The watery sun was pleasant but not enough to warm the snowy streets. The cheerfulness of the townies was enough to counter the cold, them greeting each other with a word or flick of the hand. The storefront windows were decorated with garlands and glazed fruits, the reasons long-lost but always a welcomed change from the everyday.
Kalon paused, halting the pram she pushed. She twisted and gave Strauss a sympathetic smile as she waddled hastily to catch up, an arm supporting her large stomach.
“Do you want a rest?”
“I'll rest at the shop. I cannot believe I forgot to buy the roast! Some housewife I'm turning out to be.”
“You, my friend, are being far too hard on yourself.” Kalon leaned over the pram. “Auntie Strauss is much too tough on herself, isn't she, Mal?”
The baby–heavily bundled in shades of blue–stared silently with eyes still an indiscernible dark shade of blue-gray typical of newborns. He was still squished in features, but the way he stared–especially when he screamed–reminded Kalon of a displeased kitten.
“What is of great annoyance, is that you were not anywhere near as big and bumbling at six months.” Strauss stopped, catching her breath. “I do believe you still wore stilettos.”
“I did not! I stopped stilettos by month four, at least.”
“Heeled boots then. The chucky kind.”
“Well… I had no flat shoes at the time, if that is of any consolation.”
“No. No, it is not.” Strauss waved her dismissively. “Come on, can’t stop the momentum.”
Kalon kept her pace slow, glancing from Strauss to the pram to check on her companions. She squinted into the weak sun a moment.
“What time do you think it is?”
“Need to get back?”
“Not immediately, surely, but eventually. Gramps’s back is bothering him again. I’m holding the place down, and we’ve been so busy recently.”
“I bet it has to do with the rumors.” Strauss laughed at Kalon’s perplexed face. “Honestly. You curate history and yet you never know what people are whispering about.” She smiled into the pram. “Though, you’ve the best excuse for the last couple of weeks. Ah, the butcher! Oh, the crowd….”
“We’ll wait out here. It’ll be faster for you. And easier should I need to rush to work.”
She watched as Strauss tried to use her state to get near the counter, failing as elderly women blocked her path. She braced against a gust of wind and re-tucked one of the blankets around the baby. She tapped the window, gained her friend’s attention, and pointed down the road before giving her a small, departing wave.
The probability of some rumor being the driving force behind the recent crowds at the library was likely. Grams had started taking meals in her office.
“See? Told you the Gousa granddaughter was pregnant.”
Kalon halted, gripping tight to the pram. She inched backwards into the nearest doorway. There was a short pause, then–.
“And Pistachio didn’t shove her down the stairs? That’s the bigger shock of it.”
Two old women–Grams and Gramps’s generation–were slowly shuffling down the sidewalk towards her and Mal. They were wrapped in woolen coats and shawls, carrying cloth shopping bags on their arms.
“So true! It isn’t so unusual given how they let her run wild. Do you remember what she used to look like? Bits of metal shoved through her eyebrow. Dressing like a little tramp.”
Kalon’s shaking hand went to where she had worn her eyebrow bar. It had been more than a year since she put it in, growing bored with the ritual around the time she first met Innit. Khoa showing up bangaged as he had then may have influenced her a bit too. She had caught her bar on her own clothing occasionally.
“It’s no wonder they had no contact until they needed to. Wouldn’t be shocking if she was sent to them to straighten out and her orphanage was just coincidental.”
“Not that it worked. Poor, little infant. Imagine growing up knowing your mother was no better than a common–.”
The two elders caught sight of her and the pram nestled in the doorway. They regarded her, gave a nod at the pram, and shuffled on. Their voices now lowered in a hiss.
“Think she overheard?”
She bit her lip to stop it shaking. She put on a smile for Mal–him staring soundlessly up at her still–and wiped her eyes.
“Sorry, Mal. Mummy needs….”
She crouched down, stifling a sudden sob that burst from her mouth. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth in long, practiced breaths until the overwhelming, suffocating weight in her chest subsided. She climbed back to her feet with a final huff, wiped her eyes, and gave Mal a more genuine smile.
“Sorry. Grams said I’d have moments. I suppose that was one.” She peered into the sun. “I should learn to wear a watch.” She began walking. “I never was one for bracelets. Isn’t that odd? Necklaces and earrings, but not bracelets and rings.” She laughed at Mal’s disgruntled expression. “I promise you that I’m not mad. Crazy, as your father would say.”
They were near the library when Kalon remembered she needed another packet of diapers. She ducked her head in an attempt to conceal herself from the small crowd waiting outside the library door, rushing by to go to the corner shop.
She whispered apologizes to Mal as she repeatedly slammed the pram in the sides of the narrow door in her hurry to get out of the cold. She smiled warmly at the proprietor, receiving a curt nod and a side-eye. She hissed at the time on the clock, and brisky headed for the baby section.
“Gramps is going to be cross at me for opening late.” She tucked a pack of diapers beneath the pram. “We probably shouldn’t have gone with Auntie Strauss this morning. C’est la vie.” Her head swiveled. “Was there anything else? Pens? Wipes?”
She tossed wipes with the diapers. She glanced at the clock, gulped, and headed for the counter. Anything else would need to wait.
She jerked the pram to a stop to avoid smacking into the young man waiting at the counter. The suddeness jostled Mal from his soundless, staring stupor. His face smushed up, reddened, and his mouth opened–huffing in preparation to wail.
“No, no, no, shush.” Kalon leaned into the pram, patting his cheek lightly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. That was too fast. Shh.”
“Library girl?”
Her green eyes widened. She straightened, feeling a cold jolt down her spine as she faced a pair of odd eyes–hazel and brown. Her grip on the pram tightened when those eyes momentarily darted to Mal.
She grimaced. “Honestly, Khoa, how do you not remember my name?”
“It’s Kalon.” He shrugged. “Library girl is how I remember you. Just came out.”
Her grip loosened. He was not trying to pick a fight. There was a tiredness to him, but one that lacked irritability. Other than the small look that showed he saw Mal existed, he appeared disinterested and was not acting any differently towards her.
“Have you come to use the library? Is Bex cooking up something? I do believe it has been at least a year–.”
“I’m alone.”
There was no further explanation, and no confirmation if he was there to visit the library or just passing through town. She rocked on her toes, chewing at her questions, stealing looks at the clock and at Khoa’s face. He was thinner. Or her memories of him were not accurate.
“So sorry for the wait, sir.” The proprietor returned from the backroom with a small, glass jar. “Smelling salts are not a commonly recommended item. It took me some effort to locate them.”
Kalon eyed the jar, cocking her head. “Are they for your first aid kit?”
Khoa smirked at her as he silently handed over payment. He backed away, ignoring the proprietor’s thanks, and headed for the door.
“Good morning.” She placed the diapers and wipes on the counter. “Have you been very busy today?”
She tightened her grip on the pram once again at the coldness the proprietor stared at her with. She fished out currency to busy her hands, cooing to Mal who was back to his mild disgruntled expression but still with extra shine in his eyes.
“I was three years ahead of your father in school.”
“My–? Oh, is that so?” She forced a smile. “Did you know him well?”
“Enough to know how ashamed he’d be.” The proprietor snatched the currency away. “Have a good day, Miss Gousa.”
Her chest tightened as the overwhelmed feeling surged. She backed away from the counter, and forced the pram through the door, jostling and upsetting Mal. She tried apologizing, choking on her sobs. She pushed the pram quicker until she was jogging with it, tears streaming down her face and Mal screaming from inside.
Khoa leapt aside on the sidewalk. “What the–? Kalon? Where are–?”
She blubbered something at him–she could not say what or if it made any sense–as she ran by him. She cleared the crowd outside the library easily with the pram and shrieking baby. She pulled him from it once safely inside the library, abandoning the pram in the entryway.
She carried Mal down into the dwelling beneath the library. Her tears had stopped, now just stains on her face. She shushed the baby repeatedly as they took a chair in the living room. She hugged him to her chest, catching her breath.
“What is all this crying?” Grams popped out of her workspace. “Did you leave the patrons alone?”
“I… I didn’t….” She squeezed her eyes shut to stop new tears. “I’m s-sorry.”
Grams heaved a sigh, giving her a thump on the back. “Get a hold of yourself, girl. I know it is not fun in the least, but you still have work to do.” She gave her another pat. “Feed the baby, and then go open. You’ll both have quieted then.”
“O-okay. Th-thanks–.”
“And do not come back until at least lunch. I’ve too much work, and heaven knows Vern will try leaving that bed if you keep disturbing him. Understood, my dear?” She pointed a gnarled finger at Mal. “Behave for your mother.”
She took a breath, and gathered her cover to nurse Mal. She whispered and cooed at him while he ate, lulling him to calm and then to sleep. She placed him in his bassinet outside her door–her room too cramped to fit it. She hung a walkie-talkie with the ‘talk’ taped down over the bassinet, clipped the pair to her hip, and headed up.
The visitors filed in, murmuring annoyance at the wait. She waved them through with her bat, just to remind them of the consequences should they break the rules. She barely glanced at any of them, yawning and staring blankly with her bat-less hand on the walkie-talkie.
“You left these.”
Kalon started, blinking the tiredness from her eyes. It took a moment to piece together that Khoa was standing there holding the package of diapers and wipes.
“Oh. Yes. Thank you.” She laughed shakily. “I was in such a rush to open–.”
“Sure, because forgettin’ to grab the only thing on the counter is believable.” He deposited the items into her arms. “Goin’ off the blues… it’s a boy?”
She nodded, swallowing. “Yes. Malvern. Mal for short.”
“Is he Innit’s?”
The paper packaging audibly crinkled as she tightened her hold on the diapers. Her eyes darted to a pair entering, her ears catching hisses of whispers. The tightness returned to her chest, and her eyes prickled.
“Innit's? Of course not!” She forced a joyless laugh. “Haven't you heard? I'm the town whore. He could be anyone's.”
Khoa’s face was blank. “You ain't a whore.” He gave her a mirthless smirk. “You had, what, three guys?”
“...Two.”
Khoa laughed. “Yeah, I'm the whore of us standin’ here.” His eyes sharpened. “You can’t let them eat at you.”
Kalon stepped back, gulping at the lump in her throat. The surge of gratitude rose in her chest. She sniffed heartily, laughing at Khoa’s mildly disgusted expression.
“Apologies.” She clumsily wiped her eyes. “Why are you being so kind? It’s… well, unusual.”
“My mom let it eat at her.” He rubbed a shiny, reddish scar marring his palm. “I paid for it.”
She quickly studied the paper packaging of the diapers as his eyes went her way. She searched for what to say, but fragments of what that scar could mean–burned, reaction to a corrosive cut, disease–flit through her mind instead.
“Does Innit know?”
She huffed irritability. “I've already said that Mal isn't–.”
“I don't know why you're protectin’ him.” Khoa crossed his arms. “Or, maybe what I should ask is did you know the last time you saw him?”
She kept her eyes on her items, picking at the corner of the seal keeping the wipes enclosed with a turquoise nail. Her posture relaxed as Khoa leaned away.
“I give you credit for not trappin’ him.” He scratched at his jet hair. “He could’ve ended up walkin’ out on you both if you did. And then he’d just be ordinary scum instead of in the dark about all this.”
Her heart sank. “You… you believe he would’ve left me regardless?”
“Dice did a number on him. Can’t underestimate that level of survivor guilt.”
“You don’t call him Arios…? You didn’t know him, did you?”
“Briefly.” Khoa shrugged. “I ain't got much to say on him except that his glarin’ issue was he overestimated his friends. He should’ve figured in that they’d go nuts if he screwed off and died.”
The abrupt, deafening cry that blasted from her hip–Khoa and she both startling–dashed any follow up questions she dared ask. She frantically tried lowering the volume and juggling her items as she dashed for the door leading to the subterranean dwelling.
She released her arms, dropping everything onto a chair, and scooped Mal up.
“Ssh, Mal, I've got you. Are you wet? Hungry?”
Grams approached with her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. “Change him and take him up with you. You can’t let the visitors alone long.”
“Surely they won’t miss me for twenty minutes or so? They’re so absorbed–.”
“The chances of vandals are high.” She peered grimly as she raised the cup. “The most prevalent rumor is that the Foxcroft granddaughter is pregnant. The officials in Paris Colony are being oddly silent on it; more likelihood of it being true but it being too early for the announcement.”
She grabbed the shawl draped over the chair she typically fed Mal in, and hurried back to the stairs. She nearly collided with Khoa at the top.
He held up the wipes, irritability. “You dropped this.”
She snatched them and tossed them down the stairs. She brushed by Khoa, clutching Mal to her chest–him still whimpering over the lack of food.
“Is there a topic of interest to you, Khoa? I won’t charge a fee. As thanks for bringing me my belongings.”
“The info here… is better than the stuff on the ‘net?”
“Of course. That is often scrubbed, definitions changed, whole events or topics deleted.” She gestured to the walls upon walls of shelves. “This is tangible and forever. Well, so long as I stop people from stealing and destroying books.”
“Does this gratitude carry to the next time I’m in town?”
“No.”
“Fine.” He glanced away. “Whatever you’ve got on that immunodeficiency virus. Or any news about cures if I got to be specific. More recent the better.”
Kalon looked him over, slowly tightening her hold on Mal. Her lack of subtly was noted by way of Khoa bristling; his expression turning cagey.
“Does Innit…?”
“Know?” Khoa clicked his tongue. “Of course he knows.”
“No, no, does he… have it?” Her lip shook. “Is Mal sick? Babies do poorly with such things.”
Khoa glared. “Oh, so now he’s Innit’s?” He rolled his eyes. “You think Innit would do that? That he’d say nothing after sleepin’ with you? Or, hell, before? Wouldn't you've realized something ain't right already?”
“Khoa, please!” Her eyes prickled. “I don’t care if my asking is irrational, I’m asking!”
“No, he ain’t got it.” He grimaced. “I was the only one lucky enough.” He folded his arms. “Is that enough background info to get me these books?”
She reddened. “Yes, of course.” She hesitated. “How long–?”
“Seriously?”
She smiled sheepishly and shuffled off. She stroked Mal's fuzzy head, sucking in her relieved sobs. She draped her cover over herself and Mal so that she could feed him on the go, and set about to find Khoa his request as well as tend to the others.
---
Gramps was still down with back spasms the following morning. The crowd was as thick as before. Kalon opted to wear Mal in a sling rather than put him in his bed. The frenzy over this bit of gossip was palpable, and she would not risk vandals using her disappearing to tend to Mal to commit their crimes.
She forced a welcoming smile for the umpteenth time as the door was pushed open, allowing it to drop when she spotted Khoa. She gave him a puzzled frown.
“Back again?”
“I need a dictionary for all that you gave me yesterday.” He held out a fold of paper currency. “Whatever this’ll cover. It ain’t much, I know.”
“I’ll stretch it as need be if you hold Mal a moment or two when I need him off me.”
“I ain’t holdin’ your baby.”
“Please, Khoa, I’m not comfortable climbing the ladders with him yet. It’s not as if I can pass him to anyone else.”
He gave a disgruntled groan. “Fine.”
“Perfect!” She removed Mal from her baby-sling. “Just, hold him so.”
“Wait, now?”
“Support his head” She clamped Khoa’s arms around Mal. “That’ll do. Back in a jiff.” She skittered to a stop. “Just… don’t move. You’ll act as doorman too.”
“Kalon, wait a–.”
“I know exactly where the right reference is. No time at all. I swear.”
She was confident she heard Khoa make a curse at her as she hurried away. She hoped it was something Mal would not be able to remember, or else risk him repeating it at a much later date.
She was distracted from completing Khoa’s request several times on her way by others wanting an additional tome. She sped-walked back towards the entrance with a medical dictionary for the everyman firmly against her chest. Her heart blipped as Mal screeched; it reverberated off the ceiling.
She snickered. “Poor, Khoa.” She quickened her pace at another screech, her heart again jumping. “Poor, Mal.” She broke into a run as an angry buzz joined the next shriek. “Mal!”
A tall man was bearing down on Khoa with great agitation. He swiveled side to side, wanting to go around, but Khoa’s raised hackles caused pause. There were papers clearly sticking from his pockets and he carried three books under his arm.
Four more men hovered on the edges, standing on their toes, waiting for a chance to run through the doors.
“--big shove, and that’ll be it.” The tall man inched nearer. “You won’t be able to stop all of us and hold onto that screaming thing.”
Kalon pulled her retractable baton off her belt, still running full speed. She flicked it to extend, and whacked the tall man across the back. Across the backs of his knees. Again across his back now that he was down. Again. Again. Her heart was racing; Mal was still screaming.
“Kalon!” Khoa caught her wrist as she swung again. “Take your kid!”
She hastily pulled Mal into her, dropping her baton to shush and cradle him. He was quick to quiet–missing the familiarity of Kalon–which settled her nerves too. She went to apologize to Khoa, or joke about Mal’s tantrum, or further reprimand the vandal; whichever did not get the chance to form and the blood drained from her face.
The would-be vandal was attempting to stand, gasping in pain as he clutched his leg. Blood gushed from his bent nose, him spitting whenever too much fell into his mouth.
The state of him was not what caused Kalon dread. It was how Khoa stood bearing down over him with his knuckles white on the baton. There was a flush to his face and a burning glint in his sharp eyes.
Kalon laughed shakily, her hold on Mal tight. “Thanks, Khoa. I suspect the anti-theft message–.”
She jumped as Khoa cracked the baton across the vandal’s neck. Her green eyes searched the still body, heart thumping and breathing shallow.
Khoa’s expression was cold. His eyes darted to the other would-be vandals hovering in the corners. He rolled the one at his feet over with his foot, eliciting a sharp cry. His grip tightened on the baton. He reeled back his arm.
“Khoa!” She exhaled as he lowered his arm. “I’ll handle it from here. Your requested–.”
He dropped the baton, backed away, and rushed out the entrance.
She retrieved her baton, casting a steely look to those hovering. “Your mistake was thinking my baton would not hurt as much as my bat.” She adjusted Mal. “Set the books on that table, and be gone when I return.” She sneered at the man at her feet. “Take him too, or you’ll all face my grandfather’s pistol.”
She hurried outside, stopping just as quickly to stop from colliding into Khoa.
“I expected you to be long gone.” She shuffled closer. “I dropped the book you–.”
“It ain’t important.”
“Are you okay?”
Khoa nodded, keeping his eyes down. “Innit thinks he’s got all this darkness, thinks he’d go down any road to do what he needs…." He touched the tear-like scar from where he once had his lip piercing. "He’s got no clue that he followed Dice out into the light long ago without realizin’ it.” He took a breath. “You want me to tell Innit about the baby?”
She stroked Mal’s fuzzy head, running her finger down to his button nose. Her eyes prickled as a lump formed in her throat. She gave a small shake of her head.
“Mal deserves much more than what I can give on my own… but….”
“Innit won’t go back into the dark. I won’t let him.” He rubbed Mal’s hand with his thumb. “I might never see you again.” He stared at Kalon. “I think you’ll be fine.”
“You should check in just to be sure.”
Khoa snorted, smiled weakly, and disappeared down the street.
----------
Finally! This took forever. The end is in sight at last. Some notes: the paper packaging for the diapers is because the ones I use are packaged in paper. I figured eventually, all diapers would follow the European model and do paper packaging. (And this does take place in Europe anyway.)
Khoa was always a single mom kid. Back in 2017ish when I was filling in the gaps with Innit's background via Khoa, I had to figure out the dynamic of the four boys. Clover, Innit, and Novie had the standard married parents that abandoned them. Khoa was he single parent. I never fully figured out if Novie was orphaned very young and abandoned by an aunt and uncle, or if he was just the youngest of his parents' children so "off loaded". He was the only one with siblings though either way, and was dumped because he was the youngest. But, yeah, when I remembered Khoa was from a single mom I was like 'oh he's going to have feelings about this'.
Kalon being emotional and a bit irrational is because hormones suck, lol. Sometimes you'd just start crying and then (in my case) you sit there like... okay, why'd I do that?
The Castle of the Sunbird, September 2005
Where the Fault Lies, Part II, 2006
Mioko Del Mar, 2007?
Mioko, Sept 2002
Fire & Steel, 2005
