Chapter 10: Siblings

Kathy had a nice, small, two-bedroom flat, not too far from where my parents lived. Although the place was small, especially the living room, which included a modern kitchen in one corner, she managed to make it look bigger that it was.

I hadn't seen it for quite some time, and the few occasions I dropped by were just to take her out to some place. I had a late brunch or lunch with her a few times, but I hadn't paid much attention to her place, and what she had done with it. Now, because I was going to spend some time here, I was curious how it looked like, and what changes she had made.

I still remembered the time when my parents and I had to help her to make the move, two years ago. Mom and Kathy had spent several days during a short break Kathy had from her studies, visiting second hand stores for some good quality furniture, and making the arrangements for delivery, while Dad and I had spent a few days, going through the flat, fixing things like electrical wiring and fittings, window insulation, and any other simple things we could fix. We also had compiled a list of items that would require an electrician, a carpenter and a plumber to fix, and then waited on the guys while they did their job.

To tell the truth I wasn't much of a handy man, never had been one, but I had learned some things on the rig, especially about electrical safety and some plumbing, so when I saw what the electrician was doing--the one we called from a nearby shop in the neighborhood--I got into an argument with him. I had a copy of the building code in my hand and saw him using the wrong rated cable to replace the existing but damaged wiring. When Dad realized what was happening, he ran him off. Quite many of the electricians, plumbers and carpenters learned their craft as apprentices, but the whole apprenticeship was very flawed--the education system wasn't much of a help also, without proper control mechanisms in place--and, with many of the the guys lacking some necessary education in science and math, and worse, lacking an interest in their craft, it was always a very difficult proposition to find a good, and reliable electrician or a plumber. That is not to say there weren't qualified people, like high school or college graduates, but the ones that actually did the work were only skilled for manual work, and the college graduates were more of the engineer type who weren't inclined to get their hands dirty doing the menial work, but supervise the ones that did the menial work. But, there were many small shops that were sort of a jack-of-all-tades kind, and did a lot of repairs, fixes from electricity to plumbing to carpentry, and the quality varied a lot. The worst part of the whole deal was, of course, the quick-and-dirty fixes they came up with during a job. For example, they would use a size smaller cable not rated for the job, if they ran out of the required cable when they were doing the wiring, not giving a second thought to the possibility of an electrical fire hazard. If I hadn't seen how things were done by our electrician at the rig site, and learned things from him, I wouldn't be aware of such problems. Not only that, but in the first place, he should have known his stuff and done it properly--as naïve as that sounds--but such was the situation, and if you didn't take precautions and had no idea what they were doing, you could easily get screwed, major time! So, in the end, I went through the Yellow Pages, looking for a good electrician, instead of the local quick-fix type of shops in the neighborhood. I found a couple, but when I heard their prices, Dad and I knew we had to do some work ourselves. Dad managed to convince one of them to send a guy in to check the situation and make us a list of what is needed, and then we would try to do parts we could, and give the rest of the work to them. It worked perfectly, and I remember how proud Dad was, when the electrician came to do their part, and inspecting my work, gave a more than a passing note. I guess, it was because Dad was worse than me as a handy man. He could do some carpentry(!)--read, could nail two wooden planks--and fix some simple plumbing problems, and that was the extent of his abilities. Well, that was to be expected, as he was a white-collar; having been a desk jockey most of his life. I was supposed to be a white-collar, too, but ended up being something of a white- and blue-collar.

After all the work was done, we helped the women folk to clean the house. Then, while they got busy buying and fixing curtains and other necessary stuff, Dad and I did the painting, something which we both were very accustomed to, after moving from one rental place to another several times over the years. And since Mom and Kathy weren't around, we could get it done without any interference from them. I guess we both had fun, and surely, without the distraction of comments like: "Be careful. You're dripping paint there!" or "This part requires another coat!" and similar, we finished the job in record time. Afterwards, we had to clean up a few spots, but there weren't many spills or paint drops. I remember Dad and I sharing a look and bursting into laughter; we both were thinking whether the presence of the women during the previous times was what jinxed the painting jobs.

Finally, the day arrived for the move, and we packed Kathy's stuff, and got it moved to her flat, and during the day, the other deliveries, such as the furniture from various stores arrived. Dad and I made several trips back and forth to get some of the delicate stuff like TV, stereo, and glassware, not trusting a moving company to be careful with the stuff. It wasn't a long distance, and required only a few trips from my parents' place to Kathy's flat. In a few hours we finished the whole move. By evening time, Dad and I finished assembling the bookshelves, the bed, the wardrobe, while the women got the kitchen in order, unpacking the glassware and other stuff. Just before dinner time, we had the living room also sorted out, the furniture placed as required, and then Dad and I went out to get two big pizzas and a bottle of red wine to celebrate. After dinner, at Mom's urging we didn't hang around but left; she knew Kathy was anxious to have the place to herself for the first time in her life. Next day, I was on the road for my vacation. When I returned, I saw Kathy before taking my flight, and she told me about her first night in her flat; she had been up all night long, sitting in the living room, reading and listening to music, finally going to bed around four in the morning, tired, but happy. I could sympathize with the feeling.

I looked around to see if she made any changes, but it looked the same. There were few additions; a couple of small low tables next to the couches, and a sturdy low table for the TV and the stereo which used to sit on the floor, a sit-sack, and some new pictures on the walls. I remember the time Kathy and I shopped for some pictures and posters, and framing them at home before hanging them on the walls. The Scripps Pier by Ansel Adams--my choice which Kathy loved--and a few more reproductions of his scenic photos occupied the main wall behind the big couch. By the side of the window were small sized pictures, mostly the works of Kim Anderson, which I thought were really girly-girl kind of pictures, especially Kathy's favorite, The First Kiss, but I knew why she had chosen it. Dad had taken a picture of us when we were about three or four years old, that depicted us in a similar pose--I didn't have a rose in my hand, but I was kissing Kathy on the cheek. Her new additions to the collection were a bunch of medium size pictures of smoke filled rooms and Jazz Musicians, occupying an empty spot on the wall, above the stereo. I wasn't sure if she had chosen them for the mood the pictures depicted, rather than an actual interest in Jazz music, but Kathy was always full of surprises--and I wasn't stupid enough to bet either way!

I took my suitcase to the spare bedroom. I recognized her old bed. It used to be in her bedroom, but it looked like she had changed the bed in the master bedroom, and put her old bed here. Above the bed, on the wall, was a picture that I knew very well; one of the female nude works of Mick Payton. I had sneaked it in without Kathy's knowledge when we were shopping for pictures, and later hung it in her bedroom, earning myself a quip: "Hey! I'd rather have a picture of some hunk in my bedroom. Something that shows tight buns, and not tits!"

I turned at her, giving a quizzical look about the picture.

"Well, if you'd rather prefer, I can hang one of the Kim Anderson pictures," she said flashing me a teasing grin.

"No, thank you. That will do just fine!" I replied hastily.

"I thought it would," she said, before leaving the room.

Paybacks... eventually they catch up, whatever I do to evade them!

I smiled at the thought, since it was obvious Kathy had on purpose moved the picture from her bedroom to what was, now, temporarily my bedroom. I would have preferred one of the Ansel Adams scenic photos, but...

I checked what was brought here from my parents', and went through the wardrobe. It looked like almost all my clothes were brought in, some already in the hangers, and the rest distributed in various shelves. Other items like socks, underwear, etc. were in one of the drawers. As I was checking out shelves, and drawers, I noticed a black duffel bag at the bottom floor of the wardrobe. I took it out and set it on the floor. Opening the zipper, I checked the contents. It had been a long time, but I knew what was in there: my practice katana, wakizashi, a bokken (the wooden sword), a white gi set (the canvas cotton trousers and jacket), a long and narrow carry bag with a shoulder sling for the swords, and a small box with various items related to upkeep of the swords. I took out the bokken and the katana to inspect them. Pulling the katana from its scabbard, I checked the polish. Satisfied with that, I tested the balance and the feel of the sword. It felt heavier than I thought it was, but more than that, it was disconcerting to discover that it felt foreign; it wasn't a natural extension anymore.

Do I want to practice again? I don't know. Maybe I should start practicing with the bokken and see where it would take me.

Carefully sliding the blade into the scabbard, I returned the katana into the duffel bag and picked up the bokken. It was still in good condition. The surface was slick with wood oil and I didn't see any cracks. I was zipping up the duffel bag when I felt Kathy standing at the door. Looking over my shoulder, I saw her scrutinizing me. I was surprised that this duffel bag was here. I expected it to be left at my parents' place. Kathy had never said anything, but I always thought she didn't like some of my training, and wasn't comfortable with the contents of the duffel bag. Another subject I was loath to talk about, especially with Kathy.

When I raised an eyebrow, she said, "If you have any dirty laundry in your suitcase, I can put them in the washer."

"I don't have much, Sis. I can get it."

"Well, if you want to risk wearing pink underwear, then do it yourself."

"Come on, Sis. Whites separate, colored separate. I've washed my own stuff before."

"Do you iron as well?" she teased.

"Don't rub it in, will you?"

She wasn't going to let it go. "Do you still cook?"

"Nope. We have cooks and other staff that do the cleaning and washing at the rig-site."

"Well, since you've been spoiled by all that service, I better get your stuff washed," she retorted with a snort.

"Suit yourself. It's not locked," I replied, then took the duffel bag and placed it back in the wardrobe. I put the wooden sword on the dresser. I wanted to take it with me for the vacation, and I didn't want to forget it. Sensing I was being watched, I turned to face Kathy.

"Are you going to practice?" she asked.

"Nope. I'll take it with me for my vacation."

She had an unreadable expression on her face.

"Kathy, what is it?"

"Nothing," she replied. Before I could say anything, she turned and got busy going through my suitcase, separating the items into neat piles for washing. Over her shoulder, she said, "You'll find a bath towel in the bathroom. Go and take a shower, then get some sleep. I need to do some shopping--back in a few hours."

Fifteen minutes later I was in bed. I wasn't sure if I would get much sleep, but a short nap wouldn't do any harm. I still had to catch up with my sleep.

The sky was a strange mix of blue and gray, the darker colored clouds in constant shift, mixing and interloping with each other. Standing on the wet sand, I looked at where the horizon should be, but I couldn't distinguish sea from sky. They were both the same indistinct blue-gray. The rain was coming down gently, but in a continuous sheet, made up of fine droplets, blurring the details. The whole scene looked like a delicate painting on rice paper.

I heard footsteps on wooden planks and turned towards the sound. A girl was walking, headed for the small boat secured to the side of the wharf. Untying the ropes, she threw them in and jumped in the boat. I didn't catch her face, but she looked familiar. I was trying to get a good look and almost started in her direction, when I was stopped by a hand on my arm. I turned around and came face to face with Dana. She released her hold and brushing my cheek with the back of her fingers, pulled me for a gentle kiss. Breaking the kiss, she nodded in the direction of the boat. When I turned back, I saw 'her'--19 years old, her black hair wet and stringy from rain--sitting in the boat; one hand on one of the oars and the other waving me goodbye. She had a happy smile on her face. I wasn't sure if her face was wet from tears or the rain.

I looked back at Dana and she shooed me away, urging me to go to the boat. When I didn't respond, her expression changed and she mouthed, "Go!"

When I turned my attention back to the boat, the girl was already getting ready to row away from the wharf. As I started to walk towards her, she saw me coming and waved goodbye again, then started rowing the boat away. I ran, but she shook her head with a smile on her face. By the time I was at the edge of the wharf, the boat was out of reach. She stopped rowing and motioned me to go back.

I heard footsteps behind me and a quick glance revealed Dana making her way to me. Her eyes were on the boat and when she was standing next to me, she beckoned to the boat, urging the girl to row back to the wharf. But, the girl just shook her head and gave a small wave, bidding Dana and I goodbye, and picked up the oars again. I felt Dana push me over the side and fell into the water...

With a lurch I came awake, feeling somebody trying to push me back to bed and something wet on my forehead.

"Shssshhh! Mitch. Take it easy. You were having a bad dream," somebody whispered.

I was panting and I couldn't get enough oxygen. The air seemed too thin. I tried to breathe normally, but felt like I was suffocating. Something cold soothed my forehead and a cold hand caressed my neck, while a soft voice repeated, "Breathe slowly. Calm down."

The cold hand and the wet towel on my forehead helped me to focus my attention, and collect my senses. My breathing eased. Feeling my back arched, muscles tensed, I relaxed and let myself onto the bed. Kathy was leaning over me, concern written all over her face. Trying to ease her worries I tried to smile, but she didn't buy it.

"I'm OK, Kathy. Just a bad dream."

"Who is the doctor here?" she replied. She lifted the sheet and ran her hand over my chest. "You're wet. You don't have a fever, but you're wet with sweat. That's not good, Mitch."

"Maybe I'm coming down with something. It was cold the last two nights on the rig, and I spent most of the time outside," I offered.

"Maybe," she replied, but she wasn't convinced. "Do you remember anything of your dream?"

"No. I only remember falling and that's when I woke up. I'll be all right, Sis. I just need a shower."

Taking the wet towel, she wiped my face and neck, then asked me to sit up. When I did, she asked if I was feeling dizzy, but I was feeling OK. She didn't interrogate me further, which surprised me, but I was grateful for the break.

I took a long luxurious shower, while she changed the sheets on the bed. I was troubled by the dream and what it meant. I didn't have episodes like that. I had nightmares, but I didn't remember much of them afterwards, and usually they were a jumble of things that didn't make any sense. Contrary to what I said, I remembered everything that took place in this dream. When I walked into the living room, I found Kathy talking on the phone. Seeing me, she cut her talk short and finished the call.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm all right. Sooo... what's the plan?" I said, trying to change the subject.

"You still feel like going out? I could fix something here."

"Kathy, when I say I'm all right, I mean all right. So, tell me... where do you want to go?"

"There's a new place, really a strange mix, though. Owned and operated by a Russian couple, they have Russian and Greek specialties. I think you'll like it. They also have live music, first some Russian folk music with balalaika, and later, Greek music with bouzouki."

"That's a strange mix. Why don't they go with one or the other as a theme?"

"I don't know. I think the guy is Russian and the girl is Greek, or something," Kathy replied with a chuckle.

"Sounds good to me. Who's driving?"

"We're taking a cab. I'm going to drink and I know you'd like to have a few. I want both of us to enjoy the night."

That was strange. I knew she drank, but not much. Usually she ended up being the designated driver, so she didn't drink most of the time.

Taking a cab means she's going to let her hair down. Is that good or bad? Let's see.

"I can do without the drinks. No need to take a cab. I'll drive."

"If you want to, but I think you'll miss the fun and the atmosphere," she replied and headed to her room to change.

Hmmm... She doesn't look like she's planning anything.

I watched the news on TV for a few minutes, but getting bored with the repetitious crap about a fire in a hotel, I switched to a documentary channel. Kathy came back, dressed in a slinky, black evening dress, and high heels, with a small overcoat in her hand. She had a little bit of make-up and I didn't see any jewelry, which reminded me...

"You look good. I better take my jacket," I said and went to my room to pick up the little present for her.

When she found out what I had bought her, she loved it and immediately put it on. With the décolletage in the front, the necklace made a striking contrast with the dress and her tanned skin; just as I expected when I bought it. Before we left, I remembered I had to call Dana tonight.

"Kathy, are we going to be staying up late?"

"No, not really. That's why we're going early. They close the place by midnight, and it's a weeknight. They are open later hours only on Fridays and Saturdays. Why?"

"I need to make a call tonight and I don't know if I have to leave a message for them to expect a call or not."

"Them? You mean her, don't you?" she said with a snort.

When I didn't react, she said, "I'll be good, Mitch. I'll be reeaaal gooood," making me laugh.

"Yeah? Why am I afraid of that?"

"Come on. Let's go. We have to be back in time for your call... to them!" she retorted, letting out a teasing laugh.

The restaurant was on the outskirts, in a pretty run-down section of town. From the outside it didn't look like much, but the inside was a surprise. Ambient lighting was low, but not uncomfortably dark. The dark wood finish on the walls gave a sense of being in an old house. Old oil lamps complimented the atmosphere. The chairs were also wood, stylish in an old fashioned manner, but uncomfortable. However, the whole atmosphere was great, and with the live music and great tasting food, that little discomfort was easy to overlook.