Klara and the Sun

As she reached down for her fallen paperback, I turned again to the triple window. The view of the street from the Friend’s Apartment was quite different to the one from the store. Taxis were rare, but other kinds of cars – in every size, shape and color – went by quickly, coming to a stop at the far left of my view, where a long-arm traffic signal hung over the street. There were fewer runners and tourists here, but more headset walkers – and more pedal cyclists, some carrying items in one hand while steering with the other. Once, not long after Josie’s remark about the Father’s lateness, a cyclist went by holding under his arm a large board shaped like a flattened bird, and I feared the wind would catch the board and make him lose balance. But he was skillful and darted around the cars till he was at the front, right under the hanging traffic signal.

The Mother’s voice in the next room had grown anxious, and I knew Josie could hear it, but when I glanced around, she appeared still to be engrossed in her paperback. A dog lead woman went past, then a station wagon with ‘Gio’s Coffee Shop Deli’ on its side. Then a taxi slowed down directly outside. The Main Lounge was higher than the sidewalk, so I couldn’t see into the interior of the taxi, but the Mother’s voice stopped, and I was certain this was the Father arriving.

‘Josie, here he is.’

At first she went on reading. Then she took a deep breath, sat up and let the book fall to the rug again. ‘Bet you think he’s a dork,’ she said. ‘Some people think he’s a dork. But actually he’s super-smart. You have to give him a chance.’

I saw a tall but stooping figure in a gray raincoat emerge from the taxi holding a paper bag. He looked uncertainly up at our townhouse, and I supposed that he was confused as to which one it was, those on our side being as similar as those on the other. He kept holding the paper bag carefully, the way people carry a small dog too tired to walk. He chose the correct steps, and might even have seen me, though I’d moved back into the room once I’d given Josie my warning. I thought the Mother would now come back into the Main Lounge, and her footsteps sounded, but she remained out in the hall. For what seemed a long time, Josie and I – and the Mother in the hall – waited in silence. Then the bell rang and we heard again the Mother’s footsteps, then their voices.

They were speaking to one another softly. The door between the hall and the Main Lounge was partly open, and Josie and I – both standing in the center of the room – watched carefully for signs. Then the Father came in, no longer in his raincoat, but still holding his paper bag in both hands. He had on a fairly high-rank office jacket, but under it a tired brown sweater that came up to his chin.

‘Hey, Josie! My favorite wild animal!’

He clearly wished to greet Josie with an embrace, and looked around for somewhere to put down the paper bag, but Josie stepped forward and placed her arms around him, paper bag and all. As he received her embrace, his gaze wandered around the room and fell on me. Then he looked away and closed his eyes, letting his cheek rest against the top of her head. They stayed like that for a time, keeping very still, not even rocking slowly the way the Mother and Josie did sometimes during their morning farewells.

The Mother was equally still, standing a little way behind, a black bookshelf at each shoulder, her face unsmiling as she watched. The embrace continued, and when I glanced again at the Mother, that whole section of the room had become partitioned, her narrowed eyes repeated in box after box, and in some boxes the eyes were watching Josie and the Father, while in others they were looking at me.

At last they loosened their embrace, and the Father smiled and raised the paper bag higher, as though it were in need of oxygen.

‘Here, animal,’ he said to Josie. ‘Brought you my latest little creation.’

He passed the bag to Josie, holding its bottom till she was doing the same, and they sat down side by side on the sofa to peer inside it. Rather than remove the item from the bag, Josie tore the paper away at the sides to reveal a small, rough-looking circular mirror mounted on a tiny stand. She held it on her knee and said: ‘So what’s this, Dad? For doing make-up?’

‘If you want. But you’re not looking at it. Take another look.’

‘Wow! That’s sensational. What’s going on?’

‘Isn’t it strange how we all tolerate it? All these mirrors that show you the wrong way round? This one shows you the way you really look. No heavier than the average compact.’

‘That’s brilliant! Did you invent this?’

‘I’d like to claim it, but the real credit goes to my friend Benjamin, one of the other guys in the community. He came up with the idea, but he didn’t know quite how to pull it off in real-world terms. So I did that part. Fresh out the oven, only last week. What do you think, Josie?’