Page 6 of Etched in Stone
Ray kept telling himself there was time and plenty of it. Jesse didn't seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere, though he found it troubling that she hadn't really changed anything from when Olivia had lived there. Surely a twenty-something would want some changes in living spaces from a ninety year old. He'd waited for a request, but Jesse had just moved in and started to create art, as if she were her aunt.
The biggest difference he could see was that Jesse had no friends, no visitors. She spent much of her time alone and no one had come to the apartment that he had noticed. Olivia had not been shy around bringing people round. Men or women.
Ray told himself not to pry, but his old instincts were kicking in. It wasn't healthy to spend so much time alone. He should know. He'd spent several centuries that way. That was the way of his people. They were nothing if not patient.
He'd wait a few more days until she came looking for him again. Then, maybe he could get over the way her dark hair fell on her shoulders, just as her namesake. The way the same eyes that haunted his dreams stared back at him without the slightest hint of recognition. He didn't blame Jesse for not wanting to get to know an ugly old man in an outdated sweater. Perhaps, if he could fix his blasted perception filter, things would be easier.
He waited until dark, until the lights had been off in Jesse's studio for a good hour, then shook off the stone sleep and headed into his apartment. He opened his workbench and pulled out the tools that he'd cobbled together in the last century. It was like working with sticks and rocks compared to the technology of his kind. They'd achieved space travel before Earth had discovered fire. Ray had to admit that they'd been picking up the pace in the past fifty years, and trying to repair and replace bits of his tech by using Earth tech had become something of a hobby of his lately.
Olivia had laughed the first time he'd managed to program the perception filter. She'd insisted on an outfit that would let him blend right in so he’d chosen an unassuming older man. She begged him to go on a walk in Central Park in broad daylight so they went. They'd even fed the pigeons. Then the circuits had fused and it had gotten stuck. He'd be a funky old man until he got off this rock.
Every once in a while, he ordered some intriguing new tech and took it apart, seeing if there was anything that he could use or tinker with to fix his perception filter, or to add to his designs. At one point or another, he'd designed all the major components of a ship that could get him back up into space and off this planet. Building the thing wouldn't be all that difficult either. Opening a wormhole that would get him close enough to home was the real issue. While he had a knack for space design and engineering, his knowledge of spatial mechanics and astrophysics were still basic level. He didn't have a way to generate enough power to tear a hole in the universe by brute force and he didn't have the skill to direct it where he wanted to go.
So it was either stay here and wait for rescue or take the long way home. And there was no guarantee that wouldn’t be another few thousand more years gone. It had already been near a thousand. Who knew? Maybe the war that had torn his world in two had been over for years. He had no way of knowing.
Ray had several packages on his bench waiting since the last time he'd gone on a shopping spree.
Amazon was a wonder. No longer did he have to ask Olivia to procure him some random electronic that he'd read about in a magazine. Instead, he managed a few clicks and it arrived on his doorstep in
two days, no questions asked.
Ray opened a box with his nail and pulled the device out of its layers of plastic bubbles and paper. It was a newer, supposedly more advanced version of the camera that he'd already gutted for pieces, hoping that some human would have developed just the right system that would be compatible with his perception filter.
He cracked open the case to stare at the guts. No. Apparently, ‘new and improved’ was more advertising than reality. He put it aside and opened the next box, not entirely optimistic. Something clattered behind him, out near the garden. He swirl around on his stool and scrambled toward the French door that he had left open. He paused in the center of the patio and took stock. Nothing was disturbed or out of place. He eyed the other buildings that surrounded them.
He couldn't see any other lights on, but that didn't mean anything. Someone could have gotten drunk and decided to kick over a bucket on their way back in after a smoke break. The weather was still quite nice and all was right with the night. He didn't feel like going in and opening the rest of his packages so he resumed his spot on the ledge and drifted off into a deep stone sleep.
3
JE SSE
Jesse had been drawing bathrooms for the past two days and each one got more and more fanciful. She couldn't get that stupid thought out of her head. What kind of man says “draw a bathroom?”
Her current sketch had a toilet that vaguely resembled some sort of odd tuba and a tub that was sunk into the floor like a mermaid lagoon. The walls were covered in reflective scales. It was as if a five year old with a fish fetish had thrown up all over her notebook.
No. That wouldn't do at all. Jesse carefully pulled the sketch out of the notepad and lay it next to the one that looked like some sort of beauty parlor gone wrong. She was not an interior designer. She should show her designs to that fedora wearing grandpa and get him to pick one. Where he thought the money was coming from to pay for it was anyone's guess. The man seemed to have no clue about finances.
She needed a shower. No, she needed a good long soak in a tub with power jets. Maybe she could convince him to put a jacuzzi on the roof. That would be lovely. He'd probably keep his fedora on while soaking. She giggled and let her pencil run wild over a fresh piece of paper. An inset tub with jets and a fedora-wearing form settled deep in the water. Except it wasn't Ray that she drew. It was the gargoyle. And he looked like he was enjoying himself. As sexy as she had drawn him, hat drawn low over his face with little more than a cheeky grin and a pair of fangs showing, Jesse wouldn't mind joining him in that tub.
Lord knew she was well overdue for any kind of male company, but living in a city like this afforded few opportunities for meeting anyone not interested in a quick hook up. Jesse had had her fill of those. No, she was not in the mindset of the latest swipe app and a quick fix. She had some electronics that took the edge off with a buzz in the right area.
It was her mother's fault, Jesse told herself. After her father took off, there was little else her mother was interested in sharing about men and relationships other than ‘you don't need them’, and
‘don't get pregnant’.
She couldn't get pregnant fantasizing about gargoyles in bathtubs, that was for sure. She turned her attention to the other bathroom features. This gargoyle didn't need a tuba toilet. No, he needed something simple, with clean lines. It should be full of light, but not shiny. Classic rock of ages,
smooth and polished.
She finished the drawing and for once, was actually pleased with the design. It was probably a twenty grand renovation, but hey, she wasn't paying for it. Of course, Jesse couldn't show this version to Ray, not with the gargoyle in his fedora. That would just be weird. But she could draw the same sketch and hand it to him without a gargoyle. Though not quite yet. Right now, she really needed a shower, and since hers was out of order, she thought she'd take a deep breath and actually take him up on his offer to use his.
She grabbed a towel and put together a little bucket of toiletries to take with her. Then, she grabbed some shower spray and a couple of rags, just in case. She'd never seen a cleaning crew over there, so there was no telling whether the whole exercise was going to be an experience in gross old man funk. In the year and a half she'd been living in Olivia's place and in all the summers she'd spent there, Jesse had never done so much as peeked into the two French doors that lay at the other end of the courtyard.
They were covered with drapes on the inside, and perhaps, she had been more interested in daydreaming at what lay beyond than actually investigating an old guy’s apartment. She had always assumed they were unlocked. Apparently, Ray was unconcerned with security. The only way to get to the garden was to go through one of their apartments, so most people in the building probably had no clue that the space was up there.
Jesse pondered what to wear and finally settled on a pair of pajamas with a full robe on top. No sexpot here. Just a girl trying to get clean. She strode across the garden to the doors, which were, for the first time in her memory, actually open. Perhaps he had been expecting her.
“Hello? Ray? I’m here for a shower!”
