Legend Of Zelda Fan Fiction ❯ Contemplations on Condescension ❯ Leaving, All at Once ( Chapter 6 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Chapter 6: Leaving, All at Once

When we arrived back, The Stockpot was as empty as before, and the two of us standing in the front hall of the inn - alone, together, doing and saying nothing - quickly became awkward. Green-hat excused himself on the grounds that the little ranch girl and he hadn’t had dinner yet, so he should bring her some. I readily rejected the offer to go to the bar with him. My earlier comment about the place held fast: I wasn’t going back any time soon if I could avoid it. Let them talk. So the boy found two plates of cold food and left with them, and I was once again sitting at the front desk, waiting.

At least, I was sitting and waiting for a few moments before I couldn’t stand it any more. I rose and went to my room, for want of something more productive to do, figuring I might as well sleep until everyone arrived back. What I had intended as a short nap, though, stretched late and later still, straight through the night. I awoke to the pounding of stairs and calling of voices: which only made me stay in bed the longer. That was the first time I’d woken up in my own bed in... months. The thought was mildly disturbing, but all thought was quickly halted by a guffawing from the floor below. Ranch girls. The smell of something edible, however, served to lure me downstairs and, regrettably, into their company.

The two children and my wife sat at the kitchen table, talking and hardly noticing my appearance. Cremia turned from the stove with a skillet hanging from one hand, and she greeted me loudly (Does the girl do anything softly?) as she served some egg mixture to those seated. I reluctantly joined them and generally tried to dissolve into the chair on which I sat. They didn’t make this attempt on my part very difficult as they all fairly ignored me in favor each other’s conversation. Even Green-hat was absorbed and contributing to the noise, though I caught his look once when I glanced around the table in disdain.

“I’ve decided to stay for the week, if you can spare the room.” He cheerily replied to Anju’s inquiry before looking at the girl next to him. “Unless you need me, Romani?”

Cremia replied for her sister, “I think we’ll be fine.” And Romani smiled and nodded. When Cremia directed a question to me, however, I noticed the younger of the sisters lean over and whisper in Green-hat’s ear. He nodded gravely and whispered a short reply. They shared a knowing look, and when Romani smiled again, it seemed wider and more genuine.

“Well? Or have I killed you?”

I snapped my attention back to Cremia. “What?”

She laughed and rolled her dark blue eyes before addressing Anju. “I don’t know how you put up with him.” Anju ducked her head and smiled. I resisted a sneer and settled a piercing glare on Cremia. Stupid girl.

“She’s overly tolerant of some people.” I said in as back-handed a reply as I could manage without insulting myself further, then pushed back my chair and stood. “Now you’ll excuse me while I’m sick from this so-called food.” I could hear Cremia’s cackle long after I’d left the room and was up the stairs. I was not nearly so amused. I remained in my room until the front door was opened and solidly shut again, venturing out only after I was positive that the infuriating ranch girl and her brat sister were gone. Good riddance.

“Kafei.” Anju looked up at me from her place by the door at the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes were wide and her jaw set. I managed to reduce my instinctive eye-roll to a mere looking-up. “Do you have a minute?” she asked.

I looked around and spotted the clock on the far wall before turning back to my wife. With feigned compliance, I said, “Out of my diligent agenda? Of course,” and my tone slipped towards caustic with the words, “But only because I’m sure it’s important.”

She lowered her red head and began up the stairs. I turned toward our room, and in the motion, I caught the barest flash of green from the corner of my eye. I paused in the doorway and allowed Anju to pass by... But before following her, I glanced down the stairs. And there he was, at the bottom. He looked up at me with those grey-blue eyes. Then, he turned and walked away, all without a word. The bell chimed as the inn’s door opened and closed in his wake.

My instinct was to run down the stairs, to follow him and demand an explanation as to where he thought he was going, and what of our bet? But my wife was waiting for me in our room, and I couldn’t leave. I wasn’t so detached as Green-hat. With a sigh, I turned and entered the room, clicking the door shut behind me and leaning against it. Anju sat on the edge of our bed, her hands folded in her lap, looking directly at me. When she saw that she had my attention, she asked, “What happened last night?”

“What do you mean?” I replied immediately, betraying nothing.

“I asked you to check on my grandmother.” She said with some desperation to her voice.

Oh. That.

I didn’t reply, so she asked again, “Why didn’t you?”

My arms crossed, I half-shrugged. “I forgot.” Sensing that this wasn’t going to pass for an answer, I continued, “Well, it’s not as if she needs checking on anyway. She didn’t eat it, did she?”

“Because you didn’t ask her to!” Anju lowered her eyes, “You know how my grandmother is. She won’t eat anything unless you stay and make sure she takes a few bites first.”

“She wouldn’t listen anyway.” I reasoned. “The woman treats me like a five year-old. If I’d told her to eat, she would’ve replied with something completely non sequitur like, ‘Would you like to hear a story? Get little Tortus, and I’ll tell you both.’ And then where would I be?”

My wife looked at me with glossy blue eyes, “But you could have tried.”

I stared off at the side wall and said nothing. No, I wouldn’t apologize. I didn’t see the reason. What I’d said was true and sound, and I wouldn’t allow her to convince me otherwise. Besides, I’d already told her that I’d simply forgotten, which was the truth. What more could she want? It’s not as if I’d purposefully refused to feed the witch because I wanted her to starve to death (though that certainly would be a pleasant incentive, wouldn’t it?). So, no, I hadn’t bothered to force food down the old woman’s throat. But did it really matter?

“She’s all I have left.”

I turned to look at Anju, but her eyes were downcast now. It had been said quietly, barely audibly, but it had been said. The reference was no doubt to her mother’s death, which had occurred nearly two years ago, shortly after our wedding. Anju had been extremely upset that she wasn’t at the inn during the actual demise - her mother having died while we were honeymooning - and the details of the body’s state when we found it some days later are best left in the past. This grim event, coupled with her father’s early departure from the family and her grandmother’s obvious eccentricity had left my wife somewhat desperate for familial love. However, she was forgetting one rather important thing, which I pointed out to her immediately.

“You have me.”

There was a long pause... and it lasted. My wife didn’t answer.

I felt a tightening in my chest, and a tingling in my fingers that I couldn’t explain. I was nervous suddenly, and I couldn’t explain the feeling away. But I didn’t like it. I raised my chin and asked, “Is that all?”

She nodded, unblinking. There was still no reply. I waited only a moment longer before turning and taking my leave. The door to our room was left open behind me, but not the door to the inn, which I slammed.

I walked through the sunny, daytime Clock Town in a numb haze, and I was at the laundry pool before my mind has processed that this was where I had been heading since I’d stepped out of that door. I’d come here so often now, it would’ve taken visible effort on my part NOT to arrive there once I’d left The Stockpot. And I hadn’t bothered to try. I fell down on the wooden bridge with a sigh and sat there without thinking for as long as I could.

When my mind finally caught up, I thought of Green-hat. He’d abandoned our bet, already. He’d left the inn, and it hadn’t even been a day. My initial response was to be disappointed, affronted, insulted, upset... Then I recalled that the loss of the bet on his part meant the gain on mine. He’d have to tell me everything now, when he returned. ...That is, if he returned at all. But, really, would it be so terrible if he didn’t? I’d never liked him. Getting rid of him, possibly forever, should be a cause for celebration. But it somehow wasn’t. I felt rather the opposite. It was irrational, but I felt... betrayed. And I didn’t know why.

I ran my hands through my hair to satiate the alternate urge of pulling it. It was all very frustrating. Looking around the area, there was nothing. What was I supposed to do now? I couldn’t very well go back to the inn. Not for a few hours, anyway. Green-hat was gone again, so what was left? Where else could I go? My eyes met the small door at the far end of the water. Well. There was always that. With a sigh, I stood and made my way to the back entrance of The Curiosity Shop.

There was a time, once, when I’d practically lived in these back rooms. The only light was by candle, and the air was smokey and stale, very nearly to the point of noxiousness. Further, it was cluttered, and not neatly so. There were crates and boxes and piles of junk all in disarray. They had never been organized, and they most likely never would be. I had amused myself in those long days stuck here as a child by digging through the jumble of goods in search of that buried treasure, that priceless antique, which must surely be buried somewhere beneath all the worthless and broken things. Of course, I’d never found anything that looked even remotely valuable. But, the hope remained that if I just dug deep enough, I would find something that would make the patient looking for it finally and undeniably worth the while.

Needless to say, after that incident those years back, I never returned to these back rooms if I could avoid it. There was no reason to hide and, frankly, just the musty smell of the place was enough to make me ill, never mind the accompanying memories. And there was, of course, the little matter of the curiosity shop’s owner. I hadn’t spoken to Ric since our confrontation over that false letter he wrote to my mother, signed with my name. I was in no hurry to mend our friendship, either (if you could’ve called it that). Here I was, though. Not because I wanted to see him, of course. But because, really, there was nothing better to do. (1)

I found him sprawled out in a pile of moth-eaten blankets piled in one corner, sleeping soundly. The sight was familiar, even though I hadn’t seen it in years. I’d rarely slept at all back then, but Ric would sleep most of the day. He prided himself, he had once said, on being able to stay up from dusk until dawn. I’d easily countered that this ability was only because he slept from dawn until dusk, and not some great feat on his behalf (Anyone can stay up eleven hours straight after sleeping for thirteen.). He’d looked quite insulted by my saying so.

I returned to the previous room of the shop’s back and sat heavily on a dark pillow, causing a bit of dust to lift and settle again. Next to me there was a pile of books, and I grabbed the top one. I opened it, and it was row after row of numbers and charts. I snapped it closed, and the dust and smoke floated around me, stirred by the motion. The back of my throat was becoming sore from it already. I grabbed another book and flipped through it, pausing on a page to skim its text. It was some philosophical writing about nothing, and I closed it and tossed it on the ground; it landed with a dull thud onto the previous one. The third was a similar read. I opened another, much thinner one and was interested to discover that it was about Termina’s distant history. This text held my attention for some time, and I was mildly alarmed when Ric’s rough voice interrupted my own internal monologue.

“That’s a valuable one, huh?”

I scoffed, closing it but holding one finger on the page, “To a scholar, maybe, but how many scholars do you get downstairs?”

He leaned over me, peering down dramatically over the book as if to read its title upside-down. “Which one’s it again?”

“A history of Termina.” I dutifully replied, handing it up to him. I stood and stretched my shoulders.

Ric took the book, but paid more attention to me than it. “You lookin’ for something?”

“No,” I glanced to the side, noticing the peep-hole into the shop’s public area below. That’s how I’d discovered Sakon so long ago, and where I’d first seen Link. “Not particularly.”

“Can’t help you then.” Ric dropped the book on another pile even as he walked past me. I could hear his slow, heavy footsteps as they rounded the corner and descended the few stairs. “Lock up when you’re done.” He called, and the little door slammed and clicked shut.

I picked up the book from where he’d dropped it, staring at the empty hallway before me. After a moment’s thought, I fell back onto the heavy cushion, opening the book as I did. My fingers immediately began hunting for the page I had lost.








End Notes

(1) As far as I know, the owner of the Curiosity Shop doesn’t have a name. (Correct me if you know it.) But Kafei has to call his old friend something. So, for the sake of this fic, his name is Ric Yutiso. And, yes, that’s a simple anagram. It works out nicely, though, doesn’t it?