Half Share

I did remember my first flea market. “Boy toy,” I murmured.

“Boy toy?”

“Yeah. My first flea market was with Beverly back on Gugara. That’s where we found Drus Martin and the belts. I think I got spoiled by the success of that and I keep looking for the next Drus Martin.”

“What’s that got to do with boy toy?”

“Bev did the dickering with Drus.” I smiled at the memory. “They went back and forth and pretty quickly came up with a price. In the end, Drus told Bev, ‘Your boy toy can have the same deal if he wants’ and so we both bought the first of the belts.”

“That’s priceless.” Brill laughed.

“I thought it was terribly embarrassing at the time, but the story gets better.”

“What’s better than that?”

“Pip went back the next day and bought a big bundle of belts at a great price. In part because Drus remembered us from the previous day as, ‘tough fem with leathers and an attitude with a skinny boy toy.’ As Pip was picking out the belts, Drus was working on her bench and by the time Pip had his selections and they’d done the deal, Drus handed him a belt to give to me. It has the words ‘boy toy’ worked into the pattern.”

“You’re kidding me?”

I turned around and lifted the hem of my jacket to expose the belt. Behind me I heard Bev giggle and two other women make appreciative little oh my sounds.

“That wasn’t the smartest move I’ve ever made, was it,” I said without turning around.

A strange woman’s voice answered, “Oh, I don’t know. I kinda liked it.”

I turned to find Brill stifling laughter behind her hand and standing beside a couple of smiling gray-haired women. One turned to the other and with a wink at Brill said, “I didn’t know this flea market had a floor show, Mary.”

“We’ll have to come more often,” the other one replied.

“Thanks,” I told them, but I fought back the urge to do my you’ve been a wonderful audience routine. I could not do that part just yet.

They smiled at Brill, and the one who was apparently named Mary told her, “He’s a keeper, dearie.”

“Oh, I know. I’m just trying to figure out what to keep him in.”

The not-Mary one just patted her arm and said, “Your heart, dear. Your heart.” They were still smiling as they wandered off.

“Well, you certainly made their day,” Brill said after a bit.

“Only fair.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly.

We kept moving, following in the wake of the two ladies.

Three booths later we found the batik merchant. Brill spotted it first, of course, over the heads of the crowd. His booth was draped with the most spectacular colored fabric. Bold patterns in rich colors dominated his selection. He had several variations on a bamboo theme and dozens of others. Each piece was a work of art. The vendor was a potbellied man with long, gray-streaked hair flowing down his back. He wore a tie-dyed linen shirt, simple black trousers, and the first pair of sandals I had seen since leaving Neris. He introduced himself as Chuck.

We stepped into the booth and Chuck grinned, first at Brill and then at me. “You two look like individuals of exceptional breeding and taste!”

Brill burst out laughing. “Does that line work?”

“No,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “but the laugh usually does. How can I help ya?”

“Tell me about this fabric,” she said.

“Batik is an ancient form of dying. You put wax on the raw cloth in the pattern you want, then dye the cloth. The dye soaks into the fabric where the wax isn’t. Repeat the process for each color you want to use.” He indicated the panels of fabric around him. “These are the result.”

“Can I take a few digitals of your booth?” I asked the man. “I think my partner would like to talk with you about buying a quantity of this to take out of the system to sell. I’d like him to see it.”

“Sure, mister. You want me in the picture or out of it?”

I pulled out my tablet and popped a couple of snaps off to Pip while Brill was looking at the various panels.

“These aren’t whole bolts of fabric,” she noted.

“Correct, miss,” Chuck said. “I carve up bolts because it’s a lot of work to wax, dye, wax, dye. Some days, I’m feeling lazy so I only do little pieces like these.” He pulled out a stack of pieces that were only about a half a meter square. “I think that one over there is my biggest.” He pointed out a large piece clipped to the drape at the back of his booth that had to be two meters wide and four long.

“What do people use this material for? It seems a shame to cut it up for clothing.”

“Oh, it depends,” Chuck said, warming to his subject. “Lots of people use the bigger pieces for drapes. The larger patterns and more pictorial pieces go for wall hangings. You mount a couple of them on a hinged frame and it makes a nice screen. Down below these smaller pieces get made into throw pillows. Some of the smaller patterns actually work pretty well as skirts. There are some textile grade patterns, really small stuff, that are done in big bolts that could be used for shirts, and even slacks. I don’t do those. I’m too lazy.”

Brill looked at me and I nodded. Between us we bought about eight pieces in various shapes and patterns. We took one of Chuck’s cards and I gave him Pip’s name.

When we left, I felt much better. Brill walked with something more like her old stride.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she said suddenly as we walked away from Chuck’s booth.

I looked up at her and nodded, “I think so, yeah.”

“How’d you get so worldly?”

“My mother was a lit professor. She had the wisdom of the ages in the literature that was her profession and she kept trying it out in her life. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t, but she never backed down and she taught me to be the same way. She didn’t hide her pain from me. And she got hurt a lot. In spite of that, she never stopped living. She tried to teach me to see things as they are, not as I’d wish them to be, and that’s probably the hardest thing to do. I haven’t mastered it yet. Someday, maybe.”

The ping-ping-ping of the closing warning sounded across the flea market, so Brill and I headed out with the crowd and didn’t talk much all the way back to the docks. On the way from the lift to the lock, she started chuckling.

“What’s tickled your fancy this time?” I asked.

“Al.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

“I know. That’s why I’m laughing.”

“You find the notion funny?”

She shook her head. “No. I used to be on the Hedley with her. I’m laughing because you’re right. She’s a fascinating woman, and you knew it within just a few ticks of meeting her while most people would have dismissed her as a freak on sight.”

“No woman with that much confidence could be anything other than fascinating. I think that’s why you were so awesome the other day heading up to Henri’s. I didn’t tell you what he told me in the dressing room, did I?”

She shook her head. “No, you been holding out, you rat?”

“I’ve been rather busy the last couple of days. Cut me a little slack.”

“Well, tell me now, before we get back.”

“Well, I was standing there just wearing those little briefs.”

“Thanks, I don’t have enough problems? You had to leave me with that visual?”

“You want the story or not?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll be good,” she said contritely.

I savored the idea of just how good she might be for a heartbeat or two before continuing, “Anyway he’s got me looking at myself in the mirror and asks me who I think I am. I told him ‘just a guy.’”

“You are not just a guy!” she interrupted me.

I laughed out loud. “That’s what he said!”

“You’re kidding?”