8.

An Entire Afternoon

Late spring, AGH 16 — Requiem City

The buckle lay flat until Elly pulled on the strap. Then its edge lifted, taking a fold of leather with it.

“There,” they said.

The buyer bent over the carrying frame. “I see it.”

He had said that at the first buckle and meant it. Elly let the tension off while he fetched the worker who had fitted this one. Across the yard, two people sorting metal fastenings were laughing at something Lumix had said. Elly had missed the beginning. They heard the word modest, which could not possibly describe whatever their husband was proposing.

The worker came back with the buyer and looked at the strap.

“It holds.”

“Until it turns. Pull from here.”

He tried it, frowned, and shifted his hand to reproduce the angle. The buckle rose again. Elly left him room to loosen the fitting and turned the frame to check the other side.

Lumix had arrived early. His paid training session had finished before noon, and apparently he had used the time to change his coat, devise an afternoon and find someone to admire both. A strip of blue lining showed when he spread his hands. Against the bronze scales, it was a very good blue. Elly had meant to tell him so when he arrived; instead they had pointed him toward the only clear bench.

“You can't call it a small meal if it comes in two dishes,” one of the workers said.

“You haven't seen the dishes.”

“How big are they?”

Lumix demonstrated. The worker laughed again and dropped a handful of buckles into the wrong box. Her companion took them out.

Elly smiled down at the frame. The strap on this side ran freely, lay flat under a pull and returned without catching. They chalked a mark beside the fitting.

“Try it now,” said the worker at the other end.

Elly did. He had altered the angle. This time the buckle stayed where it belonged. They pulled once more, then set the frame upright so the buyer could see both sides.

“That one passes. The loose straps still need cutting to length.”

“We can do that.”

“Yes.”

The buyer brought the assessment sheet and counted the agreed coins onto a dry corner of the bench. Elly signed, checked the payment and put it away. Their chalk and measuring cord went into the small bag with the rest of their tools. As they drew the bag closed, Lumix rose.

“Ready?”

“What was modest?”

“My intentions.”

“They sounded expensive.”

“Only one of them.”

Elly took his arm. The worker at the boxes wished them a pleasant afternoon and immediately asked the buyer whether he wanted the frames stacked inside or under the lean-to. Lumix waited for the gate to swing clear rather than squeezing past with Elly still attached to him.

Outside, the yard's hammering receded behind a row of shops. The street had warmed while Elly was working. They stopped in a patch of shade to roll their sleeves down, decided against it and left them as they were.

“Now,” Lumix said. “There is a fellow showing carved furniture near the market. We could look in, then take the long way round to the musicians. Unless you'd rather see the new knives first. And I thought—”

“How long are we looking at the furniture?”

“Until we've seen it.”

“And the knives?”

He looked at them. Elly held the look, but the corner of his mouth was moving and they had to turn away first.

“We could go home,” they said.

“We could.”

“Take our shoes off.”

“I had considered that.”

Elly looked down the street. There were people carrying empty baskets toward the market, and music somewhere beyond the houses, too distant to make out a tune. At home there was a chair exactly the right distance from the window. They could spend the rest of the afternoon there. Another few notes reached them, and they listened for more. Lumix was beside them in that coat, already hopeful again.

“I want to go out. I don't want to hurry through five things.”

“Four.”

“You hadn't finished.”

“I might have been about to suggest a rest.”

They pulled his sleeve straight where their hand had rumpled it. “We take turns choosing. And you don't turn every stop into a demonstration.”

“What if a demonstration is called for?”

“Then I shall be amazed at your good fortune.”

He laughed and offered his arm again. They walked without deciding whose choice came first.

*   *   *

The rings made a hollow clatter on the stall board. Elly heard them before they saw the pegs, or the shelf of small painted prizes behind the seller.

A customer was collecting her basket. One of her rings still lay against a peg, touching it without going round it.

“Almost,” she said.

“Almost,” agreed the seller, and reached for it.

Lumix slowed.

Elly looked at him. He looked at the board, which held several short wooden pegs, and then at the rings in the seller's hand.

“Whoever wins chooses where we go next,” he said.

“And after that we take turns.”

“Of course.”

“How many?” Elly asked the seller.

“Three in a round. One over a peg wins a prize. It has to stay.”

Lumix paid. He turned one of the rings in his hand, feeling its weight, while the seller pointed to the line worn across the paving.

“Behind there.”

He placed his feet with great care. Elly moved beside the stall, where they could see the board, and folded their arms. The customer with the basket lingered.

The first ring went up in a neat arc. It caught the top of a peg and dropped around it. For an instant it seemed settled. Then the lower edge struck the board, the ring tipped, and it jumped clear.

Lumix's hand remained open.

“It came back out,” said the woman with the basket.

“An independent spirit,” he said. “I respect that.”

“Throw it a bit lower,” someone behind him suggested.

The next ring went lower and struck the front of the board. Elly pressed their lips together. Lumix turned far enough to include the helpful stranger in his regard.

“We have established the lower limit.”

“Somewhere between the two, then.”

The stranger was enjoying himself. So was Lumix, though he took longer over the last ring. He rolled his shoulders, waited for a handcart to pass behind the growing little knot of people and sent it toward the middle peg. It struck the side, spun along the board and dropped off the back.

Elly let their breath out. They had wanted that one to land; when he leaned after it, they had leaned too.

“Another round?” asked the seller.

“Mine,” said Elly, taking out their coins.

Lumix moved aside. “The equipment assessor will now examine the premises.”

“I haven't submitted an invoice.”

The seller set three rings into Elly's hand. The wood was smooth where people had held it, rougher along the inside edge. From the throw line, the pegs looked closer together than they had from the side. Elly chose one near the front and made their first throw too short. The ring struck the board and lay still.

“A very thorough examination,” Lumix said.

“I'm working.”

“So I see.”

Elly glanced at him, and he put a hand over his mouth.

They tried the same peg again, a little farther, with less lift. The ring caught on one side and wavered. Elly's fingers tightened around their last ring. The thrown ring slid down and stopped with the peg through its center.

The seller nodded. “That counts.”

Elly looked back at Lumix.

He bowed.

They could have made him wait while they chose the finest thing on the shelf. Instead they threw their last ring and missed so badly that it rolled back toward the line. Lumix caught it with his foot and stooped to pick it up.

“You needn't have done that for me.”

“I didn't.”

“Even better.”

The prizes included a wooden cup, a pair of little boxes and a blue bird with its beak open. Elly chose the bird. Its feet were set so far forward that it seemed to be leaning back to address someone much taller than itself.

“We could make it best of three,” Lumix announced. “The winner—”

“Has already won.”

He turned toward Elly. Behind him, the seller accepted payment from the customer next in line.

“I was going to improve the wager.”

“I want my choice,” Elly said, quietly enough that he had to come closer. “And a kiss.”

His gaze left the bird. He began to turn them toward him.

“Somewhere else.”

“Ah.”

The little change in his voice pleased them more than the bow had. He gave the spectators a farewell large enough for a much bigger occasion and left before anyone could propose terms of their own. Elly carried the bird in one hand and his arm in the other.

They turned out of the market beneath the projecting upper floor of a house. A woman was shaking a cloth from a window farther along; the stall and its audience were behind the corner. Lumix slowed with them.

Elly opened their bag and tucked the bird into the folded cloth around the tools. He waited, looking down the lane, while they worked the cord shut. Then Elly laid a hand against the side of his face and turned his attention back.

“There,” they said.

He inclined his head. His hand came to their waist, and Elly stepped in, bringing the blue lining against their work shirt. They kissed him. He answered, and when Elly drew back far enough to look at him, he was smiling at them alone.

They had meant to say something about the ring toss. For the moment they could not remember what it was.

Lumix touched his mouth to theirs once more, lightly. Elly kept their hand on his face through it, feeling the small movement beneath the scales. Then they let it slide to his collar.

“I like this coat.”

“You haven't said.”

“I was busy.”

“I noticed.”

The woman down the lane drew her cloth back in. Elly smoothed the lining with their thumb, where it had turned outward.

“Music,” they said.

“Your choice.”

*   *   *

They found the musicians in a covered court with an open side facing a narrow street. The air under the roof was cooler than outside. A few people sat along the wall with cups between their feet; others were dancing in the clear middle of the floor. Elly paid at the entrance and set their bag beneath the bench where they intended to sit later.

Lumix was watching the dancers.

“Do you know it?” Elly asked.

“It looks straightforward.”

That was not an answer, but they wanted to try it too.

The tune had a long, lilting part over a firm little drumbeat. Partners moved sideways, came back and turned. Elly watched a woman in yellow count something against her partner's shoulder with two fingers. Then the pair turned, opening a space beside them.

Lumix offered his hands.

They began well. Elly could follow the side steps, and his balance made the movement easy. There was no need to pull or be pulled. They could feel where he was going before he arrived there.

Then he turned.

Elly was still traveling sideways. Their foot met his, and both stopped. He loosened his hold at once so they could move apart.

“You went early,” they said.

“The tune turned.”

“The tune isn't dancing with you.”

He laughed. Elly tried to show him the return, but the woman in yellow and her partner were coming through the place they had chosen. Elly stepped back to let them pass. They had missed something too.

“Go farther on the first bit,” the woman said. “Then you've room to come back.”

Her partner was still moving. She took two quick steps to catch him and turned under his hand.

“Like that.”

Elly watched their feet, then tried to watch their feet and the movement of their hands together. The musicians had already begun the phrase again. There was no spare repetition set aside for understanding it.

Lumix touched Elly's hand.

“Now?”

“Let's follow them.”

The pair traveled, returned and turned. Lumix and Elly traveled, nearly came back too soon, and managed the turn with their feet a little crowded together. The woman in yellow glanced round and nodded. Her partner said something about the pace of the tune. She answered him, and they moved away together.

The next time, Elly stopped looking down. They looked at Lumix instead, then beyond his shoulder, where sunlight through the open side made a bright strip on the floor. Each time they came back through it, the bronze of his face changed. His hand was steady around theirs. They moved into the cooler part of the court and out again, finding the return with the pressure of their feet rather than counting each step.

The musicians took the tune through a quicker passage. Elly lost the count but held the direction, and Lumix followed them until the familiar phrase returned. Then he looked toward the player with the little drum, and they knew he had found an idea.

He raised their joined hands and stepped wide, drawing their return into a broad circle.

Elly went with him for a step, then turned beneath his hand. They came out facing him and kept moving. Lumix turned after them to keep the hold. For a moment his coat spread beautifully, blue lining and all, and Elly laughed with the surprise of having made that happen. He caught up, already laughing, and the return took them both half a step farther than it should have.

They recovered close together. His hand settled against their back. Elly could feel the effort in their own breathing and the warmth of him through the thin cloth at their waist. The tune was still going. They went with it, making the turn smaller this time, and stayed until the musicians brought it to an end.

Applause scattered around the court. Lumix clapped above his head; Elly bent to pick up the bag from under the bench. They sat with it between their feet while he fetched water.

“You stole that,” he said when he returned.

“You weren't using it.”

“I was about to.”

Elly took a long drink. The water tasted faintly of the cup. They were warmer than they had expected and very pleased to be sitting down.

“You looked good in the middle.”

“Only in the middle?”

“I wasn't looking at the rest. I was busy.”

He sat beside them. The next tune began, slower, and the woman in yellow drew her reluctant partner back onto the floor. Elly leaned against Lumix's shoulder and watched them get going. The woman was talking throughout the first passage; her partner finally said something that made her stop and laugh into his chest.

Elly could have stayed for that tune. The cups were cool in their hands, and there was a place on the floor they now understood. Then a smell of browned food drifted in from the street, and they remembered how little they had eaten at midday.

“Your turn,” they said.

Lumix put his cup down at once.

“I thought you might never ask.”

*   *   *

The eating place was close enough that the music followed them for part of the walk. Lumix stopped at the door to read the board, though Elly suspected he had read it before coming to the yard.

“They have them.”

“The modest dishes?”

He opened the door for them.

There were little mushrooms baked in cream beneath a lid of pastry. The server said one dish would do for two if they ordered bread as well. Lumix ordered two, with bread, greens and something cool to drink. Elly looked at the price when she pointed it out, then at him. He had been wanting this since he had heard they were serving it. They could afford the meal. Elly settled back against the chair and let him finish.

Their table stood beside an open shutter. On the sill someone had set a cracked pot of herbs. Elly moved the bag clear of their feet, took out the wooden bird and placed it in front of Lumix.

He regarded it.

“Why is it looking at me?”

“Perhaps it recognizes you.”

“Only in poor light.”

Elly turned it sideways. With its backward lean and its beak raised, it seemed to be waiting for an objection.

“No,” Lumix said.

They set the bird on the folded napkin between the places. When the bread arrived, Lumix moved it so that it appeared to be addressing the loaf.

“Much better company.”

Elly broke off a piece. The crust caught against their fingers, still warm. For a while they ate bread and talked about his morning class. One of the people who had hired him wanted to practice alone before joining the others again, and Lumix was working out how to give him the time without making the rest wait. Elly suggested seeing him before the others arrived. He shook his head: the man could not arrive any earlier.

“Later, then?”

“I'll ask. He might stay.”

“And if he can't?”

“I don't know yet. He just doesn't want everyone watching him learn it.”

Elly looked at him over the bread.

“I know,” he said. “I have met people.”

They smiled and gave him the larger half.

The pastry arrived risen above the edges of the dishes, browned most deeply on one side. The server warned them about the handles. Lumix waited until she had cleared space for the greens, then broke into the nearer crust. Steam escaped with a smell of butter and mushrooms that made Elly set down their bread.

Under the pastry the cream had thickened around the little pale caps. Elly tried a mouthful and had to stop with their lips parted to let it cool. Across the table, Lumix was doing much the same. They looked at each other and neither attempted to speak.

The crust at his side was darker than theirs. He noticed them looking, took a mushroom carefully from beneath it and turned to draw the greens closer. Elly reached across and detached the best corner with their fork.

Lumix set the bowl down.

“Was there something there?”

“There still is.”

“On your fork.”

They held it over their own dish, where the cream could catch any flakes.

“I was keeping it safe.”

He extended his hand. Elly moved the fork a little farther away.

“Another afternoon.”

“You can have one without taking my dinner.”

“When?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“I'm assessing the rest of those frames.”

“After that?”

“You said you had the long class.”

He sat back to think. Elly took a small bite from the corner, mostly crisp pastry with a little cream clinging underneath.

“You're diminishing the value of the bargain.”

“It's cooling.”

“Five days,” he said. “I finish before noon.”

Elly considered. They had an assessment that morning, but only one, and the buyer was bringing the pieces to them. “Meet at home?”

“Yes.”

“And then we decide.”

“We might not get past taking our shoes off.”

Elly gave him the rest of the corner. “We'll see.”

He ate it, looking at them, and pushed his dish a little nearer the middle.

The greens were sharp enough to make the next mouthful of cream taste richer. Elly ate more than they had intended, then stopped for a while with their fork across the dish. Lumix was looking out of the window. A man below was trying to keep a stack of baskets upright while opening a door. Someone inside took the top two, and the stack disappeared after them.

“That was good,” Elly said.

“The mushrooms?”

“Those too.”

He turned back. They moved their foot against his beneath the table and left it there. He reached for another piece of bread.

The street grew busier for a little while and then quieter. A fresh group came in; the server opened the other shutter to let out some of the kitchen heat. Elly watched Lumix decide whether he wanted more pastry. His fork hovered, descended and came up with a much smaller piece than he had first approached.

“You can leave it,” they said.

“I don't want to.”

“Then take it home.”

He considered the remaining food as if this were an ingenious suggestion. When the server came, he asked her to pack it. She brought a shallow lidded container and waited while Elly moved the bird out of the way.

Lumix paid. Elly slipped the prize back beside their tools; he took the food, holding the container level while they got through the door. Outside, the warmth had gone from the paving. They walked close enough for their sleeves to brush, neither in a hurry to fill the quiet.

At a broad place in the street Lumix tried the side steps again. The container went with him, perfectly level. He came back, hesitated where the turn belonged, and looked at Elly.

They shifted the bag out of the way and took his free hand.

“From here,” they said.

They went sideways together, returned, and turned too soon.

Elly's foot met his. Lumix caught the container against his coat while they held on to each other, laughing, and took the wrong step again.