London Harmony: Small Fry (13 page)

I shook my head and gave an embarrassed smile to my sisters.  “Mine.  It's all my fault.”

Vannie cocked her head.  I knew her more than anyone, and could read volumes in the simple motion.  She never spoke much because she never really needed to.  I nodded at her and said, “I think I fucked it all up with Tash.”  Then I explained everything to the women.

I was finishing up, fighting off a fresh round of tears as I tried to text Tasha again as I spoke, when someone said, “Welcome to McDonald's, may I take your order.”  I looked around, June hadn't driven us to our condo. Instead we were at the golden arches?

She ordered three breakfast sandwiches and three coffees.  As we pulled up to the window, she grinned at me in the mirror.  “A good cry always makes me hungry.  I didn't want to interrupt your story by going home.”

We parked in the parking lot and ate.  I actually was hungry this soon after breakfast, I guess crying burns a lot of calories.  I was feeling much better and calmer though I couldn't stop the almost physical ache in my chest knowing I had inadvertently damaged my relationship with the most amazing woman I knew, maybe irreparably.

June inhaled deeply then looked between Vanessa and I.  “When people feel at their lowest, they are a little irrational when it comes to their pride.”

She gave a cheesy grin aimed at Vanessa, who smirked back at her and said, “Watch it, woman, I will end you.”

June grinned. “And I will cuddle you.”

Vanessa gave up one of her genuine smiles and said, “Done.  Fair trade.”  And she crinkled her nose.  I rolled my eyes, they were so sugary sweet around each other.

Then Vannie sighed and looked between June and me and then nodded once.  Speaking ten thousand words in that gesture.  She had enough pride for ten people, even when we were reduced to stealing.  It was June that gave her the strength to swallow that pride and ask for help.  She knew the kind of damage something simple like believing I had betrayed her could do to Tash.  It may seem over reactionary to outside observers, who might even think it is silly, but when pride is the only currency you have left in the world, it is a huge thing.

It was going to come down to how much, deep down in her soul, she wanted to grasp the hands offered her, and the strength of our connection.

I shook my head at her.  “When did you get to be so smart and guru like?”

Van grinned.  “Where do you think you get it from?”

Then I voiced my inner fear in a half-choked whisper, “What if... what if she doesn't come back to me?

June said, “Give her time.”  Then she shot a crinkled nose smile in the mirror back to Vannie.

I put my face in may hands, shaking my head and teasing, “Oh good god, I don't have years like you two slow moving glaciers.”  I blinked as they chuckled.  How the hell did they get me joking and teasing when I felt so bad?  I had to smile as I already knew the answer; that's what sisters are for.

Time... I would give her time.  I shot her a text message to call me anyway.

Then Vannie looked at the time on her cell then at me.  I took a deep breath and sighed then nodded.  “Yes, my proof of concept milestone meeting starts in thirty minutes.  I'm okay.  It just hurts.”

June chuckled.  “I thought I was the only one that could do those wordless conversations with you, Nessie.  Now I don't feel as special anymore.”  My sis just gave a toothy grin and wink to her eyes in the mirror.  Then June glanced back.  “Let's get you back to school.  I promise, one way or another, this is all going to work out.”  I nodded, hoping she was right.

Natasha wouldn't return any texts all day, and she wasn't at the archive when I got to work.  It was clear she was avoiding me.  I left a piece of paper in her cubby that just had a tiny heart drawn in the center of it with an F next to it.

I was so distracted that it took Harold to re-focus me when he pointed out I had pulled the wrong book for a requisition sheet.  I had puled the Political Landscape of the Ming Dynasty Volume Two instead of Three.  I paid better attention after that.  It was my first mispull at the Archives.

I knew I was only dreaming, but I was hoping she'd be willing to talk by the time I went to Thursday Night.  No such luck, Max and I waited at our room until the last possible minute.  I had explained to her what was going on and she was supportive.  “You don't see the way she looks at you when your back is turned Fran, her conflicted feelings will fade and she will come back.  You can't fake the emotions written in her eyes.”  I hoped she was right.

I was about to voice my insecurity about the whole thing when there was a knock at the door.  I was up and to the door before they finished.  I blurted, “Tash?” To a startled Amy, who was still knocking on the air.

She blinked. “Umm... no.  Amy.”

I grinned at her and shook my head.  “Sorry, lady.  I was just hoping you were...”

She finished for me.  “Tash.”  I nodded in embarrassment, and she shook her head.  “Nope, not your turtledove.”

Max met us at the door and we headed out to the marina.  Max and I just let her know that I had just gotten Tasha mad at me. However, the woman was way too observant, way too intelligent, and way too intuitive.  She shared that she had deduced my girl's circumstances from broken pieces of conversations or slipped words here and there over the past few days.

This made me wonder just how many people back in school in New York knew about me but never said anything back when I was living on the streets.  So we filled Amy in.  She hugged the romance book she brought along and focused to my left and said, “Love is love.  And love is far too fragile a thing when pride is in the picture.  When people realize this and get around it, then love is stronger than anything in existence.”

I asked as I turned the car into the marina parking lot, “Who said anything about love?”

She shrugged and sighed, then looked at her book and said, “Your eyes, and your tears.”

I looked at her then wiped my wet cheek.  “Smartass Brit.”

She grinned back at me. “Sodding Yank.”

Then we made our way to the Water Witch, with me wondering the whole time what Tash was doing at that moment.  I texted, “Thursday Night, wish you were here.”

I had to deal with a frantic Paya the moment we set foot on the houseboat.  The grapevine, i.e.,. my sisters, had filled her in.  I had never seen Paya in that state, she is always playfully in control of any situation.  She could have you doing anything she wants you to do with a smile and a, “Yes Paya,” and not even knowing how she did it.

She was so upset that she inadvertently caused any friction between Tasha and I.  “I had just assumed you two had talked about it.”

I had to calm her by grabbing her hands and giving them a little squeeze and smiling as I said, “It's not your fault.”

Then I held my arms wide.  She grinned and hugged me, and we both giggled when we heard Zilrita exclaim from half way across the upper deck, “Ooo hugs!  I want one!”

Paya gave me a crinkling smile and asked, “Does that bird have hug radar or something?”  I nodded emphatically as we were both pulled into a 'Zilrita Special', a group squid hug.

I was distracted from the movie, looking into the city in the direction of the Archives, where my heart was.

The following days were a special level of hell for me.  Tash wouldn't return any calls, each day at the Archives I would peek into her cubby to see the paper I drew a heart on for her each day was crumbled in the middle of the floor.  She sat on the far side of the back row in the English Literature lecture hall and refused to even look at me.

She just sank away into her sweaters, even covering her fingers as she bunched up the sleeves like she just wanted to melt away.  The was the most heart breaking to me, she had been slowly coming out of her shell before I fucked it all up.

Tim, who was oblivious to the world around him, even noticed my blue mood.  I didn't have much energy or excitement for the project anymore.  The only thing keeping me just going through the motions was the fact that this whole thing was for her.  If I couldn't fix us, then she would never know.

We had successfully presented our proof of concept stage of the project to the Dean and my instructors, and they were excited about the project and signed off for the next phase.  They were babbling about the prestige the college would have with a Chelsea student spearheading the revolutionary idea.

Harold was concerned at the change of my personality, he said I was so reserved now and the bubbly young work study American I had been seemed to have vanished.  He asked if there was anything he could do.

I shook my head and said, “No, but thank you for asking.  I think I may have had a breakup.  I'll be okay eventually.”  I tried to be a little more upbeat for the man, I really did count him as a friend and I didn't need to be bringing him down too.

I took a moment to reflect on myself, was this what depression was like?  If so, I hated the affliction more than I had before.

After another week, it was a Saturday when the straw broke the camel's back.  I was listening to some recordings Vannie had made the prior night at an underground rave, to see if there was any promising talent.  Everyone says that I have Vannie's ear, and I have even scouted one of the artists for the studio.

I always thought I would wind up being a scout at London Harmony just like my big sis.  I was reserving that determination until after I finished college.  If I were still as excited about it then, then it would be my chosen profession, if not, it would still be something I loved to do as I pursued an alternate career.

June had walked over to where I sat with Vannie, both of us lost in the music playing on our headphones and she tapped her ear.  We both paused our music and removed the headphones and looked at her.  She asked, “Frannie, Peter is working on the marketing blurbs for my new J8 track, what's a good term to use instead of innovative?  That word always sounds pretentious to me.”

I said, “Dunno, anything is good.”  I swear Vannie stopped breathing and her eyes snapped to me and June slapped the desktop so loud it sounded like a clap of thunder.

My eyes went wide and June hissed. “That's it!  This ends now!  You've even lost your love for words.  Talk to her Fran, force the issue.  You need to resolve this one way or another because it is unhealthy, I feel like you are dying one little piece at a time and I'm not going to just sit by and watch it happen.  No to someone I love.”

I felt tears welling up.  “But she's avoiding me.  I hear she even requested a transfer from our only class together.  How can I even try to apologize if she won't even see me?”

Vannie's lips slowly curled into a devious smile as she turned her head to June, who just smirked back.  June looked at me and simply said, “I've got this shit.”

Another week had gone by as I sat in my space late Saturday afternoon.  It was exhausting, avoiding Fran.  She was everywhere, even in my thoughts and dreams and it was so bloody painful.  I was second and third guessing myself.  She really couldn't have betrayed my trust could she have?  I had fallen for her so completely, she had to feel the same shouldn't she?  Was she really ashamed of me?

Every day she texted, and every day she left a little heart in my space.  I came in late every night after the Archives closed to avoid her.  It hurt far too much to see her in class and I had asked for a transfer if space became available in another American Literature class.  I could shuffle my schedule.

Whenever I glanced over to see her blonde mane in that red bandanna, which I knew she wore only for me, the tears would threaten, and the fist in my gut would tighten again.  I had even gone to the marina and watched the movie on Thursday Night from a distance.  I left half way through.

I looked down at my math book and tried to study as I listened to the music Fran had given me.  I closed the book, my heart wasn't in it.  It wasn't into anything, I think I had lost it when I lost her.  I sat up with a start when I heard a banging and June's voice calling out from the far side of the attic, “Rocky!  Where are you?  Don't make me walk this maze!”

I tried to make myself small and melt away.  The woman just kept calling out, it was obvious that she wasn't going to give up.  I finally stood and started trudging through the bloody labyrinth, not trusting myself since I was so bloody emotional.  Twitching my right and left hands to count the turns.

I got to Cross Row 1 and stayed out of sight at the gap.  “What do you want?  How did you get in here?”

She called back, “What I want, is to show you something.  How I got in here?  Jun-seo let me in.  The man is extremely loquacious and couldn't stop talking about you.  About how he's been worried about you the past few days.”

Jun-seo?  Wait, is that Mr. Myong's first name?  Loquacious?  He's never said a single word to me or anyone else as far as I know since he met me the first time Auntie brought me in to see the Archives all those years ago.

I closed my eyes and smiled in spite of myself.  This woman was June Harris-West.  There are still urban legends floating around about all the impossible things her June's Eight had accomplished in New York.  So I guess getting one sweet old man to talk wouldn't be much of a feat for someone like her.

I peeked out and she was standing at the end of the row looking through the opening.  She actually smiled though she sounded angry earlier.  And her voice was warm as she said, “There she is.”

I inventoried her, even though I knew it was her.  It was just a lifelong habit to continually reassure myself.  There was her wife's bracelet and she was wearing her Converse, like always.  “You said you had to show me something?”

She nodded and said, “Yup.  Come on lady, time is wasting.”

She started walking toward the stairs and paused when I didn't follow.  I squeaked. “It is somewhere else?”  She just gave me a goofy 'duh' face and bobbled her head in a silly manner.  I hate myself for smiling, she was with the enemy.  Bloody hell, did I consider Frannie, my enemy?  No... no, I didn't.  I glanced at June and cut back a sob that I didn't understand.  But then I suddenly got it.  June being here represented something I didn't dare believe in.  Hope.

I pulled my jacket tightly around me and zipped it then bunched up the sleeves in my hands and shuffled out after her, keeping my eyes down, trying to make myself small so the world wouldn't see me.  Why was I even following her?

Her car wasn't in the car park, she just walked beside me toward the Chelsea campus.  Half way there she bumped my hip and said, “You look like you are in a funeral march. Stop hiding yourself away or I'll duct tape your sleeves out of your reach.”  I glanced up at the superstar and she cocked an eyebrow in a dare.  I let go of my sleeves and the bloody bird smiled off into the air like she had won some great prize.

I glanced over and tried to really take in her face, but like my entire life, it just became the only face in my life and I had nothing to compare it to.  I can't tell you the kind of frustration that gestates in a person.  Knowing your brain is broken and wondering what else may be wired wrong in there.  I can remember everything about a person except what they look like.  I can read books and not picture a face from a description.  I always wonder what kind of bad person I must be to deserve an affliction like this.

I sometimes wonder if it wouldn't be better if I were truly blind, then there wouldn't be that expectation that I will somehow recognize someone close to me.  That is only wishing for the impossible.  I know because I had that hope for years, only to have it dashed time and again when I fail to recognize my own aunt walking across the street in a new jacket or something just as insignificant.

June was pretty, I knew that, but I also knew I'd loose that the moment I looked away, except for the fact that she is pretty.  I would always remember her purposeful stride, and the way she carried herself, and her body language.  Those aspects, her bracelet, and shoes were June in my mind.  Her hair for now, but people change hairstyles so I learned not to depend on it for visual identification.

We got up to the main entrance, and I was about to tell her that my student ID wouldn't work on the door on a weekend, we'd have to go tot the student entrance, when the door swung open.  I glanced at a man in a dark grey janitor's uniform.  I appraised him, but there wasn't anything I recognized about the burly man.  He looked in his fifties and he just turned away and started swabbing the floors with the mop he had in his hands.  So I assumed I didn't know him and then I found myself in motion.

June used my distraction to capture one of my arms in hers.  She was a tricky one, she knew I was trying to keep my distance, trying to keep my mad on.  She patted my arm in the crook of hers and said, “That's my brand new friend, Horace.  The weekend custodian here at Chelsea.”  Then she gave a truly fearsome yet delightful grin and added, “He does a great inverse Gandolf for twenty quid.”

I furrowed my brow and she did a fairly passable impersonation of the old wizard in the Lord of the Rings movies. “You shall pass!”  And she brought her free hand down like she was slamming a staff down.  Then I stutter stepped.  We weren't supposed to be in here?  I couldn't afford to get in trouble with the college, graduating from Chelsea was my only hope of returning to some sort of normal life.

Then I made some sort of squeak as she tugged me back into motion.  “It's ok, you're with Francine's SmartCanvas project today.  Official beta tester.  We just needed someone at the door to let us in so we didn't bother the Tinman.”

SmartCanvas?  Like in the museums?  What did Fran have to do with that?  She would have been like thirteen when Brandye Franklin-Callahan wowed the art world with that invention.  And I know from the little Fran had let slip that her project had something to do with music, not paintings.

We stopped at the Private Project Lab that Fran never let me into and she knocked.  A few seconds later a tall man opened the door.  I did a quick inventory of him, he was familiar, but I didn't feel I knew him.  June introduced us, “Rocky, this is Tim Phearson, CEO of Phearson Prosthetic and Robotics.  Tinman, this is Natasha Reed.”  I shook the offered hand.  Holy cow, this was the man who made Skylar Roth's artificial leg!

He said, “Pleased to meet you.”  His eyes followed mine as I inventoried the man.  He squinted and looked back at the conference table, where some sort of contraption sat, then back at me and a small smile spread on his face.

I parroted his words and June dragged me over to the conference table and sat me in front of the contraption.  I glanced two chairs over, and there was a blonde woman sitting there with an impassive look on her face.  It was a pretty face.  I looked for visual clues as to her identity, but I was pretty sure I had never met her, just like Tim.

She wore round glasses that sort of reminded me of Amy's.  Dangling gold earrings that looked an awful lot like the style Max wore.  Her blonde hair was tied up in a tight bun so it wasn't any help.  She wore a gorgeous, high end, pinstriped business skirt suit that was similar to the one Jen had worn the day I met her.  She wore charcoal grey stilettos and her feet were crossed demurely at her ankles.

Her posture was straight and rigid and the woman had virtually no body language at all.  Now that I understood my own sexuality, I could admit that I would find her sexy if not for her rigid, no nonsense posture and expression.

Tim sat between us as June said, “Tasha, Clara Oswald.  Clara, Tasha.”  Clara Oswald like the Doctor's companion?  Clara shot a scathing look at June though she seemed to put an effort into schooling her face.  Was she one of those stick up the ass control freak types?

June stuck her tongue out at the woman and said, “She's Tim's assistant today.”  Tim sat back as I offered my hand.  She stiffly took it, shook quickly, and released it.

I said, “Pleased to meet you.”  She simply nodded once in response.  Then Tim cleared his throat.

June spoke up, “Before we start the show and tell, I want to clear the air a bit.”  If possible Clara sat even straighter and her blue eyes widened a bit.  Was it panic or disapproval?

June seemed nonplussed and continued, “So you know, I love my little sis.  Small Fry means the world to me.”  This much I knew.  She took a breath and thought a moment then said, “She didn't betray your trust.”  She held up a hand to prevent me from responding.  “Paya is a smart woman.  Fran was just getting information about the programs for you for the future, in case you ever decided you wanted to pursue that avenue.  She never told Paya who it was for.  But as I said, Paya is kind of scary smart and figured it out all on her own.”

She exhaled and said, “Fran would never do anything to betray you.  She sort of loves you, you know.  She knows how fragile pride can be when it is the last thing a person has.”  Love?

Then she looked at me with a grin. “When you are young, you're not half as smart or tricky as you think you are.  Lots of us were clued into your situation, Frannie didn't need to say a word.  But we all love you and don't care about your living situation, except that we would all jump to give a hand if you ever asked.  That was Small Fry too.  She has a unique perspective on the subject I could never possibly know.”

I was blushing profusely, wanting to shrink away into my chair.  She was revealing everything in front of two strangers.  I started chewing on my jacket sleeve as I bunched it up in my fist.  I wanted to die right there.

She must have read this.  She took my hand before I could react.  Causing me to release the sleeve.  She gave a soft smile.  “This lot knows because of Francine's brainchild here.”  She motioned her free hand to the gizmo.  “This project is her gift for you.  Her magnum opus.  It says the three words to you she is scared to say.”

Then she almost growled, “I hate seeing both of you hurting.  I want you to see what she has created for you then either forgive her or leave her.  But make a clear decision so that neither of you suffers anymore heartache.  I want my Small Fry back one way or another.”

Then she cocked an eyebrow in question. “Deal?”  I nodded once hesitantly as I tried to figure out the turbulent emotions threatening to make me flee.

She gave my hand a squeeze and released it and nudged her chin toward Tim.  The man took his cue.  When he spoke, I got the impression the bloke wasn't really comfortable speaking with people. “Are you familiar with SmartCanvas and the new world of art it opened for blind people and people with limited vision?”

I nodded.  He looked at the contraption then back at me.  “You understand that music isn't just an audio medium, right?”  I squinted and he explained, “Musicians are entertainers, if it were simply about the music, then there would be no need for live concerts and the ilk.”

He seemed to think and he glanced at Clara, who hadn't moved a muscle, then back at me.  “Music is an experience.  People want to feel the beat, see the joy on the musician's faces as they sing. It is hard to experience for some people.  Whether you have varying degrees of blindness or deafness, or suffer from cognitive facial recognition afflictions like you do, you are not getting the whole experience.”

Then he smiled.  The first human emotion he had exhibited.  “Francine devised a way that we could use SmartCanvas to allow the deaf, blind, or face blind a way to experience music in a way they never could before.  She is driven, like a mad woman.”  The blonde kicked his shin and he grinned.  “She is so emphatic about this project working.  All for a girl.”

He tilted his head at me and said softer, “All for a girl who cannot store faces in her head.  A girl who shared that if she could feel a face, it was something she could remember.”  Why was my heart racing so fast?  I could feel it pulsing in my neck, was that healthy?

He smirked. “The fact that the concept is going to blow the lid off of the music industry by making it more accessible to so many people who suffer from a wide array of afflictions, is just icing on the cake for her.  So long as she could give it to her Brit girl.”

I was breathing deeply now and I had to force calm upon myself so I didn't hyper ventilate.  Tim tapped a finger on a pad in front of me that looked like canvas stretched over a metal frame.  “Place a hand there, please.  You get to be our first beta tester since you are in our target group.”