The Arrangement

The path Lilian took us on led more north than west, and by evening I wasn’t sure we’d traveled any nearer to the campground at all. On the bright side, however, we had come to a picturesque village along the banks of a river with quaint houses that looked straight out of an advertisement for the Alps.

It was sunset, and the light shone fiercely bright up on the mountain tops. We stopped along a bridge and took in the magical sight without anyone speaking a word–except Sammy who was yapping about something.

When we reached the main street, Lilian went to rent the rooms while we sorted out dinner. There were two other players in town, a skinny guy and a stocky fellow. I tried to point them out to Ori, but she never seemed to look in time. We were walking down the main street looking at the restaurants, of which there were a few, but each one which I suggested was rejected by her in turn. At last, when I offered to let her pick, she led the way down a dim and narrow side street to a back-alley restaurant. It didn’t seem like her kind of place, but I was hungry and not inclined to argue. We ordered our food and sent Sammy to retrieve Lilian, but he soon returned, not with Lilian but with the two men.

“Look who I found, Ori!” Sammy announced.

“Oh, hey guys,” said Ori. She let out a strange, fake laugh I’d never heard from her.

“So this is who you eloped with? I guess I should have known your type isn’t handsome men,” said the taller fellow.

“It’s not like that guys, Bastian is just a friend–my best friend. Bastian, meet Youssef and Martin, we traveled to the event together.”

“Traveled to the event? Ori, we were in a party together for a month,” said Youssef, looking hurt.

“Oh yeah hee hee,” said Ori, again forcing an awkward laugh.

“Well I don’t mind the green fellow as long as he’s not too boorish. Hello Bastian, I’m Martin Frutspeller, accountant with Davis and Marten–that’s Marten with an ‘e’ not an ‘i’ like my name.” I didn’t really know what to do with this information and since he already knew my name I didn’t know what to say.

“This fellow speak English?” asked Martin.

Meanwhile Youssef was making his advances on Ori “Thank heaven I’ve found you. What a terrible misunderstanding, but now fate has guided our steps–leading us back together, and we need never part again.”

“Hee hee,” was all the reply Ori made.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed hearing your sweet laugh,” said Youssef, taking her hand.

Just then Lilian entered, looking annoyed. “There you are, thanks for coming to find me.”

“We sent Sammy, but he came back with Martin and Youssef instead,” I said.

“Who?” asked Lilian.

“Martin Frutspeller with Davis and Marten accounting and tax planning,” said Martin. If Davis and Marten had been the names of his two heads I think Lilian could hardly have conjured a more bewildered expression.

“And who is this beauty?” asked Youssef, forgetting Ori for the moment.

“Nope, I don’t need this,” said Lilian, gesturing at the newcomers.

“Your dinner,” said the waiter, setting down my plate.

In the blink of an eye Lilian grabbed my plate and walked out of the restaurant. Instinctively I ran after her. “Hey that’s mine…” I said. Lilian obviously knew that the food was mine, and the lameness of my comment hung in the air for a few seconds.

“So? Go back in there and order another one. And while you’re at it, man up and tell those losers to buzz off and leave your girl alone.” Lilian didn’t wait for a reply.

“She’s not my… girl.” By the time I said the last word she had turned the corner into the high street. I let out a sigh, slapped my face, and walked back into the restaurant.

Youssef had taken my seat and was holding Ori’s hand. Suddenly something in me snapped, and I walked up to him. “That’s my seat,” I said, as menacingly as I could.

“I’m talking to Ori,” said Youssef.

“No, you’re bothering her,” I said.

“Oh, getting jealous are we?” asked Youssef.

“That’s right, and if you keep touching my girl like that we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Your girl?” repeated Youssef, indignantly, turning to Ori. “What, you aren’t dating this goblin?”

“Y–yes, as a matter of fact I am,” said Ori, her face was bright red, but her spirit had returned.

“And I’ll tell you another thing,” I said, picking Youssef up by the collar. “There was no mix-up. She left your party to be with me, end of story. So stop trying to weasel your way back in. It isn’t happening.”

Youssef knocked my hands off of him and scoffed. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Tell him Ori,” said Youssef weakly.

“Come on babe, let’s go,” I said.

Ori rose instantly. I placed one hand on her hip and grabbed the plate with the other. I kicked the door open with my foot, and away we went. When we reached the high street Ori started laughing. “Oh my gosh, that was so good, just like in a movie! What a fantasy!” I noticed my hand was still on her hip, felt the small of her back, the gentle bouncing of her body as she walked. I pulled my hand away sheepishly.

“What’s the matter, babe?” asked Ori with a laugh.

Just then the church bells tolled. I smiled at her, using the noise as an excuse not to answer. We made our way to the church as if lured by the bells’ sweet ringing sounds. The churchyard was bordered by the river, and we had a beautiful view of the clear flowing water and the bright, drooping willows along its bank. There we sat on the stone steps and ate our dinner. With only one plate between us, we ate slowly, talking a lot and picking only sparingly at the food. When we got down to the last bite we each protested that we were full and the other should have it, until Ori picked it up and put it in my mouth.

“Thank you,” I muttered.

“Just like old times,” said Ori.

I swallowed the last of the food and looked at Ori who was now leaning back on her hands and gazing up at the bell tower.

“Do you ever wish there was no competition and we could just live here forever?” I asked.

“Sometimes, but I think that’s just the fear talking–it’s easy to give up the idea of ever making it back when the chance of winning is so remote anyways. But it isn’t all bad knowing that your life is coming to an end. It gives you a new perspective on what’s really important.” Ori smiled at me comfortingly.

“I think maybe we just feel differently. There are a few things I would change, but for the most part, this is the happiest I think I’ve ever been–at least since I was a kid. I don’t think I’d even want to go back.”

Ori nodded, her face became more pensive, and I could tell she was really listening to what I said, trying to understand my feelings.

“Imagine if I told you, ‘Look, here’s a box with a button. If you press the button you’ll get to leave here right now–healthy–but at the end of the contest you’ll die whether you’re in here or out there.’ Would you press it?”

“Well naturally I’d want to, so I could say goodbye to everyone out there.”

“Ok but when do you press it? Do you say goodbye to me right now and leave? Do you stick around a while, say goodbye to other people and then go, or do you stay here until the end of the contest and only leave with a few days left to go say goodbye to the people out there?”

Ori looked flustered by the question.

“You don’t have to answer that,” I said. “It’s just a thought experiment. Come on, let’s go back.”

We walked back to the hotel and found the lobby empty, but when I checked with the receptionist I found she had keys waiting for both of us.

“Wow, separate rooms, fancy,” said Ori.

“That’s weird, Lilian never spends money on other people she doesn’t have to…”

“Well, goodnight,” said Ori, entering her room.

“Goodnight,” I answered as I unlocked the door across the hall. It was a little early to turn in so I had a look around the room. To my surprise I found what appeared to be an old-fashioned radio in the side table. It was the first true electrical appliance I’d encountered in Eutopia, although occasionally buildings seemed to have electric lights, and cold drinks were readily available at restaurants, though whether they came from a fridge or an icebox or were simply conjured at forty degrees I couldn’t guess. 

The apparatus had two dials. The first seemed to function as an on-off switch. I turned it on, emitting a rough, static sound. Interestingly, though it had the markings for frequencies on its face, I couldn’t find any way to change the channel. The second dial only adjusted the volume. I cranked the volume, then turned it down low and discarded the radio on the side table. I sat with my thoughts for a few minutes before I was suddenly startled to hear the static on the radio die down, replaced by a few quiet pops, and then a voice. I reached for the radio and turned up the volume. It sounded slightly muffled–with the characteristic crackling and compressed range of AM radio. The speaker seemed to be a man in his forties or fifties, confident and educated, and with that peculiar Mid-Atlantic accent which had once dominated the medium.

The following is a presentation of the ORS Eutopia Broadcast. It’s seven o'clock, and I’m your host, Michael Branhauer. Tonight’s exciting production will feature a piece of short fiction titled "The Gray Shawl" by Sarah Nichols, followed by an essay on urban arboreal development by the expert Dr. Grouse Guilder, but first we will wet your appetite for imagination with songs by one of our nation’s most celebrated composers, George Gershwin. This is the Half Hour Music Show by the ORS Eutopia Broadcast, and you’re listening to George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue.

I didn’t recognize the name of the song, but as soon as it began and I heard the meandering clarinet, I knew I’d heard it somewhere or other. The song is a sort of classical piece written in the age of jazz, with all the chaos that implies. Truthfully, it had never been my sort of music, but I found myself entirely captivated. I don’t know if it was my long detox from any form of media (unless, ironically, you count the machine I was plugged into), or whether the old-timey radio show had sucked me in, making me feel like I was listening–not to a century old, worn out classic but–to a new and innovative expression of the era.

After each song Michael would introduce the next track. I tried to figure out if “Michael Branhauer” was a real person (one of the engineers for instance) or if he was just an AI voice reading a script. After the third song, he announced the midpoint of the program saying “we are now at the halfway mark of the Half Hour Music Show” with particular emphasis on the repeated word.

A few minutes into the fourth song there came a knock at the door. My first reaction was to feel annoyed at the interruption, but it was immediately replaced by curiosity as I turned down the volume and hurried to see who it was. Outside, and looking uncharacteristically demure, was Lilian. Before I could say anything she pushed past me and shut the door.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” said Lilian. She sat on the bed and started tying up her hair.

“Um, get what over with?” I asked, feeling flustered and confused.

Lilian crossed her arms. “Don’t play dumb, we had an agreement. You transfer me all of your points and I…you know…” Lilian turned away, blushing.

“Uh… I thought that was a joke!”

“A joke? Don’t be daft. I want your points,” said Lilian. “And since I don’t know the next time we’ll be together it seems safest to get them now, since I’m sure you’ll blow yourself up eventually.” With a flick of her finger her armor vanished and she was left wearing only a thin silk slip. I could almost feel the neurons in my brain going off like fireworks, my emotions too all over the place to know my own mind.

She ran her finger to the shoulder strap, hooking under the thin band of fabric, the gown shimmering as it slid along her perfect skin.

Lilian was without a doubt the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, but I couldn’t do this. I searched for words but none came. She slid the strap over her shoulder, running the finger across her flushed chest to the other strap–now the only thing keeping her slip from sliding down. As my paralysis gave way to panic I dashed for the door, flinging it open to make my escape. I had to check myself, for standing right outside was Ori with her hand raised in the position to knock. She looked bewilderedly first at me then past me into the room. I felt I could almost see the blood running from her nose as she mumbled some inarticulate phrases.

“That’s nice. I mean sorry to interrupt. I’m happy for you both.”

Meanwhile I was fumbling for words of my own. “No, you don’t understand. Stop. Leave. I mean I was trying to stop. I mean leave.”

“Yeah, I should leave,” she said chuckling in a nervous, almost trance-like stupor. She turned to go.

“No, wait,” I said, catching her hand.

She looked at me confused, a slight crack in her catatonic demeanor.

“Come on,” I said, dragging her down the hall.

She followed unresisting, but with a look of incomprehension printed on her face. I led her outside to a wooden bench and made her sit down. When I looked into her face again she looked completely lucid, although there were tears in her eyes.

“Look Bastian, you don’t need to explain anything. Who you sleep with is your own business, and it doesn’t impact our friendship at all. I don’t know why I’m crying, just ignore that. Really I’m happy for you. Lilian is a real catch.”

“Listen to me. It isn’t what you think. We weren’t going to do anything. She was just trying to get me to… it’s a long story, but nothing happened and neither of us has any interest in pursuing anything romantic. Lilian was just being Lilian.”

“You don’t need to lie,” she said. She was smiling now, and seemed to have mastered her emotions, though her smile had an artificial look.

“I don’t know what to say to make you believe me,” I said, rubbing my face.

Ori considered this. “Do you promise?”

“Yes. Cross my heart. There’s nothing going on between Lilian and me.”

Ori looked into my eyes. They were tender and trusting and set my heart beating fast. “Okay, then I believe you.”

“Wow, you believe me just like that?”

“Yeah,” said Ori, “why would you lie to me?”

“You seemed to think I was lying a moment ago.”

“I thought you were just embarrassed, I didn’t expect you to lie indefinitely.”

“You’re a very trusting person,” I said.

“Thank you,” said Ori.

“That’s not exactly a compliment. Some people would call you gullible.”

“You’re only gullible if you believe liars. Believing honest people doesn’t make you gullible any more than doubting honest people makes you careful. Being trusting is a good thing as long as you surround yourself with good people.”

Something cold touched my nose. A moment later I watched a snowflake land on Ori’s eyelash. Her eyes lit up. “It’s snowing!” she said, almost musically.

“Yeah,” I said, watching her face aglow with emotion with the same enthusiasm she had in admiring the falling snow.

“Do you think they render all the billions of snowflakes? Or only the ones we can see?”

“If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears–” I broke off with a laugh as Ori gave me an impatient look. “I don’t know,” I answered. “I guess it depends how strapped they are for processing power.”

She pulled out the skirt of her dress and started catching the falling flakes. Her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth as she made a concentrated expression.

“What are you doing?” I asked with a laugh.

“I’m wondering if all the snowflakes are different,” she said.

“Ah, or if they just made one snowflake shape? I bet they’re different.”

“Hey, how’d you know?”

“Lucky guess,” I said with a shrug.

“Or maybe you’ve just been paying a lot of attention to the ice lately,” she teased.

I narrowed my eyes, and Ori laughed.

“What was it you wanted to talk about?” I asked.

“Hmm? Oh! When I came to your door? I had been thinking about our last conversation–when you asked me how I’d want to spend my last few months if I could leave here at any time. I kept thinking about it in my room, and it reminded me of my friend Zizi.”

“What kind of name is Zizi?” I asked.

“It’s short for Mackenzie. Anyway, Zizi’s parents divorced when we were about eleven.”

“Ok, bad time to make a joke,” I said apologetically.

Ori snickered at my awkward retraction. “Well I remember I was talking to her one day. She was going to be leaving her mom’s house and going to her dad’s because they traded off every week–and she seemed sad about it. So I asked if she was mad at her dad or something and she said no, that she was always sad when she had to leave one and go to the other. Then I asked if she wasn’t also excited to see the parent she'd been missing, and I’ll always remember her answer. She said, ‘Having to leave one makes me sad more than seeing the other makes me happy. You’d think it would balance out but it doesn’t.’ I guess it’s like a wound. It hurts to be away from someone you care about, but over time it starts to heal, it doesn’t ache as bad, and every time you go back and forth you’re just reopening a fresh wound. All that to say, I think it would be easier to stay here than to go back, because I know I’d just be miserable worrying about you.”

She laid her head on my shoulder, and I felt her warm tears dropping onto my shirt. I didn’t say anything. I just stroked her hair and watched the snow coming down. It was falling faster now, and the tingling cold of the snowflakes was a strange contrast to the hot tears saturating my shirt.

After a few minutes she wiped her eyes, sniffled, and looked at me. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you haven’t said it back?”

“Said what back!?” I stammered.

“I said that you were my best friend,” said Ori.

“Oh,” I said, chuckling. "You're my best friend too."

“What did you think I said? Oh, that I love you?” Ori laughed.

I forced a laugh as best I could. “Yeah that didn’t sound right.”

“No, but why not? I tell my girlfriends I love them.”

“Yeah, but it’s different when you say that to a guy,” I said.

“Why, you think guys can never just be friends with a girl?” she asked archly.

I felt myself flushing. Here was a trap. “No, I think I can just be friends with a girl,” I said, but I felt a little bad saying it. The girl I thought I could be platonic with was Lilian not her.

“Good,” she said. I didn’t dare look at her, but I sometimes wonder what expression she had at that moment. Was it innocent or teasing, relieved or disappointed?