Aban's Accension

Chapter 6: The Move

Chapter 6: THE MOVE

by Shireen Jeejeebhoy

There’s only one customer in her parent's store, and Aban is restless, itchy. She moves off her stool behind the cash register. The customer is picking up the small, dark-grey rune stones with their foreign inscriptions, looking at them, turning them over, then frowning. Aban looks around for her parents. They usually take care of the customers, and she usually ignores them. Yet today, she sees this one is in need of attention. Dad is minutely adjusting the placement of the skull-sized quartz crystals, his back studiously to the customer. Mom comes rattling through the beaded curtain at the back with a fist-sized purple quartz, its cavity filled with reflecting teeth, and takes it over to Dad. She doesn’t notice the customer. That is ... different. Mom always notices; even in the back of the back end of the store, she notices. It’s like she has a scent for money coming her way.

Aban shrugs and wanders around. She knows not to approach the customer. Still, she surreptitiously watches her.

The customer picks up a rune stone and walks over to Dad. She asks a question that Aban doesn't catch. Dad hesitates in his adjustments but leaves his hand hovering over his giant crystal. He clears his throat. Impatience clouds the customer’s face.

“It’s a rune,” he says loudly enough for Aban to hear.

The customer opens her mouth as Dad’s hand descends on the sharp, sparkling pink quartz he was playing with. The customer closes her mouth, and she lets her hand holding the rune drop. She watches him uncertainly; she shifts her weight backwards. Suddenly, Aban knows that the customer is about to leave the store, and any time Dad loses a customer because he has become so absorbed in his crystals that the human next to him asking questions becomes a mere mosquito, Mom belts into him until well after dinner. Aban’s aversion to arguments triumphs over her fear of Mom’s tongue for daring to speak up when it’s Dad’s or Mom’s place, and she approaches the customer as she wanders away from Dad.

“Um, can I help you?”

“Aban, let your father speak,” Mom hisses into her ear.

Aban jumps.

The customer halts.

Dad clears his throat and removes his hand from his sparkling rock.

Mom smiles up at Dad.

The customer remains rooted, one foot heading out the door, one foot aimed towards Dad.

Dad clears his throat again and says, “Yes, well, runes are, runes are stones with these Viking inscriptions. They will give you insight and answers to your questions.”

Aban hears no more as, feeling foolish, she now wanders away, unconsciously performing her usual stuffing-down of another unwanted emotion. She pushes her backside onto the stool in front of the cash register and picks up her magazine from the shelf underneath it. But as she flips the pages desultorily, she glances at the computer screen beside the register. Graphics slide across its black, shiny surface, changing shape, changing colour. The word “Windows” appears and vanishes as the graphics move. Unbidden, a thought escapes out of her subconscious: “what are the graphics hiding?” Without realizing it, she lets go of the magazine with one hand to let it creep toward the keyboard underneath the screen.

“Aban, what are you doing?”

Aban jumps. “Um, reading.”

“I hope you were not considering touching the computer. You remember what happened last time?” Mom snaps.

Aban thinks but doesn't voice, “That happened a year ago. I’m older now.”

“You broke the computer. I couldn’t even figure out what you did, it was so bad. I tried to quiz you on what you did. But you shrugged, protested you didn’t do anything. Like always, you didn’t remember. It took me hours to fix your mistake. Why do you think you can have anything to do with the computer when I cannot even trust you to work the cash register properly? How long did it take me to teach you how to work it? Do you remember how long it took for you to learn it?”