River: A Novel (14 page)

 “
Something
different for you, Elodie,”
she’d said while I’d held the flowers, patting
at the sprays of daisies and lilies. “
Roses are so cliché, don’t you think? Way
overdone
.”

 She had
been kind to me, but firm in her discipline. Nanette didn’t put up with any bullshit;
the gossip at the barre had always stopped when she walked into class. A
natural leader, she’d held everyone’s attention and commanded respect, which
each dancer had given her, even the snobbiest of kids. She had also excelled in
the art of being blunt. When I’d been injured, she had simply stated it was
time to move on. I had received a hug, though; possibly the first in the
history of her reign.

 Mulling
over the happy trio in front of my eyes, I was chilled in aloneness. I had
given up on that picture years ago. But still, I felt cheated, or something
like it, for there “I” was in a snapshot, living the daydream that had followed
me to young adulthood. I set down the picture frame, taking an unsteady breath.
Time to move on.

 Dan was
looking out the window, aware that I needed a moment to myself. He was
uncannily observant here, and I wondered if there was anything he didn’t see. I
focused on objects in the foreign apartment, waiting for a memory, but there
was none. Dan walked over to the kitchen, opening a few cupboards and the refrigerator
before glancing at me. 

 You want to go shopping?
  

 “Shopping
for what?” I wasn’t in the mood to use my hands just then, probably because
they were a little shaky. He smiled though, impressed that I knew my stuff
somewhat.

 Food,
you have nothing
.

 “Oh, that,”
I mumbled before signing
,
Are you no longer my personal chef
?
I quickly
succumbed to guilt for using my voice. He didn’t have that luxury. Plus there
was the fear I would forget everything he’d taught me. I needed to be sharp and
skilled.

 You really need to learn to look after yourself
.
What did you eat before you met me?

 He raised a
critical brow for a moment after commenting on my lack of cooking ability, and
then crossed the room to throw an arm over my shoulder. I leaned my head
against it.
 

 “Thanks.”

 
A-N-Y-T-I-M-E

 
He coded lightly as we walked out the door. I was glad I had him to lean
on in more ways than comfort. In an attempt to avoid questions, I hadn’t worn
my glasses and didn’t want to run into anything. That would’ve surely lost me
points in stealth.

 After walking
by Not George, I wondered when Actual George would show up. If Dan wasn’t with
me, I wouldn’t know him. Dan could not leave my side, I realized, at least till
I was more knowledgeable about ways of life here. I held on to his waist, and
he automatically tightened his arm. I tapped on his hipbone.

 D-O  N-O-T  L-E-T  G-O

 
 He looked
down solemnly into my pleading eyes. I was selfish enough to make myself
vulnerable to Dan, and I felt guilty. Horribly guilty. My mouth twisted and frowned
at what I was doing. I didn’t want Dan to be in danger, of course, nor lead him
on. Unfortunately, I was pretty sure I was succeeding at both. Again, I asked
the universe in my head:
What the hell? How did I get here and why
did
you let this happen to
these people? To Danny?
If I were destined to
live and die in River, I was going to schedule a serious talk in the afterlife with
the people in charge of this damnable Master Plan.

The grocery
store was similar to the ones in New York at a glance. A closer examination
proved the shops in this town were a bit otherworldly. The friendly clerk
smiled, of course. And the shelves were neatly stacked, the floor spotless. I
noticed the absence of cigarettes and alcohol. Nothing was really addictive,
except coffee, which was number one on my radar to find. Though blessed with
the inability to learn how to cook, I did appreciate a good meal and looked
forward to what Danny was going to whip up for dinner. Food helped to keep me
awake. It had been hours since my last cup of coffee, and I was starting to
lag. After grabbing a can of a potentially potent blend, a hand came down on
mine.

 I gasped and
bit my tongue. Nanette was staring at me with an expectant smile on her face. When
swallowing a little blood, the metallic taste brought my senses back from
shock. All thoughts of caffeine withdrawal gone, I smiled tentatively and tried
to slow my heart so that I wouldn’t pass out. Not that unconsciousness was a
bad idea; it would get me out of the situation I was in pretty effectively. Thankfully,
Dan’s signing drills paid off, and I understood her gesturing my name before
asking if I felt better. 

 
Much better, thank you
,
I
answered, mentally crossing my fingers. My luck kept up when Dan materialized
behind her, tapped her shoulder, and then proceeded to give her a hug and me a
wink. He was all over this.

 Dan and
Nanette were soon in a conversation that I didn’t even try to keep up with. It
made me distressingly aware how much of a novice I was. Fascinated by their
smooth gestures, I also studied Nanette, and compared her to the person I’d known
before. There was something slightly off. She seemed tired. Nanette had never been
tired. She’d always been a tornado of energy putting us younger girls to shame.
My reflection of her was abruptly halted when she whirled around, causing me to
jump back slightly. She was excited and enthused, so I nodded and smiled. I was
surely doing a good thing—being agreeable. Dan briefly wore a disgruntled look he
wiped clean when Nanette turned to face him, patting his shoulder in a motherly
way. It was a strange sight, for the other Nanette hadn’t exactly been nurturing.
She had been a tough bird, but it seemed here that it was in her nature to be
empathetic.

 She beamed and
patted my cheek.
See
you soon.

 Dan’s
expression after her farewell made me clamp down on my tongue, trying like hell
not to whimper. What had I done? Nanette was at the checkout, smiling in a
satisfied kind of way. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown when Dan held
up his index finger, swirling it in the air. A motion that said surreptitiously:
Hang on, we are being watched.
I tried to plaster on a calm face while
tossing another can of coffee into the basket.

 After
finding dinner ingredients and some staples for the apartment, we headed to the
checkout, where we “paid” with credits. It was the same as debit, really. The
higher the standing of the citizen, the more credits received, which was little
more than keeping track of who bought what and where. The upside was that no
one went hungry. Having noticed no vehicles except the trams, I speculated on
where food and supplies came from; ultimately filing that question away for
another time, when our lives weren’t in quite as much danger from my stupidity.

 We left the
store to walk back to the apartment, and I studied the surroundings as best I
could without my glasses. The storefronts were so colorful that just one by
itself would have been out of place, yet in a row they looked pretty and
festive. In one of the windows, a painting stood out from the rest of the cheerful
offerings. On the onset, it was an abstract lake scene, but the grasses and
murky water collected toward the foreground, forming what I believed was the
true intent of the artist—even if it was subliminal: a man’s body tangled in
grasses, bound under the water’s surface. The figure was stretched and nearly
unrecognizable, mostly comprised of negative space. It was haunting. Whoever had
painted it was certainly not complacent with this suppressed way of life.

 Not George
was still there when we returned, and I was glad. I didn’t think I could fake
my way through another ploy. All my confidence in signing filtered out of my
body, and I felt very much deflated by the time we walked back into the
apartment. Dan started the oven, readied the chicken to bake and potatoes to
mash, while I made some coffee. I knew it wouldn’t have the same kick as Dan’s
special brew, but I needed all the help I could get. Unable to wait any longer
for my punishment, I broke down after one sip of the weak drink.

 “So, what
did I do wrong when we ran into Nanette?”

 Without
knowing her name in sign, I hadn’t attempted to sign her name at all, so a
mistake of that nature wasn’t the culprit. It had to have been whatever transpired
just before she’d left that had done me in. Dan turned and signed in a
disgruntled way, and I felt the color drain from my face.

 
You really want to know?

 “How bad is
it?” I whispered, congratulating myself on keeping below my normal level of panicked
volume.

 Dan pulled
a piece of paper out of his back pocket, along with a stubby pencil. As he
wrote, I noticed a small CD player in the next room and wondered what River
Elodie had listened to last. Hesitantly, I walked over and pushed the coded
symbol for play. It was my favorite composition of Danny’s. I spun around to
face him.

 “Are you
hearing this?” I had a hard time keeping a low voice in my irritation. That was
my
song. He cocked his head with surprise before continuing to write. I
frowned at the CD player, ultimately deciding to leave it on. The music was
still stunning, yet for reasons unknown, I was furious and annoyed that she’d apparently
liked it too. We
were
separate people, weren’t we? Shaking it off, I
walked anxiously back to the table and picked up my cup, prepared to face the
consequences. Dan handed me the paper, his mouth an even line. I guessed the
first foray into my brand new life had not gone well.

You signed
that you would be at rehearsal the day after tomorrow, ready to perform in
three days. I insisted you were still weak, but she was adamant. The winter
solstice performance
equals a big crowd
. 
 

 I read it
twice. Day after tomorrow. Performance in three days. I was most definitely
doomed.

 “But I
can’t even go grocery shopping by myself,” I whimpered to the paper while grinding
my teeth. Dan’s eyebrows were raised. He was worried, too. Underneath the last
line he’d also written a note that the other Elodie liked his music and had often
asked for recordings. Music was life here. Well, coffee and signing were going
to be my life for the next twenty-four odd hours. Food would have to wait. “We
need to practice.” Though my voice was barely audible, Dan heard me and nodded.
He tried not to appear skeptical and failed completely.

 Focusing on
the music and the gestures as choreography helped me sign with a wider
vocabulary, but translating quickly was a problem for me. I knew it would be
even worse in front of strangers. When nervous, I couldn’t concentrate, and missing
one phrase made it impossible for me to follow along. The majority of practice
was frustrating. The coffee had worn off and my brain felt fuzzy, as if I were
trying to think my way through thick fog. Despite Dan’s supportive applause
when I did well, I was completely sure I would fool absolutely no one in two
days time.

  The first
night alone in the apartment was similar to staying at the house of an
acquaintance. I didn’t want to touch anything. Dan had wanted to stay, but I promised
easily that I wouldn’t open the door and insisted he go home to get some true
rest. I also wanted Not George to see him leave for the night. The last thing
we needed was more rumors spread around River. Who knew what was punishable
here? I couldn’t be the instigator of any more pain to another human being. Petra’s
situation mutilated my conscience enough; though I knew
I
really had no
role in her predicament. Not that I was aware of anyway. I just hoped River Elodie
and I were closer in character than decorating taste, hating the possibility
that we weren’t the same in the moral department. If I were forced to break the
rules and really
talk
to Petra, I would tell her I didn’t have anything
to do with her punishment and subsequent isolation. They could mute me and
break my legs after, as long as I had a chance to save our friendship.

 Earlier in
the evening, while rummaging around, Danny had found a coder in the apartment we
could use. He didn’t have any problems going through her stuff. To him, we were
the same person, but that didn’t take away from his presence. Dan was the
antidote to almost all my neuroses; having a way to contact him made a world of
difference in my attempt to relax.  

 Worrying
about the immediate future was my only duty besides learning to sign flawlessly.
With no concrete plan, I only knew that the next few days would determine if I
would be around long enough to even anticipate a future in River. I wasn’t
positive in the least that I could pull it off, but I was hopeful. That hope
was keeping me in the game. As well as the promise I’d made to myself to get
Dan back to New York, if it even really existed—maybe Nanette and Petra, too. We
could make it out to the path I’d arrived on, with help from the anti-Lull. I
was sure I remembered which direction it was from the theater. The only problem
was that I had walked a long time without seeing anything at all. What if there
was nothing else out there? This place still reminded me of an experiment
cooked up by NASA or Interpol. I imagined walking for days only to end up back
in River and laughed in a short huff through my nose. I wouldn’t be surprised at
all if that happened.