Grounded

by Narrelle M. Harris

  ‘After that, yes.’

  ‘And they’re getting married now?’

  ‘It’s been a year.’

  ‘I’m aware.’ Benedick bit down on his irritation. ‘It’s kind of you to ask, Marca …’

  ‘It’s no trouble,’ she said hastily. ‘And I know you can’t be getting out much, meeting people, so I thought …’

  ‘You’d do me a favour.’

  ‘Yeah. Something like that. I mean. No. Not a favour. Just. Ah …’

  ‘Good of you to ask, but I’ve got something on next weekend.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘With Clementine.’ He didn’t, not yet, though he’d been planning to ask her to lunch. Or dinner. Dinner would be nice. Benedick was interested in pursuing this idea that Clementine thought he had nice legs. And beautiful eyes.

  ‘Your lame duck artist?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Benedick crisply. ‘My neighbour, the artist. She’s an incredible person, with more strength than anyone I’ve ever met. It turns out that strength and wingspan aren’t just about wings. I’m learning a lot from her.’

  Marca made a great point of looking at her watch. ‘Damn. Is that the time? I have to be going.’

  ‘Yeah. Me too.’

  She made a point then of looking him in the eye and holding it. ‘It’s good to see you doing so well, Benedick.’

  ‘Thanks, Marca. Take care. If you can let me know anything about Clementine’s case, that’d be great, too.’

  ‘Sure. If I can. Gotta fly, though.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Marca stretched her wings, bent her knees and in a moment was in the air, flying across the forecourt of the justice building to join her colleagues at another hearing.

  The backdraft of her take-off ruffled his hair and feathers, and reminded him of the past: launching into the air with his team, Marca at his back. They’d been comrades in arms, seeing the world the same way, from the same currents.

  One bullet and everything certain in his life had cracked in pieces.

  Benedick wanted to be stronger than he felt. Looking up to the people flying by, he longed, in that moment, to be unbroken.

  He missed it. Not just the comradeship of his team and his work in the Police Corps, and being able to talk to Marca with her actually looking at him—but the simple act of flying. He missed the air under his wings, the strength in his pinions, the power of the downbeat and the sweet stretch of soaring on the breezes. He missed the speed and grace which had once been his. He missed how easily he had owned the air.

  Was it true, that the eggshell of his life had been broken so he could grow? Or was that just something people said to make him feel better about everything he’d lost.

  Clementine was in his mind’s eye again, her eyebrow arched at him in sardonic challenge. That’s not how I’m broken, she seemed to be saying. It’s not the lack of wings that breaks me. It’s how other people judge me for not having wings.

  Maybe his life hadn’t been broken so that he could grow. Perhaps, though, having his life cracked in pieces like this meant he could make the choice to grow.

  It always came back to that. The direction of the wind had been changed without his say-so, but sun blight it, he could adjust his sails to use the wind he had and reach his destination. He just had to decide what his new destination was, and how to use the available winds to get there.

  He just had to accept that this was how the wind blew now, and give up grieving for the past. Surely it was time, and past time, to do that.

  Yes. Right. As soon as he could work out how that was done.

  Do what’s necessary; then do what’s possible. See how you go from there.

  Benedick fetched his phone from his pocket and dialled his brother’s number. Peri answered within a few rings.

  ‘Benedick, bro! How’s the new place? Sorry I wasn’t there to fluff your pillows when you moved in, but I had that sun-blighted accreditation exam on calculus and differential equations and now I’m researching more advanced biochemistry and medical biology for my thesis. Fun times. The funnest. Super, super fun. Promise me when you discover the secret of time travel, you’ll go back in time to tell past me that a Master of Nanotech is not a sure-fire way to find a boyfriend, because even all the cute nerds are too busy studying sunblistering differential equations to flirt with me.’

  ‘Hi, Peri,’ he replied drily.

  ‘Oh, hark at you, Mr Sasaki of the concise greetings.’

  ‘My apologies. Good afternoon, Mr Peregrine Sasaki! I wish you well in your mathematical, chemical and philosophical endeavours in the field of nanotechnology. I agonise with you over your lack of sweet lovin’ with the tech nerds and suggest you frequent the library’s science fiction collection, where I hear tell they gather in literate droves.’

  ‘You’re hilarious, Bento.’

  ‘I know. It’s such a relief. I thought my sense of humour got broken in the fall.’

  ‘Yeah, well I was worried about that too. But a week in Avalon Towers, and you’re sassy as a duck in a puddle.’

  Benedick realised all of a sudden how unfair he’d been, thinking that Peri had been avoiding him. The poor sod was in the final year of his Masters and barely had time to stretch his wings in the morning, let alone play nursemaid-cum-host to his perfectly self-sufficient big brother.

  ‘Sorry, Peri,’ he said solemnly.

  ‘What for? It’s been a hell of a time this last year. I’m just glad to hear you laughing at me again. And don’t call me Peregrine.’

  ‘I promise to never do it again if you can do something for me.’

  ‘Name your price, you blackguard.’

  ‘Your uni—it’s got a good law faculty as well as the sciences, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Griffin Uni’s famous for it. Hey, you thinking of getting back to the books, big bro?’

  ‘Thinking about it. What’s Griffin like for walkers?’

  ‘Gold star, world standard, leading edge, exceptional. That’s what it says on the brochures, anyway. Want to come for an inspection? I can go around with you day after tomorrow?’

  ‘Excellent. It’s a date.’

  ‘Tragic. The only nerd I can get a date with is you.’

  ‘Even if you weren’t my brother, you’re not hot enough to date me.’

  ‘You wish. You’re not nerdy enough for me anyway. But if you can find me a cute geek, bring him along. Entice him with news that I can cook.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do. I might bring someone else, though, if it’s okay?’

  ‘Not a hot nerd?’

  ‘A friend of mine. My neighbour. I don’t know if she’s free or would like to come, but, ah, she’s well up on walker access needs. She’ll know better questions to ask than me, I think.’

  ‘Would this be the talented and very beautiful Clementine Torres?’

  ‘It would.’

  ‘I thought I saw a photo in the society pages. Almost didn’t recognise you in your preening plumage,’ Peri teased.

  ‘You’re not the only Sasaki with a sense of style.’

  ‘Yeah, but I thought yours was “Tracksuit Chic”.’ Peri laughed at Ben’s silence. ‘Bento, big brother, you are so easy to ruffle. So. Clementine Torres, eh? Octavia’s a fan, isn’t she? She’d have killed to have been at the opening with you guys last night.’

  ‘She was there as Clementine’s guest. As was I?’

  ‘Really? That’s great. So you’re friends, then?’

  ‘Neighbours.’ Benedick considered his answer. ‘Friends, too.’

  ‘You’ve got a little love-note in your tone there, Ben.’

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘She is very pretty.’

  ‘She is.’

  ‘And very talented.’

  ‘That too.’

  ‘And single, the papers say.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Anything you want to add to that?’

  ‘We’re not dating, Peri.’

  ‘Yet.’

  �
��We’ll see.’

  Peri burst out laughing again. ‘You’re a cagey bird, Ben. Fine. If she wants to come along, I’d love to meet her. Seeya Bento!’

  ‘See you, Peri.’

  Feeling warm to the wingtips, Benedick rang off and began to walk to the riverside esplanade. A ferry back home might be nice, he thought. Wind in his wings, even if he wasn’t flying.

  He went through his affirmations.

  I can’t change the direction of the wind, but I can adjust my sails to always reach my destination.

  The potential for success and happiness reside in me.

  Do what’s necessary; then do what’s possible; and one day I may achieve what seemed impossible.

  Perhaps Clementine would still be interested in coffee at Takahē. By which he meant, perhaps she would be interested in allowing this friendship to develop. Because he sure as sunbeams wanted that.

  Chapter Nine

  Clementine answered the doorbell without considering who might be on the other side of it, and nearly slammed it shut on Benedick. Her hair was a shabby mess, her skin was sallow from the chill she’d developed after forgetting her jacket at the opening, and she was dressed like an Avignon grandmere, with a thick, fluffy, chalk-smeared robe over her trousers and shirt. She’d been working up a charcoal-and-chalk drawing and was pretty sure the red-coloured sanguine chalk on her hands was smudged on her nose as well.

  Benedick grinned at her like she was a candy moth—unexpected and captivating. ‘Hey. You still up for coffee? They finished with me at the trial so I have the afternoon to myself. Oh. Unless you’re working?’

  ‘I was sketching,’ said Clementine, holding up her colour-stained hands. ‘As you can probably tell.’

  ‘You do look remarkably like a crime scene done in terracotta.’

  She arched an eyebrow at him, then rolled her eyes as she stood back. ‘Well, come in if you dare. Survey the ruins and I’ll brew you a cuppa.’

  He followed her to the kitchen, and she was glad she’d pushed all the art detritus out of the way since he’d last visited her.

  Visited. Not really the word she should have used.

  ‘I’m sorry about the other night,’ she said, filling the kettle so she didn’t have to look at him directly. ‘I’m usually much more careful when I drink. I don’t have the body mass to be careless.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he assured her. ‘I can understand why you might have been a bit less careful than usual; and it was no trouble.’

  ‘I was. A lot of trouble.’

  ‘You really weren’t,’ he said. ‘As drunks go, you didn’t throw up on me, try to punch me or stab me, and you even gave me some lovely compliments. So honestly, I’ve got no complaints.’

  Clementine buried her face in one hand. ‘Did you have to remind me?’

  ‘I sort of did.’ He grinned cheekily at her. ‘Unless you were lying, and didn’t mean it.’

  She lifted her chin. ‘If you don’t stop embarrassing me, I’m going to smear chalk dust all over your good suit.’

  ‘Ah. I didn’t realise you were a desperado.’

  ‘As desperado as they come, Mr Sasaki.’

  ‘I’ll have to start calling you Torres the Terror.’

  ‘And my childhood nickname comes back to haunt me.’ Clementine scooped aromatic coffee into the café press and filled it with boiling water. ‘Torres the Terror. It was that or Little Fish.’

  ‘Little Fish? Oh that’s right. Your uncle Lance called you that. Because you can … swim?’

  ‘I note that Torres the Terror doesn’t need explanation.’ She smiled though. ‘And I’m not sure swim’s really the word, but I can float.’ At his expression of shock, she added, ‘It turns out when you don’t have wings to drag you down, you float.’

  Benedick was sceptical. ‘You float.’

  ‘Yeah. I gave my parents a fright more than once, but I just loved the water. I think I thought it might be what it felt like to fly. Being weightless.’

  He continued to look faintly alarmed, and Clementine’s mouth pooched into a little moue. ‘So. Little Fish, and Torres the Terror. Rawr!’ She made claws and a mock-savage face at him.

  Benedick burst out laughing. ‘If it makes you feel better, mine was Bento.’

  It was her turn to give him a look. ‘Bento?’

  Benedick patted his belly. ‘I was a round little kid. Papa used to say I was an onigiri rice ball with wings. I was always snacking on something: as full of rice and fish as a bento box, he said.’

  ‘Little Fish and Bento,’ said Clementine thoughtfully.

  ‘Could be an omen,’ suggested Benedick.

  ‘Of a snack-related apocalypse, maybe.’

  Clementine poured the brewed coffee and they took it to her breakfast table by the window. The afternoon light played over the lines and smudges of the picture she’d been working on. Little granules of chalk and charcoal stood out on the paper, giving the image an organic feel extending beyond its earthy colours.

  ‘Is that me?’

  Clementine pursed her lips and tried to think of what to say.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Benedick. ‘What I meant to say is: that is very obviously me. The likeness is uncanny.’

  Clementine found herself back to arching an eyebrow at him. Benedick grimaced ruefully and rubbed a knuckle against his lower lip.

  ‘What I really meant to say is,’ he said, ‘I was not expecting to find you drawing my portrait.’ He gestured at the image of himself gazing at a candy moth perched on his finger.

  ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Not at all. I’m just … not used to people thinking I’m worth looking at for that long.’

  ‘Well, you are. In artist’s terms, you have a wonderful face. Very expressive. I was meaning to ask if you’d model for me. If it’s no bother.’ She shrugged like it was no big deal.

  ‘No bother at all,’ he said quietly. ‘I’d be honoured.’

  Abruptly, Clementine cleared the work away to a bench and dusted her chalky hands against her shirt. She looked like a proper mad artist already, she figured. It was probably wisest to keep that up, and keep him at friends-only distance. And if he would stop looking at her like she was delightful, she’d find that a whole lot easier.

  ‘How did it go this morning?’ she asked, electing to change the subject entirely.

  ‘It went well,’ he said. ‘My testimony backs up surveillance and other eyewitnesses. It doesn’t make or break the case.’

  ‘But they called you up anyway,’ Clementine noted.

  ‘The prosecution, yes,’ Benedick said. He shrugged and his wings rustled. The damaged wing shuddered a moment longer than the other. ‘You don’t have to look like that,’ he said, and Clementine realised she was scowling. ‘I’m perfectly aware that the whole point of my testifying was to show me off as the collateral damage. Sympathy of the jury and all that.’

  ‘So Jones isn’t being prosecuted for what he did to you?’

  ‘No. The State prosecutor thought it would make the case more complex. He wasn’t aiming for me, after all. We’re focusing on the assassination attempt. My testimony as an on-the-spot eyewitness is clear. It would have been brave of the defence to claim I couldn’t focus on the details I recall because I was busy bleeding out because their defendant shot me. Bit of a tornado approach, that one, just as likely to blow the storm back onto them as blow out, wouldn’t you say?’

  Clementine had to admit there was method in it, but she didn’t have to like it.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Benedick considered. ‘Mostly,’ he said at last. ‘Some days are better than others. Today wasn’t so good to begin with. I miss flying. I mean. I really miss it. Not just the independence, or how everything’s changed without it. The flying itself. There’s nothing like it, you know?’ He blushed then, his brow scrunching. ‘Sorry. You don’t, do you?’

  ‘I don’t,’ she agreed gently. ‘But I suppose I’ve always thought that my art�
��s my wings in a lot of ways. When I read the poets, it feels like how I feel when I’m painting is what it’s like to fly.’

  She wondered if she’d drawn too long a bow with the comparison, but Benedick nodded. ‘Percy Shelley. In the golden lightning of the sunken sun, O’er which clouds are bright’ning, thou dost float and run …’

  ‘… Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun,’ her voice joined with Benedick’s on the last line. She decided not to mention how Shelley had been storm-tossed attempting to fly across the Bay of Spezia and drowned in the heaving sea.

  Benedick’s rueful sigh followed. ‘Yeah. That’s what it was like. That’s what I miss. The unbodied joy.’ He puffed air out between his lips and stood taller. ‘But I’m looking for other ways I might find uplift. I think I want to go back to university.’

  ‘What do you want to study?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet. I’ve always been fascinated by forensics, though there’s a lot of science I’d need to catch up on. Maybe I could go back to the law studies I abandoned to my parents’ dismay. Peri’s going to show me around his campus—Griffin University—the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s a world class university for accessibility,’ said Clementine. ‘They’ve got excellent science and law programs, too. And their physiotherapy course is the best in the country.’

  ‘Another career option.’ Benedick grinned. ‘I don’t suppose you’d be free to come with me for a look? I thought you might have some advice or suggestions.’

  ‘I’d be delighted, Benedick.’

  ‘Great. Peri’s keen to meet you too. He likes your work. The Sasaki Family are definitely fans.’

  Clementine self-consciously rubbed the tip of her finger over a section of the chalk drawing, smoothing a fragment of colour into the image.

  ‘I suppose the short answer to your earlier question is that I’m all right and getting all righter. I even turned down a pity date this morning.’

  Clementine’s scowl was back. ‘A what?’

  ‘Oh, someone I used to work with. She’s off to a wedding this weekend—we both know the groom. She asked me to go with her, but she was just trying to be nice.’ His expression indicated it was no big deal.

  Clementine felt like she had a thunderstorm in her chest. Dark clouds gathered in her throat, lightning in her brain, a dense cold in her belly.