Pay and Pay

Chapter 10

KEVVIN walked along the street in the crisp December air. He was in a very good mood that morning. There had been a message on his answering machine the night before when he came home from work. It had been the owner of Kevvin's favourite bookstore telling him that his order had arrived and that he could come and pick it up at any time. It was an early and expensive Christmas present to himself. He smiled when he thought that the old man at the store probably did not get many orders like his. He had requested all seven volumes of Proust's À la recherche du temps perdu in the original French. It was a deluxe hardcover edition.

He was not even miffed that the Times had not yet been delivered to the convenience store when he stopped by to pick it up. He knew it was not the fault of the clerk, but he did suggest that the man telephone his supplier to complain about the service. In any event, Kevvin's new books would provide him with more than enough material to browse through at his bistro later in the morning.

Kevvin reflected wryly that he was being very generous with himself this year. On top of the books, he had also finally bought a CD player a few weeks before. After a year of debating such a purchase in his mind, he had finally decided that they were not a fad. He had already bought several CDs. These were Deutsche Grammophon issues of Mahler, Beethoven and Bach. He doubted that the new technology would ever completely replace normal stereo systems, but it was his battered old record player that had finally decided him. It was 20 years old and had been a Christmas present from his parents. It still worked perfectly, but its sound quality was dismal. The CD player gave him the full stereo experience that his record player could not.

When he arrived at the bookstore, Kevvin unwrapped his package very carefully. The books were in an ivory cloth binding, but they at least had brown leather spines with gold lettering and accents. He was quite taken with the line portrait of Proust in gold filigree on the cover of each volume. The portrait of the author itself was enough to redeem the cloth binding. It captured the wistful air of suffering that the man had known and that had made his writing great.

After rewrapping his purchase, Kevvin went back up the street to the café. It was still early enough that he would have his choice of tables. He even considered taking a seat at the counter that ran along the window, but a table would give him more chance to spread out his books and enjoy them. Of course, a table in the middle of the coffee shop would also allow him to pause from time to time in his reading and examine the newest works on display. He had already been to their unveiling a few weeks before, but there were one or two pieces that he was quite taken with. He reminded himself of the Christmas presents he had already bought for himself; purchasing a painting was out of the question.

Just as he was nearing the café, Kevvin heard his name called from some distance away. He recognised the voice and stopped to locate the source. He could not see Mike anywhere. A figure darting past the moving cars on the street in front of him finally caught his attention. Mike bounced to a stop in front of him and stood there grinning.

Kevvin could not recall Mike ever being in such a good mood. He immediately saw the change in his appearance. His hair had not only been cut, but styled. He had obviously used some gel to get it to stick out at the front like that. His broad grin revealed his broken tooth, but it only seemed to add some character to his face. It really wasn't that noticeable at all. In place of his old denim jacket he wore a red down vest, and his t-shirt had been replaced by a very nice sweater with a high neck. If nothing else, he looked warm. He was still wearing jeans, but they were very clean and crisp looking above the gleaming white leather high tops on his feet. Mike looked exactly as if he had just stepped off a page in a catalogue.

He stood there in front of Kevvin, his hands casually resting in the pockets of his vest, still grinning and almost dancing around like an excited child. He spoke when Kevvin did not.