. Vance nodded and continued looking through Rick's notebook. The lonely diner manager had come over, holding his tray, and he began to place drinks on the table in front of Miss Helen, Mr. Vance, and Mr. Rick. They each thanked him in hushed voices, then he walked away.
"You appreciate, Rick," Mr. Vance said, "I'm not trying to give you a hard time here. I'm merely, I'm testing you a little to see what you're made of." Then to Miss Helen, he said, "And so far, he's coming out very impressively."
"Van Sterling, would you care for something to go with this coffee? Perhaps one of those donuts I see over there? You were always partial to donuts."
"Thank you, Helen, but I'm meeting some people for dinner." He glanced at his watch, then back to Rick. "Now, consider this, Rick. Atlas Brookings believes there are many talented kids out there just like you who, for reasons economic or otherwise, never received the benefits of age. The college also believes society is currently making a grave error in not allowing those talents to come to future fruition. Unfortunately, most other institutions don't think this way, which means we receive many more applications from people like yourself than we're able to accommodate. We can weed out no-hopers, but after that, frankly, it becomes a lottery. Now, Rick, you said just now you're not seeking favoritism. Then let me ask you this: if that is really the case, then why am I sitting here in front of you now?"
With these words, Mr. Vance changed the mood so suddenly, I almost let a surprised sound escape me. Rick too seemed startled. Only Miss Helen appeared not to be surprised, but as though something she'd feared all along had finally arrived. She smiled and said, "I'm going to answer this one for him, Vance. Yes, we are asking you for a favor. We know you have it within your gift, so we're asking you to help us."
"I'll rephrase that. I'm asking you, I'm asking you to help my boy have a fighting chance in this world."
"Mom, no!"
"Ricky darling, that's right. It's for me, not you, to ask Vance. And we are asking him to exercise favoritism, of course we are."
I'd been wrong in thinking we were diner managers only customers. I now realize that in the booth three along from mine, there was a lady of 42 sitting by herself. I hadn't seen her before because she was pressing herself right against the window, her forehead actually touching the glass to gaze out into the darkness. I wondered if perhaps the diner manager had also failed to notice her, and that she had become even more lonely, believing the diner manager was deliberately ignoring her.
"You know, Helen," Mr. Vance said, "this is a strange tactic you're adopting here. Favoritism, like any other forms of corruption, works best when it remains unacknowledged. But leaving that to one side," Mr. Vance leaned forward, "when I thought this was Rick asking, that was one thing. He's an impressive and charming kid. It was going well. But look what you've just done. You just told me that this is about me doing you, you Helen, a favor. After all these years. All these years if you're not answering my messages, all these minutes and hours and days and months and years of my thinking about you, must you say this here in front of Rick?"
Miss Helen was still smiling gently, but her voice wobbled. "Rick's an intelligent young man. He's the one who ultimately wins or loses, so why hide things from him? Let him see the whole picture. Let him see what this is about."
Once again, Rick looked across aside to me, and once again, I tried to send back encouragement with a smile that was from both me and Josie.
"But what is this about, Vance?" Miss Helen asked. "Is it really so complicated? I'm simply asking you to help my son. If you're not willing to do so, then we can part politely, and that will be that."
"Who said I didn't wish to help Rick? I can see he's a talented young man. These drawings show true promise. I've every reason to believe he might do well at Atlas Brookings. The problem is that it's you asking me, Helen."
"Then I should have spoken before. I should have spoken before I spoke. It was going well. I could see you two, you two took to each other, and Rick spoke to you with genuine respect. But then I intervened, and now there's a problem."
"Damn right there's a problem, Helen. 27 years worth of a problem. 27 years you refused to have any communication with me. I wasn't harnessing your mother during that time, Rick, I don't want you thinking that. And at the start of it, I was, well, let's just say I might have been emotional in tone, but I never harassed her, never threatened, never blamed, just pleaded. Is that fair, Helen? A fair characterization?"
"Quite fair. You were persistent, but there was never any unpleasantness."
"But Vance, does this have to be said in front of Rick?"
"Okay, I respect that. Maybe I should stop doing the talking. Maybe it's time you did some talking instead, Helen."
"Sir, I don't know what's going on in the past or what went on in the past, but if you feel there's something inappropriate about asking you to..."
"Just a minute, Rick," Mr. Vance said. "I'm wanting to help you, but I think it's time we gave your mother a chance to explain herself."
For several seconds, none of them spoke. I looked towards the diner manager, wondering if he had been listening, but he was staring out into the darkness beyond his windows with no sign of having heard anything that interested him.
"I'll admit," Miss Helen said, "I behaved badly towards you, Vance. I accept that. But then, I behave badly towards myself, towards everybody. You mustn't feel singled out. My awfulness was universally distributed."
"That may be so, but I wasn't just everybody. We'd been sharing a life for five years."
"Yes, and I do so want to apologize. Sometimes, Vance, and Rick too, I don't mind saying this in front of you, I often wish I could line up all the people, everyone I treated shabbily, have them all in a long line. Then I'd work my way along it, you know, the way a monarch might, one by one shake each person's hand, look each one in the eye, and say, 'I'm sorry. Wasn't I awful?'"
"Fantastic. So now I have to stand in line for the honor of receiving her majesty's apology? Oh dear, that came out badly. I'm just trying to express how, how I feel. I know it sounds dreadful when you put it like that, but when I look back on things, it's so overwhelming, and I think, if only there was could be some sort of solution like that. If I was a queen, then yes, I would..."
"Mom, really. I know what you're trying to say, but maybe this isn't the best way."
"Once you were a kind of queen, Helen. A beautiful queen, and you thought you could do whatever you wished with impunity. I'm kind of sad, but kind of glad too, to see you didn't get away with it, that it's all caught up with you, and you've had to pay a price, after all."
"And what price have I paid, Vance? Do you refer to my being poor? Because I don't mind that so much, you know."
"You may not mind being poor, Helen, but you've become fragile, and I think you mind that a whole lot more." Miss Helen was silent for several further seconds, while Mr. Vance kept staring at her with big eyes. Finally, she said, "Yes, you're right. Since the day you knew me, I become fragile. So fragile that I'm liable to break into pieces in a puff of wind. I lost my beauty, not to the years, but to this fragility. But Vance, dear Vance, won't you forgive me now? At least partially? Won't you help my son?"
"Vance, I'd offer you anything, anything, but there's nothing I can think to offer you, nothing at all, other than this pleading. So I'm begging you, Vance, to help him."
"Mom, please stop this. There's no way..."
"You see my difficulty, Rick. I don't know what to your mother is. I don't quite know what it is your mother's referring to here. She says she wants to apologize, but about what? It's all so broad."
"I think maybe this will work better, Helen, if we get down to specifics. I'm just asking you to help my son."
"Vance, isn't that specific enough?"
"Specifics, Helen? For example, that evening at Miles Martin's house. You know the evening I refer to?"
"Yes, yes. When I told them all that you'd not yet read the Jenkins report. You earned yourself a big laugh at my expense for that one, Helen, and you knew what you were doing then."
"Vance, I apologize about that evening. I was out of control. I was vindictive. I wish..."
"Another specific. No order. I'm working down the list randomly. That voicemail you left me in the hotel in Portland, Oregon. You think that wasn't hurtful? It was very hurtful. It was a despicable message, and I, I haven't forgotten it. I, I hear it in my mind even now. It invades me when I least expect it. I have a quite quiet moment to myself, then there I am, in my mind, picking up the phone and leaving you that message all over again. Except this time, I change it, I edit it, so that it's not quite so awful, because I never actually heard it myself, only heard myself saying it. I feel sometimes it's not too late to amend it."
I can't help it. It's a, it's a trick my mind plays, and then I feel so dreadful all over again. Believe me, Vance, I punished myself about that message so much. And you must appreciate, in those days, I didn't know how you technically erase a message once you've left one.
Mom, stop. Sir, I don't think this is doing my mother much good. She's been great recently, but Miss Helen touched Rick's arm to silence. And Vance, I'm apologizing, she went on. I'm pleading. I'm saying I behaved badly towards you. And if you like, I'll vow to you, then I'll punish myself and keep punishing myself until I've made it up to you.
Mom, let's go. This isn't good for you. If you wish, Vance, we can arrange to meet again. Let's say in two years' time, in this very place. Then you could check to see if I've been keeping my promise. You could look me over and check that I've been punishing myself properly.
That's enough, Helen. If Rick wasn't here, I'd tell you what I think of that. Sir, I don't wish you to do anything at all to assist me. I don't want any part of this now. No.
Rick, uh, you know, don't know what you're saying, Miss Helen said. Don't listen to him, Vance. Mr. Vance rose to his feet and said, I have to go. Mom, please calm down. None of this matters so much. You don't know what you're saying, Rick. Vance, don't just go yet. Let's not part like this. You used to love donuts. Won't you have one now?
I agree with Rick. None of this is good for you, Helen. Best thing for me is to leave. Rick, I like those drawings and I like you. Take good care of yourself. Goodbye, Helen. Mr. Vance walked off down this aisle between the booths without looking back at any of us, then out through the glass door and into the darkness.
Miss Helen and Rick went on sitting side by side, looking down at the space before them on the table top. Then Rick said, Clara, come and sit over here with us. I'm wondering, Miss Helen said. Rick moved closer to her, placing an arm around her shoulders. What are you wondering? Mom, I'm wondering if that was enough. If that will satisfy him. Honestly, Mom, if I'd known it was going to be even halfway like this, I'd have said never in a million years.
I slipped into the seat vacated by Mr. Vance, but neither Miss Helen nor Rick raised their glances to me. I looked at Miss Helen and thought about what she and Mr. Vance had once been. Had once been besotted and in love. And I wondered if there had been a time when Miss Helen and Mr. Vance had been as gentle to one another as Josie and Rick were now. And if it was possible that one day Josie and Rick too might show such unkindness to each other. And I remember the father talking in the car about the human heart and how complicated it was. And I saw him standing in the yard directly in front of the low sun, his figure and his evening shadow and twining into a single elongated shape as he reached up and unscrewed the protection cap from the nozzle of the coatings machine. And I stood anxiously behind him, holding the plastic mineral water bottle containing the precious solution.
What's happened just now? Miss Helen asked. What's Vance going to do? Is he going to help? He could at least have told us one way or the other.
Excuse me, I said. I don't wish to create unwarranted hope, but from what I observed, I believe Mr. Vance will decide to help.
Rick, you really think so? Miss Helen asked. Why? I may be mistaken, but I believe Mr. Vance is still very fond of Miss Helen and will decide to help.
Rick, oh, you darling robot. I do so hope you're right. I don't know what else I might have done. Mom, to hell with him. I'll be fine anyway. He wasn't nearly as ugly as I'd been led to expect, Miss Helen said, and looked out into the dark, empty street. In fact, he wasn't so bad looking at all. I just wish he'd told us one way or the other.
Our booth must have been clearly visible to the mother as she pulled up by the curb on our side of the diner, but she dimmed the lights and remained in the car, perhaps wishing to give privacy, even though she could see Mr. Vance had gone. But when we came out and entered the car and started to move through the night, I saw she was anxious about Josie being left alone in the friend's apartment and keen to deliver me there as quickly as possible before she drove Rick and Miss Helen to their reasonable hotel. The mother had asked, "How did it go?" when we first got in, but after Miss Helen had replied, "Not so good. We'll have to see," there was little conversation in the car, each person becoming lost in their thoughts.
At night, the friend's apartment was even harder to distinguish from its neighbors. The mother led me up the correct steps, and from the top step, I glanced back to the waiting car under the street light. I could then see the shapes of Miss Helen and Rick inside it and wondered what they might be saying to each other now that they were alone. The friend's apartment was just as we left it when setting off to for Mr. Capaldi's, except, of course, it was now in the darkness. From the entrance hall, I could see the main lounge and the night patterns falling over the sofa on which Josie had waited for the father's arrival. Her backpack was still on the rug where she'd let it fall, one corner paley illuminated.
The mother indicated down the hall, saying softly, "She should be fast asleep, so go in quietly. Anything concerns you, call me. I'll be 20 minutes." She was about to go out again, and I didn't wish to delay Rick and Miss Helen's return to the reasonable hotel, but I said quietly, "It's possible now we can hope."
"What do you mean?"
"In the morning, when the sun comes, it's possible for us to hope."
"Okay, I guess that's helpful. The way you're always optimistic." She reached for the door. "Don't turn on any lights. They could disturb her." Even inside there, then the mother became oddly still, standing in the near dark, her nose almost touching the surface of the door. Without turning, she said, "Josie and I had a conversation earlier. It took some strange turns. I guess we were both tired. If she wakes up and says something peculiar to you, don't pay it too much attention. Oh, and remember, leave this chain off, or I won't get back in. Good night."
I returned to the sec to this, the second bedroom here. I entered the second bedroom carefully and found Josie sleeping soundly. The room was more narrow than the bedroom at home, but the ceiling was higher. And because Josie had left the blind halfway up, there were shapes falling across the wardrobe and the wall next to it. I went to the window and looked out into the night to it and established the path the sun might take in the morning and now how easy it would be for him to look in. Like the room itself, the window was tall and narrow. Surprisingly close by were the backs of two large buildings, and I could decipher drain pipes marking vertical lines and repeating windows, most of them empty or blanketed out by blinds. Between the two buildings, I could see the street beyond and could tell that by the morning it would be a busy one. Even now, there was a steady flow of vehicles crossing the gap. Above the piece of street was a tall column of night sky, and I estimated the sun would have no difficulty pouring in his special nourishment from it. Narrow though it was, I realized too how important it was that I remain alert, ready at the first sign to raise the blind fully.
"Clara?" Josie stirred behind me. "Is Mom back too?"
"She won't be long. She's just driving Rick and Miss Helen to their hotel." She appeared to return to sleep, but a few moments later, I heard the bedclothes move again. "I'd never let anything bad happen to you." Her breaths became longer, and I thought she'd fallen asleep again. Then she said, in a clearer voice, "Nothing's changing." She now become more awake, so I said, "Did the mother discuss with you some new idea?"
"Well, I don't think it was an idea. I told her nothing like that's ever going to happen."
"I wonder what it was the mother suggested. Didn't she already talk to you about it?"
"It was nothing. Some vague stuff traveling through her head." I wondered if she would say something more. The duvet moved again. She was trying to offer something. I guess she said she could give up her job and stay with me the whole time if I wanted that. She said she could become the one who always was with me. She'd do that if I really wanted it. She'd do it and let her job go. But I said, "What would happen to Clara?"
"And she was like, 'We couldn't. We wouldn't need Clara anymore because she would be with me the whole time.' You could tell it wasn't anything she thought through. She kept asking like I had to decide. So in the end, I told her, 'Look, Mom, this wouldn't work. You don't want to give up your job, and I don't want to give up Clara.' That was just about all of it. It's not gonna happen, and Mom agrees." We were quiet for some time after that, Josie hidden in the shadows while I continue to stand at the window.
"Perhaps," I said eventually, "the mother thought if she stayed with Josie all the time, Josie would be less lonely."
"Who says I'm lonely? If that were true, if Josie really would be less lonely with the mother, then I'd happily go away. But who says I'm lonely? I'm not lonely."
"Perhaps all humans are lonely, at least potentially. Look, Clara, this was just a shitty idea Mom was having. I was asking her earlier about the portrait, and she got herself into a big knot and came up with this idea. Except it wasn't an idea. It wasn't anything. So please, can we forget about it?" She became quiet again, then she was asleep.
I decided that if she woke again, I should say something to prepare her for what might happen in the morning, at least to ensure she did nothing to impede his special help. But now, perhaps because I was in the room with her, her sleep continued to deepen, and eventually I left the window to stand by the wardroom for where I knew I'd see the first signs of the sun's return.