This instantly made me think of the Navel. It's been a while since I wrote anything from Peter's perspective. I thought it was time to get into his head a bit while he got used to Omphalos and the strange shop he found himself working at...
Some of the items in the Navel drew my eye, even though they weren’t the flashiest things on the shell.
A seashell with delicate layers of color inside, spreading out from the center. Somehow this reminded me of Christopher’s eyes. If you glanced at them, they were violet blue. A second, longer look revealed a rosy ring around the purple, followed by a deeper blue one, haloed by a hint of green. Colors were trapped within those glistening orbs, slipping across the surface, like light reflected upon a pond’s surface.
Or perhaps it was just my fancy.
Another object which caught my attention was a mortar and pestle. Paul had once possessed one of these. His always had a layer of dust at the bottom from past grinds. The rock bottom of this particular stone bowl was smooth, unblemished.
I might have missed these things, perusing the shelves of the Navel. This place is full of shiny, distracting shapes, from pink rose quartz to giant water pipes, shaped like roosters. Only I would have noticed that tin can. A gaudy image of a woman in brilliant red and orange skirts was emblazoned on the side, kicking up her scarlet heels and grinning.
I recognized that grin. I’d seen it in the glass a few times. I wasn’t about to forget those skirts either. They’d got caught around my ankles. I’d learned to lift them up, show a little leg, without giving the game away by showing any dangling bits.
How Paul laughed, ah, but he’d enjoyed the show. His dark eyes gleamed with appreciation when he watched me throw my arms over the shoulders a couple of other girls and lift our legs. I fit in perfectly. The lady on either side of me was more musclar than I was.
Dancers are a lot stronger than a lot of people realize, something a few owners of wandering hands got to know.
Perhaps Paul got his taste for the stage, watching me move. He’d always been quieter, more shy than I was, but he’d come to life that night.
I blinked back tears, rubbed a sleeve over my eyes. I was supposed to be working.
“It’s different for everyone who enters the Navel.” Gabrielle, my new employer glanced over at the small bowl, shell, and can. “Anyone who finds their way in here has something waiting for them. Particuliar objects attract particuliar eyes.” She shrugged, rolling her shoulders in what was almost a stretch. “Not even I know what’s on all of my shelves.”
“Not even you? You’re the proprietor!” I tried to wrap my head around this haphazard business concept. “Should you know what you’re selling?”
“Being the proprietor is more like being the caretaker here at the Navel.” Gabrielle tapped a long finger against her full lower lip. Such a lush, full mouth she had, different than Christopher’s tiny, hesitant rosebud. Both alluring in their own ways. “I provide a place for items to find the right people. In the end, it’s the objects in this shop who decide whether or not a transaction will be made.”
She spoke as if the objects were alive themselves. As if matters weren’t confusing enough.
“You have to make transactions. Don’t you need to earn money?” I focused on the concrete, the real. The things I’d been forced to build my existence around, even though I often wished I didn’t have to. “You have to pay for food, utilities, and clothes. You gave me a paycheck.”
“Which should still work when you return to the real world.” Gabrielle offered me a little bow of her golden head. “We’re on the edge of a Door here, so reality and shadow has a tendency to ripple. The check will remain solid and transferrable when you return to someplace more solid with a comparable technology.” She fixed her steady blue gaze upon me. “I’m not one of the Fair Folk. What I offer you doesn’t disappear when you leave this place, although it might change form.”
“That’s not what I meant!” I lifted a hand to run it through my hair, half expecting it to be filled with elf locks. “You say you’re on the edge of the reality. Does this mean you can somehow survive without money?”
“Well, I need to eat. I didn’t used to, but I’m trying to live as a human.” Gabrielle walked towards the tiny window, letting in beams of light from outside. “There’s a garden beyond Omphalos at the foot of a hill. Anyone who lives there has access to it. Clothes, yes, I do like clothes.” ‘Brie did a little twirls, skirts flaring out to reveal a hint of muscular legs. Shells dangling from silver chains clinked in a faint, musical melody when she did. “I often find something which seems perfect to wear when inventory comes in. I’ve put together beads, shells, and bones together with baggy skirts and tunics no one wants anymore.” She came to a stop, allowing her hands to undulate over her body, dancing over her torso, hips, and gesturing to her legs and feet. “I’ve found sandals in the packages, too, which fit my feet.”
“You’re telling me you just find whatever you need in inventory?” This couldn’t be true. No one would give someone something for nothing. It simply didn’t happen, no matter how much we might wish it to.
“Peter, the Navel accepted me as its proprietor. Chose me. As long as I do what it requires, I don’t have to pay rent and it will provide for me.” Gabrielle scratched her head, bare of any hat today, although shells were braided into the tresses. “I’m really not that greedy a person. I don’t require a lot of extra things. As such I don’t have much of a use for money.”
I paused for a moment to marvel at the concept, swallowing the sour bubble of envy threatening to rise up my throat.
Money had been greatest stumbling block in my existence. It kept me from doing what I wanted to do, going where I wanted to go, having what I wanted to have. Money was required for all three of these things. If I hadn’t been in need of money, I could have been more honest.
If I had been more honest, perhaps Paul would still be at my side.
No, probably not. Paul had let me know he was a path I couldn’t follow him down, no matter how much I might wish to.
I fingered my own throat, searched for something else to use my hands for. I detested brooding and moping. Paul and Christopher both seemed to be victims of their own despair at times. I refused to be prey to mine.
“Sounds like an idyllic way to live.” I offered Gabrielle a smile and a little bow of my own. “Watch out. I may not wish to leave if you make it too comfortable for me.”
“Why should you leave?” Gabrielle cocked back her head. “The Navel has need of you and so do I. Besides you make Christopher smile.” She allowed her eyes to shift to the shelves, a row of grinning skulls sitting upon them. “All of these things make you a vital part of this place.”
“Until Damian returns at least.” I did my best to grin and not grimace at the name of Gabrielle’s previous employee.
Gabrielle spun and moved with a swiftness I hadn’t thought her capable of, laying a hand on my arm.
“There are things you can do here which Damian can’t.” Once more, she pinned me with that direct blue gaze. “I hope you’ll come to understand that in time.”
“Me, too.” The words came out more bitter than I expected. Still I managed to smile back. I covered her hand with my own.
Me, too.
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