Chapter Text
Saturday, 14 September
Silvester hadn't seen Nemo in almost two months, which was a feat considering they were neighbors as well as colleagues and friends. Neither of them had meant to do it. But between Nemo's family visiting them for their birthday, then them getting cast last-minute in a repertoire production when the soprano fell ill, then add in Silvester's own concoction of awkwardness and procrastination, nary a knock nor note had been exchanged until mid-September. But today, the two of them would make up for lost time.
There goes our goal of rewriting the libretto by October, Silvester thought as he approached Nemo's door.
Thankfully, his friend was the same as ever.
"Silvester!" Nemo rejoiced, diving in for a hug as soon as they opened the door. The fuzzy material of their jacket tickled Silvester's neck. It would have been nice to stay in that embrace a little while longer, he thought.
"Aren't you hot in here? It feels like summer outside," he observed as he passed through to the other side of the narrow kitchen. Nemo's shirt—soft white cotton with a pink tuberose print and attached tie in the same material—seemed appropriate enough, but the zigzag-striped eiderdown jacket they wore over it struck him as both unpractical and uncomfortable.
"Is it? I haven't been outside since earlier this morning, and it was probably much cooler then. And I have the windows open."
Barely. Silvester noted the kitchen window, plus the two windows on opposite sides of the living room, were open less than a hands-breadth each.
"I see your plants are thriving. Compared to that tree right outside, at least." Silvester pointed at the withering arbor vitae in the narrow interior courtyard.
"Yeah, I try my best."
"This one reminds me of you." Silvester said, pointing to the fuchsia plant in the hanging basket.
"Aww, that's sweet." Nemo considered the rest of the plants, then pointed to a patch of delicate white heath. "This one reminds me of you."
"Really?" he asked, gesturing at the spicy-scented scarlet geranium next to it. "I though you might say this one."
"That one might be closer to what you look like, but this little one makes me think of you."
Nemo had a bouquet of late-summer vegetables spread out across the kitchen table.
"One of the people at the market garden on Koninge Street had all this for stupid cheap," Nemo said, picking up a handful of pointed green pods that looked like a witch's fingers. "I've never seen these before today. They're called okra. I guess they're really popular in America? They were really slimy when I cut them up, but since they're in the broth with the tomatoes I think it'll be okay...?"
"I trust you."
"You can have corn, right?" Nemo asked.
"I should be fine. I haven't had any problems with it before, I think."
"Right. I thought that was it, but I just wanted to be sure." Nemo produced a yellowware bowl covered by a towel from the potboard under the table. They had even tied string around the bowl so the towel made a tight seal.
"And don't worry, I cleaned everything twice," Nemo assured as they sliced kernels from the sides of the cobs. "New butter when I cooked the carrots and onions...and I think if there were any toast crumbs at the bottom of the firebox, there aren't anymore. I just put these up against the grate to char, after the bell pepper, of course, just in case..."
Nemo squinted as they scraped the charred corn off the cutting board into the stew, along with some chopped onion stems and dark greens.
"You know there's a light here for exactly that purpose." Silvester pointed to the lamp on a swinging arm on one side of the hearth. "So you don't hurt your eyes."
"I'm sorry, I didn't know my father was here," Nemo swatted Silvester with the cutting board.
"Both of your parents wear eyeglasses, right? And you just...don't?"
"As far as you know."
"What's that about?"
"Just one of my many talents," Nemo said, right before smacking their head on the light.
"It's been almost two months—I haven't been able to pick on you during that time,"
"Good to know you care." Nemo paused, still facing the range while stirring. "I've missed that the last few weeks. Would have been nice if I occasionally stopped and actually considered how I was doing..."
"What?"
"Uh- I think this is basically done."
...
"So how was Zauberflöte?" Silvester asked once they both had a plate of stew and a scoop of white rice in front of them.
"Oh, it was lovely," Nemo sighed. "It felt like going home. Everyone was so kind. Thankfully, I was able to join before sitting rehearsals, so it didn't feel like I was intruding on their little family, you know?"
"Don't say that. It's your family too, now." Silvester ate a spoonful of the silky broth. "Mmm. I didn't make it myself, but Bambie said you got to 'fly' in the first scene."
"Yes, but only one way. And it's not as fun when you're just going down."
"Maybe we'll work something out in our show..."
"Wait, Bambie was there?" Nemo stopped pushing their food around and stared at the table. "I thought they weren't working because the ballerinas are on strike."
"They went to see you."
"Oh, good to hear I'm worth crossing the picket line for."
"Bambie's been keeping busy, anyway. Other than the evening classes for the younger dancers," he explained. "They and Jerry are doing a little Michaelmas play at the children's hospital. Jerry is going to be Saint George, of course."
"That's adorable! Who's going to be the Archangel Michael? I can't imagine Bambie doing it."
"It was actually Bambie's idea."
"What?"
"Yeah. Because they wanted to be the dragon."
They both laughed.
"That's great," Nemo eventually said. "I thought when I got back to my normal routine I'd want to do little projects like that, but really I haven't had the energy."
"Are you still getting used to your normal sleep schedule, after so many late nights?"
"That's the thing. I usually stay up until midnight even when I'm don't have a late rehearsal."
"You are die Konigin der Nacht."
"Yes, I know, thank you."
"So what's the problem? Partying too hard?"
"Funny. No, I just haven't had a good night's sleep since the show ended."
"Like falling asleep? Staying asleep...?"
"Both. A few times I felt like a couldn't breath, and I couldn't keep still. Like my bones were itchy." Nemo waved at the plants on either windowsill. "I thought 'Do any of these plants smell too strongly? Or did I track in some kind of pollen or animal hair that I'm allergic to?!?' But thankfully hasn't been every night."
"Thankfully."
"Most nights I've just been having weird dreams. Like, vivid or scary dreams. And then I either can't all asleep again or wake up feeling like I didn't sleep at all."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Have you ever had a dream where you're late for something and you're trying to get dressed, but your fingers keeps sliding off the buttons of your shirt, and hours are FLYING BY...?"
"Aw, yes. That's the classic stress dream."
"But I haven't even been that stressed!"
There was a beat of silence between the pair.
"How was your birthday?" Silvester wanted to steer away from Nemo's problems. "I heard your family visited."
"Yes! It was such a fun day. I took them backstage before the Saturday matinee, and they asked what shops and stuff I've been going since I moved, so we walked there...Oh!" Nemo jumped up from their chair and brushed aside the curtain that covered the entrance to their bedroom.
"And then I never saw them again..." Silvester said to himself.
"You can come in here!"
Silvester found a gap in the curtain—made of the same straw-colored material as the curtains on the living room windows or over the nook where the sofa was nestled—and slipped through.
"I forgot you can can really see directly into Teemu and Henri's bedroom," he observed. Like the living room, Nemo's bedroom also had two windows on opposite walls. "Have you been keeping up with them lately?"
"I think Teemu is about to submit his new paperclip patent. But, no, I haven't had much interaction with them. Other than them moving my towel between hooks. Unless that was you."
Nemo lowered the front flap of an antique box-shaped cabinet, reaching through hats and mementos to retrieve what they meant to show Silvester.
"My parents and sister got me this," they finally said.
"This" was a smooth wooden box, not much larger than Nemo's hand, with a stopper covering a round hole in the middle of one of the short ends connected to a brass screw on top by a string.
"It's a instant camera, not like the ones where you have to stand still for ten minutes." Nemo pointed to the screw and buttons on the top and sides of the device. "To get the shutter ready I think you pull this-"
Silvester instinctively reached for the string, but Nemo yanked their treasure away.
"I'm not actually going to do it, because I don't want to use up an exposure. Anyway, then you would press one of these buttons, and it takes the photo!"
"Do you have to develop them? You're not much of a chemist."
"That's the best part. You're supposed to send the whole camera to the manufacturer—with five United States dollars, however much that is—and they replace the film and send the photos back to you!"
"That's amazing." Silvester had never wanted a camera like that, but now he couldn't help but think what he would do with it is he had one. "What are you going to take photos of? Your houseplants?"
"Probably not. The light in here isn't very good most days, and I don't know if artificial light would ruin the image."
"What if you take it with you when you walk down by the canal? You love it there."
"I don't want this to get stolen, or I might drop it in the water."
"Well, in that case, you definitely shouldn't bring it to work, then. Because everyone's going to have a million things they want to take pictures of."
"Damn, that reminds me! I'm such a screw-up...hold on."
Nemo dashed back into the living room. Silvester sighed and went back to his seat at the table.
Nemo opened the top of their writing desk in the corner and retrieved a stack of paper. The first stage of their collaboration last spring had fallen mostly on Nemo's shoulders, since they had to translate the libretto the two of them were reinterpreting from its original German.
"I'm so sorry. I was the one causing delays, when it's your project and your ass on the line..." Nemo placed the papers at a right angle between the two of them, producing a cloud of dust as the pages separated.
"I brought my copy," Silvester said.
During the last month, Silvester had kept Nemo's hasty copy of their translation in the lining of his waistcoat. Whenever he missed them, he traced his eyes over their letter forms, flamboyant yet soft, like a feather boa. (Silvester's own writing was small but jagged, like...a line of tap shoes waiting to use the WC.) Nemo had used every manner of asterisk, dagger, flower, and astrological to indicate alternative meanings for certain words.
"I haven't even been able to reread any of this in the last few weeks, let alo-."
"Hey." Silvester place his hand over Nemo's. "We don't need to worry about that today. How about starting next week, we can try to get back into our usual routine. Sound good?"
"Alright," Nemo relented. "I just hope I haven't been holding you up in the meantime. I know how you like to run your ideas by me."
"Don't dwell on it for another second," Silvester assured. "Now, I want to eat the rest of this before it gets cold."
...
After a little under an hour of catching up--mostly talking about their most unreasonable coworkers and wholesome interactions with people on the street--Silvester helped Nemo clear up their plates. (He must have been much hungrier than Nemo, or they didn't want to seem like a rude host, because Silvester got another plate while they hardly touched their first one.) Then the two of them said goodbye. It wouldn't be for very long, since they would see each other at work on Monday.
Silvester breathed a sigh of relief when he returned to his own flat. For the last month and half, he'd repeated so many scenarios where he and Nemo had grown apart, or where they had lost interest in him. But now he was happy to go back to their dynamic as it was. He felt in secure in believing that nothing could change that.