“Oh my! That’s astonishing! The picture is immediate? Where is the film? That is me! Oh, can I try? Show me, please, Jerry! I miss my camera ever so much!”
“You like to take pictures?” He handed her the Canon, and she turned it over in her hands, examining each and every little angle and part.
“I had a Kodak Brownie that was always pointed at someone or something interesting, but it was so long between taking the photograph and seeing the results that I became extremely frustrated. My tutor would have to take the camera and put it out of reach while I was supposed to be doing my studies. Ooo! This is lighter than it looks, but it is much heavier than my little box camera.” She discovered the viewfinder and looked through it at Jerry. She was nearly hopping up and down with the uncontainable joy of discovering her dream toy. “Oh Jerry, please please please teach me! I do not need to know everything at once, I just want to be able to take photographs again. I am certain that film is dorogoy—expensive—so I will be economical with my efforts.”
“It’s digital, so there’s no need for film. That’s a fresh sixteen-gig card in there so you’ve probably got two-thousand high-rez shots available before we need a new card.”
“Two thousand?” She turned the camera over in her hands, trying to grasp the concept.
“Two thousand. I can explain the digital world later, but in the meantime, shoot to your heart’s content. You know where to look through, so here . . .” he touched the shutter button “. . . is the shutter release, and . . .” he turned the wide zoom ring on the lens “. . . this is how you zoom it in and out.” He turned the dial on top so that the green square matched up with the shooting mode indicator. “You turn it on here, and I’ve just put it on PhD mode so you’re good to go.”
“PhD?”
“It stands for ‘Push Here, Dummy’. Just point, hold steady, and shoot. Press the shutter release down halfway, and the camera will focus and calculate all the settings for you. Press it the rest of the way to capture the image. There’s only one condition, though.”
Ana lowered the camera and looked quite serious. “Of course, Jerry. Whatever conditions you apply I will abide by.”
“It’s not too tough—just don’t get carried away with pictures of me. Capture the world around us and every once in a while let me snap one or two of you.”
“That is two conditions, Mr. Powell, and not particularly easy ones to abide by . . . but your wish is my command.” She immediately raised the camera to her eye and, giggling, snapped a picture of him.
“The word ‘incorrigible’ comes to mind when I think of you, young lady.”
“Pierre, my tutor, often said the same thing. Neispravimyy, incorrigible, unverbesserlich. In Russian, French, or German, he said it was all the same. I am afraid that after almost a hundred years, this leopard is not going to change her pyatna—spots. Now . . . Chinatown?”
“Chinatown it is. Do we know where it is?”
“We do. A five-minute walk.”
“Then let’s go get some green tea or something. Maybe I can find a store that sells antelope toes or some-such as a cure for this shadow in my head.”
“That would be perfect, although I would feel sorry for the antelope, having to run from lions without toes.”
“Then maybe a mandrake root, or sage, rosemary, and thyme.”
“Much better.” She snapped a picture of Sushi, spun quickly and took another one of Jerry as he turned from the open door.
“Ana . . .”
“Sorry, but you are so handsome.”
He held the door open for her. “Just step out onto the landing so I can lock up, please, Your Imperial Shvibzikness.”
Ana scooped up the Blake book and dropped it into her coat pocket before dancing past Jerry and out of the loft.
THEY STROLLED ALONG Broad Street to Pandora Avenue, walking slowly while Ana marvelled at everything through the eye of the camera. Like a six-year-old, she would capture an image, then look at it on the screen and giggle when it appeared before her in seconds. Jerry got a kick out of seeing things new again through her eyes. Between the cool, crisp air, the chow mein in his belly, and Ana’s enthusiasm, Jerry was feeling almost human by the time they turned north on Government Street.
Ana darted in and kissed his cheek then flitted off again down the sidewalk. “Not far now, Jerry. Fisgard Street is that next intersection.” A moment later she was distracted by the Christmas lights on the trees, the blue-capped parking meters, and the Christmas banners hanging off of the red lamp posts, so Jerry was easily able to keep up.
As they neared Fisgard Street, Ana stopped, ran a few yards ahead, and then zipped back to Jerry. “That gold and red arch up there must be the Gates of Harmonious Interest, the entrance to Chinatown.”
“Since none of the other streets have a gate, I’m going to go along with you on that one.” But Ana was gone again, up to the lamp post on the corner against which she propped the camera, and took a picture of the gate flanked by a pair of guardian Chinese lions, with Quonley’s Grocery on one side, and Ocean Garden Restaurant on the other.
The flash went off, and Ana lowered the camera in frustration. “How do I turn off the flash-light and simply use the natural light?”
The Christmas lights all around made the whole scene sparkle, and Jerry knew exactly what Ana wanted to capture with the camera. “Let me show you.” He held his hand out for the camera, and when Ana handed it back to him, he pointed out the flash button on the front. “Push this to pop the flash up.” He pushed it and the little built-in flash snapped up. “Gently push the flash back down until it clicks, to turn it off.” He clicked the flash back down, then turned the shooting mode dial one position. “The camera will now let you control when the flash is used, but it will still take care of all of the shutter and aperture settings.”
“Marvellous! Thank you.” She kissed him on the tip of his nose and leaned against the post to try the shot again. The flash didn’t go off this time, and Jerry could see her huge grin as she took two more.
“I’m sorry I didn’t bring the tripod.”
“Next time, my Sweet.” She changed her position slightly, snapped three more quick shots, then lowered the camera, took Jerry’s hand, and stepped up to the curb, waiting for the light to change. She looked up at him, worried. “How are you feeling Jerry? I know we have not come far, but I do not want to utomit vas—exhaust you.”
“I’m good, thanks. Just waiting for the egg rolls to kick in and give me the MSG-boost I need. It’s sweet of you to ask.”
“Of course. Why would I not?” She squeezed his hand.
“Some people never do.” Like Haley, or his mother, he thought. This was such a nice change. The traffic light went green and Ana led Jerry across the street, to the Gates of Harmonious Interest. She maneuvered him so that he stood with his back to the Gates, facing her.
“Stand right here and smile, or make a silly face, please.”
Jerry leaned back against the Gates spanning Fisgard Street, folded his arms and stuck out his tongue. Ana quickly raised the camera and pressed the shutter button, then she lowered the camera and looked at the image on the screen. She cursed in Russian then switched back to English. “It is too blurry.” She popped the flash up and raised the camera again. “One more time, please.” Jerry obliged and the staccato red-eye-reduction flash strobe blinded him briefly.
“Youch! Okay, your turn, missy.” Ana handed him the camera and traded places with him.
“Serious or silly?”
“One of each.” Ana struck a goofy pose and Jerry snapped the shot, then she lifted her chin a bit, turned her head slightly, and gave him a regal half-smile. Jerry marvelled at her transformation from silly tourist into Grand Duchess, then snapped the picture. “You’re amazing. Such grace.”
“And you are silly, Mister Powell. I am a clumsy lump with no more grace than a sack of cabbages.”
Jerry shook his head. “I beg to differ. You shine in a way that has n
othing to do with your present ‘state of being’.” She took the camera back from him, and he was sure she blushed, if that was possible.
“I am just a girl, out with her man.” She skipped through the gate and into Chinatown.
Jerry followed her, as fascinated by her infectious exuberance as by the curiosities on display in the various storefronts. He supposed she had spent most of her short life surrounded by opulence and exquisite craftsmanship, yet here she was giggling and pointing and sharing her joy at seeing little mock-ivory Buddhas, paw-waving golden plastic cats, and pale-green jade pendants of all shapes and sizes. He put his hand on the small of her back as she leaned against a shop window. She was real, she was here with him, and when she laughed, he felt invincible in her presence. There was something about her that wrapped itself around his heart and made him think that if he let himself love her everything would be all right. And that was the thing—he was pretty sure he was falling in love. He smiled. Who was .
to tell his heart what to do?
“Look at the workmanship on this carving! It is amazing!”
Jerry looked over her shoulder at the tiny mountain village carved out of bamboo and set in a glass and lacquer case no more than eight inches tall and two inches thick. “Wow. What discipline that would take. I wouldn’t have the patience to even make the frame.”
“Oh nonsense, Jerry! Artistry like this does not require discipline so much as it requires lyubit—love. You do not do fine work like this without loving what you do. Our family had a magnificent collection of eggs created by master jewellers and they were clearly done by men and women truly in love with their craft.”
“You mean the Fabergé eggs?”
She turned to him, one eyebrow arched in surprise. “You have seen them?”
“Only photos. Incredible works.”
“Truly. My favourite is the Winter Egg. It is made of platinum, diamonds, moonstone, and rock crystal. The tiny, perfect basket of spring flowers inside is made of platinum, gold, white quartz, and green garnets. I would sit and stare at it for hours, shining an electric torch at it from every conceivable angle simply to watch the play of light off its perfect magnificence. It was Alma Pihl’s greatest design by far. Over one thousand three hundred and fifty rose-diamonds on the basket alone.”
Stunned, Jerry shook his head. “Did you say thirteen hundred and fifty diamonds?”
“On the basket of flowers. Thirteen hundred on the body of the egg, and almost four hundred on the borders.”
“That makes bamboo sculpture sound pretty lame.”
“Lame?”
“Unimpressive. Boring.”
“Not at all! Look at the detail and workmanship that went into making the pagodas and bridges. Look at the tiny cranes. Four of them and no two alike in posture and detail. The materials and cost don’t make art beautiful, but rather the skill and love poured into it.”
Lifting Ana’s chin, Jerry kissed her on the tip of her nose. “True enough.” Yup, love.
Ana giggled and skipped back and away from him, teasing him at arm’s length while searching for her next photographic subject.
Chapter Thirteen
@TheTaoOfJerr: “Those who dance are considered insane by those who don’t hear the music.”
~Friedrich Nietzsche
MANNY ARGUED AGAINST Jerry coming to work at all, but Jerry knew that there were some things he couldn’t do from his computer at home. “Besides, I need to feel useful, and if the staff see me, maybe they’ll stop worrying about me and just enjoy the Christmas season. I’ve had thirty-seven emails in the last day-and-a-half, asking me how I’m doing and do I need anything.” Manny finally acquiesced after Jerry promised not to push himself too hard and to call if he felt even a little dizzy.
JERRY HUNG HIS coat up and closed his office door until it was only a bit ajar. Plain White T’s catchy “Hey There Delilah” played over the speaker. He reached for the book poking out of his pocket, but decided to leave it where it was.
“I’m losing my damned mind. I’m falling for a ghost and carrying around a book of old poetry so I can be close to her. What is it with me and impossible women?” He slipped in behind his desk and pulled the wire mesh in-basket to the middle. He started in on the pile and after a moment the familiar blue glow radiated from his coat. He didn’t look up, just kept sorting the papers into two piles.
Ana coalesced slowly. “This is your office?”
“I think so. I haven’t spent much time in it since I arrived in town.”
“Then I shall simply sit here, quietly. Or I can return to the book if you would prefer that.”
Jerry looked up. Ana waited for his decision. He knew she only wanted to spend time with him, but she was willing to go back to whatever dark limbo waited for her in the book, just so he could do work he really didn’t have the energy for in the first place. He smiled as big as he could. “Please, sit. Relax. Read a magazine or something.” He gestured at a stack of radio industry glossies on top of the short file cabinet.
“Thank you. Just forget I am here. I used to sit and watch Father work for hours on end, and he would forget I was even in the room. I shall be quiet as a church mouse, I promise.”
Jerry laughed softly. “It’s okay. But if anyone comes in you have to disappear because we really didn’t think this through. I should have had you come in the front door with me so that Security knows you’re here.” He stood up. “As a matter of fact, let’s do that. If you’ll go back into the book for a couple minutes, I’ll take it outside and then you can come out and walk in the front door with me. Then I can get you a Visitor’s Pass and maybe find someone to give you a tour. How does that sound?”
Ana leaned toward him and whispered, “It sounds absolutely marvellous, Mister Powell.” Then she was gone and back into the book. Jerry shrugged back into his coat and made his way to the Reception desk, book in hand.
“Samhail, I’m just going to step out and meet a friend on her way over. I’ll be back shortly. Is there a sheet I have to sign her in on or a pass to issue?”
“Yes sir, there is. You go meet her and I will have it all ready for you. What is her name, please?”
“Her name? Um, Ana.”
“Ana. Guest of Mr. Powell. I’ll take care of it, sir. You’re welcome to wait here in the lobby where it’s warm.”
“Thanks, but I couldn’t remember the exact address so I just told her to walk east once she turned the corner. I’ll go make sure she doesn’t miss the place.”
“Very well.”
Jerry ducked out to the street and went around the corner of the building to the alley between the old buildings. He tugged the book out, gave it a quick rub, and shielded the resultant glow from the street with his body. A moment later Ana stood before him and reached up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
“Quick, Jerry, you will freeze, and I am taking you away from your work like I promised I would not.”
“This is hardly cold, but you’re right, and I should get back to work so I can get enough done that we can take you shopping for clothes. You can’t keep wearing my sweatshirts and jeans.”
“That would be splendid. But, let us get inside, now. I so command you.”
“Yes, your Imperial Shvibzikness.” He bowed and led her out to the street and into the station. Five minutes later he was once again ensconced at his desk, while Mika gave Ana the grand tour of the station.
A LIGHT TAP on the closed office door snapped Jerry out of his daze. He’d been staring at the same Advertiser Summary Sheet for the past five minutes, and the knock seemed to be his cue to quit for the day.
“Enter at your own risk.”
Mika peeked in, a cautious smile lighting her face. “How are you feeling, Boss? It’s been pretty quiet in here.”
“Good, thanks. I finally feel like I’m earning at least part of my salary. I’m still not sure I’ve earned the title of ‘Boss’, though.” He tried to look around Mika. “Um . . . ”
“Sinc
e Manny is really protective of the library, Ana’s in my office listening to my iTunes. She’s a real sweetie, but a little odd. I asked if she had any requests I could cue up for her and she asked for ‘the one about Grigori Rasputin’. She was snickering along to Boney M when I left her. That song’s older than all three of us.”
“Not quite, but close. I grew up listening to jazz and Big Band because that’s all my mother could tolerate. If it wasn’t for MTV, I never would have known about disco and Rock and Roll.”
“And you run a radio station?”
“Let’s just say I did a lot of catching up once I left the nest. I had four thousand CDs and almost half of that in vinyl before I finally went digital, because the industry had me moving around so much.” He logged off his computer and straightened the piles of files and reports that seemed to have doubled since he’d sat down.
“That sounds like a righteous collection.”
“It took two years of spare time to digitalize it all, and even though I used the best software available, none of it compares with the original vinyl. Scratch, hiss, and pop are the only way to go.”
“No doubt. My fiancé has started tracking down obscure, collectable vinyl. I sort of got him hooked on it. Oh, speaking of Danveer, you’ll get a chance to meet him New Year’s Eve.”
Jerry raised an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation?”
“Sort of. Ana and I decided that you two should use a couple of the extra comp tickets the station was given for the First Night Gala at the Fairmont Empress Hotel. I texted Manny to clear it and he loves the idea. Most of the staff will be there so you just have to come. Great food, live music, and you don’t have to dance if you’re not up for it. You don’t have to, but I got the impression that Ana will be seriously disappointed if you don’t.”
Waking Anastasia Page 12