by Paul Vayro
Chapter Ten
“You know I hate it when we argue.” Fate had been on the phone to his girlfriend Karma for the last forty minutes, trying to smooth out the days misunderstanding. Finally they were passing compliments rather than trying to score points.
“I do too. It’s only because I love you so much.” Karma’s tone suggested she was fully appeased. Fate couldn’t be happier. His body ached from the hung-over day’s injuries. All he wanted to do was relax before the mission to save the Earth began, and he knew no better place to do so than Fut’s house.
“I love you too. As much as I hate to say goodbye I have to go. I’m at Fut’s door.” Strictly speaking Fate was still a short distance away, but he knew the drawn out pleasantries would take up the travelling time.
“Okay then. You have a nice time tonight and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Will do. You have a good night too.” Fate began speaking in a slightly lower voice to accentuate the fact he was going.
“I will. Well done again on achieving your goal.” Karma whipped what little momentum the conversation had left in to another sentence.
“Thank you my cherry toast.” Fate continued to use parting tones.
“You’re so sweet. Sorry about the misunderstanding.”
“It doesn’t matter. Honestly.” Fate could see Fut’s garden approaching.
“Okay then. Love you loads and loads.” Karma really wasn’t picking up the hints.
“All that love put in a box and posted back with a little extra.” He tried to emphasise the need to go without any hint of wanting to.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Now she was just repeating herself.
“Okay. Can’t wait.” Fate approached Fut’s gate. “I’m going to go then. Bye, bye.”
“Bye, bye.” The usual round of goodbyes continued to spin for far longer than necessary. By the time Fate had put the phone down he stood with his finger hovering over Fut’s doorbell. As one button ended the call another button requested a door to open. The familiar bass line of Fut’s doorbell trickled through to the step. By the time it was answered Fate had quite a rhythm going between his head and toes.
“Fate. My fellow in the know.” Fut’s smile shone out from his six and a half foot frame, nearer seven if you included his perfectly geometric afro. His welcoming demeanour transcended his imposing bulk. “Enter my abode and let the stress fall from your mind, body and clothes. May I furnish you with a drink to warm you from the soul to your soles?”
Fate walked the well worn path to Fut’s living room as the day’s stresses fell further away with each step. The friendly giant closed the door and strolled behind. “I wouldn’t mind one of your cocktails.” Fate had learnt nothing from the previous night.
“Consider the pleasure mine.” The pair entered the living room, a haven of relaxation. Every method of seating offered a different way to enjoy the act of sitting. Fate headed straight for the newest addition to the room, a double hammock across one corner littered with cushions each as big as a child. Fut glided to the other corner where a fully stocked bar awaited his presence.
Fut’s role upon the Earth was to spread calm and relaxation; however his dress sense and approach to life had morphed his role into the more generic term of spreading ‘cool’, a term even he didn’t understand. The ancient phrase ‘cool as Fut’ had morphed as it passed from the concepts into the human language.
Fut’s clothes appeared to float around his frame rather than be worn, his various beatnik accessories acquired through life events rather than bought, a life that appeared to have spanned just over thirty years. His shades allowed his honesty through while remaining unpretentious and somehow fitting, even indoors at night. He was a man that made everyone feel instantly at ease, and like an old friend within minutes of meeting for the first time.
Fate found comfort on the hammock without any effort. Fut continued adding ingredients to the cocktail as the wounded visitor let his eyes wander around the room. Every inch had been filled with something of visual interest, one side flowing effortlessly into the other. Fate never tired of exploring the numerous shelves and cabinets filled with trinkets and curious objects. The lighting finished off the effect, offering clarity of vision in a subtle and understated manner. Fut walked across to Fate, delivering his drink as the all seeing concept rocked gently back and forth on the cloth bed.
“The beverage to remove all ills.” Even Fut’s speech pattern was soothing, falling effortlessly from within with an air of rhythmic poetry.
“I’ve been dreaming of this moment all day. Thank you.” Fate took the drink with an enormous smile while Fut retreated to a corner of cushions. It allowed his long legs the freedom to move whilst experiencing all the comfort of a sofa. They both took a moment to themselves as the music Fut had been listening to rippled through their bodies. Fate sipped his drink and lay back. The taste left him speechless as every part of him released the day’s tension.
After several minutes of comfortable silence the track came to an end allowing a natural gap for conversation. Fut began.
“My mind can only presume from your presence that you did all that needed to be done?” The next track began with an un-intrusive beat.
“Only just; I’m not trying to wing it again. It nearly went horribly wrong.” Fate took another sip of his cocktail to dampen the memory of near disaster.
“Those words fall from your lips every time, but I never see you planning when the wheel of opportunity turns back round.”
“Well I definitely won’t try and wing it with a headache and half the hospital's bandage supply around my head, next time.” Fate pointed to his ever failing headwear.
“As painful as Irony’s point was to prove, she does own the rights. The viewer of all before us should see the lamp post at the end of his nose.”
Fate sat up vaguely purposefully. “Turns out I saw that wrong too. It wasn’t Irony. It was Karma.”
“Your good lady is the source of all that blood?” Fut raised his eyebrows. It was as surprised as he got.
“Seems so. She was out with Irony and saw us walking past. Thinks I was leering at a girl. I don’t know where she gets these ideas from.”
“That lady in blue was a delight for the mind.” Fut dropped back into his memories for another glance.
“She was indeed.” Fate fell into his own memory before realising Karma may get wind of it. “Purely from an aesthetic sense of course, no desire enters my mind. I’m attached. Happily I may add.”
“No defence required in my abode my forward seeing friend. Karma ain’t beneath my cushions waiting for round two.” Fut took another swig of his own cocktail.
“You can never be sure.” Fate fell back in to a more comfortable position. “Karma wasn’t happy at all. I made it worse when she rang while I was following Penelope Herbert. I failed to explain she was my assignment for the day.”
“Should I presume her understanding nature was out to lunch?”
Fate answered by pulling up the arm of his top to reveal a badly bruising elbow. Fut recoiled in sympathy and changed the subject. “Will tomorrow still roll the same, or be there some schedule changes I need to know?”
“It’s all still the same as far as I’m concerned. I’ve told everyone who’s invited to be at the top of Noel hill by about eleven tomorrow.”
“How about those that ain’t been told to show?” Fut continued to bob his head to the music.
“I’ve booked them in to the Moon’s indoor beach resort. Said there’s some essential maintenance work required on Earth. Want to keep the elite assistance team to a minimum.”
“Who may I enquire reaches the grade of elite?” Fut stood to pour a refill. He strolled across to Fate to collect his empty glass and headed back to the bar.
“Thanks. You and me, Karma obviously, which meant I had to invite Irony.”
“The politics of relations is a tricky pond to cross.” Fut did a little spin as he released
a few cherries from their stalks.
“More of a bog than a pond. I’ve tried everything to get along with her but she just refuses. I really don’t know why Karma’s friends with her.”
“The bonds of friendship don’t tie themselves with knots of logic.”
“Very true. Coincidence is coming too.”
“How be that brother of yours?”
“Same as usual, gliding on the edge of effort. I’ve invited They as well.” Fate stopped counting on his fingers and accepted his second cocktail of the increasingly hazy night.
“They? That ain’t a name I expected to hear.” Fut’s query came without malice or judgement.
“When you meet the two humans we’re helping you’ll see why. I think their and They’s ramblings will find a common bond.”
“Two humans in the vain of They. My mind looks forward to sharing a space.”
“I’m just looking forward to it all being over and still having a job at the end of it.”
“Each man’s goal is his own mountain to climb. How steep and rugged is the test of ambition.”
“Hmm. I think that’s everyone.” Fate had closed his eyes and let the alcohol and music take over.
“It sounds like a can do team.” Fut did the same and nestled into the cushions, reaching a hand to the volume control on the way. He moved the music from background noise to all encompassing as the soft beats and curious sounds took over the air, filling every inch with an aural massage. Each sense experienced the sounds, all concurring that any muscles that were tensing should stop, relax for a while, and allow life to flow by without worry. Whatever the next day brought it would be dealt with there and then, for now only serenity existed.
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