travel that way.
Back at her flat, Toni looked through the things she had gathered
during her weeks in the country. Some of it would fit into her bag.
Some of it she could have shipped if she wanted. Most of it would stay
here. A coffeemaker, a blender, a small microwave oven--they would be
useful for the next tenant. What she would mostly take would be her
memories, and now they were jumbled in a way she had to reconsider.
Alex hadn't slept with Cooper, whatever his reasons for allowing her to
think otherwise.
It made a difference to her, and she had to resolve it.
She could have had her com receive his daily call. Could make the
connection herself and ask him about it from thousands of miles away.
No risks to that. But no long-distance voice, even complete with a
video image, was enough for such a conversation. She needed to be able
to see into his eyes, watch him closely, pick up the little movements
of his body language, to touch, smell, maybe even taste him. She
didn't kid herself that she could always tell if somebody was lying to
her, but she thought she could tell if Alex was lying, if he was
standing right in front of her and if she was looking for it. So if
what Cooper had said was true, if he hadn't cheated on her, then what
would that mean? She had left him, quit her job, and if she had done
it because she had made a mistake--it was a very big fucking mistake.
If she had been that wrong, then what did that say about 'her?
She had to know. One way or another. And if she had to swim across an
ocean and then walk the rest of the way when she got to dry land, then
that was what she was going to do.
The doorbell chimed.
A deliveryman dressed in blue shorts and a matching shirt and cap stood
there, holding a small package. She signed for it, then went back
inside. What could this be?
Inside the box, enveloped in fat green plastic bubble-wrap, was an
eight-inch-tall, dark. blue glass bottle, about as big around as a
cardboard toilet tissue tube. There was a small sheet of print
rubber-banded to the cylinder, and a note in the box. The note said,
'Toni--I thought you might be able to use this. It won't do anything
for your ego or your soul, but it might help with external aches and
pains. Cheers, Carl.'
The sheet of print turned out to be instructions for using what was
inside the blue bottle: Balur Silat, also called Tjimande Silat, or if
you liked the newer spelling, Cimande, where the 'C' was pronounced the
same way as the 'Tj.'
Toni grinned. Balur Silat was a training aid, coupled with
conditioning devices like padded punching and kicking targets. Toni
didn't use it much anymore, but she still had a striking ball that Guru
had made for her years ago.
It was an old athletic sock with about three pounds of copper-coated
steel BBs in it, the kind used by air guns.
The BBs were tied off in the toe of the sock, which was then clipped to
make a globe about the size of a baseball.
