Satisfaction Guaranteed

by Samantha M. Derr

  "I'm so sorry," Hennen said, still patting my shoulder, his cane clamped awkwardly against his chest. "Are you hurt?"

  I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I cleared my throat and tried again, managing no more than a barely audible, "No."

  "I'm so glad. Here," he said, lowering his cane to the ground to lean on as he held out his hand, "let me help you up."

  Not daring myself to say another word, I stared at the hand and only barely stopped myself from giggling. The idea that Hennen, slight as he was, could help me and all my bulk up was ever so funny. I cleared my throat again and thanked him before dragging myself to my feet.

  Hennen frowned. "Marek?" he asked.

  "Yes." My voice sounded frail. How had he recognised it?

  "Are you sure you're not hurt?"

  "Sore knees and scratched hands, is all."

  Hennen reached out, latched on to one of my hands. I thought my heart had stopped. His hand was chilled from the wind, but his touch nearly scorched me. I held my breath as he gently ran his thumb across my palm. "No bleeding?" he asked.

  "No." My face heated as my voice squeaked its way through that one tiny word.

  "Good. Now, you must let me buy you a drink as repentance."

  Even if my voice squeaked and the heat in my face wouldn't fade any time soon, my Sunday was just looking up.

  *~*~*

  I'd never visited this tearoom before. Polished dark wood, fancy yellow and orange curtains framing ceiling high windows, and high-backed benches that made the seating arrangements look more like private booths. It was all very posh, and expensive, no doubt. The people around us—all better dressed than I was—were softly chatting, and I couldn't shake the feeling they were watching me, judging me, despite the high-backed chairs blocking most everyone from view. I preferred the cheap tea-stand across the park which was run by a little old lady I talked to every now and then, a drifter like me.

  The heat of the glass warmed my cold hands as I took in the dark smell of my strong, bitter tea and watched children playing outside. Across the table, Hennen carefully added honey to his own tea, a much lighter one that screamed sweetness at me. Would the taste of Hennen's mouth be as sweet?

  I closed my eyes. Even the slightest hint of a smile on Hennen's face raised my expectations a hundred fold. I really shouldn't do this to myself. I'd been let down far too often. A quick fuck was all I was good for, according to quite a number of my former dates. I swallowed and shook my head. Best think of something else before my thoughts turned as bitter as my tea. Prejudice was hard to fight, even at the best of times.

  "Were you running?"

  When I opened my eyes, Hennen was stirring his tea, his gaze more or less directed at me. It took me a moment to realise what he was asking. "Returning home from visiting my family." Fleeing, more like. At least my voice sounded more normal now.

  "You have a big family, no?"

  "Eight siblings."

  "Ah," he said, as if that explained everything, which it did, really. While drifters were rare, the few documented ninth children were all drifters. Hennen showed no frown, no disgust on his face, but no smile, either. "You've been a lighter, what? Five years?"

  "Six more like."

  "What did you do before that?"

  "Nothing and everything, basically, before working at my parents' cleaning business for a couple of years."

  He cocked his head at that. "Why become a lighter?"

  "No family to meddle in my affairs." Besides, a man could stomach only so much pitying and mothering.

  "Ah. Yes. I love my sisters, but I'm glad they both found husbands in different parts of the country."

  "Didn't you have your nephew stay with you this weekend?" I took a sip of my tea, letting the bitterness roll across my tongue before swallowing it.

  "My sister picked him up after lunch." He smiled. "You'll be glad to know most of the pebbles survived his visit. He burnt out the bulbs in the kitchen and bathroom, though. My housekeeper was none too happy about that, she didn't think the pebbles gave her enough light to work with."

  I frowned. If he had a housekeeper, why did he take the bulbs to be recharged himself? Why not let her do it? Maybe it was on his way to his work. I didn't know what he did, but Roni once mentioned he worked with the police or something like that.

  "How's your tea?"

  "Good, strong, just the way I like it," I replied, and took another sip.

  "I've never known anyone to drink tea this strong without any honey in it. Or milk."

  I shrugged. There was no way I was going to tell him I couldn't afford the one, and was intolerant to the other. Or couldn't when I first moved out—not without a handout from my parents, and I'd vowed not to let them pay for anything. By the time I could afford it, I'd gotten so used to the taste, I didn't bother trying. These days, every spare nukkel went to food for Lois or taking a cart on rainy days.

  Silence fell over us. I watched Hennen's long fingers wrapped around the cup as he sipped his tea. His nails were manicured. Not chewed like mine. His gaze still seemed trained on me. If only I knew what to say to keep our conversation going. Nothing that popped into my head was appropriate for any public conversation, let alone with Hennen.

  Hennen put his cup down. "Have you ever attended the concerts in the park?"

  "Yes." At least, the free ones, the open air ones. Though my aunt invited me to some of the other concerts, sometimes. She was a flautist, and we both enjoyed classical music, whereas my family preferred the quicker, danceable pieces. I loved violins... I swallowed. No use thinking about that now.

  "I have tickets for next Saturday. Would you care to join me?"

  I froze and gaped at him. Was he asking me out on a date? The answer was in the way he smiled, the way he'd cocked his head, waiting for my reply. But I couldn't get my throat to work out even a single yes.

  Hennen reached out to me, and I found myself moving my hand towards his until his fingers touched mine. He leaned closer. "I haven't read you wrong, have I?" His voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper.

  I wanted to answer him, but couldn't work out more than a nonsensical squeak. Instead, I slid my fingers across his palm until I could wrap them around his wrist, my heart beating like mad, hoping he'd understand.

  "Good. Good." His smile widened as he squeezed my hand. "Maybe the music will loosen your tongue."

  Not if he smiled at me like that, it wouldn't. I glanced around us, but no one took notice of my glowing face, it seemed.

  "Now, if you'd be so kind to walk me home. That way you'll know where to pick me up on Saturday." He withdrew his hand and pushed his chair back. "I like tulips, by the way. Not that I mind roses, but the thorns don't agree with me."

  Sitting there, my hand still resting on the table, I once again gaped at him. I wasn't sure whether he was joking or not, but the idea of me—a lowly lighter, a drifter—wooing him was ridiculous, and I couldn't stop the bubble of laughter within me from escaping. I laughed, loud, and for the first time, I didn't care who saw me.

  *~*~*

  The following week, as pebble after pebble passed my desk, my thoughts kept straying to Hennen, and Roni had had to remove the bowls before I had to tap into my reserves several times. After the third time she'd set me to sorting burners for the rest of the day, to Ansa's great enjoyment, of course.

  I missed Hennen coming in on Thursday—I was no doubt mindlessly charging pebbles in the backroom—and that was probably a good thing with my concentration being shot and all. I doubted I'd have been able to get a single word out.

  It didn't help that I'd been working on a big company recharge order all week. Bowls of pebbles that all glowed the same kind of murky blue. I couldn't stop gazing into them. They reminded me of Hennen's eyes. Of cloudy storms. If anyone asked about my week, all I could really remember where those cloudy storms, the burners, and the butterflies in my stomach. No stopping those butterflies, no matter how often I told myself Hennen would tire of me
soon enough. They all did.

  And then it was Saturday. Which didn't dawn on me until I read the paper after breakfast. My alarm had gone off as if it were a work day. I'd gotten up, had fed Lois, run down to fetch my paper dressed in yesterday's clothes—didn't smell too badly—and when I came back up, out of breath, I sat down with a bowl of porridge like I did every morning.

  Once I noticed the date on the paper, I'd already eaten and it was no use boiling my usual Saturday egg.

  I sighed and glanced down at the mess of clothes on my bed, glaring at Lois as she threatened to make a nest of them, again. I'd tried on all my shirts and sweaters by now. They were all shabby and cheap next to what Hennen wore. None of them would make me feel like I'd fit in. I could have had my egg for lunch, of course, but knowing where I was going, I'd barely even been able to finish a sandwich.

  Time was running out, and I grabbed a grey v-necked sweater from my bed, one I'd tried on three times already, and put it on over my red t-shirt. No holes in it, and the fabric didn't look as worn as some of my other sweaters. It would have to do.

  I'd chosen to wear my linen trousers, of course, it was the best pair I had, and this was a special occasion. With a bit of luck—if business stayed the way it was—I'd be able to buy a new pair for Solstice, which was about two months away. I pocketed some nukkels—though Hennen had made it clear he was paying—and looked in the mirror. Wetting my fingers, I tried to neaten the mess, but there were just too many cowlicks to contend with. This was as good as it was going to get. Shaggy, messy me. At least I was clean-shaven.

  The light of the sun reached my chair legs. It was time to go. Three deep breaths, one last cuddle with Lois, and I grabbed my cloak and ran out the door. I'd barely reached the stairs when I realised I'd forgotten something, and ran right back again. The tulips were still in the canister. I took them out of the water, wrapped some wet paper around the bottom before rolling them into the morning paper, and made my way down the four flights of stairs for the second time in a day to meet the cart about to arrive. The cart rounded the corner as I burst out of the building. I jumped on before he came to a complete stop and sat in the first empty seat I saw, next to an old man. I'd debated walking, but I didn't want to be weather-rough and out of breath when I picked Hennen up for our date. Date. I swallowed, my heart pounding, and already felt my throat close. I really needed to stop doing that.

  Before I knew it, I stood on the stoop in front of Hennen's door holding the tulips and doing basic breathing exercises. It was a lost cause. My heart wouldn't stop its pounding, and by the time I knocked, I felt more out of breath than I'd been after running down the stairs. Leaning my head against the cool wall, I waited for Hennen to open the door.

  "Did you run?"

  I started and banged my head against the wall. "No... no... just..." I held up a hand, groaning as it dawned on me he couldn't see it. I couldn't have made a worse impression if I tried.

  "You'd better come in. Maybe you should sit down for a moment."

  Maybe I should. "Thank you," I croaked. Croaking was better than squeaking, wasn't it? I followed Hennen inside and sat down in the first chair we came across. Which was in the hall, right next to an immaculately ordered shoe stand.

  Hennen's cane tapped against my leg.

  "Wouldn't you be more comfortable in my living room?"

  I really didn't think that would help any. "I'm fine here." And there was that annoying squeak again.

  "Can I get you some tea?"

  I shook my head, winced, and squeaked out a "No" as I pushed the tulips into his free hand.

  He brought them close to his face, sniffed them. "Thank you. What colour?" he asked.

  "Red." I hadn't forgotten his comment about the roses, so I assumed he'd like red ones. His smile confirmed it.

  "I'll have my housekeeper put them in a vase while you're catching your breath."

  I closed my eyes when he disappeared through a door straight ahead and did exactly that, catch my breath. My heart finally slowed down, and I felt much calmer by the time Hennen returned, wearing a gorgeous dark brown cloak this time. It looked very distinguished on him.

  "Ready to go?"

  "Yes." No squeak, no croak this time. Maybe today would work out all right.

  Outside, I gently tapped his left arm with my right, offering him my guidance. He took it with a smile, and we walked towards the park, his cane tapping out a gentle rhythm.

  The park wasn't as buzzing with people at it had been the week before. The weather wasn't quite as nice. It was threatening to start raining any time, and while it wasn't as windy as last week, it was colder. We mingled among other concert goers, and relief flooded me when they turned out to be more of a mixed company than I'd expected. Across the park, I spotted my favourite little tea stand.

  Inside the little concert hall it was busy enough. Warm, too. I hadn't even checked the paper to see who was playing today, and was pleasantly surprised to see a cello standing on the stage.

  "They're playing Orephy Alonnis today," Hennen said as we sat down. "His complete seventh."

  That meant duelling violins in the crescendo piece in the middle. My favourite part, I told Hennen.

  "I had a feeling you'd like that. I'm very fond of the cello solo myself."

  "The first or second one?"

  "I prefer the second. The first is a tad too melancholy for me."

  I wanted to say something clever, but this was really the only piece by Alonnis I knew. I was saved by a stocky man stepping on stage, quickly followed by two young women and a tall, long-haired man I'd heard play before. He was an excellent cellist. Hennen wouldn't be disappointed by the solos today. I glanced at Hennen. Should I tell him? Or did he know already? Had his housekeeper read him the program? Should I ask him?

  By the time the first notes sounded, I still hadn't said a word.

  *~*~*

  The air had turned decidedly colder when we walked outside after the concert, and I wrapped my cloak tightly around me before guiding Hennen through the crowd. Hennen wore an excited smile, not one I'd seen on him before, but one I understood. The piece was still running through my head, duelling violins and all, and I had no doubt Hennen experienced the same. Music like that didn't leave anyone untouched.

  Hennen's voice washed over me as we walked back to his house. I'd never been able to describe how music felt to me, not the way Hennen did. He managed to convey exactly what those duelling violins sounded like to me, how they resonated within me. He seemed to have memorised every detail, every nuance of every instrument. Yet he didn't mention the slight mistakes, the little falters in the piece that I'd heard. He only mentioned the moments of perfection, and that made me smile. When we reached his house, he was still talking, and I didn't mind it one bit.

  "Obviously music doesn't loosen your tongue as much as I'd hoped."

  It had, in the sense that I didn't feel my throat close up every time I wanted to speak, but that didn't mean I wanted to speak. I squeezed his hand. "I enjoyed hearing you talk."

  "But I wanted to hear your opinion."

  "It was one of the best renditions I've heard so far."

  "But what did you—"

  I'd pressed my finger against his lips before I could stop myself, and I froze. Too forward, too familiar. But Hennen didn't act as if I'd been either, so I took a breath and said, "It was wonderful, but nothing I say will do it justice. You're much better with words than I am."

  Hennen grabbed my wrist, raised my hand and kissed my palm. My heart skipped a beat as I imagined those wind-cold lips touching mine.

  "You have no idea what your voice does to me. It says so much about you, even though you say so little. And..." Hennen shook his head and took a step back. "And I think it's time we said good night."

  "But..."

  Now he put a finger against my lips. "As much as I'd love taking you to bed, you're not ready."

  He got that from the sound of my voice? Not that I could deny it. I was t
oo used to being discarded after putting out on a first date. I didn't want this to be all. Of course, right now, my body was trying to convince me I was more than ready, though I kept from leaning into his touch. "I'm sorry."

  "No need." He raised my hand to his mouth again and brushed his lips across my fingers. "I'm not looking for a single night's pleasure, Marek."

  How did he read me so well? I nodded, which he must have sensed or something because he chuckled and let go of my hand. "Go on. Get on with you. Before I change my mind."

  It was a throwaway comment, but one that, for a mere moment, tempted me to stay until he did. I didn't want to ruin the wonderful evening we'd had, so instead I nodded at him out of force of habit, and bid him good night, leaving him standing on his doorstep as I disappeared down the street.

  I was out of breath and chilled to the bone when I finally dragged myself into my flat. The wind had picked up as I walked home. I chugged off my boots, threw my cloak over the back of a chair, undressed, and, ignoring the heap of clothes still lying on top, dove underneath my blankets. Curling up on my side, I caught sight of my violin case. Snippets of the concert replayed itself in my head, accompanied by the image of Hennen's face, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the music. I reached for my violin and caressed the wood.

  It was my grandmother's, given to me when she passed away. She'd been a bit of a virtuoso, but Mom had no talent for music and my aunt had chosen the flute. They'd still had hopes for me then. I'd tried my hand at playing it, but no matter how hard I tried, my energy never sufficed and I couldn't make the instrument sing for more than a moment. On a good day, when I was bursting with energy, I still played—and spent the rest of the day napping to replenish. It was worth it, though. It would always be worth it for that one moment I made that violin sing.

  I rolled onto my back and closed my eyes. Hennen's face was still at the forefront of my mind. I hadn't dared touch him at the concert, too afraid to break the spell. His face had been alight with pleasure during the second cello solo, his mouth opening just a tad as he wet his lips. He was gorgeous. Gorgeous and understanding. Had my voice really given that much away about me? Many wouldn't have cared about my feelings at all. They'd be too busy reminding me how dangerous it was for them to consort with a ninth. Hennen didn't seem to care about that at all. He genuinely seemed to want to be with me.