I popped my head out of the bathroom and I looked down the hall toward the kitchen. The apartment was silent. I exhaled. Maybe I could salvage some part of this day.

I shuffled back to the kitchen to make another cup of tea -- damn, my leg hurt. When I turned the corner, there he was, sitting silent as a statue.

"Jesus, you scared the crap out of me -- sitting there like that."

"Sorry Shalon."

"What are you still doing here? You can help yourself out the door if you think I'm going to confess all my burdens to you."

"No, I promise, I won't ask any more questions."

"Good."

"But..."

"Ahh, Jesus, now what? I just want to drink a tea in peace." He was staring down at his cup again, which was empty. I was about to tell him to spit it out, but held my tongue. I actually didn't want to hear what he had to say. My stomach was a knot of pure nerves -- he never acted this way; it was not like him.

I put some tinder on the fire and blew on the coals, groaning as I bent down. I was getting old, but that fall this morning certainly didn't help.

I had my back turned when he finally said something.

"I'm leaving, Shalon."

"Okay, great - I'll see you another day, and hopefully I'll be in a better mood..."

"No," he interrupted.

There was a heavy silence. I couldn't turn around.

"I mean, I'm leaving for good. I'm leaving Vancouver."

I gripped onto the sink in front of me, feeling faint. I had to get control of myself - I didn't want him to see my shock.

"There's a boat leaving for New Vancouver in a few days and I got a ride on it."

A boat? A ride? Leaving? The words rocked me. When I was ready, I went over to the table and sat down across from him. His eyes were heavy on me, watching me. It was unsettling, so much unlike him.

It was then that I realized that he wasn't a child anymore. He was becoming a man. His whiskers had started in, and his face wasn't round anymore, it was long and lean. His chin - his jaw was more pronounced. Not only was he becoming a man, but he was becoming a handsome man.

"How old are you?"

"I don't know - 13 or 14 maybe. I guess. But I'm old enough Shalon - that doesn't matter. I can take care of myself."

"Yes, yes, of course. I didn't mean that, I just.... I just noticed that you're growing up, is all."

He blushed and looked away.

"When I met you, you were just a little kid."

"Yeah, I was," he said into his empty cup.

"Jesus." I felt a pain stab my heart.

He looked up at me, but then quickly looked back down.

Oh, no, I thought to myself. I had a feeling, an unfamiliar feeling, wash over me. It was pain. It was pain. I thought I was about to start crying, when I noticed a tear drop fall from his face onto the table. "Jesus," was all I could say.

I thought about it silently -- of course he should leave. There wasn't anything for him here. In fact, he should have left long ago. If I'd have given a shit, I'd have taken him outta here myself.

"I'm sorry, Michael." I reached over to touch his hand. I don't think I'd ever touched him like that before.

He was crying hard now. "What for?" he asked, looking up.

"I've been a selfish old lady."

"Oh, no... Shalon, you've given me... I mean, everything I have worth having - you gave it to me. You've been like... a mother."

"Ha!" I snorted. "Some mother!"

"I'm serious, Shalon."

"Oh Jesus, Michael," I brought my hand to my mouth and bit my knuckles. "Are we saying good bye now?" I couldn't help but start crying. I'd tried to hold it back, but my goddamned eyes wouldn't cooperate with me. I stood up, trying to hide it, and pretended to tend to the stove. The fire had gone out, and I didn't think I had the wind in me to get it going.

"It doesn't need to be goodbye," he said softly.

I turned to look at him, and he got up and came over.

"You could come with us."

His face was so open and vulnerable. Like a child. I couldn't bare to look at it, so I turned around again. Of course I couldn't go -- that was a child's fantasy. "Do you really think you're going to drag some old lady around with you? I can't even get out of bed anymore!"

"Come on, Shalon, of course you could still leave. You're just making excuses!"

I was shocked at his boldness, because Michael is normally a very calm, quiet person. I realised he was serious. He was actually serious! Oh, no, no, no... It would never work. Leave my apartment, and my books...

Another strange feeling was coming over me, starting in my stomach. I felt weak. I needed to sit down and take some deep breaths. Was I going to have a heart attack? I was afraid. Breathe, I told myself. Just calm down and breathe. 

Michael was standing over me, but I had to just keep my focus on flushing this horrible feeling. Everything is fine, I said to myself. But of course it wasn't fine! If Michael left I'd be completely helpless. But that's okay, I told myself. I'd manage somehow. But that was completely untrue. There was no way I'd manage. Maybe I can go with Michael, I said to myself. But that was impossible as well. How the hell would I go anywhere? 

Everywhere I turned it was all impossible. I suddenly felt completely sick and clutched my chest. This is it, I thought to myself. Here it comes.

"Shalon, are you okay?" Michael asked, coming over, his face full of concern.

I doubled over in pain, my entire body wracked by a full-blown panic attack. I forced myself to breathe long, deep breaths with my head down low. I leaned on Michael for support. "I'm okay, I'm okay, it's nothing." I said to him, struggling to push through. It was working -- the panic attack was subsiding.

"Are you sure, Shalon? You don't look well."

I stood up straight, and exhaled a big breath. "No. I'm okay," I said confidently. I moved to sit down at the table and tried to change the subject, "When are you leaving?" I couldn't look at him, but I managed to get the words out without sounding like an idiot.

"In a few days. There's a boat going to New Van."

A boat?! What the heck. "What are you talking about -- a boat -- what do you mean?"

"I met a man yesterday." He was struggling to find the way to explain it all.

This was all starting to get y hackles up. "Sit down, and start from the beginning. You met a man on a boat? How did this happen?"

"He came to me, he found me." Michael beamed, obviously proud. "Because I can read."

The kid was glowing. "What do you mean he found you?"

"I mean just that -- he found me. He'd asked around for anyone who knew about books, and he found me. We talked about books -- he offered to hire me."

"Hire you for what, in godsname?"

"To find books -- bring him books. But... listen, don't worry Shalon, he'll take any books. All of 'em. As much as I bring him."

This was just too much. A man from New Van looking for books. What the hell! "Okay, stop right there, let's back up. You start from the very beginning and you tell me exactly what happened, every word."

"Okay... from the beginning. Um... well, I was helping Crystal drag a piece of siding from Nat Bailey Stadium to her place because she had a big hole in her roof and with the rains starting and all, she wanted..."

I reached over and pinched his hand sharply. "Come on, come on. Get on with the story."

"Well, jeez, I am, I am. Just listen" He picked his hand up and cradled it close to his body, giving me a hurt look. "So when we get there, there's this dude who doesn't look like anyone from around here. He's all... clean, and he's got these strange clothes, like real proper clothes that are clean. And Crystal, well, she freaked out, like maybe he was there because we'd taken the siding from the stadium. She just dropped her end and ran off, and I was about to do the same when he yelled out my name!"

"Your name?"

"Yeah, my name -- Michael."

"Okay. And then..."

"And then he said he'd heard I was knowledgeable about books, that I was a book collector, and so was he. He asked if I had some time to talk, all proper like. I asked him why he wanted to talk to me and he said he just wanted to ask some questions, and that he might be able to help me out, if I could help him. So, I said sure, I'd listen to what he had to say. So, he told me he's from New Van. And I asked him what was he doing here...."

"What did he say -- tell me exactly what he said."

Michael looked down, frustrated about being interrupted, and said very slowly, "He said he'd come looking for books to protect and bring back to New Van. Any book that was in danger of being destroyed - he'd pay me for any books that I brought to him."

"And what in godsname did he say he'd pay you?"

"He said he'd pay my way to New Van...."

I was stunned, just stunned. "When did all of this happen?"

"Yesterday."

I paused. "Why didn't you come see me right away?"

He looked away, ashamed. "I was up on 33rd and Cambie, helping Crystal.... But I came here first thing this morning. I tried to come here as fast as I could."

I took a deep breath and rubbed my face with both hands, feeling like I could maybe rub this feeling away. Holy shit, I thought to myself. This is big. This is really big. "So, what did you say to him - you said you'd do it?"

"Yeah, I said I'd do it."

"And did you bring him books?"

He got excited, "Yes, I spent the evening..." he looked down, embarrassed at being caught in his own lie. The little bugger. But I couldn't really blame him.

"Go on, go on, never mind. What did you give him?"

"Well, first I gave him a bunch of old rotting paperbacks that Crystal was using to start fires with."

"And... what did he think of them?" I was a bit skeptical that a bunch of paperbacks were what this man was looking for.

"He said it was great, and he took 'em from me right away. He had this... machine thing. It was like nothing I ever saw. It..." he got up to show me the dimensions, "it was like this big and it had a handle sticking out and a giant box on top of it, and underneath weren't any wheels - weren't nothing. Thing was just floating there, and it moved light as a feather. He could move it around with one hand."

"Yeah, that's called a Hauly. It's a hovering forklift" They must have power in New Van -- the story just kept getting bigger. "So, go back to your conversation. Tell me about this deal you made with him."

"Well, okay, so he said he's on a special mission from some taskforce..."

"What do you mean, taskforce?"

"It had some really long fancy name. Something like the 'Cultural Preservation Taskforce' or something like that. And he's on a mission to save human culture from being destroyed."

... Conversation to be continued....