Safe in the Black Sand

12

We follow Katu into the living room, which is a world unto itself. Unlike the kitchen, this classical Victorian chamber offers no bright walls or hanging plates. Apart from the huge flat screen TV, the room is wildly formal and perfectly preserved, like a period room at a museum. Panels with twists of flowers and vines flourish in the woodwork. Candles stand tall in dusty corners with tears of cold wax hardened midway down their sides. A straw owl perches wide-eyed near a lamp. Overhead hangs a tarnished chandelier with golden strings of crystals dangling in dim light.

Katu curls up on the ottoman.

"Sit, please," Ms. Jakintsu says. "We talk business. I explain how can you help Angelica."

Dad and I sit side by side on the couch. Ms. Jakintsu nestles down near Katu on the ottoman. As I look around, the room's smaller details come into focus. Hand-carved patterns in the hardwood seem to dance. The mantle is cluttered with candles and stones big and small. On the far end is a faded bronze goblet next to several remote controls.

Ms. Jakintsu pets her cat with an old wrinkly hand. She tells my dad, "I have many years, am very old, no energy like before. This can make dubious result."

"Tell me," Dad says. "Is time still equivalent? Is there a good trade balance right now?"

She sighs like she has understood the question but hates the answer. "Like world economy, this have big change in recent years. I no can promise nothing for time trade. Markets are unstable these days. Time no is equal for trade anymore."

"So what is it?" Dad asks. "One day for two? One for four? What's the going rate? Give me a ballpark figure."

"Ballpark? What is mean ballpark?"

"Never mind," Dad says. "Just give me an estimate on the going time trade rate." 

Ms. Jakintsu hesitates. "This is depend on your energy and generosity of spirit," she says. "Time exchange is maybe one day for two, maybe one day for three hundred. Hard to say."

Once again, I am an ignorant guest in their intricate world. I ask, "What exactly are we talking about?"

"Going back to save Angelica," Dad hurries. "Pay attention."

"Going back where?"

"In time, Jax. Have you not been listening?"

Everything makes sense to him. I suppose it would. It's his reality. 

"What did you mean about time being equivalent?" I ask. "And a trade balance?"

Katu hops off the ottoman, crosses the floor, and jumps into my lap, as if to calm me down.

"It's complicated," Dad starts, searching his brain. "I don't know—it's like—you remember when you were young and you would ask what I did at work? Every answer I gave led to another question. This is like that. Maybe Ms. Jakintsu can explain it better."

Doubtful, but she clears her throat to try. 

"For this magic," she says, "essential things are heart and power. You have heart."

I assume she's not referring to Captain Planet.  

"And power?" I ask. "What's that?"

"Power have two kind: inside and outside. Inside power, this like all memories you collect to keep someone in your mind. Think like math: one plus one plus one make three. You add memories, you have more complete picture of someone. Before, when you tell me story of Thanksgiving and Aunt Arwa, this is one memory, one piece of your complete brain picture for Angelica."

Dad nods, adding: "Like beads on a necklace."

"Or," Ms. Jakintsu says, "like child playing with canicas. Kyle, how you say?"