Chang-Rae Lee - On Such A Full Sea

Vik was lean but strong. He was a swimmer, too, but of a very different order: he had emerged from the locker room sheathed in a full-body racing suit, loosening and stretching on the deck for a long time before donning a cap and warming up with a few smooth laps. When he was ready, he had a fitness center employee sound a horn for timed fifty- and one-hundred-meter sprints, three times each; later he told Fan how he had been an Association champion when he was younger, being unusually long limbed. He could have continued the intensive training to try to make the Charter Globals but had decided to pursue medicine instead; one had to medal (and win gold) to parlay all those hours in the pool into a substantial windfall or successful business career, otherwise the most one could expect for all that effort was becoming an elite-level coach or athletic administrator. And although he had been one, he never much enjoyed the company of jocks. He was heavy-footed and lanky as he walked on the deck, but in the water he motored himself forward with a remarkable ease and gracefulness, particularly given how fast he cut through it. When he had glanced at his watch timer, he seemed satisfied, and reminded Fan while catching his breath that she was welcomed to swim, if she liked. She did like, for the water looked so perfect and clear, just like it did when the tanks were newly filled for the generation of new fry, this pristine little ocean, but she had to decline. The modest swelling in her lower belly could still be overlooked, or mistaken for incipient plumpness, but she couldn’t take the chance, especially in the presence of a Charter doctor, even one she thought she could trust.

After Vik completed his warm-down laps, and showered and changed, they spent an impromptu half hour trailblazing an Alpine glade on snowboards in one of the VACs, which Fan mentioned having once seen on an evening program. Neither of them was any good at it, Vik crashing into at least a dozen trees, Fan able to crouch down low and shoot under the snow-laden pine branches but twice flying over an outcropping and tumbling head over heels down a steep slope. When she looked back up the second time, Vik was waving her out. He wasn’t in a rush and they even stopped to have smoothies at the fitness juice bar but once at his place he changed into a pressed shirt, slacks, and pointy leather shoes, and said he had to go out; he added she would have to be by herself the rest of the afternoon. Fan, of course, had been alone in the condo for many straight hours while he was at the medical center, not even considering venturing out, but the funny shift in his manner gave her pause. Had he found out something about her? Discovered why she’d left B-Mor? Again he hadn’t been the least interested in such things, but as he left her in the apartment, he offered to order her a delivery of sushi or a burrito if it turned out he would be late. She said the leftovers in the fridge were fine. He said sure, if that suited her, shutting the door, and Fan couldn’t help but think that the next time it opened, a squad of Charter security would rush in and take her away, though perhaps that would be her best true chance of getting closer to Reg.

She went to the window and watched Vik angle himself into his two-seater and drive off. All in all it seemed Vik simply liked her company, even if she was mostly silent (or maybe because she was). She had the sense that he admired the way she was, not discretely so much as a new element in his life, her pale skin and inky black hair complementing the uncluttered and calm spaces of his private life. Still, when she tried the door, it surprised her that it opened freely. She was glad for it but was conflicted. Shouldn’t she go right now anyway? Certainly it was getting to be time, and the longer she stayed the more potential trouble it would be for Vik. She could walk out to the road ringing the development and catch one of the guest and resident worker buses that routed through this part of town and then went out of the village. From there, Mala had once told her, the buses went to a central depot thirty minutes away, which was the closest hub with numerous route spokes, though most of those went south and west. Mala’s home was on a spoke after the second hub, near a major facility out there known as Y’s-Town, or Wise-Town. Beyond those were other hubs, each with spokes, and so on, repeating all the way across the land. It was awfully slow but you could mostly get there, wherever there was. Of course, this was only if you had to go by bus.

Fan had spoken to Mala yesterday, reaching her at Miss Cathy’s while Vik was at work, to see how the Girls were doing with Four and Five still not at home. Mala said they were fine, though clearly anxious about not having to live upstairs anymore. They and Miss Cathy had decided they would spread out into the rest of the house, using their former room however they might like, or not all, as now Miss Cathy was saying she wanted the house filled, all the time, and forever. She’d even moved herself downstairs to live with Mister Leo, Tico moving their beds into the former study. There’s a full bathroom in there, Mala said, so it works.

Fan could not believe the Girls could live in separate rooms.

They’re not yet, Mala said. They were excited at first. They came downstairs to try it but the younger ones were scared by all the rooms and hallways. The sunlight was too bright for the older ones. So they all went right back up. Plus, they didn’t like being near Mister Leo, even with how he is. But they’ll try it again soon. And you know what else?

Fan asked what.

I told Miss Cathy I needed my own family. To live with them. And she agreed! Now they’re coming next week, my husband and children. They’re going to live here in the villa, maybe upstairs if the Girls are able to move out. If they do well enough, my kids will be full Charters. Not me and Francisco, it’s too late for us, but that’s okay. We don’t have to be Charters. We can take care of them.

Yes, said Fan. They need your care.

Mala asked where Fan was going next and, of course, Fan couldn’t answer.

Well, you will make it the right place, she said. Some people are like that. You are one of those, I think. It does not matter who is there or what is there. You will make it right, and not just for yourself. And you know, now there’s going to be an empty house far out in the counties! Both of them laughed, though Mala mentioned the name of the settlement, if no more than that because out there were very few, if any, named streets.

You will know it when you see it, she added. It is the nicest house.

Fan said it sounded very nice, after which there was nothing much else to say and so they bid each other good-bye, something we B-Mors do not customarily do (unless, frankly, someone is about to die), for the obvious reason of our living in a cloistered, intimate society, but perhaps, too, because to do so is to acknowledge that almost no one ever leaves.

Fan had gathered her few things and was looking in a cabinet for some dried and canned food to take along when the apartment door opened. It was Vik. It looked like he’d forgotten something, a certain crimp to his expression, no more than a quarter hour having passed since he’d left, but he walked in and just stood at the kitchen bar counter in his impressive, stiff-looking clothes. He noticed the open cupboard and asked if she was hungry, a question, she realized, that didn’t occur to her anymore, as it seemed of late that she was always willing to eat, even immediately after she’d eaten. But he didn’t wait for an answer and suggested they take a ride and get a snack.

Where? she said, being wary as she should be, but also thinking that she should tell him she would soon depart.

A fun weekend place, he said. Let’s go.