TCOTNK Season 4.1
TCOTNK Season 4.1
In season 4 we enter the world of Yeshe. She is shadowing Michael and Thalia. But her narrative has other plans. Will she ever get to the last festival?
New to TCOTNK? Reading along is free for everyone…discover the slow joys of a weekly serial and enter the The Castle Of The Naked Knights. A whole other world is waiting for you. Go to the INDEX for the introduction and links to all episodes
back to chapter3.17 (last weeks episode)
Chapter 1
“Hey, how are you doing?”
"Mmm, eh, I think I made a mistake."
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“It was partly because I got seasick. I've never had that before. And it was a coincidence that I met him there.”
“The artist?”
"Yes, he's almost ready."
"But he saw you?"
"And not like he'll forget me."
“You are unforgettable. Whoever meets you is sold. Makes perfect sense.”
“Yes, but seriously. I set a fire.”
“Oh?!”
“Long story, bottom line is I panicked. He was so far along. His camper and the tent next to it were covered wall to wall with his findings. A treasure map of his quest waiting to be nicked. He was so much further than I thought.”
“Time for a date then?”
“Yes, No, Maybe, but it's too early. And if it got out before…”
“Yeshe, what does that have to do with the fire? Are his results...”
“No of course not. I loaded everything in a rented trailer. Only the worthless stuff was burned. I filtered out all the diaries and drawings and the handmade items. I spent half a night securing everything before filling the tent with waste paper and replacement junk.”
“So he assumes he's lost everything? Poor boy.”
“Boy? He’s well over fifty, but yes.”
“Yeah, so what? For me he has just started the second half. He is practically your age.”
They said goodbye. Yeshe placed the phone on the dashboard. She felt a little better. Sapi was never easily impressed. Her confidence in the natural development of the whole thing was deep. This trip wasn't her idea either. Yeshe could still see the smile. When she asked, Sapi had answered after a pause; if you think it's important, you should definitely do that. Or something along those lines.
She wanted to turn the key, but instead of starting the car, she put her head on the steering wheel. She sat like that for a few minutes. Thinking. Although it was more a sensing, more of an inner listening than strategic rational consultation. She picked up the phone again, pressed the earpiece back in and dialed the same temporary number.
“Hello?” it sounded neutral.
“One more time with me. Could you hook me up again?”
“Who are you?”
"Hey, I called four minutes ago!"
"I don't know you, if I don't know your name."
"Yes, yes, it's okay." She took a deep breath and began to sing her name-song.
Her singing voice was loud. The family in the waiting car next to her sat with their noses pressed against the windows. First she had lain dead over the steering wheel and now she burst into song. She stuck her tongue out at the three children who dove away screaming. The last lines she sang straight at the staring mother.
“…cause when you're done with this world, you know the next is up to you!”
The woman looked shocked.
"Okay, just a minute," said the voice in Yeshe's ear, and the connection was ended. A second later, an incoming message sounded from inside the bag next to her. She plugged the cord into the new phone and dialed the fragmented number by hand.
“Yeshe! How nice of you to call! Everthing okay?”
Sapi's voice sounded like that of a young woman.
"Yes, I wanted to let you know that I have changed my plans."
“Plans?” Mock outrage on the other side.
Yeshe knew how the woman felt about planning ahead. Preparation could be useful, but close planning was unnecessary in this context.
"I'm not coming back."
“Shame, we’ll miss you.”
“I mean, not yet. I want to keep following them.”
“To the festival?”
“Yes, if they even go there. But I think it's important to keep my focus here.'
“Do you like him?”
The silence lasted just too long. Yeshe teared up. She always did when someone saw through her exterior. Sapi did constantly.
"I find him intriguing, yes."
Only silence on the other side.
“Oh Saap, I hurt him so much! How can I leave him like this?”
“Good, I’ve been thinking the same thing. Always nice when on the same boat.”
Yeshe felt a shiver creep up her spine. Sapi almost never said anything superfluous.
“What do you mean?” she asked softly.
“Well, almost. We're not on it yet. And its technically not a boat. We are waiting. But only nitpickers pay attention to that.”
"I don't get it, you mean you…?"
“Yes, exactly what I mean. One is never too old to travel. And I'd been sitting still for far too long.”
“But...”
“...it's not wise, at my age, and the chance of discovery, and we can't live here without you, and blah blah, and ta ta ta. I'm free. Being invisible is done in plain sight. That ridiculously luxurious camper so close behind that nice five piece family in the row next to you? The vehicle with that ugly rasta man behind the wheel?”
Yeshe turned around very quickly.
The beaming smile of a beautiful dark man. He waved at her with wriggling fingers.
In the darkness of the cabin behind him she saw the old woman standing. That's why the voice in her ear was so clear. That's why she felt so close. Yeshe swallowed. She could see the tiny delay between the moving mouth and what sounded in her ears.
"And maybe it's time to be found."
Chapter 2
Yeshe drove off the ferry. Relieved to be on solid ground again. Four in the morning, still dark. She parked the rental car with the trailer under the light of a lamppost. The rear backed up against a wooden fence. She walked towards the motel next to the driver's cafe that was nested in warm string-lights. First thing now was to get some shut-eye. Her legs felt as if the bones had softened. Here under the surveillance eyes of the ships’ terminal she would not make contact with Sapi's camper-van. That would come later. She hadn't seen them during the crossing. No wonder, because Yeshe had spent the night on the upper deck. Alternating between a blank stare at the emptiness beyond the rail and pacing back and forth to keep her inner turmoil in check. And now she was exhausted from an overdose of salty night air and no sleep.
She spotted Michael/Raphael sitting in the orange light of the terrace and was immediately back on track. He was clearly observing the arrivals. Was he waiting for Thalia? Yeshe stood lingering outside the sphere of light. He paid particular attention to the last pedestrians coming down the narrow sheltered ramp to the side of the ship. The artist looked more mundane without the beard. Less noticeable, but he still stood out in the environment, like a time traveler in disguise. And the stubble came through again. Mike, R, Michelangelo, Raido, Johann, Raphael? Yeshe decided to stick with Michael from now on. He seemed nervous, shifting restlessly. Most boaters had left by now. Thalia wasn't on this ship. She couldn't be.
Suddenly he stood up. Yeshe retreated behind a wooden vendor cabin for a moment. Then followed him from a considerable distance, curious to see what he would do. Because the departure terminal was bathed in light, it was easy to take shelter in the relative darkness outside.
He went to the office. To buy a ticket? Or just inform? No transaction took place. His attitude showed suppressed annoyance. Then he lingered.
Yeshe yawned. A lion's gape. The bench by the playground lawn was comfortable and she hadn't really slept during the night crossing. Yeshe blinked away her blurry vision and pinched her cheeks with both hands. There were more people out and about despite the hour. The departure parking lot was already accumulating new passengers. There was a clinking of cutlery from the direction of the restaurant. Faint voices as they only sound early mornings. The hissing and whirring of the ship, mixed with the rattling of forklifts and provision carts on the metal drawbridge.
Ahead stood a man with binoculars who caught her attention. He leaned against the hood of his dark MPV and didn't look relaxed. His large glasses pointing at Michael, who still was busy contemplating life and what do about it, by fumbling his non-existent beard. Shifting his weight from one foot to the next.
The drowsy feeling was gone. She had seen that striking multi-person bus before, including the guy with the expensive bigger-than-regular binoculars. After the fire. Arriving at the same time as the fire brigade. Way after the burn. Two gents in suits. Could the other one be behind the dark windows? They had hung around for a long time, being on the phone a lot, rummaging through the remains like two clean-shaven sniffer dogs. Thalia, when she arrived at Michael's beach spot that morning, had also spotted them. You could tell from a mile away they weren't civilians. Laughably high undercover vibes. Yeshe didn't think they’d been on the boat with her and Sapi, but wasn't sure. What are you doing here? Why?
Who are you? Yeshe tried to look objectively. Do I see wannabes, she wondered. Guys dressed up as if. Or was this arrogance? People so sure of what they do that there is no room for doubt? Mercenaries perhaps? Purchased devotion? Or charlatans? Inflated guards. What do you want from that homeless painter? Is it a sheep strayed from the flock that needs to be brought back? Or is the artist a means, a stepping stone on a different track? For the amount of money he owes, he’s not worth paying that much attention to. Yeshe continued to be amazed by the power of asking questions. Postponing conclusions. Questions kept matters open, moving. Questions led to new questions. Judgments lead to a form of action that felt wrong, incomplete, to Yeshe. Judgements seemed unnecessary and pointless. Comfortable, yes. Allowing you to jump to action. Then you had wood, but at the expense of the tree.
Had those two also seen how she had set the camper on fire? No, if I assume their main interest to be Michael, they’d gone after him when he took the boat chasing me. Then they heard about the fire. No clue as to how. Had they taken the boat back after her? The plot thickens, she thought, and bit her lip, soon we will have no idea who is chasing who. Was all this connected to Charlotte?
It is especially important that the gentlemen do not pay attention to me, Yeshe thought. There was a chance they were trying to get in through Michael. Invisibility is a pain in the butt. She sighed, breathing out slow. There is no secret that needs to be protected, she could hear Sapi say. No need for a fight. Just the lighting of new flames. Just the transferring of sparks. See but stay unseen. She felt herself calm down. Her shoulders dropped as she closed her eyes for a second. Her gaze turned to the flame.
Michael walked into the departure parking lot. Yeshe saw Binoculars react. He stopped leaning on the hood and stood like a soldier. The artist walked unobtrusively to the longest queue where three large identical caravans were parked. He felt the rear door. Open. Then he walked on to the second. Not locked either. What was he planning? At the third he disappeared inside. They were new caravans. Shipped to be sold. Perfect for hiding in. Michael went to Thalia, as a stowaway. Watched by at least two parties. Yeshe looked at the different cameras. They also watched. Hopefully not consciously.
A door opened at the MPV. The second mercenary came out. Stretching. All muscle in his tight white shirt. They consulted with each other. Waited a few minutes. Then they got in and drove away. Bino and Buff? Yeshe grinned. The newly named couple circled the exit around the office and then merged back onto the ramp to the departure terminal. They left the car just outside the circle of lights. Buff came out, took a mean looking backpack from under the miraculous self opening back door, gave Bino a high five through the open driver's window before jogging smoothly towards the caravans. Yeshe sat upright. They broke up. Split up. Now she would have to choose. Follow Buff the Hench or do Bino with the Nockers. Muscle entered the rear caravan. She saw the suspension collapse. Meanwhile, the ships gate opened and the first holidaymaker drove onto the boat. The dark MPV had lowered its visors again, turned and drove slowly towards the exit.
Yeshe started moving. And now what? Go after Michael and Buff? Stalk the trailing Bino? Or let them go and follow her own plan? She definitely didn't want to make the crossing again. By now she was half running. Lost sight of the dark car for a moment. Then saw it turn to the visitors parking lot where her own rental car with the trailer was parked. Fuck, she thought, and started running even faster. Michael's entire life is in that moving hooded wagon. They would really hit the jackpot with that collection. Suddenly the memory of the fire was inside her head, thoughts as flames eating away every bit of calm. Releasing the thick black smoke of doubt. The alarm rang loudly in her head: then the arson, my action, will have had the opposite effect! The mercenary only had to hang the double-axle trailer behind his own car and drive away.
She held back. Felt nauseous and weak. Apparently it still wasn't time to sleep. Without stopping, Bino floated past the trailer, to the far corner and parked next to a lone blue-striped boy's car. A dinky toy racing car with spoilers, stickers and stripes. He got out. Looked around like an accomplished car thief and moments later stuck his arm through the window. Yeshe circled around to get a better view, and catch her breath. Meanwhile, Bino was hanging upside down through the opened window. His legs sticking out. Yeshe sneaked closer. Smiling, eyebrows raised.
The tall man emerged from his dive with a cell phone and a jacket. The garment was returned after a quick inspection. The phone taken apart on the roof and the card taken out. Holding the sliver between finger and thumb, he retrieved a device from the black bus and inserted the sim with scientific flair. Then he grabbed a laptop and used the blue car as a standing desk for some one-fingered typing. His square face reflecting the cold light of the screen as he waited for the process to complete. Then he put the reassembled phone back through the open window. Closed it up to the last four inches and cleaned up his tracks. He even took a cloth over the roof. Then disappeared into his bus and it was quiet. It all took no more than two minutes and was routinely done.
Yeshe wondered if that was Thalia's car? Thalia's cell phone? Or at least the means of transportation that had gotten Michael here? The girl and the car didn't match.
Yeshe decided on what to do. But it didn't put her fear at ease. The sudden threat of discovery had turned the knob of her vigilance to loud.
The MPV started clicking. Drove backwards, turned whisper-quietly and slid away. The thing was electric, a real effing eco-mobile. A blackish sort of green. Who would have thought that? Twenty parking spots further on he turned into another bay and stopped. Wow, that thing was quiet as a ghost. Noise cancelling tires and all. A minute later Bino got out. Gathered some luggage from the autonomous rear hatch and walked towards the motel. She wondered if the vehicle would now slip into cloaking mode and go full see-through.
Binoculars goes to sleep, Yeshe concluded, at the same motel I wanted to check into. Okay, then it was fully clear what she had to do first. The order of operations formed by opportunity. Sleep. First a desperately needed nap. In the car. But not in this parking lot. She asked her inner guides for help, got into her rental and started the engine. The moment she put it into first gear, she changed her mind and turned the engine off and got out again. Looked across the parking lot. No one in sight. Yeshe pushed the button to lock and walked towards the blue rally car. The side window was still ajar. She reached in, was just about able to reach the crank without dislocating her shoulder, and after some fiddling, she could roll down the mechanical window. The door was welded close. Leaning in she checked the interior, going through the pockets of the jacket. Then she un-gracefully slid all the way inside and searched in the single cupboard and under the chairs. A poor result. The inside was bare as bones. Not much room to hide anything. A receipt, a shopping list and the telephone. The cell phone was turned off.
She took the catch to her own car and drove away.
She turned off at the cemetery and pulled onto the empty parking lot. With a wide turn she put her nose towards the exit. With that she stood behind the building. Out of sight.
There were a few addresses on the shopping list. She smiled. This was Thalia in service of Michael. Each location said what it was, bakery, vegetables, clothing, library, except the first address. Thalia's place? Yeshe sat looking at the stolen phone for a long time. How advanced were those guys? Could they be watching as soon as she turned it on? Or was the thing traceable even now? The smartphone was at most a year old. Her head buzzed. If she searched the activated cell phone in the car, she might be giving away her position. And what would doing that bring? No, she thought, I will check the address first. Now she still had the advantage. Despite her fatigue, she decided to do it right away.
She disconnected the trailer. Pushed the thing deep into a far corner and left the cemetery. She drove with the help of the car's navigation. The old part of the city, a small square. At the very top of a centuries old warehouse. All the windows were dark. It was quiet on the street this early. The door to the stairwell was closed, so she walked into the alley, felt the gate, it creaked open, and she stepped through. A well-maintained communal garden. The back door was open with a stopper underneath. Praise the deity for hot summer days, Yeshe thought with a smile.
All the way up. She climbed the stairs as quietly as possible, but was still out of breath on the fifth floor. The dimly lit stairwell was stuffy. And now? Thalia’s front door looked sturdy. No windows, no mailbox, just a wall with a white door. Next to it was a ladder to a roof hatch. The emergency exit secured with a large padlock. Yeshe was sweating, felt her heart beating. Well, that's that, she thought. It was worth a try. Still, she studied the silver knob. For modern registered dimple keys. Not really something for an amateur like her. Still, she gave it a try. The door was unlocked!
She immediately hesitated. Was there still someone at home? Was there a husband asleep? A girlfriend, a dog? She pushed open the door. It was dark inside. She looked down the bare stairwell. Up here she was wonderfully trapped if anyone came. Now it got exciting. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her as silently as possible and put the chain on. Let her eyes adjust for a minute.
If she had already doubted whether she was in the right place, now she was sure that she was. The chaos was the same as in the camper. Thalia’s attic was a sizeable space under old roof beams. At the end there was a large window where the former warehouse door had been. City lights striping the interior through horizontal slits. There were books and notes everywhere, dirty plates and cups. Yeshe tiptoed smiling across the battlefield to the large window and opened the blinds to the breaking dawn.
First she observed. It was as if she were visiting an exhibition. Michael had not been idle. She recognized his almost illegible handwriting on the index cards. Yes, he was still seeking. She saw Templars and Rosicrucians. Vikings, women's history. And even a book about troubadours. Shakespeare lay open at The Tempest. So, lie there, my art, scribbled on a pink card. Next to it a half sketch of the mask of Pallas Athene. Yeshe recognised the angel holding the book from the chapel in a quick sketch. She picked up a bound title: 'The history of the pop festival; nineteen fifty-six to present'. He came closer and closer. There were just over ten copied pages from the third of Sapi’s notebooks. The box had been already half empty when Yeshe, at the gas station, had discovered the created paper trail. Michael was clumsy, absent minded. She was pretty sure he was also the one who forgot to close the front door to Thalia's apartment. Had he lost track of time during his search through the books? To then leave in a hurry?
She started taking pictures. Recorded every square inch of notes. The front and back of the pink cards. And then she fell silent. If Bino were to visit here tomorrow with his gadgets and found this, that would be undesirable to say the least. Yeshe put the camera away. Bit her lip and felt terribly guilty. She would bother Michael again.
I'll pretend to be the maid, Yeshe thought. I will tidy up. She collected all the written cards, all the copied pages, closed all the books and removed bookmarks. She made two book stacks of equal height to the left and right of the bed, with the titles facing the wall, and finally placed some random things on top. She washed the dishes, put the stuff back in the cupboards as best she could, then searched the trash, finding some torn up cards and two used condoms right underneath. They’d had sex. That stung a bit, but she understood. She understood it far too well and hissed like a cat. She left those traces as they were.
Then she sat down to think. She was wide awake. Dog tired but wide awake. My dear colleague Bino would probably also investigate things here in a few hours. What if she laid out some stray paths for him? Make sure he wouldn't get bored.
Something that confirmed their expectations. Something that sent them in quite the wrong direction. Something that aroused their disdain because they couldn't take it seriously, but still forcing them to investigate anyway. Something that made the MPV have to take the boat to the other side again? She opened the battered laptop, it had a sticky note with the password on the lid. Clearly the feminine handwriting of Thalia. Yeshe cleared the search history, and picked a random book from one of the over filled bookcases. Vampires and werewolves in historical context. She pasted some fresh sticky notes. Wrote keywords on a few index cards. Looked up a whole bunch of websites online and left all the tabs open. Surfed to a literary meeting she found in the mail, that started in a few weeks and wrote an email asking two people to sign up as volunteers. She continued to scatter crumbs for a while. In the end, she made a pretty believable mess. Not as bad as it was, but a good try. Except that she used the wrong books, mixed in random newspaper clippings and magazine photos, and to top it all off, she printed out tickets for a concert from last year, of which she first cleverly changed the date and text. High time to step up. She grabbed the stack of Michael's notes and index cards, bound them with two bright green rubber bands, expressed an internal sweet wish and sealed that inner promise with a mental kiss.
She drove back to the blue rally car. End of the morning and hot already. It was quiet at the terminal. Halfway between departure and arrival. There she turned on Thalia's phone. Felt the tickle in her chest. Quickly scrolled through the messages. Found a whole series of photos of the fire. She noted the phone number of the device and a few more from the list. Then she turned it off and put it back where it had been. One more thing to do. She wrote a note. Or actually she mainly drew. On one of the pink cards. A triangle with the point down, inside a black diamond shape with a white ball cut out at the top. On top of it a large O. This was the beginning of a symbol from the picture book. Someone as visual as Raphael would recognize it even out of context. On the back she wrote; how to be invisible. Hopefully he was able to decipher it. Maybe he would start to see. She wished it fervently.
Noon, high time to get some sleep.
At the cemetery she hitched the trailer back up and set the alarm for nine, made room on the folded back seat and put a shirt over her eyes.
Ten minutes in she had to pee. Then, back in sleeping position, wasps tried to colonise the car. She closed the windows. But that felt like she wasn't getting any oxygen. And there was nowhere to put her legs. And the random pattern on the vinyl wasn't random at all. It had tiny faces, intentionally designed to annoy, to prevent sleep in any shape or form. She got up again at three. Drank the last cold tea from the thermos and ate all the leftover food. She sat on a shaded bench, hollow-eyed, looking at the gravestones.
She had to call the car rental to say it would take longer. Or should she hand it in here and buy some local car from a private individual? Also a sleeping vehicle perhaps? Yes, that was a good plan. A festival style ride. Then Michael's things from the camper could also go in there and she would no longer have to rely on hotel rooms. Sleep in a bed of her own. That really would be something.
Would there be time to find that here in town tomorrow, she wondered as the phone rang on the other end. There was bound to be an alternative scene in this student filled city. High time to buy decent food again. That's why she was getting sick. The difference was enormous. The outside, how it looked, was often fairly the same, but the inside was missing or had been replaced.
The car rental could only be extended two days. More would cost a fortune. She could hand it in and hire another car. Two days off for the first week. The lady was terribly sorry, but those were the rules. Yeshe couldn't get used to it. All that hiding, all that dependence, all those crooked regulations. Laugh kindly, say thank you and mean it too. "I'll think about it some more,” and she pushed end call.
She didn't really understand how everyone just accepted that. The constant unrelenting patronisation of money. She’d spent more these last weeks than she had in the previous ten years. And to get what? Above all, access to the spaces behind the fences, traveling quickly in a comfortable seat, shielded from what made being on the road worthwhile. Fortunes spent on bad food and appearances. On too many ferry tickets. Nothing substantial. Nothing of lasting value. Not much fun either. And what portion of all that money went to the people working to collect it? She suspected almost nothing. A few percent. The rest sucked into large unlabelled bins behind the machinery.
Yeshe sighed, she had put this behind her, right? That annoyance, that powerlessness, that blaming. Sapi would also say, either spend and not whine about it, or give your money to something you do support. Don't waste your energy on your enemies. Even more likely, she wouldn't even mince words about it. Accept this is the case, see how things can also be and choose for yourself when the time comes. All three the most difficult option.
She drove back to the port and parked her car and trailer at the far end of the departure lot. She walked to the cafe dragging her feet. It was already busy for the afternoon arrival. Maybe they served a late breakfast. She thanked her guides for a prosperous day with still no intention of ever ending.
There was a checkered fire truck with a for sale sign behind the windshield right next to the driver's cafe. She circled around the strange vehicle and felt her body relax. Slightly ashamed off the cynical gratitude a second ago. The fire truck still had the feel of its former function but was lovingly customised to be a live in camper. Strategic place, she thought and started dialing the number. While walking towards the motel, she heard the cell phone ring twenty meters away on the terrace. The woman with a small child in front of her didn't answer. She walked over.
“Hey,”
“Hey Hey.”
The mother looked uncertain, almost scared. The little girl knocked over her lemonade in fright.
“I just called you. Do you still have that red box of blocks for sale?”
The woman's face fell. She bit back her tears and just nodded, wiping the table clean with a napkin.
Yeshe sat down. The two looked a bit shabby. Lack of money and time?
"Off you go to the playground, I need to talk to this lady."
The child ran away with relief. The woman looked after her worriedly.
"My husband is dead, I have to sell him."
Yeshe assumed she didn't mean her husband, and nodded, waiting to see if there was more to come. The woman looked at the water.
This was still fresh, Yeshe realized, am I the first to inquire?
“I am interested in it. Could I take a look inside?”
The woman shrugged her shoulders almost imperceptibly, chewed her upper lip and took the keys out of her bag. She pushed them across the table to Yeshe, looking at the keys and not yet letting go of them.
“Thank you, shall I have a look myself? Here, I'll leave my keys. Would you mind if I start it too?”
Yeshe opened the door at the back. The large vehicle was well maintained. Inside it was spacious, cozy and tasteful. An uneasy feeling came over her. She opened the refrigerator. There was food in it. There were cuddly toys in the box bed. Children's drawings taped to the wall.
She walked back, even forgot to test the engine. She sat back down and placed the keys on the table. The woman looked nervous.
“Don't you want him? He's absolutely fine.'
"You still live there?"
She nodded briefly and looked away.
"And where are you going to live once you sell it?"
Her big eyes now unyielding. None of your business, said the look.
Yeshe continued to look at her kindly.
"What are you asking for it?"
“It's recently been checked and approved. Only I accidentally emptied the tank charging the battery and now it won't start and I don't have the money to have a mechanic come so that...'
She was interrupted by a mustachioed guy sitting behind her.
“That’s what a diesel does to ya, you know, if you just open the hood for me, love, I'll poor in a few liters of diesel oil for you and suck out the air. I still have to wait another hour, anyways, so I might as well help a damsel in stress, right? Jonnes is my name.'
He held out his weathered garage hand. And then shook Yeshe's. His moustache hiding a cleft lip.
The little girl watched the driver curiously.
The woman, her name was Es, was pacing with her arms crossed. Yeshe walked over.
“I have a proposition.”
Es looked suspicious and kept walking back and forth.
“Can I rent you and your mobile home?”
“Rent me? For what?”
“Nothing, just do what you normally do but with me there. I'm only allowed to say where we're going. And I have stuff I need to take with.”
Es had stopped pacing.
“For how long?”
“I do not know. A few weeks, maybe a few months. For as long as it takes.”
“And then?”
“Then you can still sell.”
“But I do not know you.”
"No, I don't know you either."
Yeshe did not want to use arguments, but simply leave the decision to her. She navigated full on her stomach.
"You pay for the fuel?"
"Yes, and all groceries, plus two-hundred a week."
The engine started. A deeply satisfied growl.
Es laughed. For the first time.
"Fine, but I do the cooking."