So, rebuilding the wirer for Naveen was not, in fact, terrible. Actually, getting that deep into the inner workings of a machine was fascinating. I mean, I've done teardowns before, but this was something else. Putting it back together was occasionally confusing—for all of us—but now I can really see how everything connects and I'm starting to wonder how just one person could have planned all this. Okay, maybe Da Vinci, but it is actually that complicated. And you… I guess you would've been fascinated to see the insides of this thing too. You weren't always too interested when I talked shop, but the few times I showed you things. I loved that odd little smile you had when you were figuring things out.
So, it's taken about a week and half, so I guess Naveen had a good idea how long it should take. Now it's late on Tuesday night—very late—but we've got it running, putting about a hundred bottles through to test it. If it works, we don't have to come back tomorrow. I'm behind the machine, watching the first bottle go through. We're inching it first so we can see the mechanisms at work. Then we'll run it at line speed. So first the magazine drops a wire on the bottle, and a pedestal lifts it against a cradle, then a hook comes down through the wire loop and twists around, then the hook lifts, and a nose-block presses the wire flat against the bottle. And it does all this while moving around a central carousel with 12 heads working simultaneously.
I told you it was complicated. I can't help the little grin I have. Especially now we're moving at line speed and it's wiring two bottles every second. Sure, the whole process might take six seconds, but there are twelve heads on the machine. You know what, I'm not 100% on the math either, but it's late. We kinda wanna go home. Well, we want this to work right so we can have a day off tomorrow, but mostly we want to go home. Less than a minute to get through the remainder of those hundred bottles.
Everything's working, and a quick system check proves it's not a fluke, so now all four of us just have to pack the tools in the van. Well, Kristoff and Maurice are doing most of the loading. Me and Audrey are checking for rogue tools where we've been working throughout the evening. We're clear, and while Audrey goes to wash her hands, I head back to hit the lights. Darkness does something… strange… to the production hall. I don't really know how to describe it, even after nearly twenty years. It's not dark, or haunted, or dangerous, or anything like that. It's more—I don't know, melancholic, maybe? It's something about the light. In the light it looks normal. In the darkness it just seems… empty isn't the right word. It's not like it's waiting either. It's something else; like this place knows it needs the light, but doesn't know why.
Shaking my head, I walk back through the workshop, also dark. Enough light comes in through the windows from the spotlights outside to see. I wash my hands in the dark, drying them on a rag before stepping out the side door. The van's already running, and they're waiting for me. With a tired sigh I pull myself into the passenger seat. At the main entrance security gives us the once over and Audrey and Maurice jump out, heading for their own vehicles. The guard gives us the thumbs up, and we're off.
"You feel like cooking tonight?" For some reason Kristoff doesn't sound nearly as tired as I feel. I just shake my head. "Take out?"
I shrug.
"We'd have to get changed to hit a restaurant—and you'd be waiting longer." Damn it, but he has a point.
"What about that chicken place?"
Kristoff glances at the clock on the dash. "Nah, they'll have shut half an hour ago."
I look at the clock on the dash. Ten. At night. What the hell happened to the time?
"Well, those tests took us at least half an hour, and so did tidying up. You know what it's like in there." He's right, I do. Doesn't mean I'm not grumpy about it sometimes.
"Okay, so options?"
"Well, we could cook something. Or buy some cheap takeout. And no, I'm not getting Joan to cook for us, it's late enough as it is."
"Hey, we both know she doesn't sleep until at least midnight."
"Beside the point. Hmm…"
"'Hmm…' what, Reindeer King?"
"What if we had a picnic?"
"It'll be midnight by the time you're ready for that."
"Lies. Anyway, I don't think Joan would mind too much if we just asked her to make some sandwiches and leave the biscuits out, right?"
"You just said I couldn't make her cook."
"It's not cooking. And how long do you think it'll take her to make half a dozen sandwiches anyway."
I look away, out the window, at the familiar lights passing us by. He's right, and while half my mind is already working on texting Joan, the other half is hoping the weather holds. And then there's that little part, hidden away, reminding me about the last picnic you and I had. At midnight, on the hospital roof. Last time we broke bread, and I swear you brought that crusty old loaf on purpose, but I can't avoid thinking about what happened afterwards. About how I entered that building as your wife, but left as your widow.
I knew it would happen, but I still wasn't prepared.
I can see the tears in my reflection, and I know Kristoff has noticed my sudden silence. I can't help it. He has to keep his mind on the road, and I know how much he wants to do something, anything, to help. I let the tears fall, sniffling slightly. I pat Kristoff's shoulder, enough that he knows I'll be okay, even though I'm not. I can't remember the rest of the drive, but I do remember the clouds clearing up when we got home.
And now we're both lying on a warm blanket on the cold lawn out the back, half-eaten sandwiches and half-drunk glasses of wine beside us. The air is getting chilly for October, but right now, I really don't mind. Kristoff has his arms around me, and I pull the blanket over the both of us, the rest of our wine going on the lawn. Kristoff laughs, pulling me closer. It's only wine, and maybe the grass'll grow half-cut. I have to explain why I'm sniggering, but it's worth it, both of us happy, cocooned in this blanket and each other.
"In the van," Kristoff asks softly. "What was it?"
"Our last picnic."
"Our—oh. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologise. I'm the mess here, and I won't have you taking credit for it," I kiss him on the cheek. "Besides, we have the day off tomorrow, and Joan's gonna be at school all day. Don't tell me you haven't made plans."
"Well there's getting the van tuned up, and I need a new shirt in case Audrey invites us to any more parties, and then Maurice had some tooling done that I can shift to the worksh—ow."
"And you didn't think to includ—"
"You must be tired," and he just gives me a look. Oh yes, he was most definitely teasing me. Like I've said, I expect no less from the people around me. And he's right, I'm damn tired. I think I might be falling asleep in this weird blanket/sleeping-bag thing. But, I'm getting older, and sleeping on the lawn isn't going to do my back any favours tomorrow. Untangling the blanket, I sit up slowly, nibbling on a sandwich that—I think—I was lying on. Yeah, I'm gonna need to wash a few things. From the look he's giving me, I think my husband is one of them.
It's now late on Wednesday afternoon, and I'm helping Joan prepare for the grand melee this weekend. I will admit that it's arrived rather faster than I thought it would. You might ask why we're packing on a Wednesday, as opposed to, say, Friday? Well, short answer is that the event also covers Friday. The slightly longer answer is that Joan will be staying to camp with the other kids she trains with. She even managed to get the doctor's okay to have her cast removed tomorrow—on the stipulation she avoids strenuous activity with that wrist for at least three to five days, or basically, the entire grand melee.
"I have been camping before, mom."
"Yes, but Phil insists that this will be an authentic medieval style camp, so you'd better brace yourself for a few things."
"I'm pretty sure they have to have modern toilets for hygiene reasons; grass isn't that terrible to sleep on; and the period clothes don't take that much effort to put on."
"Okay, you've probably got me on number 1—don't laugh, it's terrible—wet grass can be terrible to sleep on, sometimes, although sometimes if you fall asleep in the yard someone'll carry you idside. And lastly, you're thinking of the men's clothes. I wore one of those outfits to a ren faire once at Elsa's behest. I had to get her help dressing and undressing, I simply couldn't do it all myself."
"Just…" she starts angry, but trails off suddenly. It sounds weird when someone else does it.
"What, baby?"
"Just… let me make my own mistakes for this one," turning around to smile at me, she throws another piece of linen into her travel bag. "I won't learn anything if I you don't let me make some mistakes."
"Like running away with your girlfriend." I am a terrible person. I hope she can't see my smile.
"That's not—this isn't—it's different."
"I know." I hold up a bra she's flung across the room. "If you're going for period accuracy, you wouldn't be wearing these."
"I think I'm a bit young for your kind of corset."
"One: that is a normal corset, which can be underwear, outerwear, or sexywear dependin—"
"Eww."
"—and two: corsets can be made to size, and often were. Still are—I've seen a lot of cool steampunk stuff involving corsets."
"But that's steampunk. Also, you think a corset is a good idea?" and now she's turned pensive. "I mean, really, is it? Should I?"
"Well, it's a trade, either you're comfortable; or you're very dedicated to the role."
She takes the bra I'm holding without a second thought. "Comfort."
"That said, corsets aren't really uncomfortable. They just feel different. And help keep things up."
"Thanks, mom." The sarcasm could etch glass.
We get back to packing, only for her to stop suddenly and ask about the ren faire we went to. I explain that it's a way off in the story yet, but it is important—I don't tell her that until very recently I'd actually all but forgotten it. I also promise that when we're done packing—or maybe after dinner—I'll tell her more of our story. A few of the minor points, but still worthwhile. We were still learning so much about each other.
True to my word, I start talking after we've finished packing. We're lying on Joan's bed, and she's pretending like she isn't trying to snuggle against me right now. I make no comment on that.
"So, it was the weekend before we really spoke. Thinking about it, that was probably just the next day, because it was a Friday when Elsa found the necklace and…"
—∞—
I'd woken up before Elsa that morning. So early, in fact, that it was still dark outside. I refused to get up before the sun did. Elsa rolled to face me, still half-asleep, a pained smile crossing her lips. I kissed her forehead and shuffled a little closer. She reached out and pulled me close, breathing softly in the darkness. I mumbled something about not being awake. She mumbled something about me being a spoilsport. I closed my eyes once more, but wrapped my arms around her before she could turn away. I didn't want to wake up, but I wasn't about to say no to just cuddling each other in the pre-dawn light.
I felt it as Elsa rested her head against mine, her hair brushing my lips, making it very hard not to twitch or sneeze. I had no idea my bedhead was so glorious it was virtually up her nose too. That's not important though.
"Not a morning person, are you, Anniken?"
I mumbled a vaguely coherent response.
"Uh… Anna?"
Well, at least I thought it was coherent. I coughed, trying to clear my throat. "What gave me away?" My voice sounded very hoarse.
Elsa said nothing, just handed me the water from her nightstand. I guess it really was that bad. It's true though, I never have been a morning person—probably why I never did mind when we worked late shifts. I took a sip of water, and of course I nearly choked on it. I was, unfortunately, awake. Elsa was smiling at me.
"You did that on purpose."
"Maybe." She wasn't even trying to deny it. "You are awake. I did not say you had to get up."
Hmm… "So, you want me all to yourself this morning?"
"Until dawn," she smiled. "I want to talk, with nothing between us."
Now I was intrigued. "About what?"
"Anything. You ask first."
"Did you think about what killing you would have done to the person that hit you?" Oh, I was such an idiot, but it was the one thing—okay, one of several things—that I really wanted to know. And she had said anything.
I heard her taking in a deep breath, as if she was about to reply. She started to say something, stopped, started again, stopped mid-word, started, and then just shook her head. I was sure I'd blown it, yet again. This was not what people talked about before sunrise. I threw myself back against the pillows in frustration. Why do I keep doing this to her?
"Anna, it's okay," her hand found mine under the covers. "I just don't have an answer."
Not what I was expecting.
"Maybe try another question?"
A second chance? Well, I wasn't about to argue—and this time my brain was actually working. "Why did you decide on dance?"
"I like it. I'm good at it. It gives me freedom."
"You'd be freer if I hadn't broken your leg." Oh, God, why do I keep doing this?
"Maybe," she was ambivalent. "But free how?" She held up a hand to stop me talking. "Maybe I would be doing dance practice now. But maybe someone else hits me, and instead of finding you, I die."
"That's…"
"The truth, Anniken. It haunts me, sometimes." I saw her smile, so warm and bright, and the spark in her eyes, both so at odds with the weight of her words. "But you were always kind to me. Always. I tried to be silent. I acted like a bitch to drive you away. You always came back, and you were still nice to me. I couldn't see it—no, that's a lie—I didn't want to see it, but I was starting to fall for you. I could see your confusion as you started to fall for me, and it was strange—I did not think it would happen; you were married, after all, even if it was to that bastard."
"But it was you that saved me, Elsa. You gave me the strength to finally leave him."
"I did not mean for you to nearly die trying, however."
"You know why, and how."
"I do," she snuggled up next to me. "And I want to tell you my why, but I… I can't find the right words."
"I can think of three," I checked them off on my fingers as I spoke. "Cancer. Depression. Suicide."
"So very eloquent." she slapped my cheek playfully. "Maybe you are still only half awake."
I rolled on top of her, pinning her to the bed. I had some smart-ass comeback ready, but it was at that point I noticed just how close we were, and how little we were wearing. I saw the sudden flush of colour across her cheeks, and I could feel mine burning too. I didn't care. Our hair was in danger of getting tangled, copper strands falling about pale skin and twining with platinum locks. Our lips were dangerously close—so close I could feel the warmth of her breath against mine, and close enough that I could smell her—just her. Our lips met as she pulled me down on top of her, pressing our bodies together in all sorts of enjoyable ways.
I couldn't fight it as she rolled on top of me—I didn't want to either. I smiled. She kept saying she would be the one wearing the pants. Our lips lingered together, and as we pulled apart, I sighed.
"More of that and you might just turn me into a morning person."
She didn't reply, just pressed up close and rested her head against my shoulder. I wrapped an arm around her, and together we watched the sunrise through the curtains. It was less than spectacular, because, y'know, curtains. But neither of us felt like moving enough to open them. Neither of us felt like getting out of bed either. Unfortunately for both of us, my bladder decided it was the perfect time to wake up, and I had to leave. Elsa laughed softly behind me.
I was out in the back yard, finally mowing the lawns as the rain began. It wasn't irony, it was justice—I'd put off doing this chore for too long, and now I was being punished. At least it was only a light rain. Of course it also meant that any stray grass clippings stuck to me like glue, and that by the time I was done my clothes would be soaking wet. I still didn't like rain, but I was determined to get this done, and ten minutes later it was. I was also covered in stray grass clippings, and wet. Very, very wet. Because just as I was putting the mower away the heavens opened and dumped several olympic swimming pools on me.
Elsa waved to me from the back door, holding it open for me. Also keeping a careful six inches away to avoid getting drenched. She squealed and ran when she saw my smile. Slipping halfway across the kitchen floor gave her an even bigger lead. The bathroom door was open, and I'd heard footsteps upstairs. I stepped into the bathroom. The door slammed behind me, and I heard laughter from the other side. I could take a hint, and fifteen minutes later, showered and changed, I sat at the table eating a late lunch with my girlfriend.
It felt weird, using that word, no matter how accurate it was.
"Anniken, you said you were general engineer, yes?"
I nodded, swallowing a bite of my food. "I did, yes. Why?"
"Why?"
"I asked—oh, you mean why did I become an engineer?"
"Yes. I haven't seen any female engineers before."
"Never thought of it like that. But I guess it comes down to me always being good with machines, and I guess a bit tomboyish. And maybe I got along really well with a couple of kids in shop class. Oh, oh, and when I first tried welding I found out I was a natural. First thing in school I was actually really good at."
"You weren't good at school?"
"Well, math I was alright at, but everything else kinda sucked. Or not really sucked, but I just wasn't that interested in it. Stupid thing is, now I love learning about everything like that, so maybe it's something to do with school I didn't like, not the actual subjects, and anyway I was talking about welding, right? Yeah, so it was great learning to weld, especially TIG. I mean you know I'm kinda scattered at times, but with this I could just focus, and it was like everything else went away—I mean everything. All I had to do, all I needed to see, was the weld. Stick in one hand, torch in the other, it was amazing."
Elsa was frowning at me. "That sounds kind of silly. You mean you forget about everything else?"
"Hey, don't mock me—and yes, while I'm welding. So, what about you and dancing?"
"I like the freedom. I can express myself. All I have to concentrate on are the movements, and I can just—"
Her expression was priceless. I knew exactly what she was about to say, and so did she. She was not about to become the worlds biggest hypocrite. I gave her a knowing smile.
"I hate you right now, Anniken." I could see her smile as she frowned. "I have to take all that back."
"Or we're both silly, and lose ourselves in the moment, right?" my smile grew as her cheeks flushed. "Right?"
—∞—
"What, mom, you're just gonna leave it there?!"
"Do you have a good reason why I shouldn't, miss?"
"Umm… how about Elsa's reaction? Or whatever happened after lunch?"
"To the first, a great deal of embarrassment. To the second, I really can't remember. Probably crappy Saturday afternoon TV. Or maybe reading."
"No really deep conversations? No asking Elsa terrible questions? Elsa didn't try teasing you? Pillow fights?"
"No."
"That sounds…" I knew she was looking for a better word. "Boring."
"Sometimes life is, baby. Sometimes you need a bit of boredom though. After everything I'd been through that week, a boring weekend was actually really good for me. It gave me time to think, and process everything. Or at least it let me see things a little more clearly by the following week."
"So… boring is good sometimes?"
"Sometimes," I nod slowly. "But life has a way of making things interesting at the strangest times."
"Like finding out you're bi when you're sitting next to someone you nearly killed?"
The look my daughter just gave me…
"Go ahead, mom, tell me I'm wrong…"
Well, I did say life made things interesting. Sometimes I still am such an idiot—and I know you wouldn't have it any other way, smiling at me, all the way up there.
