The way Near said it -- This is supposed to be it. -- felt like he was issuing a complaint to Jude, in the fashion of someone complaining about their service at a fast food franchise. My burrito was supposed to have extra guacamole. Jude, the manager of the establishment, could only nod solemnly and agree, yes, the burrito was supposed to have extra guacamole. It was a crime fit for a beheading, only the blade of the guillotine just wasn't sharp enough today. Will another burrito do? How about another burrito, and a coupon for a free burrito at the next visit? They both know that Near had the money to afford the drive, and that he had the time. Disposing of Jude was as easy as that, just as a solution the burrito problem was as simple as obtaining a new burrito. But, like frustrated TexMex customer, it was not about the burrito. It was about -- please insert a long-suffering sigh -- the principle of the matter.
"Well," Jude said, "if you're not up by ten, I'll take it as a 'no'." If nothing else, Jude was learning how to herd someone to a decision. Open-ended questions left too many opportunities for circular answers. Left or right? Coming or going? Tea or coffee? Courtland had been so much more decisive. Courtland decided things before questions were even asked. Sometimes it felt like he waited for the question just out of courtesy, a chess player allowing his opponent to make their move, even though no matter what they did, the trap would be sprung in exactly the same fashion.
Jude lifted the cup to his lips, and blew small clouds of steam away from the rim. Blow, sip, blow, blow, sip. "There is." The guest bedroom Jude was using was likewise upstairs. Will Near lead the way? Has he walked through the house at all? Really, it is a lovely place. It's too bad that Near was so insistent on being 'done' with it. Like it was that easy. Like things can just be 'done'.
Maybe for Near Farr, it can be. Maybe that's the Farr blessing, or curse.
"Well," Jude said, "if you're not up by ten, I'll take it as a 'no'." If nothing else, Jude was learning how to herd someone to a decision. Open-ended questions left too many opportunities for circular answers. Left or right? Coming or going? Tea or coffee? Courtland had been so much more decisive. Courtland decided things before questions were even asked. Sometimes it felt like he waited for the question just out of courtesy, a chess player allowing his opponent to make their move, even though no matter what they did, the trap would be sprung in exactly the same fashion.
Jude lifted the cup to his lips, and blew small clouds of steam away from the rim. Blow, sip, blow, blow, sip. "There is." The guest bedroom Jude was using was likewise upstairs. Will Near lead the way? Has he walked through the house at all? Really, it is a lovely place. It's too bad that Near was so insistent on being 'done' with it. Like it was that easy. Like things can just be 'done'.
Maybe for Near Farr, it can be. Maybe that's the Farr blessing, or curse.