Chapter 75 | Progression Towards Healing

Chapter 75: Chapter 75 | Progression Towards Healing

She looked at him for a moment with those sharp eyes.

"Another time," she said. "Let your household settle first."

She went back down the hallway.

He closed the door.

He stood in the hallway with the covered dish.

’Let your household settle first,’ he thought. ’Like she can see that it’s still settling. Like that’s a visible thing from the outside.’

He brought the dish to the kitchen.

==========

Shira had heard the door. She had wheeled to the kitchen entrance.

She looked at the dish.

"Neighbor," Kai said. "Two-twelve. She heard the chair this morning. Made rice porridge."

Shira looked at the dish.

"What does she look like," she said.

"Mid-sixties," Kai said. "Sharp eyes. Reading glasses on her head. Moves like someone who has been paying attention to things for a long time."

Shira looked at the dish.

"Her husband used a wheelchair," Kai said. "For eleven years."

Shira was quiet.

"She checked the floor joins before she moved in," Kai said. "Said it was an old habit."

Shira looked at the covered dish for a long moment.

Something moved in her expression. Not the armor one. Not the soft one. Something underneath both of those that did not have a name yet.

"We should invite her for tea," Shira said.

He looked at her.

"When the household settles," she said. Exactly Dorothy Callahan’s words back.

"Yes," Kai said.

She went back to the window.

He put the dish in the refrigerator.

==========

Mira appeared in the kitchen doorway.

She had the board in her hand.

She held it up.

I heard the door.

"Neighbor," Kai said. "Two-twelve. Rice porridge."

She lowered the board.

She wrote: She made us food.

"Yes," Kai said.

She held the board.

She wrote: She heard the chair and made us food.

"Yes," Kai said.

Mira looked at the refrigerator.

She wrote one more line and held it up.

We have good neighbors.

"We do," Kai said.

She lowered the board.

She went back to her room.

He stood in the kitchen.

’We,’ he thought. ’She said we again.’

He made lunch.

===========

The part arrived at three forty-five.

He fitted it in eleven minutes. Standard locking pin assembly remove the old, clean the housing, fit the new, test the lock. He tested it six times. Solid each time.

He looked up.

Shira was watching him from the kitchen doorway.

"Done," he said.

She wheeled forward and locked the wheel herself. Tested it. Locked it again.

She looked at the wheel.

"It’s right," she said.

"Yes," he said.

She unlocked it and wheeled herself in a slow circle around the kitchen testing the pull. No pull. The chair moved true.

She stopped in the center of the kitchen.

She looked at the wheel.

She said quietly, to the wheel rather than to him: "I forgot what it felt like when it was right."

He looked at her.

She looked up.

Something crossed her face. She had not meant to say that out loud. He could see the moment she realized it , the slight shift, the instinct to redirect.

She did not redirect.

She let it sit.

He let it sit too.

"I forgot what the complete form feels like," he said. "You told me that. Three weeks ago."

She looked at him.

"You’ll remember," she said. Exactly what he had said to her.

He looked at her.

She looked at the wheel.

"Thank you," she said. For the chair. For the fitting. For all of it at once in one word.

"You’re welcome," he said.

She wheeled herself to the living room.

He cleaned up the tools.

His hands were steady.

His chest was doing something he wasn’t going to examine right now.

He kept his face still.

He was mostly successful.

=

Evening.

Dinner was the rice porridge alongside the specialty rotation. He mixed nothing kept the compounds separate as always, served both. Shira looked at the porridge. She looked at the window. She ate it without saying anything about it.

Mira found the porridge by smell before her spoon reached it. She ate it first. Then the specialty blend.

The board came up midway through.

The neighbor. What’s her name.

"Dorothy Callahan," Kai said. "Two-twelve."

She wrote: You invited her for tea before you knew her name.

"I found out when I invited her," Kai said.

She put the board down.

She wrote: That’s either confident or chaotic.

"Both," Kai said.

She made the exhale-through-the-nose sound.

Shira said, to her bowl: "She hums when she walks. Always the same four notes. I’ve heard her in the hallway since the first week."

Kai looked at her.

"You know her," he said.

"I know the sound of everyone in this building," Shira said. "You learn it when you don’t always hear footsteps coming."

He looked at her.

He thought about that . Shira listening to the building. Mapping it through sound the way Mira mapped it through frequency. Learning everyone’s rhythm, their tells, their habits. Three months of a pulling left wheel and she had still known every join in the floor.

Mira’s board came up.

She had written something and was holding it toward Shira’s side of the table.

Shira read it.

The corner of her mouth moved. Not the almost-laugh. Something quieter. Something that had warmth in it without needing to announce itself.

"What did she write," Kai said.

"Something accurate," Shira said.

He looked at Mira.

Mira was eating. The profound porridge interest had returned.

He ate his rice.

He was smiling. He kept it off his face. He was about thirty percent successful and he was not particularly bothered about the remaining seventy.

=====

After the dishes Kai sat on the couch.

Both wives in their rooms.

He pressed both palms flat.

Shira —in her room. The form. Signal to the cutoff, reduced rotation, the flicker — five beats, six, seven, eight. Eight clean. Consistent.

Second attempt. Eight again.

She settled.

Through Mira’s door the audio reader starting. Music. Then faster than any previous session she was into the first phrase.

Twenty-five seconds. End.

Second — twenty-nine.

Third — thirty-four.

Fourth — thirty-one.

Fifth — thirty-seven.

Sixth — thirty-nine.

Seventh — thirty-six.

Eighth phrase.

He held still.

She had never done eight.

Thirty-two seconds. She held it and let it end.

Eight phrases. Every one to its natural end.

Then the tactile resonance — sequential attempts.

First: fifty-eight seconds.

Second: sixty-five.

Third: seventy-one.

Fourth: seventy-eight.

A new high. By six seconds.

She stopped.

He sat on the couch and felt the apartment go quiet and thought about Dorothy Callahan humming four notes in the hallway and Shira knowing the sound of everyone in the building and Mira eating the porridge first and a repaired wheel moving true.

The system chimed.

『 INVESTMENT RETURN — FRIDAY. 』

『 FINANCIAL BREAKDOWN: 』 『 Wheelchair locking pin assembly — replacement part: 2,400 coins. 』 『 Specialty ingredients Day 30 — both rotations: 580 coins. 』 『 Total invested: 2,980 coins queued at ×500. 』 『 Projected return at next breakthrough: 1,490,000 coins. 』 『 Previous account balance: 382,235,847 coins. 』

『 NON-FINANCIAL RETURN: 』 『 Nerve Sense — mechanical fault detection added. Host can now read equipment irregularities used by registered wives through vibration signature. Will not miss a fault again. 』

『 Bond Level — Shira Voss: 2.6 / 10. 』 『 Bond Level — Mira Elys: 2.6 / 10. 』

『 The system notes: 』 『 Shira Voss said: I forgot what it felt like when it was right. 』 『 She said it to the wheel. Not to Kai. But he heard it. 』 『 She knew he heard it. She did not take it back. 』 『 The system notes: that is the fourth true thing Shira Voss has said in this apartment that she did not intend to say and chose not to take back. 』 『 The first was: I didn’t think they’d move this fast. 』 『 The second was: come back. 』 『 The third was: I forgot what the complete form feels like. 』 『 The fourth is today. 』 『 The system keeps track because Host does not. 』 『 Host should know. 』

Kai read the list.

He read it twice.

He put the phone down.

He lay back on the couch.

’Four,’ he thought. ’Four things she said without meaning to and didn’t take back.’

He pressed both palms to the cushion.

Both rhythms settling toward sleep.

Outside the building the city did its evening thing.

He thought about Dorothy Callahan humming four notes in the hallway. Always the same four.

He thought about Shira knowing the sound.

He thought about a repaired wheel moving true through an apartment kitchen.

’Let your household settle first,’ he thought.

’It’s settling,’ he thought. ’Slowly. But it is.’