Chapter 80

There was a slight nervous constriction in the back of his throat. He hesitated for just two or three seconds, but then at the sound of the girl’s even-more-nervous voice saying “T-try opening it,” he opened his closed eyelid. The conjunctiva hadn’t been exposed to outside air in so long that it was painfully oversensitive; for a split second it felt as if someone had stabbed him. Harvey unthinkingly closed his eyes. Then he opened them again, slowly, and gave two little blinks. At first, all he noticed was that a blurry, milky-white film seemed to be covering his left eye’s field of vision. His right eye steadily adjusted, though, and although his vision was still so radically different from one eye to the other that everything was disjointed, eventually the images on his left and right retinas managed to overlap. There was the same familiar counter, the same old shelves lined with bottles and glasses. After these past few weeks, Harvey had thought he knew this bar like the back of his hand, and yet now everything seemed a little off. Huh, so this is what it looks like with two eyes. He lifted his left hand to eye level and opened and closed his fist a few times, until— “Well?” demanded an impatient male voice. When he shifted his gaze, the right eye was a little slower to respond, and his vision swam dizzily. The rest of the world caught up to him a beat after his head stopped turning. There: he could see the portable radio sitting on the counter, and the anxious-looking girl standing beside it clutching the bandage he’d peeled off of his eye. Her face right there in front of him in three dimensions was too real, somehow. Harvey’s mind reeled a little. So the first feeling he had about the whole thing wasn’t relief or nostalgia or any of that stuff so much as the—awkwardness? discomfort?—of wondering, Is this really Kieli? Her expression started looking even more anxious as she watched him, probably because he was just staring at her without saying anything or evincing any kind of reaction. Harvey realized he ought to say something, so for lack of a better idea he reported the facts. “I can see. More or less.” After several stiff-faced seconds in which she seemed to be digesting exactly what his words meant, she got that familiar old expression: biting her lip and looking on the verge of tears, but not actually crying. Oddly enough, that was what belatedly brought home to him that, yes, she really was Kieli after all. And then he finally did feel relieved. The bartender looked just the same as ever that day: a black vest over a shirt with a stand-up collar. The only sign that he was dressed up at all was the bow tie around his neck, and even that change was hardly what you would call dramatic. When he shyly asked her how he looked, Kieli told him what she honestly thought, which was that he looked “about the same as usual.” His face fell. It turned out that he considered this his absolute Sunday best. “But I like that!” Kieli amended hastily. The truth was, she really did like the bartender’s usual outfit, because it was the most like him. Right now, he was out in the center of the room, accepting his guests’ blessings and teases with a shy smile—pressed shoulder to shoulder with the woman who’d become his life partner today. “Kieli, I’ll take another beer over here, too!” “And another round for us!” “Oh, and can we get some ice? Sorry to bug you.” “Oh! Yes, coming right up!” Beer and ice…and didn’t the bartender ask me to bring up some wine from downstairs? Kieli was spinning in circles and craning her head in all directions as she carried drinks and hors d’oeuvres back and forth from the bar, just to make sure she didn’t miss anybody’s order. She was literally dizzyingly busy. This number of customers would be routine at Buzz & Suzie’s Café back in South-hairo, but frankly this bar just wasn’t as successful a business, so it had been a long time since Kieli had worked a shift this hectic. Still, this was a far cry from the deserted feeling the place used to have. The Adolph Sax had slowly but steadily started attracting regulars lately. And among those customers was Yana. “Sorry to make you work all alone like this, dear. Here, I’ll help you,” said a sunny voice from across the counter where Kieli was just setting down the big container she’d scooped ice into. She figured she might as well bring it all out now. When she looked up, a friendly looking woman in a simple yet stylish dress was standing there smiling at her. “No, Yana, I’m okay. You go ahead and sit down,” Kieli answered, flustered. “Are you sure? I’ll just take this, then.” Yana reached out to pick up the bucket crammed full of ice cubes. Looking at it now, Kieli could see that she’d definitely put too much in, and she started to feel awkward. She wished she’d held back a little more. The only adornment Yana wore to signal her position today was the wreath of artificial flowers perched on her head like a tiara and draped with a lace veil. Personally, Kieli thought it wouldn’t hurt to deck herself out in a little more finery on a day like this, but on the other hand, this style suited Yana’s personality so well that it looked pretty great on its own. “Oh, this?” said Yana, glancing up toward her own head and smiling. “Isn’t it nice? It’s handmade, you know.” “It’s beautiful.” “You like it? Well, then, when it’s your turn I’ll go even more all-out on one!” “Huh?” Kieli squeaked, caught by surprise at the change of subject. Yana’s smile turned into more of a grin, and she leaned her face in close to Kieli conspiratorially. “So, Kieli, how’s it going with you two?” “‘Going’? Nothing’s ‘going’! Sheesh, go back to the party. You’re the woman of the hour!” Kieli stuck out both hands and forcibly pushed Yana back, and the older woman relented with a joking cluck of her tongue. She picked up the ice and headed back out to the floor. The bartender, who’d been surrounded by a crowd of heckling regulars, immediately jogged up to her and took charge of the heavy ice bucket, which only inspired more teasing whistles from his guests. The contrast between how thrown off he was by the teasing and how Yana let it all roll off her back with a smile was really funny. Kieli stood back from the crowd for a while, watching them with a smile of her own, until she remembered: “Whoops, I have to go get that wine.” She’d almost forgotten that particular chore. She left the counter and headed through the door that led down to the cellar, taking care not to forget the radio. She’d seen a rat down there once, and it was just a little scary to be there by herself now. “That has got to be a scam. I’m telling you, it’s a messed-up world. A woman so young marrying that bartender? It’s some kind of conspiracy for sure.” “Yeah, yeah. There you go again,” she told the radio, which had started leaking complaints the moment they were out of sight. Kieli knew that he was only grumbling out of habit when he was actually really happy for them, so she responded on autopilot as she made her way down the stairs. Yes—the bartender had gotten married today! It was a characteristically modest wedding: Yana wasn’t a passionate believer, and obviously the bartender (who technically had a history as a rebel against the Church) wasn’t either, so instead of having a Church ceremony, they just invited all the regulars to the bar and threw a do-it-yourself party. The romance had begun three months ago, during the Colonization Days in the fall. Yana had started visiting the bar while Kieli and Harvey were in Westerbury, and apparently during the course of some small talk, the two of them had discovered they had the same taste in music and hit it off. True, the master was a full twelve years older, but he didn’t always quite have his act together, so Kieli thought cheerful, capable Yana might be the perfect bride for him. She hoped with all her heart that they would be happy. Kieli turned on the cellar light and piled bottles of wine and ale into a nearby case by the yellowish glow of its bare bulb. Figuring she might as well bring it all out now, she filled up the whole case. It held about fifteen bottles. “Kieli…you’re putting too much in,” the radio around her neck said disgustedly. “I can carry this much. Upsy-daisy…” She got a grip on the case and tried to stand up, but sure enough, it turned out to be pretty heavy, and it wasn’t too easy to lift. Still, Kieli gave it another try, putting her spirit into it. She’d just managed to get it a few centimeters off the ground when someone else’s hand reached out and took one side of it for her. She squeaked and lost her balance momentarily at the sudden change in weight. When she looked up, still reeling, a lanky redhead was looming over her with a “good grief ” expression on his face. “W-welcome back,” Kieli said, a little flustered. “I keep telling you to quit being so reckless…There’s no way you can carry that by yourself.” “It’s your fault for not helping, you jerk. You just up and left the second the party started,” griped the radio. “I was walking around outside, letting my vision adjust,” Harvey answered coolly, averting his eyes and sort of squinting. Kieli figured that was probably true enough, but she was dead certain he’d really run away from the party because all the commotion seemed like too much of a pain. “Did you congratulate the owner?” “I’ll do it later. You hold that side.” They took hold of the handles on either side of the case and lifted it together, making their way upstairs. Harvey held his side in one hand, but Kieli gripped hers with both hands and grunted with effort as they walked. She had to admit she probably would’ve thrown her back out trying to carry it by herself. She’d gotten overenthusiastic and filled it too full. Kieli stole a glance at Harvey’s left hand on the opposite handle out of the corner of her eye. It’d been about three months since he’d broken his hand in Westerbury, and the injury had healed, but all his joints had been visibly standing out before the injury. Now that hand seemed even bonier than ever…His right arm, which was currently stuck in his coat pocket, was no different than it had been three months ago. It still cut off around the elbow, with a fragment of metal frame sticking out of the stump. Kieli looked away from Harvey’s arms and up into his face in profile, deciding to ask about something else. “How’s your eye?” “Vision’s still swimming,” he said shortly, looking straight ahead. He stumbled a little on the stairs. It was only this morning that he’d taken the bandage off his right eye and started getting it used to seeing again. After a little over a year, the eyeball he said he’d lost last winter at least appeared to have regenerated. Since his sight in that eye was still poor and made for too much of a difference between the right and left halves of his vision, Harvey claimed it was actually more tiring not to wear the bandage, but personally, Kieli still thought she’d rather he left it off. She’d been afraid she might never see those two coppery eyes together again, and now here they both were. This morning, Harvey had looked at her with two eyes and smiled just a little. Harvey’s right eye, and the bartender’s wedding. Two good things in one day. There had been bad things too, recently. One time Harvey had disappeared and not come back for almost two weeks, and she’d been worried to death. Then when he finally wandered back into the bar he’d just said something about finding a lead about Beatrix that ended up not panning out. (When she and the Corporal royally raked him over the coals for it, he gave them a slightly peevish apology.) Maybe it’s time to give up… Harvey had always said he was sure Beatrix was fine, but that day, for the first time, he said something negative. In the end, they were about to have spent a whole winter here on the parish border with no clues about her to show for it. Kieli had desperately hoped to see Beatrix again before the spring—after all, in a little over two weeks, on the day when winter crossed into spring, it would be her seventeenth birthday. Beatrix, you said you’d celebrate my next birthday. You promised me… She could hear lively cheers coming from upstairs. She pulled herself out of the funk she’d been falling into and kept heading up. We’re celebrating the bartender today. I shouldn’t let myself look depressed. When they got back up to the ground floor, they were greeted with a flash of white light accompanied by a satisfying snap. Blinking in surprise, Kieli looked toward the center of the floor and saw a large, extravagant camera set up on a tripod. Someone was taking wedding photos of the bride and groom. Come to think of it, she did remember hearing that a photographer friend of the owner was coming over at the end of the party. The bride sat in a chair with the groom standing close enough to press up against her side. He smiled bashfully, she beamed brightly, and the flash went off, casting a white light over them both. Kieli left the case of drinks in a corner of the room and watched the proceedings until Yana’s voice called out, “Okay, Kieli, you’re next!” and, her photograph session over, got up from the chair and made room. Kieli stared at her in surprise. “Me? But I don’t need…” “Nonsense, it’s fine. Come on, get over here.” And then Yana was running up to Kieli, taking her hand and not giving her a chance to say no. Something about Yana’s cheery forcefulness reminded her of Suzie, and Kieli liked that about her, but sometimes it made her shy away. Suzie had married rock music–loving Buzz, too. That was another thing they had in common. Pulling Kieli along by the hand, Yana trained her smile on Harvey. “Hey, why don’t you get a picture together?” “I don’t want to,” Harvey replied immediately. His voice was curt, and he was wearing the exact same expression he used to when he was shying away from Suzie’s forcefulness, too. Even Yana looked daunted at that. No considerate “No, thank you,” no polite “I’ll pass, thanks”; just a straight-up “I don’t want to.” Privately, Kieli was a little disappointed with him, too. She shot a glance at him, checking, and he sighed. “No reason for you to have a run-down old radio in the picture with you. Get one of just yourself,” he said, lifting the radio off her neck. It gave a grumpy burst of static that clearly meant Who are you calling “run-down”? “Okay, then…I’ll take the opportunity, thank you.” Kieli nodded hesitantly, letting herself be placed in the chair in front of the stage. It would rude for all of them to refuse Yana’s kindness, after all. To tell the truth, though, she would have liked it best if she could have gotten a picture of the three of them together: Kieli, Harvey, and the Corporal. She did understand how it would be bad in various ways if there were pictures of Harvey floating around, but she couldn’t help thinking she’d like a photo similiar to the one at Tadai’s house…one that would capture Harvey’s smile permanently like that. Was that greedy of her? “Here, put this on.” Before the cameraman took the picture, Yana took the wreath off her own head and put it on Kieli’s. “What?!” Kieli’s hands flew to her head in confusion. She’d thought they were only going to do a casual snapshot! “Er, I can pose without this.” “No, you can’t take it off. We’re going to get a shot of you all dolled up.” “Hey, Kieli, lookin’ good!” hooted the regulars watching them, which only made her more flustered. Now she was getting nervous. She reflexively raised her head when a voice called “Okay, look this way,” and was blindsided by the instantaneous snap of the shutter. However, the photographer holding the cable didn’t seem happy with the shot. He tilted his head, looking dissatisfied. “Hmm…relax your expression a little, okay? Let’s get another shot.” Which was easy for him to say, but the more she consciously tried to smile, the more her face just twitched. She found herself looking for Harvey in search of help, and located the redheaded man sitting on the case of wine they’d carried upstairs and having a smoke. He was watching the whole thing with complete indifference. When he noticed Kieli looking, he abruptly averted his eyes, reaching for his pack of cigarettes—even though he was already smoking one—and for some reason grabbing a fresh one and trying to stick it in his mouth, too. He let the lit one slip out in the process, creating his own one-man commotion. What is he doing? It was so funny, the giggle just spilled out of her, and in that instant the shutter clicked for the second time. And thus a picture of Kieli on a winter day at the end of her sixteenth year was captured on film. Watching Kieli from a distance getting a wreath clapped on her head and being cheered at by the regulars, he felt a tiny bit sympathetic. He didn’t think she was the type of girl to handle being the center of attention like that very well. Not that he felt any urge to go help her out—he was even worse at it than she was. Photos, huh? Saying she wanted to build something together in the sandbox back at Shiman’s camp, and then that promise (which he’d like to erase from memory and pretend never happened)…he didn’t know whether Kieli realized it herself or not, but he could tell she probably wanted some kind of memory that would clearly last. Which only made him feel more weighted down, so he ended up acting defensive without meaning to.