I started with academic research. I kept telling myself that it was because I would need a solid background in understanding the local geography, or environment, or culture. I tried to convince myself that I needed to make preparations; or that it was the wrong weather, or timing; or I just needed to win a few more races and set aside a bit more money... or whatever excuse I could come up with. The truth was, though, that I had no desire to find a wife, and it was easier to make other kinds of progress.
Unknown to me, however, Iris was busily making me a match.
"...you just have to meet him, Fjord. You two are perfect for each other, and..." Iris sighed at the response she got from the other end of the phone. "No, I'm not trying to set you up again. Not really..." She paused for a response, and then furrowed her brow in frustration. "All right then, I
am trying to set you up. But you just have to meet him. If I weren't already married..." She made a laughing warning after listening to the reply: "Don't even start. You're the last person in the world to give marriage advice. Just come to the party. Please. I want you to come, even if you don't talk to him at all. It'll be fun, and you could use a bit of that."
The party she was talking about was a combined birthday party for Ilsa and Jonas. Iris had been planning it for days, preparing food, setting up decorations, and sending out invitations to family and friends. Jonas asked specifically if I could come as well, and Iris insisted on it. Her sister Ericka -- the mayor -- was one of the first to arrive.
S
"So you're the young man who's living in the cellar," Ericka said with a practiced smile. "Iris has told me quite a bit about you. She didn't say whether you planned on settling down here for good, though."
"No, I don't suppose she did." I was getting to be very good at deflecting these sorts of questions, but in this I needn't have worried.
"Well, well," the mayor distractedly replied. "If you stay, be sure to come down to City Hall and register to vote." She wandered away before I had a chance to reply, probably looking for someone else to shake hands with. When I turned around Iris was already beside me, introducing me to a dark-haired woman in a colorful sweater. "Geoff, I'd like you to meet my friend Fjord."
Fjord and I simply looked at each other for what must have been too long a moment of silence. "Fjord is a singer," Iris interjected, patting her friend on the back and smiling encouragingly.
"Ah," I said. It was a less than brilliant reply, to be sure. Fjord's cheeks turned pink, and she started to turn away, but Iris was tenacious. She took hold of her friend's hand, aimed a surreptitious kick at my right foot, and said, "Geoff used to teach music. Didn't you, Geoff?" It was less a polite question, and more of a demand that I start talking before she would have to kick me again.
"I did," I replied. "Among other things." That would have been that, but I did owe Iris a pretty big debt for all that she'd done for me so far, so I rallied up my best charming smile and added: "I hear you're a singer?"
"I am," Fjord said solemnly, but her eyes were twinkling in an endearing way. "Among other things."
Iris exhaled with a frustrated sigh, clearly put out by the two of us and our inane conversation. Fjord laughed, and it was melodious. "Go on, Iris. I'll be fine." And then we were alone, and looking at each other one more time.
"So," I said, when the pause had stretched on long enough to be awkward. "What... uh... what kind of singing?"
Fjord gave me a perplexed look, clearly confused by the question, though I couldn't imagine why. "Rock," she said slowly, and then waited a moment, as if expecting me to realize something. "I'm Fjord Warbler," she added.
"And it's very nice to meet you, Ms. Warbler."
She blinked a couple of times, and then I was certain she was speaking gibberish: "Pa Fights the Bear? Rails for Miles? Oogie Boogie?"
"Uhhh..."
Fjord looked down at her feet. "Sorry. Sorry. I'm just so used to-- Sorry."
This was not going well at all. "Uhhh..."
"Fjord is a rock star." That was Jonas, who had come up beside us. "Those are her songs. Everyone knows who she is. She's famous!"
"Not everyone!" Fjord looked up again, and her cheeks were bright pink. "But... almost everyone. Especially around here. I forget there are people who haven't heard of me sometimes." She held out her hand, as if to make a formal introduction. "Fjord Warbler. International Rock Star." She was smiling, and her eyes were twinkling again, as they seemed to do whenever she recognized that something was absurd.
"Come on," said Jonas, before he darted off toward the kitchen counter. "We're going to have the cake."
I followed, but not before I took Fjord's hand and kissed the back of it, as I'd been taught to do since I was Jonas' size. "A pleasure," I said. If I had looked behind me as I walked after Jonas, I would have seen her smile again, but differently, and touch the back of her hand where I'd kissed it.