Work Text:
It’s terribly boring, waiting around in a chair with nothing to do.
It’s even worse, Illya decides, when there’s a rude receptionist giving you a glare every five minutes as if to stop him from doing anything wrong. He’s counted the glare eight times and has deducted that approximately forty minutes has passed and still no sign of Father.
Illya really does hate Wednesdays.
It is the day that mother has to work late, so he will walk to father’s office and wait there until he is done his meetings and drive them home. The house is too far to walk to from school, and despite Illya being the eighth tallest boy in his class, he is not big enough to walk home alone.
Illya is saved from this horrible, horrible long wait by the man that smells slightly strange next to him. He wears a suit like all the other men here but it is green, and he wears a hat with a red band and shiny black boots.
The man points to the glass coffee table with his thick forefinger, “Would you like to play?” His thick mustache makes the words sound slightly garbled.
Illya looks up, regretting shifting and fidgeting in his chair, “No, sir,” he replies softly, respectfully.
The man is not deterred, “Would you like to know how to play?”
Illya looks curiously between the man and at the wooden board with the mysterious pieces on them, “Yes,” he decides.
“Excellent,” he man moves his chair so they face each other.
Illya can now see a scar on his chin. He waits patiently. He is good at waiting patiently.
“This is chess,” he is told, “Only very smart people can play it. You seem like a smart boy.”
He stays quiet, unsure of how to answer.
“As you can see, it is played with two players. White, and black. You have sixteen pieces…” he recites, and Illya absorbs it all.
“You have taken the white pieces, so you will go first,” he finishes, after explaining how all the pieces function and move.
Illya decides that moving the smallest piece with the rounded top, a pawn, is smart. He takes the one in front of the bishop and moves it two spaces forward. The man responds by moving his pawn in front of his king two spaces forwards. He looks at his pawn and it looks so alone in the battlefield, so he brings out his knight to go right behind it.
The man chuckles and moves his queen across the board, “Checkmate.”
“What?” Illya gasps, looking up, scowling.
“You cannot move your king except in the direction of which my queen will take yours,” the man takes his queen and mimes running it down the path that it would take Illya’s king.
He is right.
“Again,” Illya says, as politely as he can, “I would like to play again.”
He doesn’t miss the smile under the thick mustache and the next game, he is beaten in sixteen moves.
“Again.”
The man sitting across from him is very nice, to play with him so many times, Illya realizes after he has lost a third time, but it has taken even longer. He has also taken a couple pawns this time.
“Again?”
Illya nods enthusiastically, ready to move his knight when the door opens and father walks out.
“Illyusha, what are you doing?”
“I am playing chess.”
“I’m glad you found something to do,” his father rubs his hair, “Get your bag and put on your coat. It is cold. Mama will be cross with me if you don’t.”
He does, and he doesn’t miss the formal handshake between his father and the man who has taught him this new game. He waves silently to the man and thinks that he does not see it until he also ruffles his hair and says, “When you are bigger, I hope we can play again.”
On the way to the car he looks up at his father, “Can you play chess?”
His father nods, “Yes I can. I like to think I’m quite good at it.”
“Can you teach me more?”
His father smiles.
Gaby cringes when Heiner comes into the garage and finds her, balancing on the top shelf of the garage with no way down.
“What is this?”
She resists from looking straight down, “Nothing much.”
Gaby hasn’t known her new father for long, but she can feel his eyes rolling, “Nothing at all?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Are you going to come down from up there?”
She knows that he can see the mess surrounding the shelf and has reasoned that her way down has crumbled and she does not want to jump, “Eventually,” she calls out. She is not expecting his help, and will get down perfectly fine on her own.
“Hmm,” he says, and she looks for a brief second to see his hands loosely on his green, now black with oil trousers, “Call if you need help, yes?”
She nods, and watches him turn on the radio and continue working on a car.
Gaby looks around the large garage from the top shelf. She came up here because she wanted to see what the shiny looking piece of string was. So she created using a chair and many paint cans, a way to get herself up to the top, only to realize that it simply was another coil of copper wire that gleamed in the light. Just like her old home there’s nothing interesting and everything is for work.
She is stuck and does not know how to come down, and while Heiner has offered help but he is probably like her birth father. Just because you are offered or told something doesn’t mean it will be followed through. She decides to watch him work on the car below her to pass the time. Perhaps if she waits long enough she will gather enough courage to jump.
Heiner works steadily but he is a bit forgetful. She will watch him put down a wrench or a part and need it minutes later without being able to recall where it is. Many times she is tempted to call out where he left it but just before she does, he remembers.
She listens to Heiner sing in his scratchy voice. Isabella will always whack him with the soup ladle that seems ever present in her hand and tells him to stop or she will turn him into stew but he never does and she always smiles. This never makes sense to Gaby. As song after song goes by, Heiner seeming to know all of them by heart and the sun goes down and it gets colder. The cold crawls into her and tears away the little courage she has been building up. She looks down and feels worse than ever.
“Now where did I put that bolt?” he mutters fixing his glasses and searching around, unable to recall that he left it in the white bowl at the corner of the nearby table.
Gaby calls out, reminding him and is shocked. He doesn’t jump. He’s remembered she is still there.
“Thank you, Gabriella,” he smiles, “Have you been watching the whole time?”
She nods, “You are very forgetful.”
“But you are not.”
“Yes,” she agrees, “I am not old.”
Heiner laughs a loud laugh and she watches him wipe up his hands after putting the bolt back where it belonged in the car.
“You forgot to put the other bolt back in,” she reminds him again.
He looks up at her, while his hands work in the car, “Do you like cars, Gabriella?”
She is not sure how to answer, “I think I do. I have never driven one.”
“Would you like to fix them? Like me? Help me fix them?”
Gaby finds herself nodding before she can stop.
Heiner smiles, “Perhaps, another day. Come now, let’s get you to bed.”
Gaby looks down at him once again and wishes she could become even smaller, “I cannot go to bed.”
“And why is that?”
“I do not know how to get down,” she whispers, fighting back tears.
“Would you like me to help you?”
“Yes.”
He picks up a chair and stands on it and then all of a sudden his wiry hands are holding her to him and she is free at last.
“Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure. After all, tomorrow we have a big day, yes?” Heiner smiles.
Gaby stares at him.
“Tomorrow is the first day you fix cars, my little assistant mechanic.”
Gaby hugs him, wrapping her small arms around his neck. The stubble of his beard scratches her and he smells of oil, but the hug is the warmest she has ever received. She feels safe and warm inside as she nods her head and promises to be the best assistant mechanic she can be.