Klara and the Sun(39)

‘It all gets in the way, Ricky. Gets in the way of our plan for one thing.’

‘Look, I’m doing my best…’

‘But you’re not doing your best, Ricky. You keep talking about our plan, but what really are you doing? Each day goes by we get older, stuff keeps coming up. I’m doing all I can, but not you, Rick.’

‘What am I not doing I should be doing? Going to more of your interaction meetings?’

‘You could at least try more. You could do like we said. Study harder. Try for Atlas Brookings.’

‘What’s the point in talking about Atlas Brookings? I don’t even have an outside chance.’

‘Of course you’ve got a chance, Ricky. You’re smart. Even my mom says you stand a chance.’

‘A theoretical chance. Atlas Brookings may make a big thing of it, but it’s less than two percent. That’s all. Their intake of unlifteds is less than two percent.’

‘But you’re smarter than any of the other unlifteds trying to get in. So why won’t you go for it? I’ll tell you. It’s because your mom wants you to stay with her forever. She doesn’t want you going out there and turning into a real adult. Hey, are you still not finished down there? The next one’s ready.’

Rick was silent, gazing at the picture. Josie, despite her announcement, continued to add to her picture.

‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘how’s this going to work? Our plan, I mean. How’s it going to work if I’ve got society and you haven’t? My mom drives too fast. But at least she’s got courage. It goes wrong with Sal, but even after that she finds the courage to go ahead with me all over again. That takes courage, right?’



Rick suddenly leaned forward and started to write on the picture. He often used a magazine to press on, but this time I could see the page was directly against his thigh, and starting to crinkle. But he went on writing quickly, then stood up, dropping his sharp pencil to the floor. Rather than hand the picture to Josie, he tossed it towards the bed, making it land on the duvet in front of her. He then stepped back till he was near the door, all the time watching her with large eyes that were both angry and fearful.

Josie turned to him in surprise. Then she put down her own sharp pencil and reached forward for the sheet. For a long moment, she looked at it with blank eyes, while Rick kept watching from the door.

‘I can’t believe you’d write this,’ she said finally. ‘Why would you do this?’

I turned around on the Button Couch, estimating the tension had reached a level that could no longer justify complete privacy. Perhaps Rick had forgotten about my presence, because my turning round appeared to startle him. His gaze came to me for a second, still filled with fear and anger, then he strode out of the room without a word. We listened to his steps going down the stairs.

Once the front door noise came, Josie yawned, threw everything off the bed and lay down on her front, as though the visit had ended like any other.

‘He can be so exhausting sometimes,’ she said into her pillow.

I came off the Button Couch and began to tidy the room. Josie’s eyes stayed closed, and she said nothing more, but I could tell she hadn’t fallen asleep. As I went on tidying, I naturally glanced at the sheet that had caused the tension.



As expected, the picture showed versions of Josie and Rick. There were many inaccuracies, but also enough resemblances to leave no doubt about the intended identities. Picture Josie and Picture Rick appeared to be floating in the sky, the trees, roads and houses far below reduced to miniature sizes. Behind them, in one section of sky, were seven birds flying in formation. Picture Josie was holding up with two hands a much larger bird, offering it as a special gift to Picture Rick. Picture Josie had a large smile, and Picture Rick a look of thrilled amazement.

There was no bubble for Picture Rick. The only one was for Picture Josie’s thoughts, and inside it Rick had written:

‘I wish I could go out and walk and run and skateboard and swim in lakes. But I can’t because my mother has Courage. So instead I get to stay in bed and be sick. I’m glad about this. I really am.’

I added this picture to the collection I was gathering in my hands, making sure it wasn’t near the top. Josie remained quiet and still, her eyes closed, but I knew she wasn’t asleep. In the days before Morgan’s Falls I would perhaps have spoken to her at this point, and Josie would have responded with honesty. But the mood between us was different now, and so I decided to say nothing. I went to the dressing table, reached down and placed this latest pile beside the others in the space underneath.



* * *



—

Rick didn’t come back the next day or the day after. But when Melania Housekeeper asked, ‘Where boy go? Get sick?’ Josie just shrugged and said nothing.

As the days continued and there was still no visit from Rick, Josie grew more quiet, and her signals became keep away ones. She still continued with her drawings in bed, but without Rick and the bubble game, her enthusiasm would quickly drain away, and often she’d toss unfinished pictures onto the floor, stretch out on the bed and stare at the ceiling.



One afternoon when she’d been staring in this way, I said to her: ‘If you liked, Josie, we could play the bubble game. If Josie would draw the pictures, I’d do my best to think of suitable words.’