”
“Thirteen?”
“Nope.”
“Fourteen?”
“Not even close.”
“Fifteen?” My final attempt.
“I’m fifty-eight!” she roared, her voice almost shattering.
“You look well,” I complimented her, playing along with the game.
“I bathe in magic water every day,” she told me in tones of strictest confidence. “Imported from Egypt. The water keeps me forever young, beautiful and virgin.” She cocked an eyebrow in my direction. “Though that last needn’t be a permanent condition. The right man, the right place, the right time…”
“Careful,” I warned her. “You don’t know where games like that might lead. What if I was one of those perverts like the man in 863?”
“You’re not,” she said. “Bad guys don’t watch musicals.”
I didn’t push the point. She’d find out for herself one day how deceptive appearances can be.
“Do you know any good games?” she asked.
“Chess?” I couldn’t remember playing chess before, but as I said it I saw a checkered board and lots of pieces. In my mind I was sitting beside an open fire,
the woman
opposite laughing, taking my queen with her bishop, unaware I’d tricked her and was two moves away from mate. How the hell did I—
“Pooh! Chess! No thank you,” Conchita said, holding her nose with one hand, waving the other underneath, fanning away the stench of the idea and breaking my train of thought. “Chess stinks. I like Chutes and Ladders, Twister, fun stuff like that. Have you got any of those games?”
“No, but I have a pack of cards. We could play snap.”
“Yes!” She clapped her gloved hands with delight. “I’m great at snap. I’m the world champion!”
She could have been too. I let her win the first few hands, the way adults do when they play with kids, but when I tried to win a few back, I couldn’t. She was lightning-fast, with a steady eye and hair-trigger reflexes.
“I’m bored,” she yawned after winning the umpteenth game. “You’re useless. Are there any other games we can play?”
“Poker?”
“I don’t know how to play. I used to, but it was such a serious game, and Ferdy got sore when I beat him and took his money. I gave it up and made myself forget. I know how to play
strip
poker… but it wouldn’t be fair on you. I’m so good, I couldn’t lose, and it would be so embarrassing for you, stripped bare in your own apartment, humiliated on your own turf.”
“Besides,” I said, “you’d have an unfair advantage.”
“How so?”
“All the clothes you’ve got on. Why do you wear so many? Cold-blooded? Afraid of catching germs? Or could it be…”
I stopped. Her smile had vanished and her confidence evaporated. She’d become a frightened bird, ready to flee at a second’s notice. I’d somehow touched a nerve. She said nothing for a while, deciding whether to leave or stay. Eventually, tentatively, in a voice so small it was painful, she asked, “Can I trust you, Capac?”
“Sure.”
“I mean
really
trust you, with the most important secret there is? I’ve never shown anyone. Apart from the doctors. They said I should show my friends but I didn’t have any, not like you. I’ve only known you a couple of hours but I feel like I could trust you with my life. I don’t know why but I sense it. Will you promise not to tell anybody, ever, if I show you?”
I knelt down before her. “I give you my word, Conchita. Whatever it is, I’ll say nothing to anybody. Honest Injun.”
She took a deep breath, glanced around the room, then peeled off one of her long white gloves. The hand beneath was wrinkled, covered in brown splotches. The fingers bent inward arthritically. It was an old woman’s hand. I knew now why she kept herself covered and why she seemed so mature. She had a disease. I’d read about it in magazines. I didn’t know the name but it was where the body grew old prematurely. I’d seen a picture once, of a young boy all shriveled up, a ten-year-old trapped in an old
“Thirteen?”
“Nope.”
“Fourteen?”
“Not even close.”
“Fifteen?” My final attempt.
“I’m fifty-eight!” she roared, her voice almost shattering.
“You look well,” I complimented her, playing along with the game.
“I bathe in magic water every day,” she told me in tones of strictest confidence. “Imported from Egypt. The water keeps me forever young, beautiful and virgin.” She cocked an eyebrow in my direction. “Though that last needn’t be a permanent condition. The right man, the right place, the right time…”
“Careful,” I warned her. “You don’t know where games like that might lead. What if I was one of those perverts like the man in 863?”
“You’re not,” she said. “Bad guys don’t watch musicals.”
I didn’t push the point. She’d find out for herself one day how deceptive appearances can be.
“Do you know any good games?” she asked.
“Chess?” I couldn’t remember playing chess before, but as I said it I saw a checkered board and lots of pieces. In my mind I was sitting beside an open fire,
the woman
opposite laughing, taking my queen with her bishop, unaware I’d tricked her and was two moves away from mate. How the hell did I—
“Pooh! Chess! No thank you,” Conchita said, holding her nose with one hand, waving the other underneath, fanning away the stench of the idea and breaking my train of thought. “Chess stinks. I like Chutes and Ladders, Twister, fun stuff like that. Have you got any of those games?”
“No, but I have a pack of cards. We could play snap.”
“Yes!” She clapped her gloved hands with delight. “I’m great at snap. I’m the world champion!”
She could have been too. I let her win the first few hands, the way adults do when they play with kids, but when I tried to win a few back, I couldn’t. She was lightning-fast, with a steady eye and hair-trigger reflexes.
“I’m bored,” she yawned after winning the umpteenth game. “You’re useless. Are there any other games we can play?”
“Poker?”
“I don’t know how to play. I used to, but it was such a serious game, and Ferdy got sore when I beat him and took his money. I gave it up and made myself forget. I know how to play
strip
poker… but it wouldn’t be fair on you. I’m so good, I couldn’t lose, and it would be so embarrassing for you, stripped bare in your own apartment, humiliated on your own turf.”
“Besides,” I said, “you’d have an unfair advantage.”
“How so?”
“All the clothes you’ve got on. Why do you wear so many? Cold-blooded? Afraid of catching germs? Or could it be…”
I stopped. Her smile had vanished and her confidence evaporated. She’d become a frightened bird, ready to flee at a second’s notice. I’d somehow touched a nerve. She said nothing for a while, deciding whether to leave or stay. Eventually, tentatively, in a voice so small it was painful, she asked, “Can I trust you, Capac?”
“Sure.”
“I mean
really
trust you, with the most important secret there is? I’ve never shown anyone. Apart from the doctors. They said I should show my friends but I didn’t have any, not like you. I’ve only known you a couple of hours but I feel like I could trust you with my life. I don’t know why but I sense it. Will you promise not to tell anybody, ever, if I show you?”
I knelt down before her. “I give you my word, Conchita. Whatever it is, I’ll say nothing to anybody. Honest Injun.”
She took a deep breath, glanced around the room, then peeled off one of her long white gloves. The hand beneath was wrinkled, covered in brown splotches. The fingers bent inward arthritically. It was an old woman’s hand. I knew now why she kept herself covered and why she seemed so mature. She had a disease. I’d read about it in magazines. I didn’t know the name but it was where the body grew old prematurely. I’d seen a picture once, of a young boy all shriveled up, a ten-year-old trapped in an old
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