Gram stood in front of the door. It had been a week since he had left an inebriated Marco to sleep it off. It was after work, and he had hoped by now Marco’s daily revelry would have calmed down, at least enough for him to remember a single bloody conversation.
He knocked at the door, and it was, once again, Luna who answered.
“Is Marco home?”
“Out with Ira.”
“Oh.” It appeared Gram came too late, so he started to turn around. He thrust his hands into his pockets in the most casual, nonchalant manner he could manage, his right glove brushed up against something hard. Turning about to face her, left hand behind his head as if looking awkward somehow made him less awkward, he gave Luna an unsure smile.
“Was there something else?”
“Umm…yeah. This.” He said, thrusting the contents of his pocket at her. His eyes cast downwards, his face started to feel hotter. This is still a very stupid idea, you know that right?
She dangled the necklace before her eyes. “Is this for me? It’s beautiful.”
“Umm, nuthin’ big,” The reddening of his face intensified, “Just a little thing I made for you, from a bunch of gears I had lying around anyway. See, lift the crown, wind it till it stops, an’ then press it down. It will ding exactly when it is the optimal time for coffee to soak, given you’re using boiling water an’ all.”
“You made it for me? It is shaped like a crescent moon!”
“Yeah, umm…that is just a coincidence.” Gram said, “Ye see, got a lot of old watch parts shaped like that. Anyway, doesn’t mean anything. I just…thought it’d be useful.”
She put the necklace on. He hoped he had gotten rid of all the pointy edges. “Do you wanna cup?” She asked.
Gram was unsure that he did, but she grabbed him by the arm to lead him inside. It would give him a chance to ask about Marco. The water was already on the stove when he walked into the ground floor apartment.
“So Marco’s still on a bender, ehh?”
Luna shook her head in exasperation. “He only comes home after getting kicked out of some fancy hotel or another with Ira. And even when he does come home, he only managed to make it all the way to the bed once this week. And that was jus’ cause Ira put him to bed.”
She set the boiling water off the stove and began grinding the beans. The rich aroma spread through the small space. She began winding the necklace, about to pour in the hot water that had been sitting on the table for a few minutes.
Gram looked at the kettle anxiously. “Oh, and umm, remember it is for boiling water.”
Luna smiled and put it back on the burner.
“So, chances Marco’ll come back later in a state to talk strategy?”
“None.”
He had guessed as much. The necklace let out a slight ding causing her to gasp in surprise. She plunged the filter down, poured the black brew into a green mug, and handed it to him, pouring her portion in a dark blue one.
Gram took a sip and nodded. “This is really decent.” Ehh, still a little weak. Should have set it a couple seconds longer, but he had been constrained, making it in that shape. Should he try to explain bloom? No, he reminded himself the optimal explanation wasn’t the most complete. It was the most useful. She was happy, and the coffee was already much better than most places. “By the way, there’s this other thing called bloom where you pour just a bit of the water to soak the grounds for about half a minute before you pour in the rest.” Idiot, you just can’t help yourself, can you?
He waited nervously for her response. Luna made a thoughtful frown. “So, when should I press the crown down? After the ‘bloom’ is done?” Good, she knew him well enough not to take offense.
“Yep, and if you stir it during the bloom, it helps make sure the coffee is evenly exposed.”
Luna gave the slight nod of polite disinterest. “Aren’t you going to take those heavy clothes off? It’s pretty warm in here.”
“Nah, I’m fine.”
“Gram glovewearer be it summer, winter, or spring.” She laughed. “Cold hands warm heart, I suppose.”
“Is liking a nice pair of gloves some sort of crime then?”
“Well, gloves indoors might certainly be considered a fashion crime in some places, but I’d say in your case I’ll judge it as a mere peculiarity.”
“I’ll have to rely on your witness testimony if I ever get called into fashion court then.” Luna laughed a little too hard. He was pretty sure it wasn’t actually funny. Gram stood up. “Anyway, Luna, I gotta get going—Oh, and tell Marco if he isn’t sober enough tomorrow when I come by, I’ll break his bloody legs.” He bowed his head in a perfunctory manner and swiftly left. “Be seeing you.”
XIV Marco and Luna
Marco woke up on the couch. The light was blinding. His head felt like it was in a vice, a vibrating vice. Maybe he had a bit too much again last night, but it wasn’t like he’d be late clocking in for the toil. He went into the kitchen to get a bottle of tigal spirits and a jar of pickles to quiet the thumping in his head. Nothing quieted a hangover quite like the tingle of tigal and some piquant pickles. That was Marco’s favorite radio advertisement. He wasn’t sure what piquant meant, but it sure did help a hangover.
Each bottle of tigal spirits comes with a purple tiger giving a double thumbs-up, with the printed golden label below it saying “Feel the Tingle.” Don’t mind if I do. Marco could afford the fancy stuff now, but there was just something tigal had that those fancy alcohols didn’t. Probably that drug they added to it. Marco didn’t know much about drugs, but he knew what he liked, and by that measure, it was a damn fine drug. It was fine to go out and have a few cocktails, but afterward, he would just crave tigal more. Tigal, sweet, salty with just the right amount of burn now that’d be a good advertisement. Folk could ken that.
“So, whatcha do to get kicked out this time?” Luna startled him, coming out of nowhere. It was those tiny silent feet of hers.
Marco took a swig of tigal and looked at her. She was already all dolled up, like she was trying to make him feel bad or something. “You know how they don’t like us folk hanging around. Happy enough to take our denarii all the same, but then out’cha go soon as they got an excuse.”
Luna looked at him skeptically. “Uh-huh. And whatcha do that gave them an excuse?”
“Nothin’, jus, maybe vomited a bit, an’ some other things…bu’ I offered to pay, leeches already had their fill.” He took another swig.
Luna was eyeing the tigal in his hand. “Don’t ya think it’s a bit early?”
“Ehh, quit your gabbin’, jus’ need some hair o’ the dog.”
“That’s what you said yesterday, to be utterly maimed by said dog.”
“It’s a tricky thing, dogs.” He took a big, defiant gulp.
“Well, Gram was here last night. Said if you’re not sober by the time he comes over today, he’ll break both your legs.”
“Feck ‘im.” Marco took another sip. “I ain’t in a rush.”
“He’s just tryin’ to help.”
“Haha yeah, and I bet you’d like him to help you…” A slap across the face stopped him from finishing his sentence or his tigal, which now lay spilled all over the ground. She turned and walked away from him.
Fuck her too, he thought, grabbing his still throbbing head. Then, again, it was unpleasant as hell when she was mad. She’d make a point of ignoring him until he apologized. Silent aggressive, that was her style.
Walking to her room, he tried his best to look apologetic. “I’m sorry, I’ll go sleep it off. Be proper sober.”
She snapped her head away from him. “No, I love it when you get drunk. Go ahead, drink up, Marco.”
“Aww, come on! Dunt be like…hey, where’d you get that necklace?”
“Just take a nap, Marco. Tell you what, I know you been eatin’ that fancy food north o’ the river, but I’ll make you some decent fare for when ya wake up.”
He still felt like shit, so he nodded, walked to his room and flopped into bed, and pulled the covers over his head.
***
A knock at the door, earlier than Luna expected. Marco was still sound asleep, but she excitedly rushed to the door. It was just Ira. Luna’s smile inverted. She brought out the worst in Marco—not necessarily her fault, but it was just the way he would try to impress her always made him act like a colossal ass.
“Marco home?”
“No.” She said with a sharply descending tone.
“Then where’d he go? He was supposed to pick me up earlier an’ take me shoppin’ across the river.”
If Luna could describe Ira in precisely one word, it would be—ugh.
“Marco!” Ira yelled.
Luna stepped out, closing the door behind her.
“He is home! I knew it!” Ira said, “You jus’ wanna keep him here so you can get some o’ that contract money—got news for ya, you got no way to compete. I got things I can provide ‘im that you can’t.”
Ugh, ugh, ugh. Luna decided she had been much too charitable before.
“He’s my bloody cousin, practically my brother, so maybe I just don’t wanna see ‘im dead.”
“A little too late for that luv. Don’t tell me you bought into all that Gram nonsense. No one’s ever survived a contract, and I don’t see how someone blabbing random facts about nonsense is gonna change that. Face it, hun, it’s inevitable. He’s having fun, don’t you go takin’ that away from ‘im off some false hope.”
“I’m sure ya been showin’ him a real good time. But I wonder if he’d still want to take you out to dinner and shoppin’ so much if he knew that he’s just a piggy bank and you don’t mind him breakin’ so long you are the one who gets to pick up the coins?”
“He’d never believe ya. Don’t ya know, I tell ‘im over and over, he’s just my knight in shining armor, rescuin’ me from all those bad men.” She said, her voice as sincere as a pop song.
Luna grabbed the side of the door and smiled. “Anyway, if ya leave him sleeping right now, you don’ need to test that little theory of yours. I’ll tell him you were lookin’ for him.” Luna shut the door with a solid clang.
Luna was reading a novel when she heard that unmistakable thump coming from Marco’s room.
“Food!” Marco had finally woken up. Just in time for dusk.
“Sure,” Luna said, washing her hands.
Marco had a tendency to say “food” more often than “Luna,” to the extent that Luna almost took it to be her name.
She started preparing some eggs, with tomato and blacon (“Don’t be worried about the l, it is only there for legal reasons,” it said in small print at the bottom of the package and then in a yellow circle with big blocky letters “Four times cheaper than real bacon with all the modified soy protein big boys need!”)
“Anyone come by while I was knocked out?”
“Nope, who would?” Luna said.
“Ehmm ya know, how ‘bout I give you a few denarii that way ya can buy some proper groceries.”
“No, thanks. Dun’t want folks thinkin’ I’m trying to leech off your blood money.”
“Who’d say tha’? I eat most of it anyway, here.” He forced the money into her hand. She accepted it grudgingly and tucked it in a hidden pocket under her dress inside her corset.
“Your chows jus’ as good as that upper city stuff, Lun-Lun.” He gave her a big hug that more than fully enveloped her though he didn’t squeeze too tightly this time. “An’ with that money, I bet it’d be way better than what the toffs do with it, besides that’d just be just a meal or two up there.”
“Thanks,” she put her arms around him and squeezed for a few moments before releasing the hug. “Really think my cooking is good?”
Marco laughed, his stomach shaking. “Do you mean good enough for Gram? Dunno. He eats with them books in ‘is head. But if he ate with his tongue like normal folk for a change, he’d love it.”
She punched him in the arm. “Hey, Marco?”
“Yeah?”
“What do you see in Ira, outta curiosity?”
Marco’s brown eyes gained some warmth, “She is the sweetest person I ever met. I ken that she can come off cold, but if ya could see her with me, you’d understand. I’d give the whole world fer her to make ‘er happy.” “I’m sure you would.” Luna’s expression was flat.
Homo Economicish 