The City of Mirrors
Page 22

“The one with the sailboat?”
He laughed. “That’s me.”
“Please tell me you’re staying,” Sara said.
“Just a couple of days.”
She shook her head and sighed. “I guess I’ll have to take what I can get.” She was clutching his upper arm as if he might float away. “I’m off in an hour. Don’t go anywhere, okay? I know you, Michael. I mean it.”
—
He waited for her, and together they walked to the apartment. How odd it was to be back on dry land, with its disconcerting stillness underfoot. After three years mostly alone, the hum of so much packed humanity felt like something scraping his skin. He did his best to conceal his agitation, believing it would pass, though he also wondered if his time at sea had wrought a fundamental change in his temperament that would bar him from ever living among people again.
With a stab of guilt, he noted how much Kate had changed. The baby in her was gone; even her curls had straightened. The two of them played go-to with Hollis while Sara made supper; when dinner was over, Michael got into bed with her to tell her a story. Not a story from a book: Kate demanded something from real life, a tale of his adventures at sea.
He chose the story of the whale. This was something that had happened about six months before, far out in the Gulf. It was late at night, the water calm and gleaming beneath a full moon, when his boat began to lift, as if the sea were rising. A dark bulge emerged off his port side. At first he didn’t know what it was. He had read about whales but never seen one, and his sense of such a creature’s dimensions was vague, even disbelieving. How could something so big be alive? As the whale slowly breached the surface, a spout of water shot from its head; the creature rolled lazily onto its side, one massive flipper lifting clear. Its flanks, shiny and black, were encrusted with barnacles. Michael was too amazed to be afraid; only later did it occur to him that with one slap of its tail, the whale could have shattered his boat to pieces.
Kate was staring at him, wide-eyed. “What happened?”
Well, Michael went on, that was the funny thing. He had expected the whale to move on, but it didn’t. For nearly an hour it ran alongside the Nautilus. Occasionally it would duck its enormous head beneath the surface, only to reappear a few moments later with a spout from its blowhole, like a big wet sneeze. Then, as the moon was setting, the creature descended and did not reappear. Michael waited. Was it finally gone? Several minutes passed; he began to relax. Then, with an explosion of seawater, it reared upward off his starboard bow, hurling its massive body high into the air. It was, Michael said, like watching a city lift into the sky. See what I can do? Don’t mess with me, brother. It crashed back down with a second detonation that blasted him broadside and left him drenched. He never saw it again.
Kate was smiling. “I get it. He was playing a joke on you.”
Michael laughed. “I guess maybe he was.”
He kissed her good night and returned to the main room, where Hollis and Sara were putting up the last of the dishes. The power had been cut for the night; a pair of candles flickered on the table, exuding greasy trails of smoke.
“She’s quite a kid.”
“Hollis gets the credit,” Sara said. “I’m so busy at the hospital I sometimes feel like I barely see her.”
Hollis grinned. “It’s true.”
“I hope a mat on the floor is all right,” Sara said. “If I’d known you were coming, I could have gotten a proper cot from the hospital.”
“Are you kidding? I usually sleep sitting up. I’m not even sure I actually sleep anymore.”
Sara was wiping down the stove with a cloth. A little too aggressively—Michael could sense her frustration. It was an old conversation.
“Look,” Michael said, “you don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”
Sara exhaled sharply. “Hollis, talk to him. I know I won’t get anywhere.”
The man shrugged helplessly. “What do you want me to say?”
“How about ‘People love you, stop trying to get yourself killed.’ ”
“It’s not like that,” Michael said.
“What Sara is trying to say,” Hollis interjected, “is we all hope you’re being careful.”
“No, that’s not at all what I’m saying.” She looked at Michael. “Is it Lore? Is that the reason?”
“Lore has nothing to do with it.”
“Then tell me, because I’d really like to understand this, Michael.”
How should he explain himself? His reasons were so tangled together that they weren’t anything he could assemble into an argument. “It just feels right. That’s all I can say.”
She resumed her overzealous scrubbing. “So you feel like you should be scaring the hell out of me.”
Michael reached for her, but she shook him away. “Sara—”
“Don’t.” She refused to look at him. “Don’t tell me this is okay. Don’t tell me any of this is okay. Goddamnit, I told myself I wouldn’t do this. I have to get up early.”
Hollis moved in behind her. He placed one hand on her shoulder, the other on the rag, bringing it to a halt and gently taking it from her hand. “We’ve talked about this. You’ve got to let him be.”
“Oh, listen to you. You probably think it’s just great.”
Sara had begun to cry. Hollis turned her around and drew her into him. He looked past her shoulder at Michael, who was standing awkwardly by the table. “She’s just worn out is all. Maybe you could give us a minute?”