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Boots in a Flowerbed

 

 

 

 

10. Decision

The room is silent; extremely so. The door of the cupboard bangs loudly as it closes, and the clink of a mug on the table sounds hard enough to break the thick, cheap china. At least that's how it is in Kim's ears, although he knows that he's not being any clumsier than usual this morning.

He peers into the teapot. It's empty, and he shoots an exasperated look at the back that is deliberately turned to him. So she's only brewed enough tea for herself to make her displeasure properly known. As if it wasn't clear enough already.

So Kim takes the brewing bag, puts a spoonful of leaves into it, drops it into his mug and pours water over it. At least there's enough water for him... she must have miscalculated the amount. He takes a bread roll from the small pantry and bits into it, not bothering with any toppings or fillings.

She huffs, looks at him pointedly. "Going already?"

"Good morning to you, too," Kim retorts, mouth full of bread. "Yes, in a moment. And I wish you'd stop sulking."

"I wonder what you do on those 'drives' of yours," she shoots back. "Since you're so dead set on going today, too. As if you didn't spend all your Sundays with that rich pervert otherwise!"

"Look, I've promised to go, all right?" Kim is tired of this topic. It's been such a recurring theme over the past three days that it seems they haven't talked about anything else. Which, in fact, isn't very far from the truth. "If I had known earlier, I'd have told him that I can't come today. And by the way, I really don't like it when you talk of him like that. He's not a pervert!"

"Oh? So would you please tell me how much earlier I have to book the time if I want my boyfriend to spend a Sunday with me?" There are red blotches on her cheeks. "Since telling you on Thursday obviously isn't early enough!"

"Linell, don't take it like that!" Kim tries to calm down; shouting is of no use, that he knows. "It's just that usually you always go to see your parents on the weekends. If I'd had any idea that you wouldn't be going one of these Sundays, I'd have told Chaim -"

"Ah - 'Chaim', is it?" She purses he mouth disdainfully. "Of course you'd be defending him, since you're obviously such good friends!"

"I'm defending him because he's not a pervert!" Kim does his best to keep his voice level, but it's hard. "Why do you say such things of him? You never call Shelion and Lainess perverts, or Thelemm and his friend, so why Chaim? And I don't care what people say about him. I know that he's real nice, at least to me, and that's all that matters."

"Oh, of course he'd be nice to you. Well, I'll be curious to hear what you say about him when he decides to show his true colors." Her voice is malevolent, and could it even be a tiny bit expectant? It stuns Kim silent for a moment, and then his blood boils. She may be a year older than he is, and a lot more knowledgeable about life in the city, but why does she have to be so arrogant? Doesn't she trust his judgement at all?

Or could it be that he's still just too innocent and ready to always believe the best of people?

Linell looks at him under raised eyebrows.

"Kim, be reasonable!" she says. "Why don't you just go there and tell him you won't come today?"

Kim looks at her. She smiles hopefully.

"Let's go for a walk, and then we could come here and cook something nice together. I bought stuff for a lovely pot, I've got the recipe from my aunt."

Kim wavers. He really likes her, and it's true, it's so unfair of him to leave his girlfriend alone on a Sunday, in order to go for a drive outside the city with a rich, idle man who can get whatever he wants anyway. This is the only full day off that he and Linell have in common, Chaim can't really expect Kim to spend it always with him.

Chaim... Kim swallows. He can already see how the smile wanes, how the light dies from the man's eyes. Chaim will smile a little, shrug, say 'Oh, sure, that's all right - some other time then, perhaps?', and drive off -

"No," he says. "I'm sorry, Linell, but - no. I can't do that to him. He's been..." Kim hurries to the door and snatches his jacket from the rack. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't do it."

He rushes out, biting his lip, swearing that he'll make it up for her somehow. She would've taken it in the wrong way if he'd said what he was going to - that Chaim is waiting for these Sundays even more than he is. He's sure of it, but she wouldn't understand it.

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