Kate
slid open a set of glass doors and walked inside. “Welcome,”
Aster heard her say. And Aster realized that Kate wasn’t an axe
murderer. No, it was far
worse. “To
your new home,” Kate said.
But
maybe it only looked bad from the outside. What was
that tired
old meme? Don’t judge a book by
its cover. Aster peered through the door at... Unpainted plywood
flooring. How could Kenneth James live...?
How could she live there?
“Your
husband is a genius,” Kate said. “He bought almost all his
building supplies from salvage stores. And what he didn’t find
there he scavenged from local contractors. This cabin stands as a
fine example of island life. Simple. Uncomplicated. Or, I should say,
how island life used to be, in the good old days. You know, I’ve
heard stories about entire houseboats being constructed from
driftwood. Back
then people were resourceful, industrious, inventive. But now,
everyone wants the newest, the biggest, the best. No one
wants to
make. Everyone wants to buy. Yes, even here on this island. They
all... Oh, who am I kidding, we all play catch-up with our
neighbours. The more expensive things are the more trouble you have.
Things break down and then you just have to replace them.” Kate
looked back through the door at Aster. “Come in. Come in before the mice do.”
“Mice?”
Long, pink tails. Sharp teeth. Aster felt something furry brush her
leg. “Mice!” She threw herself forward into the cabin and slid the door closed with a thud; the glass vibrated.
“I’ll
give you the grand tour." Kate smiled. "You’re in the living room and library.”
Aster
stood in front of a varnished bookshelf. Kenneth James’
self-assembled party of Canadian authors danced merrily across the
shelves. A reading chair was to her left, and another was to her
right.
The
chairs looked comfortable, but the upholstery didn't match or even coordinate. A small round end table
stood beside each chair. The table to Aster’s right was weighed
down with reference books. A mug balanced on top of the stack. A
single paperback and a tea cup and saucer waited for Aster on the
other table. Kenneth James had been thinking of her. The
thoughtfulness made her sigh.
Kate
turned around to face the sliding doors. “And back there is Kenji. Oops, I'm sorry. Kenneth James. I really am trying to remember.
It’s just
that—”
“Do
more than try, Kathleen. Remember.” And because Kathleen had been
helpful, Aster added, “Please.”
“Kenneth
James is a mouthful. How about KJ?”
“KJ?
Most assuredly
not, Kathleen. K J is his initials. They
are not a
name.”
“Oh,
okay, then. Back there, by the door, is Kenneth James’ desk.”
The
desk—a rectangular piece of unpainted lumber balanced between two
three-drawer filing cabinets. It looked like something a college
student would have in his dorm room.
A laptop was barely visible under a rat’s nest of paper. Other
paper surrounded the desk on the floor.
“So,
I guess, Kenny Jim is completely out.” Kate was hoping for a laugh
or a chuckle but was met with icy silence. Quickly
changing
the subject, she asked, “Do you know how to cook on a woodstove?”
She stepped aside so that Aster could have a better look at the black
metal box that stood on legs and had a pipe running out of its back
to the ceiling.
“A
wood what?”
“Stove.
Don’t worry, Dar—” Kate looked up at the ceiling and then down
at the floor. She mumbled something, but there was a smile on her face
when she looked at Aster. “Darling, K— Kenneth James will teach
you. You don’t mind if I call you darling,
do you? I call all my friends darling. It’s a habit of mine. I know
we’ve just met. What? Less than an hour ago, but I hope we’ll
become good friends. Against
the wall over there
are a fridge and a washer and dryer.” A small fridge and an
apartment-size washer and dryer stood against the opposite wall. “I
feel like a real estate agent. Please, walk this way.” She took a
step or maybe two and put a hand on the cupboard. “This is your
kitchen sink.”
“Where’s
the bathroom sink?”
“This
is your bathroom sink.”
“I
thought you told me it was the kitchen sink.”
“It
is. It’s both. And it’s your bathtub.”
“How?
I can’t fit in there.”
“You
use a facecloth.” Without looking away from Aster, Kate reached
into the sink and pulled out a pot scrubber. She threw that back,
looked into the sink, and pulled out a facecloth.
“Where’s
the...the...toilet?” Aster winced.
“We
passed it on the way to the house.”
“On.
The way. To the house?”
“Yes,
it’s outside.”
“Behind
a tree?”
“Oh,
no. Don’t worry. It’s in a proper outhouse.”
“Worry?
Why would I worry?” Aster frowned at Kate. “Let me think,
possibly because I’m stuck in this...this...whatever this is.”
Kate
showed Aster a piece of wood that hung on the wall and flipped down
to form a table. Chairs hung beside it and Kate took one down to show
Aster how easy it was to set the table for meals. Then Kate said,
“Well, I hope you enjoyed your tour. See, I told you your husband
was a genius.”
“Enjoyed?
But it can’t be over. That can’t be it.” Aster wanted to cry.
“There’s no TV—”
“You
can use the laptop to—”
“Or
microwave or espresso machine or walk-in closet or...or...or bedroom.
Where’s the bed? Do I curl up in a corner like a mouse? It wouldn’t
surprise me. But there’s no corner big enough. Do I hang from the
ceiling like a bat? There’s no hook. Kathleen. Kath-leen, where is
the bed?”
Kate
shrugged.
“There
must be a bed, and the fact that you can’t find that bed gives me
hope that you may not know everything about this place. There could
be more. There could be a...a...a secret passageway leading to—to—a
microwave, a walk-in closet, an—an—underground
place.” Aster noticed a curtain that hung from the ceiling to the
floor in the corner of the room. “Kathleen, what’s behind this
curtain?”
“Huh,
that curtain...?
I don’t—”
“The
passageway,” Aster sang and tore back the curtain to reveal the
pass—. No, only a queen-size bed on
a platform of bookshelves, surrounded on both sides by bookshelves.
She crumpled into a reading chair, head in hand.
“This
isn’t exactly what you were expecting, is it? And you’re feeling
a little overwhelmed and maybe disappointed.” Kate put a hand on
Aster’s shoulder. “Moving from the city to a remote island is a
big adjustment. Just give it time. You’ll get used to things.
Having
your stuff around you will help make
this cabin feel more like your home. I’ll go get your suitcases.”
Kate had to make two trips but eventually delivered all of Aster’s
luggage. The trunk-size suitcases filled the cabin.
It
took some hunting,
but Kate eventually
unearthed a
piece of scrap paper and a pen from Kenneth James’ cluttered desk.
“This is my cellphone number.” Kate handed the note to Aster.
Aster
didn’t look up. She didn’t stretch out her hand. She just kept
staring at the floor.
Kate
left the note on top
of the
paperback
on the end table beside Aster’s chair.
Aster
was still staring at the floor when Kenneth James finally came home.
He
pulled her into his arms. “You’ll grow to love Mayne Island,”
he promised her.
photo by ldyck
