The Rivening

Mistakes

By the end of February, after the surgeries, Peter's new face emerged. Not the face of the handsome young man standing with his parents in the picture hanging on the wall by Peter's bed, but a face he felt comfortable taking out in the world.

The nose was reconstructed and symmetrical again and skin grafts had replaced and smoothed over the disfiguring ridges. The round, smooth-skinned face of his youth was now thinner, the skin a little uneven and mottled, but nothing that called attention. Connie said it made him look distinguished, along with his salt and pepper hair, like a philosopher or astrophysicist.

Peter made a small bow over the Go table. "Well done. Next time, I'll decrease the handicap. Again. You're improving young lady. But, you know, I worry about you. You need to get out. Not stay so cooped up playing Go with an old man."

"You're not an old man. You just turned 52. And I'm not cooped up! I get out. You know that. I've got craft shows coming up. I've got friends, old and new, I'll have you know. Like Angie and Nicole and the people they hang out with. Seriously, I'm fine."

"You sound defensive," Peter teased.

"Oh great, now that we've got your life figured out, we're going to start on mine?"

"Why not? I can't help but notice that some of the people who visited you early on don't seem to be coming around."

"You're such a snoop. Up here in your aerie spying down on us." She gestured toward his front bay window.

"I feel like something is weighing on you. Good things have happened." He tapped the table as he enumerated each point. "Jean is stable and seems content in her new place. Angie and her family are happy in their beautifully fixed up new home. And my lovely face." He stoked his cheek. "Something is bothering you and I thought it might relate to those early visitors, especially the one man who came a number of times."

"No. Not them. In fact, I'm glad they're out of my life. They were using me, and when I was no longer of use, they dropped me. And I'm good with that. In fact, I more or less dropped them first."

"Okay, so, my other theory is that it's related to our strangely generous former neighbors, the transients, who left so abruptly. Who you skirt around talking about. I'm sure there's more to your story of why they gave us the house. Maybe something related to one of them having eyes like yours, many years ago?"

Connie looked at Peter. This was the first time he mentioned knowing a transient with eyes like hers. She badly wanted to talk to someone about the Dahrians and everything that happened, but she couldn't. She promised. And even if she could, it was so farfetched, who would believe it.

Peter continued, "You know it was that neighbor who first taught me to play Go. He thought that I would know how to play because I'm Chinese. But he had to teach me! That was long ago, before the fire. None of them ever stayed for more than a year or so. Though some came twice. Once when they were around 20 and again near 30."

"What was he like?"

"Very nice. The transients were always very nice when they came in the store." Peter patted the Go table. "My parents bought this, and he would come here and play. I was never invited to his house. Of course, they had the two houses then. With the one you live in now."

"What did you two talk about?"

"Mainly we talked about Go. He was vague about himself, and I didn't pry. I was shy. I didn't want to alienate him. I didn't have many friends. He always wanted to hear what I thought about things. And I liked that. I was sorry when he had to leave. He said he might be back in 10 years, but I don't think he returned. And, of course, then the fire happened, and I stopped seeing people."