Transcription
The interior was filled with orange light. There were particles of hay drifting in the air like evening insects, and his patterns were falling all across the barn's wooden door. When I glanced behind me, my own shadow looked like a tall, thin tree ready to break in the wind.
There were some curious features about my surroundings. On first entering the barn, I'd encountered such sharply contrasting divisions of brightness and shadow that my sight had taken a few moments to adjust. Nevertheless, I'd established quickly that the blocks of hay, whose shapes I'd noted from outside, were now to my left, stacked on top of one another to form a kind of platform, one as tall as my shoulders, upon which passers-by could climb or even lie down and rest. But the hay blocks had been stacked so as to allow a gap between them and the wall behind, perhaps so that Mr. McBain could gain access from that side.
Peering over the hay platform, I now saw, fixed to it, this wall and running all along it, the red shelves from our store, complete with the ceramic coffee cups displayed upside down and in a line. On my other side, to my right, where the shadows were at their deepest, I saw a section of wall almost identical to the front alcove. In fact, I felt that if I went over to it, I'd discover, amidst the shadows and af, standing there proudly at the spot where, no matter what else was said, customers would most likely look first.
Also on my right, though not as far over as the alcove, was the only item in the barn that could be counted as furniture: a small metal fold-away chair, now in its open position, at present bisected by a diagonal separating its brightly lit area from its shadowy one. This chair too was reminiscent of the chairs manager kept in the back room and occasionally unfolded in the store, except that its paint had started to flake, revealing patches of metal underneath.
I decided, after some reflection, that it wouldn't be discourteous to sit down on this chair while waiting for the sun. When I did so, I fully expected to see a revised picture of my surroundings due to the altered angle, but was surprised to find that everything had instead become partitioned, and not just into the usual boxes, but into segments of irregular shapes. Inside some segments, I could see certain parts of the mist of Mr. McBain's farming tools: a spade handle, the lower half of a metal ladder. In another segment was what I knew to be the mouths of two plastic buckets placed side by side, but owing, perhaps, to the difficult light conditions, they were presented simply as two intersecting ovals.
I knew the sun was now very near me, and although I thought at times I should stand up, as when receiving a customer, something else suggested I could would steal less privacy and be less likely to cause annoyance if I remained seated. So I aligned my own shape as closely as I could with that of the fold-away chair and waited. The sun's shafts became more pronounced and more orange, and I even thought these shafts might be causing pieces of hay to come loose from their blocks and float into the air, for there were now many more drifting particles in front of me.
Then thought the thought came to me that if I was correct and the sun was now passing through Mr. McBain's barn on its way to his final resting place, I couldn't afford to be overly polite. I'd have to seize my chance boldly, or all my efforts and Rick's help would come to nothing. So I gathered my thoughts and began to speak. I didn't actually say the words out loud, for I knew the sun had no need of words as such, but I wished to be as clear as possible, so I formed the words, or something close to them, quickly and quietly in my mind: "Please make Josie better, just as you did Beggar Man."
I raised my head a little and saw, alongside the fragments of farming tools and blocks of hay, a section of a traffic signal and a part of the wing from one of Rick's drone birds. And I remembered manager's voice saying, "That's not going to be possible," and boy, AF, Rick's saying, "You're so selfish, Clara." And I said, "But Josie's still a child, and she's done nothing unkind." And I remembered the mother's eye scrutinizing me across the picnic bench at Morgan's Falls, and the bull staring angrily, as though I had no right to be passing before his field. And I realized I may have angered the sun by intruding in this way, just when he was needing his rest.
I formed an apology in my mind, but the shadows were no were now even longer, so that were I to spread my fingers out before me, I knew their shadows would reach right the way back to the entrance of the barn. And it was clear the sun was unwilling to make any promise about Josie, because for all his kindness, he wasn't yet able to see Josie separately from the other humans, some of whom had angered him very much on account of their pollution and inconsideration. And I suddenly felt foolish to have come to this place to make such a request.
The barn filled even more intensely with orange light, and I saw again Rosa on the hard ground, wearing an expression of pain, reaching forward to touch her outstretched leg. I bowed my head right down and curled myself into the smallest shape I could within the shape of the fold-away chair. But then remembered again how any chance to make an appeal would be fleeting, and so, finding courage, I said, in almost words, forcing them through my mind in a split moment: "I understand how forward and rude I've been to come here. The sun has every right to be angry, and I fully understand your refusal, refusal even to consider my request. Even so, because of your great kindness, I thought I might ask you to delay your journey for one more instant to listen to one more proposal. Supposing I could do something special to please you, something to make you particularly happy, if I could achieve such a thing, then would you consider in return showing special kindness to Josie, just as you did that time for Beggar Man and his dog?"
As these words moved through my mind, something distinctly changed around me. The red glow inside the barn was still dense, but now had an almost gentle aspect, so much so that the various segments into which my surroundings were still partitioned appeared to be drifting amidst the sun's last rays. I spotted the lower half of the glass display trolley. I recognized its casters, rising slowly until it became obscured behind a neighboring segment. And though I raised my head and looked all around me, I could no longer see any trace at all of the terrible bull.
I knew then that I'd gained a vital advantage, but couldn't waste even a tiny moment, and so pressed on, no longer forming half-words, for I knew I didn't have time. "I know how much the sun dislikes pollution, how much it saddens and angers you. Well, I've seen and identified the machine that creates it. Supposing I were able to somehow find this machine and destroy it, to put an end to its pollution, would you then consider in return giving your special help to Josie?"
The inside of the barn was getting darker, but it was a friendly darkness, and soon the segments had gone, leaving the interior no longer partitioned. I knew the sun had moved on, and rising from the fold-away chair, I walked for the first time over to the back opening of Mr. McBain's barn. I saw then how the field continued into the mid-distance until it met a line of trees, a kind of soft fence, and behind it, the sun, tired and no longer intense, was sinking into the ground. The sky was turning into night with stars visible, and I could tell that the sun was smiling towards me kindly as he went down for his rest. Out of gratitude and respect, I continued to stand at the back opening until his last glow had vanished into the ground. Then I walked through the dark interior of Mr. McBain's barn, leaving the same way I'd come.
The tall grass moved gently around me as I re-entered it. Getting across the fields in the darkness was a daunting prospect, but I was so encouraged by what had just occurred, I had felt hardly any fear. Even so, with the unevenness of the ground reminding me of the dangers in front of me, I was pleased to hear Rick suddenly, somewhere close by: "Is that you, Clara? Where are you?"
"Over this way, to your right." I ignored your advice about going straight home. I moved toward the voice. The grass fell away, and I found myself in a clearing. It was as though a vacuum cleaner had created it: a small circular area in which the grass was again shoe-height, and the night sky above had a curving slice of the moon. Rick was sitting there, apparently on the ground, but when I came nearer, I saw he was seated on a large stone that was mostly submerged into the earth. He looked calm and smiled at me.
"Thank you for waiting," I said. "Just self-interest. Suppose you got stuck out here all night and got damaged, I'd be in deep [ __ ] then for bringing you out here."
"I think Rick waited out of kindness. I'm very grateful. Do you think what you went in there, do you think did you find what you went in there for?"
"Oh yes, at least I believe so. And I believe there's now reason for hope. Hope for Josie, hope that she'll get better. But first, I must perform a task."
"What kind of task? Perhaps I can help with it."
"I'm sorry, I'm not able to discuss this matter with Rick tonight. I believe an understanding was achieved, a contract, if you like, but it might be jeopardized if I speak about it freely."
"Okay, I don't want to put anything at risk. Still, if there's anything you think I could do, if I may speak frankly, the most important thing Rick can do is to try hard to go to the Atlas Brookings College. Then Josie and Rick can remain side by side, and the wishes expressed in the kind picture will remain possible."
"God, Clara, it's obvious Mom's been working on you. She makes it sound so easy, but you've no idea what it takes for someone like me to get into a place like that. And even if I did, what happens to Mom? I just leave her out here on her own."
"Miss Helen may be stronger than Rick supposes, and even if Rick isn't lifted, he has special talents. If he tried very hard, I believe he would be accepted by the Atlas Brookings College. Besides, Miss Helen has said she had a secret weapon to assist him."
"Her secret weapon? Some creep she knows who helps run that place? An old flame of hers? I don't want any part of it. Look, Clara, we should be getting back."
"You're right. We've been out a long time. Miss Helen might be concerned, and if I could return before Josie's mother comes in, that would avoid awkward questions."
The next day, when the doorbell rang towards the middle of the morning, Josie seemed to guess who it was and, leaving her bed, hurried out into the landing. I followed her, and as Rick stepped past Melania, housekeeper, into the hall, Josie turned to me with an excited smile, but then she made her expression completely blank as she went to the top of the staircase. "Hey, Melania," she called down. "Do you know who this weird guy is?"
"Hello, Josie. Rick, looking up at us, had a cautious smile. I heard this rumor we might be friends again."
Josie seated herself on the top step, and though I was behind her, I knew she now had on her kindest smile. "Oh, really? That's strange. Wonder who put that out there."
Rick's own smile became more confident. "Just gossip, I suppose. By the way, I really like that picture. I put it in a frame that night."
"Last night?"
"Yeah. One of those frames you make yourself. To be honest, I used one of Mom's old ones. There are so many lying around. I took out a picture of a zebra and put yours in there instead."
"Great swap."
Melania, housekeeper, had walked away into the kitchen, and Rick and Josie went on grinning at each other from either side of the staircase. Then Josie must have given a signal, for they both moved quickly at once: she rising to her feet, he reaching for the banister. As they went together into the bedroom, I remembered Melania, housekeeper's instruction from before and followed them in. And for a while after that, it was like the old days, with me on the button couch facing the rear window, Rick and Josie behind me, laughing about silly things.
At one point, I heard Josie say, "Hey, Rick, I'm wondering if this is the correct way you hold one of these?" In the reflection, I saw her holding up a table knife left behind from breakfast. "Or is it more like this?"
"How would I know? I thought you might, being English and all."
"My chemistry professor said you should hold it this way, but what does she know? What would I know either? And why do you keep saying I'm English? I've never actually lived there, you know that."
"It was you yourself, Rick, two, three years ago. You kept insisting how English you were."
"I did? Must have been a phase."
"Oh, yeah. Went on for months. You were like, 'Pray this,' 'Pardon me,' 'That's why I thought you might know about the knife thing.' But why would an English person know more any more than anyone else?"
A few minutes later, I heard Rick moving around the bedroom, and he said, "You know, one reason I like this room so much? The place smells of you, Josie."
"What? I can't believe you said that!"
"I meant it in an entirely nice way, Rick. That's not so—"
"Not what you can say to a girl."
"I wouldn't say it to any girl. I'm just saying it to you."
"Excuse me, I'm not any—so I'm not a girl anymore. Well, not any girl. What I'm trying to say is—ah, all I'm saying is that I haven't been here for a while, and so I've forgotten some things about this room, the way it looks, the way it smells."
"Jesus, that's offensive, Rick!" But there was laughter in her voice. And after a quiet moment, Rick said, "At least we're not cross with each other anymore. I'm glad about that."
There was a further quiet, then Josie said, "Me too. I'm glad too." Then she added, "I'm sorry I kept saying stuff about your mom and all. She's a good person, and I didn't mean any of that. And I'm sorry about being sick all the time, making you worry."
I saw Rick in the glass take a step closer to Josie and put an arm around her. Then, after a second, he put his arm around her, his other arm around her. Josie let herself be held, though she didn't raise her own arms up in return, the way she did to the mother when they said goodbye.
"This so you can smell me better?" she asked after a while.
Rick didn't reply to this, but he said, "Clara, are you there?"
When I turned, they pulled apart slightly and were both looking at me. "Yes. Maybe you should, you know, give privacy, as you always say."
"Oh yes." They watched as I came off the button couch and went past them at the door. I turned and said, "I always wanted to give privacy. It's just that there was concern about hanky-panky."
They both looked puzzled, so I went on, "I was instructed to ensure against hanky-panky. That's why I always remained in the room, even during the bubble game."
"Clara," Josie said, "Rick and I are not about to engage in sex, okay? We've got a few things to say to each other, that's all."
"Yes, of course. Then I'll leave you with that." I walked out onto the landing, closing the door behind me.
Over the days that followed, I often thought about the cootings machine and how I might be able to find and destroy it. I experimented in my mind with various pretexts on which I could accompany the mother into the city and, once there, be left to my own devices for a sufficient period, but none of these seemed at all convincing. Josie, noticing my frequent inattentiveness, would say something like, "Clara, you were zoning out again. Maybe you're low on solar."
I even considered taking the mother into my confidence, but rejected this option, not only because of the danger of angering the sun, but also because I felt the mother would neither understand nor believe in the agreement I'd entered into. But then an opportunity presented itself without any initiative on my part.
One evening, an hour after the sun had gone to rest, I was standing in the kitchen beside the refrigerator, listening to its comforting sounds. The ceiling lights hadn't been switched on, so I was there in the semi-light coming from the hallway. The mother had returned late from her office not long before, and I'd come down to the kitchen to allow her privacy with Josie up in the bedroom. After a time, her footsteps came down the staircase, then towards the kitchen. Her silhouette appeared in the doorway, making the kitchen even darker, and she said, "Clara, I want to give you a heads-up. After all, this involves you. Yes, next Thursday, I've taken time off work. I'm going to drive Josie into town, and we'll be staying overnight. We were just talking about it. Josie has an appointment, an appointment as you know."
Josie was in the process of getting her portrait done. The times she came by your store, that's why we were in town. There's been a long break on account of her health, but she's stronger now, and so I want her to go in for another sitting. Mr. Capaldi's been very patient and kept everything on hold."
"I see. So will Josie be required to sit there still for a long time?"
"Mr. Capaldi is good at not tiring her. He's been able to take photographs and work from those. Even so, he needs her to come in from time to time. I'm telling you this because I want you to accompany Josie on this trip. I think she'd like you with her."
"Oh yes, I'd like that very much." The mother stepped further into the kitchen, and now I could see just one edge of her face illuminated by the hall light. "I want you, Clara, to be with her when she goes in to see Mr. Capaldi. In fact, Mr. Capaldi is keen to meet you. He takes a special interest in AFs. You could call it his passion. That okay with you?"
"Of course. I'll look forward to meeting Mr. Capaldi. He may have a few questions, questions for you to do with his research, because, as I say, he's fascinated by AFs. You won't mind that?"
"No, of course not. And I believe a trip into the city would be a good one for Josie now she's a little stronger."
"Good. Oh, and we may well have passengers in the car. I mean, our neighbors are needing a ride, Rick and Miss Helen. They have some business of their own in town, and she doesn't drive anymore. Don't worry, there's room enough for all of us. You won't have to travel in the trunk."
I heard more about this trip the following Sunday when not only Rick but his mother visited the house. During the early part of the afternoon, I'd once more stepped onto the landing to give Rick and Josie privacy in the bedroom. Standing beside the banister rail, gazing down into the hallway, I could hear the mother's and Miss Helen's laughter coming from the kitchen. I couldn't hear their words well, except when one over the other exclaimed something loudly. Once Miss Helen called out, "Oh, Chrissy, that's quite outrageous!" and laughed. A little later, I heard the mother also, with laughter, say loudly, "It's true, it's true, it's absolutely true!"
Because I couldn't hear many words or see the mother's expressions, I wasn't able to make any reliable estimate about my impression, but my impression was that the mother was at that moment the most lacking intention I'd witnessed since my arrival. I was trying to listen more closely when the bedroom door opened and Rick came out.
"Josie's in the bedroom," he said, coming over to me. "Thought it only good manners to come out here in the meantime."
"Yes, that's considerate." He followed my gaze over the rail, then nodded down towards the adults' voices. "They've always got on," he said. "A shame Mrs. Arthur isn't around more. It's so good for Mom having someone to talk to like that. She always cheers up around Mrs. Arthur. I do my best, but I can never get her to laugh that way. I suppose me being her son, it's hard to relax."
"Rick must be a wonderful companion for Miss Helen, but as you can see, if you weren't with her, she'd be able to find other companions to laugh and talk with."
"I don't know. Maybe then." He said, "Look, I've been thinking all this over, what you said the other night, and I've agreed now. I promise Mom, I'll try, try my best, to get into Atlas Brookings."
"That's wonderful." He was now leaning over even more, perhaps trying to catch words, and I was concerned that he might topple over because of his greater height. But then he straightened, resting both hands on the rail. "I've even agreed to meet this man," he said, lowering his voice, "her old flame, the secret weapon person. Yeah, Mom's secret weapon. She reckons he can pull strings for me. I—I've even agreed to that. But this might result in the best solution. The wishes in Josie's kind picture would come closer to reality. Maybe they're—maybe they're talking about that down there right now, how I've come around to Mom's way of thinking after all this time. Maybe that's what they're finding so amusing."
"I don't think they're laughing unkindly. I think Miss Helen must be happy because of Rick's promise and hopeful."
He was silent for a moment, listening to the voices below, then he said, "I think we're getting a lift into the city with Josie and Mrs. Arthur."
"Yes, I know. And I've been asked to come too."
"Well, that's good. Then you and Josie can both give me moral support, because I'm not looking forward to begging this character for help."
Josie's voice suddenly called from the bedroom. "Great, so everyone's deserted me then?" As Rick turned back towards the door, "Hey, Clara, you can come back in here too. It's okay. We're not performing any big sex acts."
Two days later, I was to hear more yet about the trip to the city, and this time in a surprising way. It was a rainy weekday with no visitors. Josie had gone into the open plan after lunch for an oblong tutorial, and I'd gone up to the bedroom. I was sitting on the floor, surrounded by magazines, with Milan, when Melania, housekeeper, appeared in the doorway. She stared down at me, her face neither kind nor frowning, and I thought she'd come to reprimand me for the times I'd left Rick and Josie unattended in the bedroom, despite her warnings about hanky-panky. But she stepped further inside, then said in a kind of harsh whisper, "AF, you wish help Miss Josie, right? Yes, of course. Then you listen. Ma'am takes Miss Josie city Thursday. I say I want to go with them. Ma'am reply no. I say yes. Ma'am still say no. She say no because she see damn well I on to something. She say she want take AF instead. So you listen. You keep damn good eye Miss Josie and city. Hear me?"
"Yes, housekeeper." I also spoke quietly, though there was no chance Josie could hear us. "But please explain further. What is it you're worried about?"
"Listen, AF. Ma'am take Josie to see Mr. Capaldi, portrait guy. That Mr. Capaldi won creep sun [ __ ]. Ma'am say you good observe. Then you damn good observe Mr. Sun [ __ ]. You want help Miss Josie? We same side." She glanced back at the door, though there were no sounds of Josie emerging from her lesson downstairs. "But housekeeper, isn't Mr. Capaldi just wishing to paint Josie's portrait?"
"Paint portrait [ __ ] AF. You watch closer Mr. Sun [ __ ] or something bad happened Miss Josie. But surely—"
"I lowered my voice even further. "Surely the mother would never—"
"Ma'am loved you Miss Josie, but Miss Sal die and mess Ma'am up bad. Get me AF?"
"Yes, then I'll observe very carefully, as you say, especially around Mr. Capaldi. But what you butt about AF? If Mr. Capaldi is as you say, will it be enough for me just to observe?" The way Melania, housekeeper, was staring down at me, a passerby might have thought she was threatening me, but I now understand she was filled with fear. "How [ __ ] I know enough? I want to go with Miss Josie. Ma'am say no way, take AF instead. Can't figure it out. So you stick close Miss Josie, especially when Mr. Sun [ __ ] around. You do best, AF. We same side."
"Housekeeper," I said, "I have a plan. A special plan to help Josie. I'm not able to speak openly about it, but if I can go to the city with Josie and her mother, I may have the opportunity to carry it out."
"Plan? Listen, AF, you make things worse. I [ __ ] come dismantle you. But if my plan works, Josie will become strong and well. She'll be able to go to college and become an adult. Unfortunately, I'm not free to tell you more. But if I can get to the city, I'll have a chance."
"Okay. Main thing, AF, you keep good eye Miss Josie in city Thursday. Hear me?"
"Yes, housekeeper. Naf your big plan. If it make Miss Josie worse, I come dismantle you, shove you in garbage."
"Housekeeper," I said, smiling confidently at her for the first time since coming to the house, "thank you for this talk and for your warning, and thank you for trusting me. I'll do everything I can to protect Josie."
"Okay, AF. We same side."
There was one further incident of note during this period before the trip to the city. It was one that provided me with an important lesson. It occurred deep in the night when I was brought awake by Josie making a noise. The bedroom was dark, but even but before Josie disliked complete darkness. The blind covering the front window was one-third raised, and the moon and stars were making patterns on the wall and floor. When I looked towards the bed, I saw Josie had created a mound shape there with her duvet, and a humming noise was coming from within it, as if she were trying to remember a tune and hadn't wished to disturb the rest of the house.
I moved closer to the mound shape, then when I was standing over it, touched it gently. Immediately it erupted. The duvet disappeared, disintegrating into the surrounding darkness, and the room became filled with Josie's sobbing.
"Josie, what's the matter?" I kept my voice low but urgent.
"Has the pain come back?"
"No, no pain. But I want Mom. Get Mom. I need her here." Not only was her voice loud, it was as if it had been folded over onto itself, so that two versions of her voice were being sounded together, pinched fractionally apart. I'd never heard her produced such a voice, and for a second became hesitant. She brought herself into a kneeling position, and now I saw the duvet hadn't disintegrated after all, but it was in a large ball behind her.
"Get Mom. But your mother needs to rest," I kept my voice in a whisper. "I'm your AF. This is exactly why I'm here. I'm always here."
"I didn't say you. I need Mom."
"But Josie—" There was a movement behind me, and I was pushed aside so that I almost lost balance. When I recovered, I saw before me, on the near edge of the bed, a large, shifting shape, made additionally complex by the patches of blackness and moonlight moving over its surface. I realized the shape was the mother and Josie's embracing. The mother dressed in what looked like pale running clothes, Josie in her usual dark blue pajamas. As well as their limbs, their hair had become mingled, and then their shape became gently began gently to rock in a way not unlike when their goodbyes became extended.
"Don't want to die, Mom. I don't want that."
"It's okay. It's okay." The mother's voice was soft, at just the level mine had been.
"I don't want that, Mom."
"I know. I know. It's okay." I moved quietly away from them towards the doorway, then out into the dark landing. I looked at the rail, looking at the strange night patterns on the ceiling and the hallway below, and turned over in my mind the implications of what had just occurred. After a while, the mother came quietly out of the bedroom and, without looking my way, turned into the darkness of the short corridor that led to her own room. There was now silence from behind Josie's door, and when I returned to the bedroom, the duvet and the bed were orderly, and Josie was sleeping, her breaths peaceful again.
The friend's apartment was inside a townhouse. From the window of its main lounge, I could see similar townhouses on the opposite side of the street. There were six of them in a row, and the front of each had been painted a slightly different color to prevent a resident climbing the wrong steps and entering a neighbor's house by mistake. I made this observation aloud to Josie that day, 40 minutes before we set off to see the portrait man, Mr. Capaldi. She was lying on the leather sofa behind me, reading a paperback she'd taken down from the black bookshelves. The sun's pattern was failing falling across her raised knees, and she was so engrossed in her reading she made only a vague notion noise in reply. I was pleased about this because earlier she'd been getting very tense with the waiting. She'd relax noticeably once I'd gone to stand at the trip at the triple window, knowing I'd alert her the moment the father's taxi drove up outside.
The mother too had been getting tense, though whether on account of the coming meeting with Mr. Capaldi or because of the father's imminent arrival, I couldn't be certain. She'd left the main lounge sometime before, and I could hear her voice from the next room on the phone. I could have listened to her words by putting my head to the wall, and I even considered doing so, given the possibility she was talking to Mr. Capaldi. But I thought this might make Josie even more anxious, and in any case, it occurred to me the mother was more likely to be speaking to the father to give street directions.
Once I'd understood how just understood Josie was depending on me to look out for the father's taxi, I put aside plans to learn further the friend's apartment and concentrated on the view from the triple window. I didn't mind this particularly, since there was always the chance the cootings machine would go by, and even if I couldn't very well chase after it, such a sighting would be an important step forward. But by then I'd come to accept that the chances of the cootings machine passing the friend's apartments were slight.
Earlier during our drive into the city, I'd become overly hopeful because while still on the outskirts, we passed numerous overhaul men, and even when the men weren't to be seen, their barriers were there, closing off one street or another. That was when I'd begun to think the cootings machine would appear at any moment. But though I kept looking from my side window, and though twice we passed other kinds of machines, it never appeared. Then the traffic became slower, and there were fewer overhaul men. The mother and Miss Helen in the front were talking to one another in their usual relaxed way, while beside me in the back, Josie and Rick pointed things out to each other in soft voices. Sometimes one would nudge the other as we pass something, and they'd laugh together, even though no words have been exchanged. We passed a pink blossoming park, then a building with a sign that said "No Standing Except Trucks," and in the front, Miss Helen and the mother were also laughing, though both had caution in their voices. "Just be strict with him, Chrissy," Miss Helen said. Next, some Chinese signs and bicycles changed to posts, then it began to rain, though the sun kept trying its best. Umbrella couples appeared, and the tourists were maggot with magazines over their heads, and I saw an AF hurrying for shelter beside his teenager.
"Rick, that's ridiculous," Josie said about something and giggled. The rain stopped as we came into a street with buildings so tall the sidewalks on both sides were in shadow, and there were undershirt men sitting on their front step talking and watching us go by. "Really, Chrissy, please drop us off anywhere," Miss Helen was saying. "We've already taken too much out of your way." I saw two gray buildings side by side that weren't the same height, and someone had made a cartoon painting on the wall of the taller building where it stood above its neighbor, perhaps to make their discrepancy less awkward. My mind filled with happiness each time I saw a tow-away zone, though these were slightly different to the ones outside our store. Josie leaned forward and made a humorous remark, and both adults laughed.
"We'll see you both tomorrow then, at the sushi place," the mother said to Miss Helen. "It's right next to the theater, you can't miss it." And Miss Helen said, "Thank you, Chrissy. I know. Uh, it'll help me greatly. It will help Rick too." We drove through a fountain square, then a park filled with leaves where I spotted two more AFs, then into a busy street with high buildings.
"He's late," Josie said from the sofa, and I heard the dull thump of her paperback falling into the rug. "But I guess that's not unusual." I realized she was trying to make a joke of it, so laughed and said, "But I'm sure he's very anxious to see Josie again. You must remember how slowly the traffic moved when we were coming here. The same is probably happening to him now. Dad never gets places on time. And after Mom promised to pay for his taxi, okay, I'm gonna forget everything about him for a while, definitely doesn't deserve fussing over." As she reached down for her fallen paperback, I turned again to the triple window. The view of the street from the friend's apartment was quite different to the one from the store. Taxis were rare, but other kinds of cars, in every size, shape, and color, went by quickly, coming to a stop at the far left of my view where a long-arm traffic signal hung over the street. There were fewer runners and tourists here, but more headset walkers and more pedal cyclists, some carrying items in one hand while steering with the other. Once, not long after Josie's remark about the father's lateness, a cyclist went by holding under his arm a large board shaped like a flattened bird, and I feared the wind would catch the board and make him lose balance, but he was skillful and darted around the cars till he was at the front, right under the hanging traffic signal.
The mother's voice in the next room had grown anxious, and I knew Josie would hear it, but when I glanced around, she appeared still to be engrossed in her paperback. A dog-led woman went past, then a station wagon with Geo's Coffee Shop Deli on its side, then a taxi slowed down directly outside. The main lounge was higher than the sidewalk, so I couldn't see into the interior of the taxi, but the mother's voice stopped, and I was certain this was the father arriving.
"Josie, here he is." At first, she went on reading, then she took a deep breath, sat up, and let the book fall to the rug again. "Bet you think he's a dork," she said. "Some people think he's a dork, but actually he's super smart. You have to give him a chance." I saw a tall but stooping figure in a gray raincoat emerge from the taxi, holding a paper bag. He looked uncertainly up at our townhouse, and I suppose that he was confused as to which one it was, those on our side being as similar to those on the other side. He kept holding the paper bag carefully, the way people carry a small dog too tired to walk. He chose the correct steps and might even have seen me, though I'd moved back into the room once I'd given Josie my warning.
I thought the mother would now come into the main lounge, and her footsteps sounded, but she remained out in the hall for what seemed a long time. Josie and I, and the mother in the hall, waited in silence. Then the bell rang, and we heard again the mother's footsteps, then their voices. They were speaking to one another softly. The door between the hall and the main lounge was partly open, and Josie and I, both standing in the center of the room, watched carefully for signs. Then the father came in, no longer in his raincoat, but still holding his paper bag in both hands. He had on a fairly high-rank officer jacket, office jacket, but under it a tired brown sweater that came up to his chin.
"Hey, Josie, my favorite wild animal." He clearly wished to greet Josie with an embrace and looked around for somewhere to put down the paper bag, but Josie stepped forward and placed her arm around him, paper bag and all. As he received her embrace, his gaze wandered around the room and fell on me, then he looked away and closed his eyes, letting his cheek rest against the top of her head. They stayed like that for a time, keeping very still, not even rocking slowly the way the mother and Josie did sometimes during their morning farewells. The mother was equally still, standing a little way behind a black bookshelf, at each shoulder her face unsmiling as she watched the embrace continued. And I, when I glanced back at the mother, that whole section of the room had become partitioned. Her eyes, near her narrowed eyes, repeated in box after box, and in some boxes the eyes were watching Josie and the father, while in others they were looking at me.
At last, they loosened their embrace, and the father smiled and raised the paper bag higher, as though it were in need of oxygen. "Here, animal," he said to Josie, "brought you my latest little creation." He passed the bag to Josie, holding its bottom till she was doing the same, and they sat down side by side on the sofa to peer inside it. Rather than remove the item from the bag, Josie tore the paper away at the sides to reveal a small, rough-looking circular mirror mounted on a tiny stand. She held it on her knee and said, "So, what's this, Dad? For doing makeup if you want, but you're not looking at it."
"Take another look."
"Wow, that's sensational! What's going on?"
"Isn't it strange how we all tolerated all these mirrors that show you the wrong way around? This one shows you the way you really look. No heavier than the average compact."
"That's brilliant! Did you invent this?"
"I'd like to claim it, but the real credit goes to my friend Benjamin, one of the other guys in the community. He came up with the idea, but he didn't know quite how to pull it off in a real-world term, so I did that part. Fresh out of the oven, only last week. What do you think?"
"Josie, wow, it's a masterpiece! I'm going to be checking my face in public the whole time now. Thanks!"
"You're just such a genius. Does this thing run on batteries?"
For the next few moments, the father and Josie went on talking about the mirror, breaking off to exchange jokey greetings as if they were only meeting for the first time. At that moment, their shoulders were touching, and as they talked, they often pressed further into one another. I remained standing in the middle of the room. The father sometimes glancing around me, and I thought at any moment Josie would introduce us, but the father's arrival had made her excited. She continued to talk rapidly to him, and soon the father ceased glancing my way.
"My new physics tutor, Dad. I bet he doesn't even know half what you do, and he's weird. If he wasn't mega accredited, I'd be like, 'Mom, we have to get this guy arrested!' No, no, don't panic, he isn't improper. It's just so obvious he's fixing something in his shed, you know, to blow us all up."
"Hey, how's the knee?"
"Oh, much better, thanks. In fact, it's just fine. You remember that cookie you had the last time we went out? The one that looked like the president of China?" Even though Josie's speech was fast and seamless, I could tell she was testing her words in her mind before speaking them.
Then the mother, who'd gone out into the hall, came back wearing her coat, and she was also holding up in the air Josie's thicker jacket. Cutting straight into the talk between Josie and the father, she said, "Paul, come on, you haven't helped said hello to Clara. This here is Clara."
The father and Josie fell silent, both looking at me. Then the father said, "Clara, hello." The smile he'd had since entering the apartment had vanished.
"Hate to rush you guys," the mother said, "but you got here late, Paul. We have an appointment to keep."
"The father's smile returned, but now there was an anger in his eyes. "I haven't seen my daughter in nearly three months, and I don't get to talk with her for five minutes."
"Paul, it's you who insisted on coming with us today."
"I think I have a right to come, Chrissy."
"No one's denying that, but you don't make us late. Is this guy so busy? Don't make us late, Paul, and you behave while we're there."
The father looked at Josie and shrugged. "Seeing, in trouble already," he laughed and said, "Come on, that animal, we'd better get going."
"Paul," the mother said, "you haven't spoken to Clara."
"I just said hello."
"Come on, speak to her some more. Part of the family, is that what you're saying?" The mother stared at him, then seemed to change her mind about something and shook Josie's jacket in the air. "Come on, honey, we need to go."
While we were waiting outside for the mother's car, the father, wearing his raincoat again, stood with his arm around Josie. They were at the front of the sidewalk, where I stood further back, while I stood further back, almost at the townhouse railing. The pedestrians passing between us. Because of our positions and the unusual outdoor acoustics, I had difficulty hearing their words. At one point, the father turned towards me but continued speaking to Josie, even as his eyes examined me. Then a black-skinned lady with large earrings passed between us, and when she'd gone, the father's back was turned once more.
When the mother's car arrived, Josie and I got into the back, and as we set off, I tried to catch her eye to give reassurance in the case she was anxious about posing for her portrait, but she was looking out the window on her own side and didn't turn my way. The mother's car made slow progress, leaving one traffic line only to get held up in another. We passed shuttered doorways and umbra and buildings with crossed-out windows. It began to rain again. The umbrella couples appeared, and the dog-lead people moved in a hurry. Once, there appeared on my side, close enough that I might have touched it had I lowered my window, a soaked wall covered in angry cartoon writing.
"It's not so bad," the mother was saying to the father. "There aren't enough of us. Budget per campaign's down almost 40 percent. We're in chronic conflict with the PR people, but otherwise, yes, it's fine."
"Steven still making his presence felt?"
"Certainly is. Some congenial figure he always was, you know."
"Chrissy, I really do wonder if it's worth it, you hanging on this way."
"Not sure I understand. What is it I'm hanging on to?"
"Goodwin's, your law department, this whole world of work. Your every waking moment determined by some contract you once signed."
"Please, let's not get into this again. I'm sorry about what happened to you, Paul. I'm sorry, and I'm still angry. But I keep hanging on, as you put it, because on the day I stop, Josie's world, my world, would collapse."
"Why are you so sure of that, Chrissy?"
"Look, it's a big step, I know. I'm only suggesting you think about it further. Try viewing things from a fresh perspective."
"Fresh perspective? Come on, Paul, don't start claiming you're happy about the way it turned out. All that talent, all that experience. Honestly, I think the substitutions were the best thing that happened to me. I'm well out of it."
"How can you say that? You are top-flight, unique knowledge specialist skills. How is it right no one can make use of you?"
"Chrissy, I have to tell you, you're much more bitter about it than I am. The substitutions made me take a completely fresh look at the world, and I really believe they've helped me to distinguish what's important from what isn't. And where I live now, there are many fine people who feel exactly the same way. They all came down the same road, came with careers far grander than mine, and we all agree, and I honestly believe they're not kidding themselves. We're better off than we were back then. Really."
"Everyone thinks that? Even that friend of yours, the one who was the judge in Milwaukee?"
"I'm not saying it's always easy. We all have our bad days, but compared to what we had before, we feel like we're really living for the first time."
"That's good to hear from an ex-husband."
"Sorry."
"Look, never mind this. I have some questions about this portrait."
"Not now, Paul. Not here."
"Hmm, okay. Hey, Dad," Josie called out beside me. "You go ahead and ask what you want. I'm not listening."
"Like hell you're not listening," the father said and laughed. "No more arguments about the portraits, Paul."
"My—" the mother said. "You owe me that."
"I owe you? I don't quite see why I owe you anything, Chrissy."
"Not now, Paul." It was just then that I realized that the tow-away zone sign we were passing was the very one I knew so well, and in that same instant, the RPO building appeared on Josie's side, and the familiar taxis were all around us. But when I turned with excitement towards our store, I could see something was not correct. Of course, I'd never seen the store from the street, but even so, there were no AFs and no stripe sofa in the window. Instead, there was a display of colored bottles and a sign saying "Recess Lightning."
I turned right around to continue looking, just as Josie said, "Hey, Clara, you know where we are?"
"Yes, of course." But we were already beyond the pedestrian crossing, and I hadn't even looked to see if the birds were perched up on the traffic signal. In fact, I'd been so startled by the store's new appearance, I'd not observed the surroundings nearly as much as I'd have liked. And then we were in a different section of the street altogether, and I turned again to see through the rear windshield the RPO building growing smaller.
"You know what I think?" There was concern in Josie's voice. "I think maybe your old store has moved on."
"Yes, perhaps." But I had no more time to think about the store, for what I saw next between the two front seats was the cootings machine. I recognized it before we were close enough to see the name on its body. There it was, throwing out pollution from three funnels, the way it had always done. I knew I should feel anger, but coming on it after the surprise about the store, I felt almost something like kindness towards the terrible machine. Then we'd passed it, the mother and the father continuing to speak with tension, and Josie said beside me, "These stores, the way they keep changing."
"That day I came looking for you. That's what I was afraid of. That the store would have gone, you and all your friends with it." I smiled at her, but didn't say anything.
In the front, the adults' voices grew louder. "Look, Paul, we've been over and over this. Josie, Clara, and I are going in there, and we're proceeding just as planned. You agreed to it, remember?"
"I agreed to it, but I still can comment, can't I?"
"Not here, you can't. Not now, and not in this goddamn car."
Josie, all this time, had been saying something to me, but she'd become distracted now. As the adults fell silent, she said, "If you want, Clara, we can go look at for it tomorrow, provided with time." I almost thought she meant the cootings machine, then realized she was referring to whatever new premises manager and the other AFs might have gone to. I thought she was being hasty and assuming they definitely moved simply because the window had looked different and was about to say so, when she leaned forward to the adults. "Mom, just if there's time tomorrow, Clara wants to go find out what's happened to her old store. Could we do that?"
"If you want, honey. That was the deal today. We go and see Mr. Capaldi, and you do what he asks. Tomorrow, we'd do what you want." The father shook his head and turned to his own window, but because Josie was sitting directly behind him, she didn't see his expression.
"Don't worry, Clara," she said. She reached over to touch my arm. "We'll find it tomorrow."