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38. GLOOM IN THE ROOM; One Night Stand.
Casah Sagribe Garibe = Cold Sagribe (a man's name) City.
Igoo = An expression of surprise.

There is gloom in the room. I sense a... fatigue... a... simple tiredness... among the soldiers. They're no more quiet than usual. They're always quiet, listening, waiting for clues that trouble has come. I feel for them, away from home, families. The word of what was said in the hearing has surely been gossiped around. But then, Thimianh commands another gathering in the living room of our apartment. The soldiers crowd in, eight, two at the door, facing opposite directions, two with the trucks. Sodaensus stands at the dining room, speaks;

"The ruling of the Costaramannh Koobahbahnnh is that we have to take our case to the northern Koobahbahnnh for concurrence. They agree to ass oomam's immigration. It's not an issue for them, they say." She waves the yellow-orange document. "Again, they say it is not an issue for them, but they feel the immigration and marriage between an Emoilihn citizen and ass oomam is a matter that requires concurrence from the northern Koobahbahnnh. They say it is a way of not having a problem later, simply courtesy to let matters be known in the north as they are known in the south. I'm sure the commercial considerations of possible foreign trade, which have accompanied our case are being discussed and are becoming the priority of the Koobahbahnnh.
That's alright. Let them make their deals. Perhaps they'll dispense with our case just to get it out of the way so they can negotiate other matters to their profit and satisfaction. We'll see. I'm confident..." She stops. I wonder if she's confident. "I'm confident," she repeats, "that our argument that paronde cos revondnnh is resonating with legal precedent. I am confident the plea of Eenunh, Tinunh and Gary is being heard, agreed with, beyond any other consideration. We just have to do what they rule. And I ask the patience and continued support of all of you to get to Casah Sagribe Garibe, to have our case heard there."

Casah Sagribe Garibe? Is that... is that the city? I don't like the sound of it. 'Casah' is 'cold. 'Garibe' is 'city'. 'Sagribe' is probably another person's name, some hero of the Terror Wars, honored in naming the city. Was he a good terrorist or a bad terrorist? My stress is shaken off. Why... worry... over what is, let alone what might be? Eenunh and Tinunh look pensive, not greatly disappointed; just... accepting what is and ready to do what it takes to move forward. I will follow them in my own attitude.

I see the bowl of fruit on the table behind Soda. I go, take it in both hands, pass among them, and everyone takes one. I go to the two soldiers at the door. They each take two! I look in their eyes, and comprehend that two soldiers are hidden here, somewhere in the other apartments. I turn right, go down the hall, alone up the ramps. I have not been alone in some time. I feel a fearful moment, passing the other floors. I'm alert, hold the bowl in one arm, touch the handle of my corn-knife.

I come out where the trucks are. There are three fruit left. The soldiers are at opposite corners of the parking roof. I carry the bowl low, go and look out over the city, covertly offering the bowl to the one there. He takes one. I walk along the wall, looking down on trees, planters, cars, people afoot. Leaning out I can see the damaged building, a rubble pile at ground level. Costaramannh, a city, trying to live in peace. The air is good. I sip it in my nose, blow it out my mouth. It feels good to exhale. Have I been holding my breath? I cross to the other soldier, holding the bowl low. He takes a fruit, resumes his vigilance down the vehicle ramps.

I walk along the parapet, looking down in the courtyard. People. People on their way in or out, living lives, trying to have peace. I take the last fruit, bite it, juice runs down my chin. I fish out my hand-kerchief from a front pocket, dry my chin, wipe my mouth. I go on to the people ramp structure, and down. At the third floor I see a shadow! There's someone in the hall. I unsheathe my corn-knife! But... now... I know... it is Eenunh. When she comes to the ramp I have sheathed my corn-knife, and reach to embrace her. She smiles, beautifully, her face as calm as I've ever seen it. She melds to me, lays her head on my shoulder, her face on my neck. I let it be a quiet moment. It goes on. She adjusts her stance.

"Can we stay here like this forever?" she asks, in English.

"Yes," I tell her. "If that's what you want, that's what I want."

She stands, takes my hand, leads me back toward the apartment. She stops. There's a broken door.

"Remember my neighbor, Aleashnnh, who the criminals broke her door?" she asks. "This is the door. Her apartment was always cold after that. That was her, this morning. She looks old. Her life has been hard. I wonder if I look old to her."

She opens the broken door, leads me in. The apartment is the same arrangement as ours. There is no furniture. It smells musty. Eenunh crosses to the kitchen. "We sat at a table here, many mornings," she says, pointing at the bare floor, "wondering what our husbands were doing, wondering if the terrorists would come today, overwhelm the resistance, invade the city. She kept her kitchen knives all around the apartment, so there would always be one close in every room if they came and she had to fight from there. When we wanted to cut our food she would pull a knife from some hidden place, and always put it back. It was... it was how we lived." Eenunh looks out the window into the courtyard. She stands long, looking, crosses her arms over her chest. I don't interrupt, stand, silent. She turns, crosses the kitchen, down the hall, peeps into each bedroom. Down past the dining room she opens the door on a large bedroom, a master bedroom. That must be what Thin Man and Soda's room looks like. I follow her in. It's dark. The walls slowly brighten.

There on the floor... is a mirror. It is long, oval. The frame is broken, the... legs, but I can see the gray backing is intact. I pick it up, lean it in the corner. Yes! It is unbroken, the backing unscratched, the oval frame intact. The legs, the... supporting structure is broken, but the mirror is intact.

"Can we..." I ask Eenunh, "Can we take this... take this home?" Eenunh looks at herself.

"Igoo!" she says, an expression of surprise. "I do look old! Maybe mirrors aren't good for people." She adjusts her hair, adjusts again, turns a bit to look at her body.

"I guess we can take it," she says, "but at home we won't have it in our house. We'll... we'll take it to the mall, put it in the hall there, or in a store, somewhere lots of people can... see themselves... if they want to. If they don't want to I'll tell them it was your idea!" The joke surprises me! I bust out laughing! She grins at me. I like the idea. I pick it up.

"Get the legs!" I tell her. "Maybe The Machinist can put it back together!" I feel... good! I feel like we're doing something for the Emoilihn back home! I head to the trucks, put it in ours. "We'll wrap it in a blanket. Maybe it won't break."

Coming back, Eenunh touches the door knob of her old apartment where...

I reach and turn the knob with her hand. I cross the room to the bathroom. I take hold of the mirror on the wall, lift it. It comes off in my hands! I bring it. She steps aside, smiling, closes the door behind me. I take it into the apartment, get looks from Soda and Thin Man, take it in the bedroom. I go in the bathroom, wash my hands, come out. Eenunh is on the bed, eyes closed. I lie beside her, study her pretty face. Without opening her eyes her left hand comes up, the back of it finding my left cheek. She is calm. She is quiet. I lay back. Sleep comes.

Someone is shaking my toe. I open my eyes, see Thin Man.

"Get up," he says. "We're going to the restaurant. Tinunh has your guitar in the living room. Eenunh swings her feet to the floor, rises. Thin Man closes the door going out. Eenunh pulls her dress over her head, goes to the bathroom, comes out. I go in, splash water on my face. I come out and she has laid out common clothes for me. She wears a common dress, her inside shoes.

"We will be among the common people tonight," she says. "There will be no need for knit dresses and blue blazers. The restaurant is not far. We... used to... go there when... Entemannh got paid. He said we should celebrate another day of being alive. This was our celebration."

"We'll celebrate," I tell her. "Should I... leave my corn-knife?" I feel I should. I feel we're going to be in a friendly crowd. What could happen? I want my corn-knife.

"No," Eenunh says, thinking. "I think we want them to see us as... country people, farmers, harvesters. Much of what we harvest at Entemannh Garibe is shipped north and south to these cities. Let them see us as we are. What we do for a living feeds them!"

"I'll carry it!" Tinunh says when I reach for my guitar. We go into the hall. The soldiers form up behind us, ahead, and we go to the trucks. Loading is less of a hustle. A soldier is driving ours. We go down to the ground level, at a reasonable rate of speed, but the trucks turn right, into the courtyard, circle around and come back near this gate, and park. We get out, start walking toward the gate.

The guards see us coming, salute Thimiannh. They ignore all the rest of us, but... look... sternly at Eenunh.

"Eenunh Entemannh," one says. "We are honored to serve you here in Costaramannh." They speak of her service in the Terror Wars, stopping them, her husband's leadership. And... of a monument... in... a cemetery. Eenunh thanks them, tells them we have to go to the restaurant. They say, "Neh!", stand aside. They go out in the street ahead of us, stop traffic. One goes into the other lane, stops traffic there. Someone in a car yells, "Eenunh Entemannh!" Eenunh waves. People get out of their cars, watch us cross the street. On the other side our soldiers do the staggered, left/right formation, lead us up a sidewalk. There are clothing stores, a furniture store. In the window I see a mirror like the one I... stole... from the broken-door apartment. It looks like a used furniture store. I wonder how much they want for it. Eenunh sees me looking, takes my hand, leads me on.

At the restaurant a man in a blue blazer hurries out with a sandwich-sign, and I read, "Ass Oomam! One night only!" in Emoilihn! I laugh! I wish I had a camera!

Inside the place is packed, every table, every chair. There's a stage. Tinunh carries my guitar to the stage, sets it, unsnaps the case, flips up the lid with my website. I don't expect much traffic but I still enjoy seeing my name there. I'm laughing, giddy. It's... going to be okay. It's going to be okay. Talah.

"Play a song for me," Eenunh says. I pick up the guitar. I check the tuning. I play "Over The River Tonight", and sing, and when I stop, the voices go up! I grin, grin big so they can see it from the back of the room. I play another song, and another. I keep playing. People come to the table, brush fingertips with Eenunh. I see people hustled out, and others hustled in. They eat, drink, murmur what I think is approval after every song. My girls applaud. The soldiers are dispersed around the room. I see them served and eating, still alert.

The night goes on. It seems late. The Emoilihn keep coming. They eat, or drink only, stay a while, and leave. Others come. I keep playing. I'm not tired... until I am. Soda stands. Thimiannh looks at her, stands. Eenunh and Tinunh stand. The crowd expresses disappointment. I tell Tinunh, "Get my case. I'll play as we leave!" She does. I let them get ahead of me, start playing my instrumental, "Muriel's Theme", finish it as I take a few steps, just a few. I play, "Blue Riser", another instrumental composition. It gets an enthusiastic vocal response. I take just a few steps as I play each song, and finally I'm at the back of the room. I turn, stand facing back into the room, and play "Never (Is A Long, Long Time)". I finish, and wave my right hand, pass the guitar to it, wave my left hand, yell, "Paronde cos ravonde!" They call it back! I turn and go! The man in the blue blazer rushes to brush fingertips! And I go out. There are lots of people on the sidewalks. I think Eenunh has been talking to them. She turns, takes my hand. We start to walk, the soldiers trying to work us through the crowd. The crowd cooperates. Soon we're going back past the furniture store. I swing in to look through the darkened window again. I wonder what time they open tomorrow.

We go across the loop street. The guards come and look. There's no traffic. We go to the trucks, get in, go up, and 'home', to bed. Life is good. Life is good.