Tortus Bay

3.09: Phantasms

In bundles and carts and back-bending armfuls, the last of the Tortoise Shell Inn's rubble was cleared away. Most of the village continued turning out to help—dispelling any potential rumors that some were only trying to put in a good face. Many threw in day after day, chipping away at the seemingly insurmountable work until it shrank in scope before them. From a mountain, as it were, into a blank slate. At first there was little oversight. Helpers showed up, milled around, and eventually got the idea that they should be taking broken stone and shattered glass off site. In time, Aria stepped in to give direction.

She brought in an outside contractor, who took one look at the site and declared that, before even thinking about building anything new, they would need to demolish the portion of back wall which had stayed standing. A few days later, a bulldozer entered the scene. Aria, wearing a bright orange hard hat, watched the wall come down and be transported in chunks down to the dump. From that moment she was on site every day. Advisors, architects, and professional construction workers occasionally came along with her.

"How is this being paid for?" Henry asked one particularly exciting morning, while everyone was unpacking and sorting the lumber which would be the new Tortoise Shell's frame.

"Business has been good," Aria said. "And it's not like I'm not being compensated at all."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Jamal says he's going to name a sandwich after me."

Jamal still presided over an endless keg, but as time passed his attitude changed. No longer did he trap people in endless conversations wherein he made nothing but tearful dad jokes. Instead he began helping more and more with the actual project, in time performing more work than anybody half his age. He politely listened to the stories of the day, whatever they might be, but did not contribute any of his own.

It took Henry a week to corner this new reticent version of Jamal, taking a rest on the rough stone foundation where the wall had recently been toppled. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

Jamal jumped at the sound. "Henry! I didn't see you there. Sorry, I must have dozed off." He was damp with sweat, his forearms red and bleeding with days of hard labor.

"You should rest, if you need it."

He struggled to his feet. "No, no. It's all for me, isn't it? That wouldn't look right. I just wish I could do more."

"Don't be ridiculous. The village is doing this because they want their bar back—not to break your back."

"I used to be the helper," he said, then shook his head. "Ah, don't mind me. Just a big adjustment, you know? But the Tortoise Shell 2.0 is going to be even better. And I'll tell you what: I have a surprise for you."

"Yeah?"

Jamal lowered his voice. "I wasn't going to say anything until it was official, but once we get this place built, you can say hello to the new distribution center and sales point for the Tortus Bay Examiner. If you like the idea."

"Of course I do. It was sexy for a bit, running an underground newspaper, but I suppose there's no need for that anymore. Are you sure you're okay?"

The frown hadn't left his face. "It's foolishness. Do you know the feeling of being given some sort of great gift, and feeling ashamed? Like you're not able to look it in the eye?"

"I think I do."

***

Henry spent his nights on a timer. He slept out on the couch; even with limitless patience, Niles didn't deserve to go through that with him. It wasn't a natural way to live. Every two hours, after being pulled out of deep sleep, he silenced and then switched the alarm tone on his phone. If he got used to them they would become ineffective. They would meld into his dreams.