Tarin had been at the table long enough to identify the harbor entrance, the passenger landing, and the service door through which the waiter would return. He had not opened the menu.
His table stood in a shallow bay of tall, white-framed windows. Beyond the glass, the marina opened onto the lake.
There was very little on the white cloth. A glass. A folded napkin. The pad. A small lamp whose light would become useful later. Below the window, boats lay in rows in the marina, with enough water between them to make their owners appear considerate.
Tarin glanced at the pad and said, “I’m trying to establish what brought me here.”
Ilex let him consider it.
“You booked it.”
“I know. I’m questioning my judgment.”
The chair’s pale upholstered back curved around his shoulders. It supported him in places the seats aboard the Spartan Three shuttles had never considered. He shifted into it.
“Was there something wrong with the booking?” Ilex asked.
“No.”
Tarin looked out at the harbor.
“It’s nice outside.”
The waiter arrived with water. Tarin opened the menu, asked about one of the dishes, and ordered it. The man took the menu away without asking if there was anyone else.
Tarin sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. Turned toward the window and looked at the movement around the marina, along the opposite shore. His gaze lingered on a flat cloud near the horizon. He took a few slow breaths.
“That helped.”
\* \* \*
Sayeed had asked him to meet her at the lab that morning. He arrived expecting to work.
When she came in, she was wearing her jacket with her insignia. She rarely wore them in the lab. Tarin noticed before she spoke.
“The Moon River Protocol has been approved.”
He smiled, then looked toward the workbench. Nothing there had changed.
“Approved.”
“Yes.”
“So we’re finished here.”
“With this assignment.”
She gave him a moment before continuing.
“There’s the next phase of the project. Four weeks from now, once the lab is ready. I’d like you to consider staying on board.”
He looked back at her.
“Flying?”
“Leading the project.”
The insignia made sense.
She told him what was settled and what remained open. He listened closely enough to ask practical questions. Equipment. Scope. Who would be involved. Sayeed answered what she could.
When she reached the team, he stopped looking at the workbench.
“They’d report to me?”
“Yes.”
He frowned, rubbing a finger along the edge of the bench. Sayeed followed the motion.
“I don’t need your answer now,” she said.
“All right.”
“Take your time, Tarin.”
He smiled then.
“I heard you.”
\* \* \*
At the harbor, a small boat was approaching its berth head-on. It turned onto a wider course, leaving room for a second turn to bring it alongside the dock. Tarin watched the correction, then the correction to the correction. The wind blew off the dock, nudging the bow away as the boat came parallel.
“You could go down and help,” Ilex said.
“He hasn’t asked.”
Someone on the dock caught a line. The boat finally settled alongside.
Tarin took a drink of water.
“I liked the responsibility of piloting. A clear task. An endpoint.”
“You still do.”
“Yes.”
He could carry passengers without requiring them to understand the machinery beneath their feet. He could bring them through rough air, choose an easier approach, know when the ship had more to give and when to stop asking. Those responsibilities were familiar. They had weight and limits.
The offer in the lab had a different shape.
“I might not want to evaluate other people’s work.”
Ilex waited.
“That isn’t the same job with a better chair.”
“No.”
“And doing this one well doesn’t tell me whether I want that one.”
His food arrived. The waiter moved the little lamp just enough to make room for the plate.
For a while, Tarin ate.
At the marina below, someone had begun washing a deck. Water flashed over the side in small, regular falls.
“What would you miss?” Ilex asked.
Tarin set down his fork.
He had been prepared to discuss the offer. This took longer.
“Sayeed,” he said eventually. “Working with her.”
He looked at the empty place opposite him.
“I never felt like I had to apologize.”
“For what?”
“That’s the odd thing. It never seemed necessary. I could ask something before I knew how to ask it. Or change my mind halfway through saying it.”
“Would taking the lead give you that?”
“I don’t know.” He looked down at his empty glass and turned it. “I would have to provide it.”
\* \* \*
He had played Moon River for Sayeed deliberately.
He remembered choosing it, then becoming very busy with something on the flight display while the opening reached her. He had wanted her to hear it. He had not quite wanted to be watched wanting that.
With passengers, he usually chose music that asked little of them. Alone, he chose whatever suited the distance.
That time he had chosen for someone.
Now he could remember the flight without first remembering what it had accomplished.
The assignment had involved bringing lost charges back. He knew how to map their transit: the gateway, the familiar frame, and arrival. He knew where his part in the retrieval ended. What had happened to him along the way was harder to put in a report.
Somewhere in the work, he had begun doing things he recognized.
Not from the last few years. Earlier.
An impulse to share a song. An interest that survived the completion of a task. The pleasure of someone’s company before he had established what either of them needed.
“I came back with them,” he said.
Ilex left the words alone.
Tarin looked down at his plate, then took another bite before it cooled.
He was separating it all. Sayeed from the work. The work from its success. His own part from what the others had made possible. He suspected the proportions would change each time he looked.
\* \* \*
The waiter returned.
“Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
“Are you here on one of the boats?”
Tarin glanced toward the harbor.
“No. I’m staying here.” Turning back to face the waiter, he said, “It’s a beautiful view.”
“There’s a path along the outer wall. Past the landing. You can’t see it from here.”
“Does it go all the way around?”
“As far as the old steps. Then you have to come back.”
“Thank you.”
The man collected the plate.
Tarin considered the walk. There would be some wind beyond the sheltered water. His jacket was upstairs. He could get it after coffee.
“How long are we staying?” Ilex asked.
“I’ve booked two nights.”
“And after that?”
Tarin watched a woman on the quay hosing down her spaniel. She rinsed it off, stepped back the length of the lead and turned her face away. The dog shook from the ears down. She looked at her sleeve, then down at her pant legs.
“I haven’t decided.”
The coffee arrived. The waiter lit the little lamp before he left. Tarin moved the cup a little closer.
For the first time since sitting down, he looked around the room. The floorboards beneath his table were worn pale, the finish remaining in patches near the wall. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, their light repeated in narrow mirrors between the windows. Only a few tables were occupied. A couple near the door were sharing something from a small plate. At another, a man had folded his newspaper to fit beside his lunch.
Tarin had chosen this place from a picture of the window. He remembered now. He had liked the light, and the distance between the tables.
The waiter brought a second small pot.
“More coffee when you’re ready.”
Tarin thanked him.
Outside, the boat he had watched was secure. Its owner had gone ashore. The sailboats were past the first marker.
He poured a little more into his cup.
WE&P by: EZorrillaMc&Co.
