“Yes, primping.”
She scooted over so I could get up. “Far be it from me to interfere. By all means, primp.”
I went to the bathroom, locked the door, and set about dyeing my hair. After I was done and it was dry, I realized I didn’t own a comb, hadn’t in over twenty years. My hair hadn’t been long enough to warrant one. It was still pretty short, though, and I just sort of mussed it forward with my fingers and thought it looked all right.
I examined myself in the mirror. I was thirteen pounds lighter from not working out, was down to a hundred and eighty, but had no fat on me. My scar was gone. My hair was auburn. I wasn’t sure who I was looking at.
I realized that my vision seemed sharper. Everything seemed sharper. Memories seemed muddled compared to my current perceptions. I felt my thinking had become more focused, more insightful. I wondered if the empty space in my skull was filling in, if I would regain my emotions anytime in the near future.
I walked out of the bathroom naked, without my crutches, forced myself not to limp, and found Kate in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water. She dropped it, and it shattered on the floor. She stammered out, “Oh my God.”
“Is that a good or bad ‘Oh my God’?” I asked.
Her stare was intense and she couldn’t seem to stop. “I don’t know. In my mind, I see my husband of three months ago, but I look at the man in front of me, and the two don’t equate. You look like a different person. And ten years younger.”
I flashed my practiced smile and started picking up shards of glass. “That was my intention.”
ARVID SHOWED UP half an hour early. I had dressed in case someone did just that, put on jeans and a new sweater. He took off his shoes in the foyer, pulled a small gift-wrapped box out of his jacket pocket and looked me up and down. “Nice job,” he said, “you’re almost unrecognizable.”
“Good,” I said.
“Sorry to come early,” he said, “but I need a few minutes to talk to you.”
He walked into the living room. “Goddamn. Nice chair.”
“Try it out,” I said.
Arvid plunked into the chair and put his feet up.
Kate came in and moved to sit with us. I gave her a look that said we needed a moment, and asked her if she would be kind enough to make some coffee. She gave us privacy.
“Here.” He handed me the box. “Open it.”
I sat down on the couch at an angle from him and tore off the wrapping paper to find an old and worn hinged box. Inside the box was his Winter War medal. Only a few men left alive had earned one, and God knows how much blood was spilled and suffering endured to earn it.
I held it, turned it over in my hands, admired it, put it back in its box and tried to hand it back to him. “I’m honored, but I can’t accept this.”
His hands were on the chair’s armrests, and he refused to lift a hand to take it back.
“I’m giving this to you, and telling you something now, because I can take advantage of your post-surgery condition. You’re emotionless, and you won’t protest or argue with me. It’s true, that medal was my most prized possession, but it’s symbolic of something else. I’ve seen a lawyer, had the papers drawn up, and made you my heir.”
This confused me. “Why?”
“I have no family. My friends are all dead and buried. I just turned ninety. I needed to make a decision or when I die, my estate will go to the government, and they’ll spend the majority of it on things I disapprove of. Your position is tenuous. You may not be a policeman much longer. My home is spacious and comfortable, a good place to raise a family, and it’s paid for. Plus, I have considerable assets. They’ll make you safe from the vagaries of political misfortunes.”
“But still, why me and why now?”