Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Falling in Love Again ❯ Somewhere over the Rainbow ( Chapter 3 )

Falling in Love Again

A Rurouni Kenshin Pop-Art Remake

By Oryo

Warning for language (in the beginning) and controversial political opinions.

Chapter 3: Somewhere Over The Rainbow

Tokyo, years 36/37 of Meiji (1904/5)

A peaceful day, a precious moment
Today we took a little walk along the river. The cherry trees were in full bloom, and the air smelled sweet. The way was harder for me than I thought, but I do not regret it. Sometimes we have to leave behind us the sorrows about our son and the rest of the family, the noise of the dojo and the students. To share a single moment of happiness.
Time will never stop, taking my strength with it. To keep my courage in this already lost fight, I collect such moments of closeness. And I need this courage, not only for me, but for her.
Until my very end, I will give all my heart to be a good husband, though I've never been a perfect one.

New York, May 9, 1965

The little diner in southern Chelsea was their usual meeting point. And as usual, they met at lunchtime. Smoking, Henry Shatner was sitting at a table beside the window, looking at some papers, when the other man arrived. A cup of coffee and the rest of a rather frugal meal were standing before him. The ashtray was stuffed with cigarettes.

"Do you understand the meaning of Sundays as days of rest, boss?" Jasper Cagney greeted him, settling himself across from his boss. He was a lanky man from the South with blond hair, still cut in an Army brush cut. Although, the Korean war had been over for twelve years, Jasper Cagney, who had served in the last year of that war, had a certain attraction to that hairstyle.

"No." Shatner didn't even raise his head.

"Do you never take days off?"

"No." Shatner dropped the paper he had been looking at and glanced at his very special agent. "So what did you learn?"

"Very funny coincidence! There was really something special with his papers. This man asked the permission to import an ancient sword."

Jasper took a folded paper out of his own pocket and laid it on the table.

"A sword?"

The special agent had never seen this grade of stupefaction in the features of his boss. He had been very surprised too, to really find out something this interesting. An ancient sword! The collection of old swords was Jasper Cagney's principal and very expensive hobby.

"What the heck does he want to with a sword?"

"I don't know, but he explained that it was an inheritance. Do you want me to do some more research?"

They were interrupted by the waitress, and Jasper ordered beer and fried chicken with chips.

"Yes," Shatner handed him the bundle of papers. "Here you can find basic information, addresses, family connections and so on. That could help you to find him in this city. Just keep an eye on him!"

"What about my other investigation?"

"If your connection to them is strong enough, they will contact you. Don't overdo it!"

"Okay." Jasper read the first page of the report. "A faggot with communist sympathies? As if one of these leanings were not disgusting enough. Honestly."

The waitress brought the meal.

"Do you have no photos?"

Jasper laid down the papers and started to eat.

"I have already asked for more information. They will send photos too, but they are some years old, anyway. I think, the best way to approach him is the woman, Kumiko Techaco, his aunt. She is under observation since ... ."

Shatner interrupted his speech, a slight hint of surprise in his eyes.

"What?" Jasper asked chewing.

"More funny coincidences!" Jasper pointed to the papers with the chicken he held in his hand, raising his brow. "Indeed. He just came in with some people, most of them women." Slowly, Shatner lit a new cigarette, a sardonic grin covered his face. Jasper was not sure, but he thought he heard him mumbling. "Damned queer. How can he always pick up so many girls?"

"What will we do now?"

"I will finish my cigarette, and then I will leave very calmly. He hasn't seen me yet, but if I start to hurry now, I will certainly attract his attention."

"When did you meet him?" The blond man queried, still eating, but he didn't believe that his boss would satisfy his curiosity.

To his surprise, Shatner answered: "First? London, ten years ago." The very special agent Jasper Cagney had heard rumors of a top secret affair in London. Something about a phantom assassin. A very mysterious affair. He watched his boss, but his features didn't reveal anything, and this time, Jasper decided to keep his mouth shut. He would not get any answer apart from ironic comments. "I will leave now." Shatner had finished his cigarette, laid a few bucks on the table and took his coat. "It's the red-head, with long hair, quite womanish. Don't let your eyes betray you and take him too lightly. He might look queer, and indeed he has grown worse than before, but for playing tag, you will hardly find someone to match him. I will expect your first report on Wednesday."

Having said this, he left. The blond special agent finished his meal and drank his beer. After having wiped his hands a bit, he glanced at the second sheaf of the papers Shatner had given him. A name caught his eyes, a surprising discovery. It almost made him laugh.

Jasper Cagney folded the papers and put them in the inside pocket of his jacket. Then he paid for his meal and headed for the exit.

It was unbelievably easy.

"Good afternoon, Mister Cagney!"

The friendly voice of the familiar dark-haired girl greeted him, and it was just polite to look at her. Her left arm hung in a sling, and she seemed a bit tired, but her warm smile revealed her good mood as always.

"Good afternoon, Miss Kaszowiz!"

Jasper said, nodding politely to her company and they nodded back: the insolent little boy, her brother, the other two woman, a Latino vamp and a Nigger girl, and the faggot who's looks inspired his immediate disgust. They had been in the middle of a rather violent discussion.

"What happened to your arm, Miss Kaszowiz?"

He asked, noting that the red-head indeed had some Asian features, although his strange eyes and hair were not quite what you expected.

"Thank you for your concern, Mister Cagney! I got hurt in a late night hold-up, but it's not half as bad as it looks."

"I hope you will recover fast."

He meant what he said. Despite her stubbornness, he had always liked the girl and didn't like the idea that she might get hurt.

"Thank you, Mister Cagney!"

"See you later, Miss Kaszowiz!"

"See you later, Mister Cagney!"

He left the café. It was really too easy. His boss didn't know it, but the new job had a connection with his last investigation.

***

The dream is so sweet. We are dancing. In the famous Opera of Paris, a dream of gold and red, and colored marble. It's the dance of the Prince and the Princess in "The Sleeping Beauty". Yes, I can hear the music, can feel his hands, the strength of his arms. It's so beautiful. ...

Infernal noise is shattering my dream. I try to reach out with my left arm to grip the alarm-clock, to throw it far away from my tortured ears. It would not be the first clock to be destroyed in this way. The pain flashing through my body is strong enough to wake me up completely. I wake up and realize that it's not my clock that is ringing, but the phone.

In the very same moment, I notice that I fell asleep fully dressed.

"Yacko! The phone." I yell, trying to get up, but no sign of life from my little brother. Before, I can force my still limp body all the way to the phone in the hall, the ringing stops suddenly. I fall back on my bed. The curtains are closed and it is still dim in my room. A glance at the silent alarm-clock shows me something past ten. No doubt, Yacko has already left the apartment to roam the streets with his bunch of so-called friends.

Slowly, I get up again, hating my body for being so weak. They had to send me home last night, before my shift was over. Dropping two trays with filled glasses was not what they wanted a waitress to do. But I couldn't really move the arm. I didn't expect that the wound would be so annoying. On the night of the hold-up, I didn't feel it as much as now. Perhaps, I should visit a doctor, but doctors just want money that I haven't got. Besides, yesterday, when Yacko changed the bandage, he told me that the wound didn't look so bad.

I open the curtains. The light of a clear day floating in the room lifts my mood. You are just too impatient, I tell myself. Wounds need time to heal, and sometimes healing is painful and saps your strength. Searching for fresh clothes, I remember the time when my right ankle was twisted. It was just the same, and I drove everyone around me crazy with my impatience and my bad moods.

Oh god! Thinking about my bad moods is embarrassing. I was so bad that night. Remembering myself whining, complaining and yelling like I did. I had no reason for it, but I couldn't help it. Perhaps, it was all caused by the shock, however, I'm worried. What would they think of me?

Especially Kenneth Farrel. Of course, I didn't want him to patronize me like he did. I could see it very clearly. He took me for the little girl I was when we saw each other the last time. However, I overreacted, perhaps even scared him away. However, now I can't do anything about it. It's better to concentrate on more urgent problems.

Just at the moment I enter the bathroom, the phone starts ringing again. Sighing, I walk back in the little hall and take the receiver.

"Karen Kaszowiz. What can I do for you?"

"This is Deputy Malcolm Kelly ..."

When I hear the calm and familiar voice, I have no doubt what he will tell me. One more time. Normally, I would have been polite, waiting for him to finish his sentence, but today I feel too bad for courtesy and conventions.

"Is it about my brother? Must I come for him?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Kaszowiz, but, yes, he has been arrested for stealing again. It's the fifth time, Miss Kaszowiz, we can't release him so easily this time. It's possible that he has to go to the juvenile ..."

"Stop! We will not discuss this matter on the phone, Deputy Kelly. I will come to the police station as fast as I can."

I hear him sigh in desperation, although he tries to swallow it immediately. It's my very special triumph, that members of the New York City Police Department are somewhat afraid of a nineteen-years-old girl. But, it's not enough to make me feel at ease.

"Yes, I think that might be better, Miss Kaszowiz."

The deputy says calmly, before he interrupts the communication. I stand frozen a moment. The juvenile court! It's horror just to think about it. Imaging my brother in jail. The last thing to disintegrate my world completely, the last thing I had to lose apart from these rooms. Don't think about it, stupid girl!

Yacko! He is so selfish, making me this worried about him. For his stupid boyish pride. He had explained me the last time why he had to do such idiotic things: The other kids in the streets called him queer or faggot, because this stupid dance school had his name. Everyone knew that queers are cowards. In order not to be a coward, he had to prove his worth.

This time I will not accept such an excuse.

*

Getting washed and dressed was rather difficult with my hurt arm. I needed almost thirty minutes, before I was satisfied. Then I had to take an aspirin, although I don't like to depend on it. But I needed it to keep my wits together.

Every time I have to deal with the police, I take care to be dressed more femininely. It's unbelievable how polite policemen can be, when you comport yourself like a lady. I never hear as many compliments as when I go to the police station like now. My cheeks are heated, but I'm somewhat pleased.

Luckily, they haven't put Yacko in an arrest cell. He is sitting beside Deputy Kelly's desk. When I arrive, he doesn't even lift his head. The deputy searches for a chair for me, and I sit down.

"What was it?" I don't wait for the exchange of courtesies, but start straightforwardly.

"Three wallets, including fif- ...."

"Three wallets? Please, forgive me, Deputy Kelly, but I thought it was a serious affair. But three wallets are no reason enough to drag someone to court."

I don't feel as reckless as I sound with the deputy. My hands are covered with sweat, and my heart beats unbelievably fast. But, come on, Karen, don't be afraid to give a little performance.

"Why don't you let me pay them back? I will make sure that it's the last time you see this boy."

Yacko has lifted his head now. The mention of juvenile court obviously has some effect on his conscience. He is chewing his lower lip, as he does every time, he is really embarrassed.

"Miss Kaszowiz, you say this every time when we meet here. Unmistakably, this boy is a hard case, and perhaps, you are too young to take care of him."

My breath is trapped in my throat for a moment. It's evident what his remark implies. They could take my brother away from me, even if they don't put him in jail. But I will not let it happen easily. Why should I give in to these people who were not even able to protect us. No, I won't let it happen. Not against my will, not without fight.

"Will you inform the welfare department about our situation, deputy?" I won't beat around the bush.

"Perhaps, it would be wiser."

Ah, he is already uncertain, because he knows me. That's my advantage.

"I know, you just want to do your duty, Deputy Kelly, but you can trust me. And even if you believe that you have to inform the welfare department you can still let me take my brother home."

I need some more time to convince him that he had better not to keep Yacko. Not if he didn't wanted me staying at the station all day and annoying him. But, in the end, I can take my stupid little brother and leave.

"Don't even open your mouth, before we are home, idiot!" I say, slapping his head when we are in the street. "I'm really angry with you."

Of course, he doesn't keep his mouth shut. "I just wanted to say, I'm sorry. It's your own fault if you don't want to hear it." He is hopping out of my reach now. "Besides, I did it for you. We need money, you said, to pay these bastards who bought father's debts. And we need money, so that you could go visit a doctor and we don't have it."

His words make me angry and touch me strangely at the same time.

"I didn't ask you to steal, Yacko. What you should do is be helpful."

We go most of our way in silence, and finally, we are back home.

"How is your arm?" Yacko asks when we are climbing the stairs.

"I need to change the bandage, because I couldn't do it, before I left."

"Okay."

His voice tells me that he wants me not to be angry with him.

I don't know why we lost the closeness we shared in the years before father died. Someone told me, it might be the age. Changes, inexplicable moods and ideas. And it would grow worse until fifteen or sixteen, then, perhaps, the handling would be easier. What a perspective! Two or three years of constant trouble.

"What are you doing here? Aren't you the girl from the other night?" I hear Yacko's stunned question.

He has climbed the last stairs faster than me.

"Yes. My name is Mimi. Mimi Melville."

And there she is, wearing a giant dark coat, smiling a bit embarrassed. Mimi had not been in the club at all last night. And I heard the manager complaining that he hasn't had a chance to find a good replacement for her.

"I ... just ... just wanted to know how you feel." Her hands are kneading the fabric of the coat. "The grand-pa - well, he isn't my real grand-pa, just an old storekeeper who takes care of orphans for the love of Jesus ... The grand-pa didn't want me to keep my job, and I wasn't there last night. But I thought, for the love of Jesus, I have to look after you. Because we have fought together."

I have always wondered why her family could let her go work so far away from her home. She always waited for the first subway when the club had closed. Alone, in the night. A girl who was younger than me and looked even younger than she was. When I knew that, I decided to wait with her. After all, my way wasn't so far, and I knew more people in this neighborhood. First she hadn't noticed it, but then she got very angry. Her pride was even more difficult to deal with than Yacko's. Perhaps, she needed it in her life, because of the problems a black girl could have. My grand-parents had had some black acquaintances, especially musicians, but the relationships were always difficult. Friendship was very rare.

The familiar smile is returning to her face when she says the last words. That's the Mimi I know, always cheerful and not this shy. But then I think that, certainly, she had never visited a white person just for concern and sympathy.

But now, we are comrades who have fought together.

"Do you want to come in?"

Yacko looks at me with this glance saying: You are always too trustful, while unlocking the apartment door and opening.

"Yes."

Mimi is following us into the apartment.

We go into the kitchen. It's far more than a simple kitchen. Rather a sitting room with a corner for cooking, separated by a counter. Yacko who is unbelievably docile proposes to make coffee and eggs, because:

"You cannot cook when you are not hurt, raccoon. You will make a complete mess out of the eggs with this arm."

Forgetting to be polite, Mimi yells at him: "Shrimp! Don't talk like that!"

I'm too slow to give him the deserved slap. I sit down at the table, because my legs feel very wobbly now. I always have unlimited energy when I need it, but sometimes later I'm crushed by exhaustion.

"I'm almost sorry that you had to quit that job. It was always so energizing, hearing you play when I had to work."

Mimi sighs dramatically: "Yes, it's a pity. For the money, but more for the piano. It was one of the best pianos I know. I will participate in the examination for the Manhattan School of Music, you know."

Yacko and me exchange a glance, sharing the same thought. A unique situation.

"If you have problems to finding a good piano, we can help you." She glances skeptically. "Come, I will show you."

We leave the apartment to go over to the school.

It's the same, every time, I open it, knowing that I would find behind the large dancing room with its mirrors and large windows, the bars and the photos, the grand piano and the old chairs. Every time, I think, I will find grand-ma speaking or explaining something, while grand-dad is waiting at the grand piano so that he could continue to play. I forget in the moment I enter the room that they have been dead for four years now.

Sometimes, I believe that death has only taken their bodies, while their spirit, courage and love are still present. And that's the ultimate and most important reason why I will never let someone destroy what they have built, not for all the money in the world.

Mimi's delightful shriek makes me almost jump. I have been so absorbed in my daydreams that I have forgotten her presence for a moment. Though she has bounced to the grand piano, caressing the black cover, settling herself on the seat.

DI-DI-DI-BAAM ... DI-DI-DI-BAAM ... A piano version of Beethoven's famous symphony fills the room like thunder. The glass in the windows is vibrating and I fear they might break. I'm almost glad, that the other people have already left this house. The sudden noise of loud music would have disturbed their Sunday leisure. It's not only loud Rock 'n Roll music that makes neighbors angry, but also loud classical music. I know this, because they sometimes came to complain about the school. Back then. In happier times.

A look at the door tells me that Yacko is standing there, eating the eggs. His face has an expression I see rarely. Interest and contentment. Even if he was little when our grand-parents were still alive, I know that he remembers. Even if he complains very often about the stupid school and what a bad reputation it gives him, I know that he is old enough to understand what it meant for grand-ma and grand-dad.

Suddenly, the thunder stops and after a short break, accompanied by a funny grimace, Mimi is playing one of the tunes I know from her performances at the bar. And she sings, revealing the rich timbre of her voice.

Then she changes the genre again, playing a little piece of Eric Satie. I need to take a deep breath, because for my dance diploma - one year ago - I created and performed a solo choreography for this piece of music. I called it The Wooden Puppet. Even now, one year later, every step is still burned in my memory. For a moment, I forget the world around me. Even with my hurt arm, I start to move a bit. Just making the footsteps, the turns and the movements without using my arms.

It's the dance of a wooden marionette, controlled by strings. When I created this choreography, I could not find the courage to keep on living. After father's death, I felt like the puppet, unable to move freely, bound by the strings of financial worries, the shame being the daughter of an alcoholic, the shame about his behavior in his last years and about his final suicide, the trouble and constant fights with my brother. I believed that all these strings were stronger than my courage. But I was wrong. One year later, I still kept on going despite our problems. I realized that grand-ma's sweet little girl could have an explosive temper if necessary. The puppet is free, and the dance turns out to be another one.

Finally, I have to take a break. I'm not wearing the right clothes anyway, and at last, my arm is protesting against the movements. Of course, lost in the dance I forgot to care about my wound.

"If you can dance you must be fine, Miss Karen."

The voice of my dream.

Foolish girl! Against all reason, my heart is beating fast, sending heat in my cheeks, even before I turn to look at him. Today, Kenneth Farrel is wearing a simple dark brown jacket and normal clothes, not the exotic, but beautiful costume he wore on that night. He looked so pretty and nice on that night. Like a fairy tale creature. Except his hands. I had been so shocked, seeing the burn scars on them when he was holding the steering wheel.

"Hi, Farrel!" Mimi exclaims, stopping her playing. "Now that I have seen it, I think dancing is more like gymnastics."

"Good afternoon, Miss Mimi!" Kenneth answers smiling warmly.

As usual, when we meet. As usual? How many times was this? It was only Friday, that I saw him the first time in thirteen years. But -

Not only am I sure that he had seen me in diapers, right after my birth or crawling through these rooms, but there were those six months, he had lived here with my grand-parents. Before he had gone to Europe. I had never known, and they had never told me why they had given Kenneth shelter for those months. They just did it, while I was living with my grand-parents too. Because of the so-called illness of my father which was, as I know now, a disguised description of his alcohol problem. Mama feared that he might hurt me.

I have a lot of memories of that time. While Kenneth wasn't going to school, we spent much time together. Oh yes, I was as much infatuated with him as a six-years-old girl could be infatuated with a teenage boy - nine years older than her.

And later, I could look at photos, thus seeing him every day because they are still hanging from the wall behind the piano with other pictures of grand-ma's students. Though, I was quite shocked about his long hair and the things the other girls had said about him during the audition. And yet, when he spoke with me, not knowing who I was, I discovered the same person as in his letters. Those letters he wrote my grand-ma, without knowing of her death, were so charming and lively. They painted vivid images of cities I had never seen. London, Paris, Berlin. Cities, my grand-parents had visited in the years before they had left Europe. Paris - yes, he had written about a performance of "The Sleeping Beauty" at the Opera of Paris.

Out of nowhere, I remember my dream about the Parisian Opera and feel more heat creeping over the skin of my face and over my neck. It's quite imprudent to dream like that of a man I only know from letters. Though, since the first time I saw him, it's like a dream becoming real.

I force myself to ignore the reaction of my body and beam at him too. But my smile freezes, when I see that he is not alone. Behind him is a young woman. A beautiful dark-haired woman, wearing elegant clothes and perfect make-up, smiling at me too, but with obvious amusement.

"Quite gloomy, your house, little girl!" She is taller than me, not only because of her high heels, and but there is not reason to call me that.

"What?"

"But, you have grown up prettily, cry-baby."

"Maggie!"

"Sorry, Shin-chan!" Sighing, she puts her hand on his arm. "You don't have to protect her."

"Who is that?" I ask him, having regained control over my senses, amazed by my sudden anger. Don't be stupid, Karen! She might be an old acquaintance of his. But why does she have to lay her hand on him, like she has a right to do so? And why does she have a nickname for him?

"I guess you don't remember Maggie - Maria Magdalena. She is the daughter of my aunt Kumiko's husband, but you were very young when they moved over to Brooklyn. Though, I remember clearly that both of you played together." Kenneth Farrel explains calmly.

It might have been in the time of bliss and happiness, before mama died. We had a lot of friends and there were always children to play with me, but I don't remember her.

"Don't worry, girl. You always cried when I started to tease you, perhaps you just wanted to forget."

Yacko who's skeptical eyes wander from Kenneth to the woman and back, starts to grin at her words.

If this woman was like that, even as a girl, I had lots of reasons to forget her.

"Maggie, what are you doing? Would you please stop teasing her!"

Kenneth seems to be very embarrassed about her behavior. Maggie just sighs, waving a little box she is carrying.

"Come on, girl! Let me have a look at your wound!"

"What?"

"I wasn't sure, if you would visit a doctor, like I advised you, Miss Karen. That's the reason why I have brought the doctor to you." He points in the direction of this woman. Is she a doctor? I don't believe it. She is too young.

"I think we should go into your apartment!" She grips my arm, glancing seductively at Kenneth. "Even if there is no occasion to offend your pure-"

"Maggie! Would you please be quiet!" All of sudden, he is blushing deeply, looking very pretty like that. Oh Karen, don't be so stupid!

The insolent woman only laughs and grips my arm. We go in the kitchen, and she puts a little bag on the table.

"Come on, girl! Sit down!" I obey her, still doubtful about her capacities. Quickly, I understand that I was terribly wrong about that. Smiling, she admits to me that she hasn't finished her studies yet, but is working as an assistant doctor now. I'm almost surprised at how gentle her hands are, as she is helping me get out of my blouse, removing the old bandage. Concentration and concern on her face. No trace of mocking. "It was good that you went to the Hospital right after this incident, with the stitching, the wound will heal well and the scar will not be too ugly." I prefer to say nothing instead of lying. "The healing process will go on without complication if you keep this arm still. It might take some time though, because the cut has torn the muscles. For that reason you should avoid moving it too much."

"Do you mean, I cannot go to work?"

"For some days, three or four, you should not move it at all, and even after this, you should not overdo it."

I bite my lip. No work, no money. Those bastards managed to increase my problems. The same men who are part of my problems.

It had been a shock when I remembered yesterday, what I hadn't seen that night. Something my mind had only subconsciously registered. I knew more than one of those men. They were hired hands of that man who wanted to buy this house, wanted to convert it into a sort of luxury casino.

I don't know what will happen, if they remember me too. That night, they didn't. I'm almost sure, because they were drunk and had insulted only Mimi. But, maybe, one of them will remember and relate to his boss that I'm in more trouble than ever. That I might possibly not be able to pay the next payoff. Shit! I don't curse very often, but now I want to spit out all the bad words I know. Instead of that, my lips are trembling.

"Don't cry, girl!" Maggie takes my chin and lifts up my head. "Do you need money or other help?"

I would swallow my tongue before I ask her for money.

"Why don't you tell her, that we need money?" Yacko has appeared in the kitchen, goes to the kitchen corner and puts the pan in the sink. "Or tell to the red-head?" He begins to scrub the pan vigorously. "Yes, I have verified that he was one of grand-ma's students. It was the one who wrote the letters, wasn't he?" Maggie is laughing quietly when Yacko mentions the letters, putting her instruments back in her box and laying more bandage packs on the table. Yacko continues, scrubbing. "He wasn't here the last years? Then dad cannot have borrowed money from him!"

"Yacko!"

How could he blurt out all our problems in front of that woman? Where is his pride now?

My growing anger is crushed before I can it let out. A voice is singing, sweet and innocent, in girlish nostalgia:

Puerto Rico,
You lovely island,

Yacko has already left the kitchen, after the first sound.

Oh yes, in a sudden attack of superstition, I had bought the score of the "West Side Story". Believing it would bring me luck. But it didn't work.

Island of tropical breezes
Always the pine apples growing,
Always the coffee blossoms blowing.

"I wonder why he didn't get this job."

"What job?"

Only after Maggie's question, I realize that I have expressed my thoughts out loud.

"I have met Kenneth on Friday, at a try out for 'West Side Story'. It looked as if the director would give him a special job, but later, he told me that he didn't."

She doesn't answer, but the expression of her eyes is strange.

After a while, she repeats: "If you need any help, financial or otherwise, please tell me.", while we are hearing Mimi singing with a darker, mock-seductive voice:

Puerto Rico,
You ugly island,
Island of tropic diseases.

Over there in the dancing studio, Yacko is laughing as he hasn't for a long time.

"Why do you say that?"

"Shin-chan does not have much money, but he is very worried about you." He is worried about me. Once again, I switch between happiness and anger. Why does he think he has to worry about me? Why doesn't he speak with me about it? "I will do anything I can to make him happy."

Always the hurricanes blowing,
Always the population growing,
And the money owing,

Maggie's words and her eyes are scaring me. I don't need to ask her for her reasons. Oh yes, she loves him. No doubt.

And the babies crying,
And the bullets flying.

"Don't you dare cry, silly girl!" I swallow while she is standing up. "You are quite emotional, after all. Must be artistic behavior!"

She is sighing and leaves me alone.

I like the island Manhattan.
Smoke on your pipe and put that in!
As I hear her laughter, too, I follow her to the dancing studio. What I see, makes me freeze in amazement, with slacked jaw.

I like to be in America!
O. K. by me in America!
Ev'rything free in America
For a small fee in America!

While Mimi is singing the chorus, alone but with a voice strong enough for more than one woman, Kenneth is dancing - well, yes, the Puerto Rican girls. In Flamenco style, waving imagined skirts. His face emotionless as it is fitting for Flamenco, his movements passionate. At last, he waves his beret with a swift movement, like a toreador's cap.

I'm grinning. Yacko is shaking in laughter, and Maggie holds her hand over her mouth, face red. Mimi can just barely finish her singing, before she falls over on the piano, laughing too.

Kenneth is smiling sheepishly, adjusting his beret, then putting his hands in the pockets of his pants, blushing slightly.

"You missed the dance of the great seductress." Yacko explains me when he has enough breath to speak.

"I didn't know that it could be hilarious." Mimi says. "but, it's still really queer."

Obviously, they had discussed dance when he drove her home. Now, he is just shrugging, taking his jacket that he had laid over a chair.

"Why don't we go out for lunch? We can put all our money together, and I think we will have enough to pay for all of us."

We all look at him, somewhat startled, but, finally, all agree that it is a real good idea.

*

We don't have to walk, because we can go in that beautiful car again. It is Maggie who takes the driver seat. Of course, Yacko wants to come with us, even if he has already eaten the eggs and even if he doesn't really deserve to go out after this morning.

"It's such a great car." Mimi says, trying to bounce, but she has no room, there being three in the backseat. But her braids are swinging with the vivid moves of her head. "And it went so fast."

"Where to?"

Kenneth is coughing.

"To Harlem. Farrel was so nice to drive me home." Mimi explains cheerfully. "Oops!"

"Shin-chan!" Maggie's voice grows slightly menacing, while in the mirror, I'm seeing Kenneth biting his bottom lip, to hold back a smile. "Don't tell me you took a trip half way around the world with my car?"

"Isn't it your car, Farrel?"

"Did I ever say, that it was my car, Miss Mimi?"

"One point for you, Farrel."

"And I thought, you had to sleep because of exhaustion, Shin-chan." Now the color of his skin is matching the color of his hair. I never saw a man blushing like that. Normally, it is me who blushes like that. "So, you were on the road the entire night? With that idiot? But, you didn't let him drive, I hope." Coughing again. "No! How could you, Shin-chan? That idiot had puked all over my dress in that same night. And do you know what he had done with Arthur's previous car?"

I can imagine, as much as I remember that Sam Sherman. He looked like a troublemaker. A man who went out without a shirt. Quite sexy, but stupid. Karen! I call myself back to reason. Amazing what I had seen in just one night, in addition to being wounded.

"You know Arthur, too?" Mimi interrupts Maggie's question. "This is very good. I don't trust the rooster with that affair."

"What rooster?" Then, already stopping the car at a vacant parking place, Maggie starts to smile even more mischievously than she had before. "You speak of Sam, that idiot?"

"Yes, the cocky guy, Arthur's cousin, so -"

"Rooster is good." Maggie is laughing, while we are getting out of the car. "It's a good variation to idiot."

"Was it that guy with the black leather jacket?" Yacko asks. "Who had written 'bad' on his back?"

"Yes, that is his special label." Maggie returns. "He never goes out without the jacket."

"That may be right. But I don't want to talk about him. I want to talk about Arthur."

We are going to the Imperial Diner which is an ancient railroad car and have occupied a free table. Kenneth seems to be relieved that Mimi is occupying Maggie's attention. I feel a bit dizzy because of all their chatting, but I think this is mostly caused by the pain in my arm. Aside from that, I feel very good. It's been a long time since I have gone out with so many people.

The appearance of a waitress interrupts the chatting for a few moments, until we have all chosen our meals.

"What is with Arthur?" Maggie finally replies to Mimi's statement.

"Who is this guy anyway?"

"He is a genius, shrimp! Intelligent, charismatic, courageous, beautiful - The king of music."

Must be the perfect man.

"Is that the reason that you call him 'King Arthur'?" Kenneth queries smirking.

"This is one reason, yes. Besides, we are in searching for the perfect music. And it's like the search for the Holy Grail. King Arthur told us the story about that quest. He knows a lot of fantastic stories anyway."

Maggie nods. "That's true. He has read a lot, and it is very interesting to discuss things with him. And he is a fantastic musician too." Her eyes are shining strangely when she talks about him. What is with that woman? Is she in love with all men she knows, or what? She cannot have them all. "I never understood why Arthur gave up a real musical career for tiring struggles in the slums."

She should not have said that because, immediately, Mimi is getting very upset. "Thank you very much! How can you belittle his courage like that? He is ready to do something about things going wrong in this country, doing something about the incredible injustice. Not only discussing it with other intellectuals like you. He saw that you just let us play our slave music, which is fine for you, but you don't want to have us at your tables and in your concert halls. He saw how wrong that was, and he wanted to do something. He knew, that only white people, especially Jews, have real access to that world of music, art or the beautiful words he loved."

What she is saying, hits me, even more, because she repeats common ideas. And at first,

I'm too hurt to reply. Only when Yacko opens his mouth, looking really furious, I hold my hand

over his mouth.

"You will always be welcome at my table, or to make music in our rooms. And you can ask me anytime for whatever help you need. You can think what you want, but you should not speak like this again with my brother, or me. Insulting us because of our religion." I say very calmly. Perhaps I should be more polite because Mimi has been insulted first, but I have to say what has to be said.

Mimi is swallowing, then glances irritated from me to Yacko.

"I'm not sorry to have said the truth," She answer slightly defiant. "but I'm sorry that I have offended you. You are a very nice person, I didn't know that you are Jewish." Because I feel how embarrassed she is, despite her defiance, I nod, accepting her excuse. "I'm sorry." She is repeating slowly. "But, nobody has a right to insult King Arthur."

"Why do you think, I want to insult him, girl with the quick tongue?" Maggie replies. "I just can see that he's changed since the time I knew him. That something is devouring him. Sorry, if you cannot stand the truth."

Before the discussion goes off in a bad direction again, I am distracted by the appearance of Mister Cagney. His presence smoothes the tense atmosphere, and when he is gone, I'm happy that we have another subject.

"Mister Cagney lives in our neighborhood." I have been surprised to see Mister Cagney, and more surprised about his concern for my health. Normally, he shows no real interest in other people. Not, beyond his profession. "He is a private detective."

"A private detective?"

Is that an optical illusion? Or do Kenneth's eyes really narrow a bit?

"That's what is written on the door of his office." Yacko says, as insolently as ever, munching. "But he has very strange connections for a detective. And he annoys everyone with his search for old weapons, especially swords."

At the last remark Kenneth's eyes are changing from thoughtful to amused, and Maggie is laughing.

"Whenever the crazy wish appears to sell your sword, you know whom to ask." When she sees our stunned faces, she explains. "He inherited an ancient sword from some Japanese relative."

"What use could you have for a sword?" Mimi and Yacko ask at the same moment. I only think it.

"What's the problem?" He looks very serious again. "If I had an apartment on my own, I could hang it on the wall. Then people visiting me would have a ready subject for conversation. Yes, I suppose it might be a good idea for a party. People making small talk about it, imagining stories. Asking what use I could have for a sword. Or better, I could put it in a funny frame, or in a Champaign cooler, or in a toilet basin. Then it would be art, and the same people might even take me for an avant-garde artist. I would have lots of money, because gallery tenants would want me to make an exhibition in their galleries." Mimi has already started grinning, and finally, we all are laughing.

*

It's almost four in the afternoon when we get back home, climbing the stairway in silence. My heartbeat is so fast. And I feel stupid and delightful at the same time.

The last three hours have been very animated. In the diner, I told them a bit, but not too much, about the school and that we hadn't had students for over two years. Then, we discussed Mimi's future plans. Covering that she would use our piano for her exercises and accompanying me, whenever I could gain some students, as a form of reward. I even proposed to her that she could give piano lessons for children, but she said that nobody in my neighborhood would send his children to a black piano teacher. She might be right.

After this, I had a violent argument with Kenneth because he doubted my teaching abilities.

"I don't think that you should concentrate only on the school. After all, you are too young to direct a dance school." He dared to say in my face. I threw knives and forks at him, not bothering with the hilarious laughter of the others. I didn't stop, until the waitress came shyly to our table. My embarrassment gave him time to explain that it wasn't meant as an insult. "Think about it, Miss Karen. You have just finished your own education. No doubt, you have lots of talent, but for teaching you need experience. Far more experience than you have now. Besides, why do you want to start with the end?"

I threw the napkin at him too. But I knew that he was right. Grand-ma started the school after the end of her professional career. All dance teachers I knew did it.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Form a group, go on stage. You have a room. In this city there are enough jobless dancers. And I don't think that it would be a problem to find a theatre for performances."

"I'm sure that you could use the 'Velvet' if Shin-chan would ask nicely for it."

This time the look he gave her was nearly deadly. You have overdone it, vixen! I felt simultaneous silent triumph and shame.

"Oh yes, the 'Velvet'! That's the best thing about losing my job. Finally, I can go and see King Arthur whenever I want."

And in that way, we returned to Mimi's favorite and special subject: Arthur Sherman. As long as she spoke about him, I understood what the former allusions meant. Obviously, that man really gave up a grant for the Manhattan School of Music to labor in Harlem as a social worker, teaching music to the street kids. Not only that, but he and some other people had bought a theatre and some rooms in SoHo to provide a place for musical exchanges between all sorts of people. So, he believed in the healing forces of music. That meant he was a dreamer like the rest of us. For a second, I thought about how he got the money to realize all those dreams, but I didn't ask.

It was only when Maggie suddenly remembered that she had a date, that we left the diner. While we were going to the car, Mimi said that she had better go home, because the man she called grand-father would get worried. So Maggie dropped her near the next subway station, before she drove to my house. When Kenneth told her that he wanted to stay here a bit longer, Maggie was somewhat irritated. However, she seemed not to be angry, but rather excited, when she was leaving us.

That left us alone, Kenneth, Yacko and me.

*

"I want to suggest something to you." Kenneth says when we are sitting at the grand table in the kitchen. Even Yacko has stayed with us, legs drawn to his chest and hugged by his arms. But, he still looks somewhat defiant at Kenneth. "You will not be able to work for a few days, but I think you might need the money. What would you say if I work for you, being a temp so to say?"

I'm stunned, and for a few minutes, my voice is gone. Yacko is gaping and blinking his eyes.

"But, do you have any experience in such jobs?"

Kenneth shrugs. "Sometimes, I didn't earn enough money with the dance, I had to take other jobs. Working in restaurants has been one of them." He says it lightly, as if it was nothing special. I believe that if I would query him about his other jobs, I would gape like Yacko. Finally, he shrugs again, following with one finger the grain in the table. "What do you think about it?"

"You mean, you would work in her place? For free?" Yacko interferes, still amazed.

"Yes, why not?" Why not? I shake my head at his statement. "It's the least I could do for you, for your family. And it would not even be enough to repay all that I owe you."

Yacko laughs. "Honestly, you are the first of grand-ma's ancient students who doesn't asking for money."

Kenneth looks at him, then back to me. Finally, he shakes his head.

"No, I have no right to ask for anything from you." He says, his voice suddenly unsteady. "On the contrary, as I said, I owe your family a lot. I -" Quickly, he turns his face away from us, covering his eyes with a hand. "I'm sorry."

All of sudden, I understand. Wanting to slap my head for my ignorance. I understand the true reason why he wanted to accompany us home without the others. It's a belated visit of condolence.

"I would be glad to accept your offer. Anyway, you only need to replace me for three nights. Wednesday and Thursday are my free days." The words leave my mouth faster than I thought they would. Now, that I know that he felt an obligation towards my family, it is easier to accept it. It is not humiliating any longer. And the light in his eyes repays me for my decision. "Besides, if you ever need a place to stay, you can have the little apartment behind the school."

It is rather only one single room with a bathroom and a kitchenette. First, it was the apartment of my father, before he had married mama and they moved in another apartment some blocks from here. Then, my grand-parents rented it to single people. I didn't have any luck with my boarders, especially the last one who was a real pest and harassed me, until I kicked him out.

"We will see." Kenneth replies indecisively, and Yacko who had opened his mouth to protest, shuts it. "I cannot take advantage of your situation, Miss Karen, but I will consider it."

Something has been annoying me all this time. "Would you please stop calling me 'miss'! You've known me now for - well, since I was born. Don't you think, you can call me by my name?"

Now, he is smiling again, a bit apologetically.

"Okay, Karen. It was just caused by my confusion, because I hadn't thought that the little girl I knew would be such a fine young lady. In my mind, you were still a young tomboy. I'm sorry about it."

After this, we sit for a while in silence, while Yacko is goes to the fridge. This boy! He never stops eating. It's just two hours since he had finished his meal in the diner.

"I'm sorry to ask you this, but when did -?" Kenneth's voice is husky, when he finally asks the question, he came to ask.

"Four years ago. Out of nowhere, grand-pa had a heart-attack in the street, and he died few days after that in the hospital." It's the time, I've spoken about it. Deep inside me, I know that this is the true reason why I don't like to go to hospitals. It's not for the lack of money, or the fear of trouble. It's for the memory of grand-pa laying in the white bed and the face of grand-ma. "I never thought, that she loved him this much. She always appreciated other men looking after her, and not only the men. Sometimes she made him suffer, but when he died she faded within few months. You know, like clothes you wash in too hot water loose their color. She died six months later. Nobody could explain it. In books, in operas and ballets, people die of broken hearts, it's a theme. But, I think, it can happen in reality too."

"They had a very intense relationship." Kenneth is gazing on the table, but I see him swallow. Then he is wiping his eyes quickly before he raises his head to look at me. "Maybe, she needed him to keep her feet on the ground."

First, I don't understand what he means, but then I think about father. How he lost the ground under his feet until he chose to die deliberately. He had nobody to stay with him like grand-dad stayed with grand-ma.

Some minutes later, I'm surprised to hear myself speaking about father, the problems he had to keep money together, and his behavior that damaged the reputation of the school. Although he promised to fix up all things when he was sober, our situation ended up being a mess. Kenneth is listening attentively, his eyes filled with deep sorrow.

"Luckily, I had my own education to distract myself from it. It was grand-ma who told me that I should concentrate on my career." Thinking about this, is already enough to cheer my mind up. "I got a scholarship for a very good Dance School."

This was a real triumph for me. The first time, I had reached a goal with my own strength.

"That's wonderful. I failed in a few competitions." I can read in his face, that the last words came out almost against his will.

"But you have been in Paris?"

Although his eyes are still a bit sad, he smiles: "It was my last chance, one of these things I owe to your grand-mother. She helped me with her contacts."

"If you start chatting about dance now, we could do something more useful." Yacko interrupts us. "What's for supper?"

*

How could I forget this? I must absolutely convince Kenneth to stay with us, because he created something very delightful from the few things we had in the fridge. How could I forget his cooking? Even Yacko was impressed, and he lost a bit of his defiance as long as we were eating.

That's what I'm thinking, laying in my bed. When Kenneth would live with us, it would be like reviving the past times, because we would be three people again. Almost a family.

Author's notes:

1. Let's talk about the characters! As I said in the Author's notes of the first chapter, Karen is Kaoru. I think after the first two chapters, it has been clear that this story will not turn out to be K+K. However, for justice, I wanted to give Karen/Kaoru a voice too and make her an interesting character. Karen is not a Martial arts master like Kaoru, but in a transfigured sense, she is a fighter and has Kaoru's self-discipline.

2. Let's talk about the characters (II)! Yes, I think quick prejudges are a part of Misao's character, but it doesn't make her a "bad" person, and some of Mimi's prejudges in this story are a result of her education.

3. Let's talk about the characters (III)! Karen's grand-parents are my original characters. They haven't such an important role like Kumiko and later appearing original characters, but their lives have still consequences for the other characters, like Karen, or Shintaro. Jasper Cagney is Chou, a little bit darker version of Chou, but still him. Only his hair is shorter, because, honestly, punks do not appear before the Eighties.

4. Let's talk about New York! The Empire Diner is located in Chelsea. I don't know if it is cheap or not, but I like how it looks.

5. Let's talk about lifestyle! "The Sleeping Beauty", ballet composed by Tchaikovsky. In 1961, it has was performed in Paris with the famous Russian ballet-dancer Rudolf Nureyev. That's when Shintaro has saw it. By the way, his character is partly inspired by Nureyev anyway.
Beethoven = Do I need to say something about him?
Eric Satie: French composer form the Beginning of the 20th century, especially famous for his piano pieces who have often funny titles like "The march of a fat man, formed like a pear". His most famous pieces are the "Gnossiennes" which are very often used for advertising. (By the way, it's very difficult to create the impression of music with words. Imagine whatever music you think fitting to a marionette.)
"America" = One of the famous songs from the "West Side Story".
The sakabatou in the toilet basin = it's one of my silly jokes again. The French artist Marcel Duchamp set a toilet basin on a rostrum, declaring it an art work. The same Marcel Duchamp lived in Greenwich Village in the Twenties. Though, the Sixties were the time of pop-art (Andy Warhol again), I think that idea it's quite fitting for pop-art.

Last but not least, the thank. Thank you, Shini no Miko and Fitz for your reviews. They were very encouraging for me. Especially, because the creation of this story in a language in which I'm not really sensible, is sometimes a very difficult birth.

Thank you Wombat for reminding me that I should not make this story too complicated (though I did it nonetheless) and for your recommendation of literature.

Posted first: 12.09.2002

Revision: 19-10-2002

Revision: 22-02-2003