"This flat needs a woman's touch."
"No argument there."
"So, how much money have you got, then?" she asked as she padded over to the kitchen, which was beside the front door.
"'Bout nine hundred bucks."
She opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out three battered and dinted saucepans and a wooden cutting board so worn that it was shaped like the letter ‘S.’ She put them on the bench. "These have gotta go."
I grabbed the cutting board and clutched it to my chest. "This ol’ board and I have history, you can’t replace it."
"Seriously?"
"Can’t you see how many thousands of knife cuts have gone into remodelling the board from its original shape?"
"And how many of those cuts did you put in it?" she asked with a twinkle in her eyes.
"At least a couple," I said, frowning as though lost in thought. A couple of thousand more likely, but to be honest, the board was already in this condition when I bought it for a couple of bucks.
She snatched the board from me and dumped it back on the bench, and then wandered into the bathroom. She pulled out my shower curtain, gave it a tentative sniff, and pulled a face. "This has gotta go."
I darted in between her and the curtain. "No way, you can’t replace my mouldy old shower curtain – it’s got a floral pattern on it."
She giggled as she pushed me aside so she could unhook the curtain. "It goes," she said as she tossed it on the floor.
Out into the lounge-bedroom she went – it seemed nothing was sacrosanct – and peeled back the doona and sheets. She lifted up the double-bed mattress and clucked to herself as she glanced underneath it. Dropping the mattress back down, she said, "That’s gotta go – it’s mouldy too."
She examined the threadbare doona cover and sheets. "These too." She sniffed the doona and coughed. "And this really has to go."
"But this mattress is special," I said as I knelt beside it, "I got it for only fifty-bucks from this second hand store I found, and the doona? Do you know long it takes to break in a doona? New ones are all starchy and uncomfortable."
"We’ll have to make that sacrifice," she said as she pecked a kiss on my cheek, and then made her way over to the curtains.
I darted in front of her and held out my hands. "No. At the curtains I draw the line - they've got a floral pattern too," I said as I drew a line across the floor with my sneakers.
"What’s with you and floral patterns?" she asked while giggling with mirth.
"Well, they’re flowery," I explained.
"But the colour! Bright orange over green? Ethan, what were you thinking?"
"I was thinking they were being jobbed out for twenty bucks?"
"Measure 'em and then take ‘em down," she ordered me with a jab to the ribs.
"Yes, Boss," I laughed as I went to get my tape measure.
Chapter Nine
We measured the length and width of the curtains and were about to pop over to the markets when I slapped a hand to my forehead. "Forgot to tell my mother we're back, hang on a mo." I grabbed the old plastic dial-up phone next to the bed and rang my parent's place.
"Jones residence," a young woman said without emotion.
"Elder Sister, are you well?" I asked.
"You're back," she remarked flatly, "Mother's been worried sick, I will fetch her."
A moment passed and my mother came to the phone. "Ethan?"
"Just ringing to let you know we're back safe and sound."
"Where have you been, Son? You said you'd be back on Saturday. That was two days ago - I have - we have - been worried sick."
"We had problems getting back - big problems, actually," I said, thinking of Michal and Leigh. If I could only turn back time and find some way to defy King's orders to lead the trade delegation to Hamamachi, then Michal would still be alive. But no, if I'd done that, everyone in Hamamachi would be dead.
"Are you and Nanako okay?" my mother asked anxiously.
"Ah, yeah, pretty much."
"That is a relief. Now, I'm guessing you don't have much food in your flat after being away, so why don't you two come over for dinner tonight?"
I heard the pleading tone in her voice, and thought of her fretting over us for the past couple of days, so I covered the phone and turned to my wife. "Mother has invited us for dinner tonight."
"Will your father be there?"
"I expect so."
Nanako hesitated, and I could see her mental gears whirring as she debated what to do, for she didn't want to see him again either. "We can't exactly go around avoiding him for the rest of our lives, so let's go."
Impressed by her commendable attitude - I figured she would have turned down the invitation -I uncovered the mouthpiece. "We will come."
"That's wonderful, be here at six?"
"Will do," I said, and hung up the phone.
Nanako darted forward, grabbed my hand, and pulled me towards the door. "Come on, let's go shopping."
We headed over to the commercial district and wandered down streets lined with barbershops, hair salons, supermarkets, green grocers, hardware stores, hat shops, women's clothes boutiques, haberdasheries, and stationary stores. As it was mid afternoon, there weren't that many people frequenting the stores. All the same, patrols of heavily armed and armoured Custodians reminded all that the law was always close by.
Nanako soon found what she wanted, a store specialising in drapes, curtains and blinds, and excitedly pulled me inside after her.
Like most stores in Newhome, it was small and cramped, with far too many items to fit on its overstocked shelves and displays, resulting in untidy piles of rolled-up blinds leaning against the wall in one corner, boxes on the floor, and plastic-bagged drapes cluttering the floor in one aisle. From the slightly musty smell, I think the place needed a bit of a spring clean too.
Nanako squatted on the floor beside the drapes and began sorting through them. The storekeeper, a portly, balding man, gaped at her, clearly shocked at what he no doubt considered an unladylike posture, and at her rather revealing attire.
I quickly looked away and knelt beside her. "Find anything?"
She held up a package of dark yellow drapes that featured a repeating pattern of white birds on light brown branches. "What do you think? It's even the right size."
"They'll go great with the pale yellow we're using on the walls."
"I know, right? They're a bit pricey, though," she said as she stood and took the drapes over the counter. "Excuse me, sir; I'll give you fifty bucks for these."
I stood there and ogled at Nanako - I couldn't believe she was trying to haggle over the price of an item in a brick-and-mortar store. You could get away with it in some of the second-hand market stalls, but not in shops like this. I wasn't the only one surprised, either, for the storekeeper’s mouth worked like a fish out of water until he finally found his voice. "Ma'am, as the price tag says, the drapes are seventy-five dollars."
"I know, but I'm offering you fifty."
The man turned a shade of deep red and turned to me. "Excuse me, sir, what association do you have with this young woman?"
"She's my wife, sir."
"Then kindly escort her from my store," he huffed.
"Look, I'm sorry, but she's just immigrated to Newhome from..." I began to explain.
"What are you doing, Ethan?" Nanako snapped, looking at me with a mixture of surprise and anger.
"Sorry?" I asked, surprised by her reaction.
"You're apologising for me? Right in front of me?"
"No! I wouldn't do that," I tried to assure her.
"Then what were you doing?" she demanded as she took a step closer, glaring up at me from beneath her bangs.
My face was going bright red from embarrassment - from realising I'd made such an insensitive mistake - and because the shopkeeper was standing there watching us. I swiftly tried to dig myself out of the hole I had gotten myself into, "It's just that..."
"Just what?"
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"We don't haggle over prices in the stores here, we pay what's on the tag," I tried to explain softly.
"That's absurd, you should always haggle over prices," she objected, and then, suddenly aware of the shopkeeper watching us, stormed out of the store.
I watched her go, feeling confused and hurt, for this was the first time she'd been angry with me like this, and it came as something of a shock.
"How can you let her speak to you like that?" the shopkeeper asked condescendingly.
"She's from Hamamachi," I replied.
"So?"
"So, their culture enjoys more freedoms than ours does. For one, the women are treated as equals there," I snapped.
The shopkeeper snorted. "Boy, you are so naive. You'd better get her under control before it's too late."
I didn't even bother dignifying that comment with a reply but rushed out to find Nanako. She was looking in the window of the neighbouring store, but frowned at me when I hesitantly joined her.
"What took you so long?" she asked.
"Sorry, got caught up with the shop keeper."
"Making more apologies for me?" she accused.
"No! Quite the opposite, actually," I said, my eyes wide with alarm.
"Is that right?" she asked, but from the tone of her voice, I could tell her anger was melting away.
"Look, I'm sorry, I..."
She stuck a finger on my lips to stop me talking. "I never could stay angry with you for long." She gave me a heart warming upside-down smile and grabbed my hand. "Let's go find a shop that sells drapes and that doesn't charge like a wounded bull."
"Sounds like a plan," I laughed, relieved she wasn't still mad at me.
We went into store after store. To my relief, she didn't try to haggle over any more prices but looked for items that fitted into our budget instead. We ended up buying cheaper curtains, a vacuum-packed doona, a pair of doona covers, fitted sheets, a shower curtain, and a bunch of things to fit out the kitchen: saucepans, frying pan, cutting board, strainer, and a new knife.
Our second to last stop was a discount clothes boutique. Nanako pawed through rack after rack of Newhome-style conservative dresses until she finally pulled out a simple ankle-length, full-sleeve black dress. She held it up to show me, smiling broadly. "I like."
"You know that's a funeral dress, right?" I said with a chuckle.
"It is? Well, that's okay; we wear black clothes to wedding receptions."
"That's a tad morbid, isn't it?" I wished Shorty were here, the jokes he would have cracked at that revelation would have had me in stitches.
"Nah, black’s the best."
"Well, you can buy it if you want, but people are going to stare."
"I don’t mind."
"Well I do, if it’s guys who are doing the staring," I huffed with feigned displeasure.
"What’s that, jealously that I hear?"
"Absolutely," I assured her with mock seriousness.
She folded the dress over her arm and made her way to the sales counter. "Anyway, it's only until I can make my own clothes."
Our last stop was the market to buy meat and veggies, so off we went, our hands loaded up with bags. Well, my right hand was. This would have been a lot easier if I could've used both hands.
The market differed from the rest of the commercial sector in that it was mostly open-air stalls selling foodstuffs. Most of the shoppers here were either older women, or young women accompanied by older women acting as their chaperones. The only males present were the stallholders, a couple of squads of Custodians on patrol, and me.
I took the rest of the shopping bags from Nanako, holding the lighter ones with my left hand, so she had two hands with which to shop.
She had just filled a bag with beans when the shoppers and stallholders around us suddenly stepped away with great haste. I looked up and saw a squad of four Custodians striding towards us. I gripped Nanako's shoulder, who upon realising something was amiss, turned to face them too.
Had David and Shorty gone and blabbed to someone what had really happened in Hamamachi, and these four were here to arrest us? Had the colonel changed his mind and they were here to lock us up? Or worst of all, did Consultant Singhe tell them I was an echolocator and they were here to drag me off to be euthanized?
My pulse was racing and my face blanched with fear by the time the burly, Anglo-Saxon Aussie officer in charge of the squad stopped in front of us. The three privates spread out to either side of him, assault-rifles held menacingly at the ready.
"Ma’am," he said to Nanako in a sickly sweet, condescending voice, "Where is your chaperone?"
Nanako glanced unsurely at me, and then answered. "I am with my husband, sir."
The Custodian examined me as though I was something unsanitary he had stepped on, and then looked Nanako slowly up and down, his eyes lingering on her legs and the view of her slightly exposed thighs.
"Is that right? Well ma’am, as you are wearing inappropriate, sexually suggestive clothing in public, I am placing you under arrest. You will accompany us to Custodian Headquarters to be charged."
Chapter Ten
"Sir, please let me explain," I began, and then hesitated, for I was about to 'make excuses' for Nanako like I had in the curtain shop, and as I didn't want to anger her again, I frantically looked for a different way to approach the situation.
However, before I could work out what to say, the Custodian officer lifted a hand to stop me. "Planning on obstructing the course of justice with half-baked excuses, Citizen? I’m afraid that just won’t do. And come to think of it, I suspect your wife is concealing banned substances on her person." He fixed us with a hideous, mocking smile and turned to one of his men. "Private Kirkwood, frisk the woman and check for banned substances."
Having heard horror stories about Custodians frisking women, I quickly moved in front of her. "Sir, I am Ethan Jo..."
I got no further, for Private Kirkwood rammed his gun into my solar plexus, winding me so severely that I doubled over and dropped to my knees, where I desperately tried to draw a breath. The shopping bags I had been holding slipped from my hands and spilled their contents all over the ground. From my peripheral vision I saw shoppers and stallholders almost trip over themselves to get further away from this ugly scene.
"Put your hands on your head and spread your legs!" the private shouted in Nanako's face. Powerless to do anything to stop this invasion of my wife's privacy, I watched in dismay as the Custodian frisked Nanako from neck to foot, his hands pausing over and deliberately exploring her private parts. Nanako was clearly enraged, but she focused on me with tears in her eyes as I writhed in pain and desperately tried to breathe.
"She's clean, sir," the private announced.
I somehow managed to push myself up and regained my feet. I was both fuming with rage and scared out of my wits - one wrong move here and the Custodians wouldn’t hesitate to use lethal force.
"Step back, Citizen!" the Custodian private shouted as he shoved his gun in my face. The other two privates lifted their weapons as well
"Your name," I wheezed.
"Excuse me?" snapped the private.
"Not yours, Private Kirkwood, his," I spat between gasps for breath as I pointed at the officer.
"My name is Major Harris, Citizen," bellowed the broad-shouldered, blue eyed Custodian officer. "Now step back or Private Kirkwood will give you another taste of his gun. And you, ma’am, will come with us."
"Major Harris," I said, blinking continuously thanks to the gun in my face, "As I was trying to say, I am Ethan Jones, and this is my wife Nanako. We are two of the four surviving members of the party that was sent to Hamamachi last Friday. We arrived back in Newhome this morning, and have just minutes ago been released from Custodian Headquarters after being debriefed all day. Upon our release, we came straight here to buy clothing appropriate for Nanako to wear in Newhome."
"I’m sorry, Mr. Jones, there is no excuse for wearing inappropriate clothing in publ
ic," the major said patronizingly. "Now step aside or I will have you arrested for obstructing the course of justice."
Although I was quaking with fear, I held my head high and refused to be cowed. "But sir, you say she must wear appropriate clothing in public, yet she couldn't get this appropriate clothing until she ventured into public to buy it, which is what we were doing. And," I bent down and plucked her new black dress off the ground, "Here is the proof - we just purchased this dress for her to wear. Please reconsider your decision."
The major stared at us for a painfully long time, and then said, "Private Kirkwood, write Mrs. Jones a citation for a Class C indecent exposure in a public venue."
The private pulled out his ticket book, wrote the citation, and shoved it into my hands. And with that, the four of them continued on their way. As they went, I overheard Private Kirkwood giving a detailed description of Nanako’s body to his comrades. I wanted to rush after him, wrest the gun out of his hands, and pump them all full of holes. I was sick to death of these Custodians! But with an effort, I pushed my anger to the side and turned to Nanako. "Are you okay?" I asked as I reached out to her. She was shaking like a leaf, though from anger, not fear.
"I’ve never, ever felt so humiliated, and look what they did to you – they had no reason to hit you - they’re nothing but juvenile bullies," she spat angrily.
"I know, and I so hope they get what's coming to them one day," I said.
Nanako suddenly frowned and laid a gentle hand on my stomach. "Does it hurt much?"
"Nah, I just got winded," I said, playing it down, though I reckoned there'd be quite a bruise visible soon.
"How much is it for?" she asked, pointing at the ticket.
"Two hundred."
"What? Can we lodge a protest?" she asked as she glanced at the shoppers and stallholders who were hesitantly going back to what they were doing before the Custodians came.
"No, the Custodian's word is law. We'll have to pay it," I informed her. Coupled with the money we spent today, this fine meant we had only three hundred bucks left.
"That's unbelievable, what kind of legal system do you have here?"
Forager - the Complete Six Book Series (A Post Apocalyptic/Dystopian Series) Page 28
