| Board : | |
| Author : | |
| Subject : | |
| Date : | |
|
:: You're waiting for your order at the apothecary's :: :: counter when a young woman brushes past you rudely on :: :: her way out. :: :: Annoyed, you get up and start to say something, when the :: :: young man next to you grabs you forcefully by your arm :: :: and pulls you back down to your seat. :: :: "Stop," he says. "You really don't want to do that." :: :: You look at him, confused, then back at the woman as she :: :: exits the shop. "What? Why?" you ask. :: :: He just sighs and says "Look. Long story. Just... don't. :: :: You gaze pointedly at the apothecary, who is doddering :: :: around the shop at the speed of winter slugs, and say :: :: "It would seem we have time." "Fine," he says. "Fine." :: :: He takes a deep breath, as if ordering his thoughts, and :: :: then says... "I was five, maybe six, when they gave me the mat next to hers. Auntie didn't explain why, Auntie never explained anything. She just pointed a crooked finger and that was that, and you learned real fast not to ask twice. "The girl's name was Ren. She'd been there longer than me, long enough that nobody remembered when she came, and she had that kind of quiet that made the other kids leave her alone. Not a scared quiet, a sort of closed door but with a big dog behind it. You could knock all you wanted, usually all you'd get back was a show of teeth. "I didn't know that yet, the first night. I was scared, and young enough to still think everybody wanted a friend. So I introduced myself. Told her my name, and asked hers back like it was the easiest thing in the world. She just looked at me for a long moment, kind of like she was deciding whether I was worth the breath it would take to answer, and then she told me her name and rolled over and went to sleep. That was the whole conversation. At the time it made me feel about three inches tall, but looking back I guess it was a victory. "She let me sit with her at meals, which was more than she let most people do. We never really talked much, Ren wasn't one to trade stories about her past. Mostly, we just sat. Elbow to elbow on the bench, eating whatever scraps Auntie had given us, and sometimes she'd say something short and dry and it'd take me a second to realize it was a joke, then I'd laugh too loud because I was so happy to have gotten one out of her. She never laughed back. Come to think of it, I don't think I ever saw her laugh. But she'd get this look, just barely, at the corner of her mouth, and I'd know if she was anyone else, she'd be laughing. "I was never going to be a prodigy. Truth is, I was a clutz, plain and simple, the kind of kid who could trip over a flat floor if you gave him half a chance. Nobody wanted to waste good training on hands that couldn't hold a cup steady, so it fell to Auntie, because Auntie was stuck with the leftovers nobody else would take. The other kids thought it was a gimme, being trained by her personal hand, and maybe it would have been - if Auntie's arthritic old hands hadn't shaken like leaves in a storm for the last ten years. Didn't matter. I'd have found a way to mess it up even with a steady teacher. Every stumble, every mistimed step, every throw that went wide, that was just me being me. I was the best student she ever had at learning exactly the wrong thing. ... | |