[Two] Acclimatizing
“Ouch!” He hadn’t thought falling from a tree would hurt so much. Sable moved his fingers and toes slowly and moved up to his limbs. He was a bit winded, but breathing was otherwise normal. Nothing felt broken. He looked around slowly and sheepishly smiled. He didn’t see anyone so hopefully no one had seen his embarrassing tumble from the tree. Thinking of the fall reminded him of the bottle. Where had it gone?
A few minutes searching through the tall grasses eventually revealed the bottle. Miraculously, the bottle hadn’t shattered when it struck the ground, grass padding or no. Furthermore, there wasn’t a single crack or any signs of fracturing.
The bottle’s surface was frigid, the interior now contained a raging vortex of snow and ice that obscured whatever else might be inside. Sable also felt an overwhelming impression of fury radiating from the bottle’s contents. Perhaps I struck my head harder that I thought, he mused absently. Thinking an inanimate object was angry! He was behaving absurdly.
The sky was darkening to dusk. It was time to be going. He wanted the chance to confirm that Max had gone home to Sadie before darkness fell. Sable rose, futilely trying to brush the grass stains from his jeans. He shrugged against the inevitable. They’d fit in with the rest of his wardrobe now.
Sable pocketed the bottle and slowly limped his way home.
* * *
Sable stopped by Sadie’s place before returning home. It appeared the cat had gone straight home. Sable found the whole thing strange. Max had refused to go home while the bottle was in his custody, but had as soon as Sable took possession of it, or perhaps it was the wind. The whole event was strange.
Sadie’s mother had thanked him emphatically on her daughter’s behalf. “You should probably expect some sort of baked good tomorrow;” she smiled knowingly, “Sadie does love to cook.”
Sure enough, Sable found a box of still-warm cookies on his doorstep. Taking the newspaper and box inside, he placed both next to his current project. The music box belonged to the wife of his friend Michael who hoped Sable could fix the box so it would play again.
Sable munched on one of the chocolate oatmeal cookies while he inspected the gears. “Why won’t you work?” he muttered aloud. Despite its old age, the box looked to be in good condition. Age. Maybe dust was clogging the gears? Giving the key an experimental twist, he listened closely. The gears started to turn for a heartbeat before ceasing. Sable had heard it though. The gears should have made a grinding plink sort of sound. He’d heard a muffled groan.
The gears were going to be tiny and his tools were at Nick’s shop. Sable’s mutters were darker than his mood really was. Sure, he didn’t like going to work on his day off, but he loved being able to fix things more.
Gathering the music box and cookies (Nick liked Sadie’s treats too); he placed both into what he called his travel chest. It was an ordinary cardboard box, only reinforced to be far sturdier. Sable was sometimes requested to fix items with many pieces or too awkward to carry. He found it far easier to dump everything into the box. Gently of course.
Sable trusted his own feet more than other transportation methods so he set off with his box on foot. Neighbors and friends called out greetings as they saw him pass. More than a few recognized his box and joked he couldn’t keep away from work. He replied with good humor.
Nick had opened Treasured Past seven years ago. What had started off as a simple antique store grew into a respectably eclectic shop. The core remained an antique shop, but Nick had a pawn store in one of the back rooms. Sable had strong suspicions that Nick only ran it to help out the people who came to visit. Treasured Past also boasted Sable’s skills. He had earned a small reputation to be able to fix nearly anything. He thought they exagerated far too much, but people would believe as they wanted.
A bell rang as Sable pushed his way into the shop. The room’s arrangement created the illusion of more space than there really was. Sheves of various depths and widths lined the walls. All manner of things sat on those shelves. They, however, were not what he had come in for. A wide office desk sat towards the back of the room. The desk obscured the view of the door behind it.
Nick wasn’t sitting behind the desk. He should have been; the door bell would have summoned him. Setting the box on the desk, Sable headed into the back rooms. There were two rooms branching off at odd angles from the short hallway that connected to the front room. One was called the lounge. Nick and Sable had furnished it like a kitchen. The other was set aside as Sable’s workshop. A large square table occupied the center of the room. Simply made, it was made to be functional, not attractive. Cabinets lined the right wall with shelves on the left. Afternoon sunlight would stream in through a wide slit towards the roof of the back wall. The shutters were pulled shut.
“Nick?” he called, beginning to worry. A muffled shout that could have been a reply came from the lounge. Sable walked in to see strips of bandage cloth scattered about the room. Nick stood by the sink, making a mess of wrapping the bandage around his hand. He was holding additional bandage in his mouth. It would explain why his speech was muffled and intelligible. What had Nick done this time?
Nick spat out the bandage. “You gonna help or what?” he asked testily. Sable shook his head. If his friend was well enough to be irritated then he was fine. “What’s with all the bandage? I know we keep it for your klutz accidents, but isn’t this excessive?” Sable commented idly, lingering in the doorway.
The glare he received ushered Sable into the room. He noticed the sandwich materials along the sink counter. A knife lay forgotten next to a plate of tomatoes. He wasn’t sure but he suspected there would be two hues of red along the blade’s edge. He had collected the bandage cloth for a reason. When he’d first come to work here he had thought Nick careless. He’d eventually learned that the man was able to trip over a perfectly level floor.
Sable stripped Nick’s hand of the poorly wrapped cloth. As he’d suspected, Nick had manged to slice his hand with the knife. It was a shallow cut and would heal in a few days. It would hurt though. He swiftly rewrapped the hand doing a much better job of it than Nick had. He’d had more practice.
“Thanks, Sable. I was having a hard time keeping the wrap tight with only one hand.” Nick said flexing his hand experimentally. He winced.
“You really should be more careful. What will you do when if
something worse happens?” Sable gently chided. “You’ve been lucky thus far. Your wife will kill me if something happens to you. It would hardly be fair if you got us both killed you know.” He tried to keep his tone light, joking, but concern heavily laced his words.
“I know, I know,” Nick muttered. “What are you doing here anyway? I recall giving you the day off.” He resumed making the sandwich while he spoke. He was rather dextrous even with one hand. Sable chalked it up to practice.
Sable went back for his travel chest. “I need my tools. I think the gears in this music box are stiff with dust. I want to see if cleaning it will help it run again.” He said. Sable set the box on his work table and began to pull out bottles of fluid, cleaning cloths, and tiny tools intended to help him with his work. He heard Nick’s footsteps behind him. He’d followed Sable in. Nick had enough curiosity for a colony of cats.
Sable, hands now full, turned to see Nick delicately removing the contents of his travel chest. He’d already found the cookies and was nibbling on one. “You didn’t mention Sadie had made treats. You weren’t going to hold out on me were you?” Nick accused. The banter was familiar. “If I was planning to do that I wouldn’t have brought them, now would I?” Sable replied easily. He expected Nick’s retort, but it didn’t come.
Looking up from his tools Sable saw Nick peering into the bottle he’d found the other day. Sable’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t packed that! Nick, focused on the curiosity, didn’t notice Sable’s reaction. “Where’d you find this? I’ve never seen anything like it before.” Nick asked. He carelessly swirled the bottle intending to see how the contents would react to the agitation.
Cold fury radiated from the bottle. Nick, almost losing his grip in shock, huriedly returned the bottle to the table. Ice crystals materialized near the bottle. The temperature dropped significantly.
Nick fidgited and inched towards the door. “Interesting object you have there, but I need to get back to work. Yes, back to work.” He didn’t run exactly. Just walked very quickly.
As Sable approached the temperature returned to normal. He began to disassemble the music box. He appeared calm as he worked meticulously, but his thoughts raced. I didn’t bring that bottle, he thought. The phrase repeated in his thoughts continuously like a mantra.
As it would happen, this would not be the last time the mysterious bottle would suddenly appear. It would follow Sable like a lost puppy. He didn’t understand how it happened. He never brought it along, but he would always find it nearby if he deliberately left it behind. He eventually gave in to the inevitable and grew comfortable having it around. He tried to keep it away from Nick though. Sable noticed he’d never grown accustomed to the odd bottle. Sable knew it didn’t help that the bottle seemed to have a childish delight in randomly materializing and startling Nick when he noticed its presence. Sable realized this never happened when he wasn’t at work; the bottle wouldn’t travel far enough from him to pull its pranks from home. Sable hoped Nick wouldn’t notice.
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