Chapter 21 Tranquility, Where Art Thou? #2
“Hmm, let me see.” Mrs. Davert turned sideways, and they heard the clicking of a keyboard.
It took her a few moments, then she looked at them.
“The bus driver’s name was Isabelle Hopper.
I know because I wrote down her number and asked a friend to get me her name.
I wanted to give this rude asshole, pardon my French, a piece of my mind. ”
“And did you?” George couldn’t help himself, but he needed to know.
“Oh, you bet I did. I wrote her a letter because I’m a lady and wouldn’t just show up on somebody’s doorstep to yell at them. It was a very pointed letter. I didn’t mince words.” Mrs. Davert looked like a woman who had had a mission and completed it successfully.
“Did anything come of it?” George would be surprised if that had been the case.
“No.” Mrs. Davert shook her head. “It was more about the principle of the thing. The letter was a way for me to let off steam so I could forget about the incident. It’s not that I don’t have a certain compassion for people working in public transportation.
They’re overworked, underpaid, understaffed, and have to put up with a constant stream of often rude and impolite customers, not to mention the violent or drunken ones.
I just don’t see why she should be so rude in turn to somebody who clearly hadn’t deserved it. That poor girl was in tears!”
“A girl? You don’t happen to remember her name?” George inquired.
“No, I never asked for it. You see, the entire bus was angry, and I had already endured several hours of public transportation. I soothed her as best as I could and thanked the heavens when we both got off at the stop in front of the retirement home. All I wanted was to get home.” She sounded slightly apologetic.
“It’s fine, Mrs. Davert. Was there anything else that stood out to you about the situation? Anybody on the bus who seemed more upset than the situation warranted?”
Mrs. Davert chuckled dryly. “It would be easier if you’d asked me if anybody on that bus was in any way joyful.
That would have been noticeable. Cranky is the default setting for people using public transportation in this city.
Cranky or indifferent. On that day, most were cranky and happy to have an outlet.
I’m pretty sure for most of them, Isabelle Hopper’s rudeness was just an excuse to let off some steam. ”
“You seem to have a deep insight into human nature.” George knew her words to be true. Public outrage was seldom about the topic it initially ignited over.
“If you’re as old as me, you’ve either learned to see through the bullshit or you have chosen to deliberately ignore it.” She shrugged. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”
“As I said, it’s fine, Mrs. Davert. You did help us. Thank you for taking the time to talk to us.” George wanted to end the call when Andi chimed in.
“I’m sorry, but do you happen to have a raw version of your blog? Unedited?”
“Oh, you’re a clever one! Let me see, usually I only keep the edited versions on file, otherwise my folders get cluttered, but I might have it…
” Mrs. Davert turned sideways again, and the clacking came back on accompanied by erratic mumbling.
“Not there, cleared that out a while ago, hmm, perhaps, no, but there, wait a moment. HA! There it is.” She smiled at the camera.
“You’re lucky. I found the first draft. I can send it to the email address you used to contact me. ”
“We would appreciate it, Mrs. Davert.” Andi nodded.
“I’m on it. Bye.” The screen went black before they could say goodbye. Shortly after, George’s cell chimed with an incoming email.
He checked. “Mrs. HappyCitizen26 is highly efficient.”
“A woman on a mission.” Andi made a noncommittal sound George had learned was equivalent to high praise. His partner liked people with bite.
Unfortunately for them, the raw version of Mrs. Davert’s blog didn’t gain them any new insights except that HappyCitizen26 had an interesting way of composing her blogs with the help of random bullet points and a lot of streams of consciousness in the initial text.
To be on the safe side, they sent it to Shireen for a deeper inspection, something she would no doubt make one of her minions do.
With nothing else to do and no further leads to follow for the time being, George thought it would be a good idea to drive back home to Charleston.
Tomorrow will be Sunday, and they deserved a little downtime.
“How about we go back home?”
Andi looked up from where he was staring at one of his socks, which had a hole where his big toe had finally triumphed over the cloth. “Now?”
“It’s almost three p.m. If we hurry, we can be out of town and in Charleston around six. Quick shopping trip to get groceries then home and blissful peace for at least one day.”
“Deal.” Andi got up and started rummaging for his clothes. George hurried to get ahead of things so his partner wouldn’t mix their fresh laundry with the used pieces. They had two bags. They could use them wisely.
An uneventful and blessedly quick three-hour drive later, George parked in front of his favorite organic supermarket in Charleston to get everything they needed for the weekend.
Andi had been quiet during the drive, lost in his own thoughts.
George hadn’t pried, instead using the time to mentally go over every angle of their strange case.
Now he left Andi in the car, as his lover preferred, grabbed a shopping cart and pondered what he wanted to cook.
Tonight, it would be bowls with bulgur, different kinds of salad, oyster mushrooms, and a light oil and vinegar dressing.
He also bought fruits, mainly berries, and smoked tofu for stir-fry.
Vegan weekend sorted out, he indulged by adding a bar of pricey dark chocolate with cacao nibs he knew Andi loved.
Back at the house, George packed away his purchase while Andi stood under the arch leading to the kitchen, reacquainting himself with the arthropods in their home.
Or so George thought until Andi suddenly opened his eyes.
A determined gleam alerted George that something unusual was about to happen.
His partner and lover was very much a creature of habit, not so much out of choice but because it helped him conserve energy he badly needed to keep the geschenk on its leash.
When they returned home, especially after being away for several days, Andi always connected actively with their tiny housemates, letting George do less important things like unpacking their bags, cooking, and generally waking the house appliances up.
Tonight, Andi took George’s hand and dragged him out of the kitchen toward the stairs.
On the first floor, he marched toward the one room George had yet to enter.
Andi’s gran’s bedroom, which until now he had guarded fiercely.
When his lover started opening the door, George put his hand on Andi’s.
“Andi, dear, what’s going on? I don’t understand.”
Andi looked up at him. “Life’s too fleeting,” was all he said before he pushed the door open. For a moment, they just stood there, George too busy scrutinizing Andi to really look at the room. Andi was holding his gaze, the sorrow in his eyes like a stab into George’s heart.
“Her echoes are fading.” Andi turned his head and stared at the bed.
The room was what George had expected of a grandmother, and, at the same time, an absolute surprise.
The ’60s bedframe harmonized well with the flowery tapestry and the oil painting of a magnolia in full bloom.
And somehow, the framed and signed Black Sabbath poster with Ozzy Osbourne in all his deranged glory hanging directly over the bed was more an accent to the overall design than something out of place.
Everything was layered with dust because Andi hadn’t opened the room for years, trying to preserve the memory of his gran for as long as possible.
His lover was still staring at the bed, lost in his memories.
George very carefully touched Andi’s hand, waiting for a reaction.
Andi’s fingers twitched, then he slipped them into George’s.
“We knew the end was near.” His voice sounded distant like a commentator speaking from the off.
“Me from them and she…just knew. Like she seemed to know everything. We talked about it. Had said our goodbyes. And yet,” he inhaled deeply, “and yet it was a shock. That night, I felt her fall asleep. Heard and saw and experienced her heartbeat getting weaker and weaker. And I didn’t do anything because I had promised, and she’d said going on that journey was a solo mission.
” Tears started streaming down Andi’s face.
“A solo mission. Those were her words. And I just lay in my bed and waited till she was gone, till her electric fields collapsed, till her heartbeat stilled. She died in her sleep. There was no fear, and yet it was the worst death I’d ever lived through.
” The tears were falling freely now, and George grabbed Andi’s shoulders, pressing him to his chest. He could feel the pain radiating from the man he loved.
George didn’t know why Andi had decided now, of all times, to open the room and tell him this story, but he knew he would find out soon enough.
Now his priority was comforting his lover.
“It sounds to me as if death came to her like sleep’s brother.
Like in that choral you talked about? Schlafes Bruder?
” George knew his pronunciation was horrible without feeling Andi wincing in his arms. He didn’t want to know how badly he had butchered these two words.
Learning German was on his to-do list but something always seemed to be coming up.
The story of most wannabe language learners all over the world.
“Yes.” Andi was burrowing into him, seeking his warmth and comfort.
“Do you want to stay here or should we go to our bedroom?”
For several heartbeats, Andi didn’t say a word. “Our bedroom. But leave this door open.”
George hoisted Andi up and started carrying him to their room.
His lover was heavier than he looked, and George was glad he didn’t have to go up the stairs.
Leg days might have to be increased in the future.
He put Andi down on the bed, laid down next to him, snuggled him close and waited.
Patience was key when dealing with his complicated man.
It paid off after about twenty minutes if George wasn’t mistaken.
He’d become quite adept at estimating time.
“You don’t have your own room here.” It was out of left field, and it took George a moment to get his mental gears into the right slots.
“It’s fine, dear. I’m not missing anything. Plus, if I really wanted my own room, I could always take one of the guest rooms.”
“That’s not the same.” Andi grabbed his hand and started caressing it.
“Those rooms have always been for guests. At least as long as I can remember. The biggest one was where my mom used to sleep, but…” He sighed.
“But she was never at home here. No, our bedroom and Gran’s room are the heart of the house, and I want you to have a part in it.
You’re not a guest, and you’re not fleeting.
You deserve this space, and she’s no longer holding it. The balance is upset.”
“Andi, you do know I love you, right?” George felt it was important to stress this.
“I do, and I love you as much as I am capable, and that’s why I want you to have her room. You’ve become part of my life, part of me. They know you belong here, and you have to have her room.”
George pressed Andi closer to his chest, softly stroking his back, barely touching enough to feel the tension in the lean muscles.
There was so much to unpack here, things even a qualified therapist would need time to unravel, and George wasn’t that, but he was all Andi could get because talking to a professional was so out of the question, the possibility didn’t even exist. “If this is your wish and how you see it, I’m honored and grateful, and we can start going through her things tomorrow.
We’ll go as slow as you need, and if you want to close that door again, then that’s okay too.
Because I am at home here, I know where I belong, and I’m a patient man.
So many things have been taken from you because of your geschenk, and I’m not going to add to that.
I respect you and I love you, and may I add, I see this whole situation a little differently than you.
To me, being with you is already the ultimate prize.
Having my own room is just a minor detail for me. ”
If possible, Andi snuggled even closer to him. “Thank you.” His lover didn’t say anything more, and it wasn’t needed.
They understood each other.