Koko’s laugh trails off at my question, a soft, odd note of understanding replacing it. She heaves a resigned sigh, her hands still busily fiddling with the red string. “Him,” she starts, her voice a timbre of worn wisdom and fondness. “Yes, I have met him… my string’s end. But we are currently on a break.”
My lips part in surprise. I have no idea why that catches me by surprise. Perhaps it’s because Koko seems so self-possessed.
Koko casts me a glance, her sparkling eyes painting a picture of trials, triumphs, heartache, and redemption. “It just goes to show, Lily, being fated does not exempt you from work,” she says. “Any relationship needs work to survive, even pre-destined ones.”
The wisdom in her simple yet expansive confession strikes me, a solemness settling around us like a shroud. It makes me think of Marcus – about how he just got comfortable and stopped trying. He let me do all the work and started taking me for granted. My mind spins, ensnared by this revelation, and I break the silence, albeit softly, “I’ll remember that, Koko.”
Koko jolts as if waking up from her thoughts, her twinkling eyes anchoring on me again. “So… Have you decided where you’d like to stay while your car gets fixed?”
“I think,” I begin, my decision already made, “I’d like to stay at the cabin in the woods.”
Her eyebrows lift, giving me an approving look. “Good choice. Here, let me get you the keys.” Koko stands, her dress swirling around her as she moves towards an antique desk in the corner of the room.
She opens one of the drawers, rummaging around before she pulls out a set of keys. Her lips curl up into a warm smile as she strides back to me, her movements effortlessly graceful.
Extending her hand, she offers me the keys. Their dull bronze surface glimmers under the pale light as I take them.
I watch as Koko swiftly rips out a page from a notebook. She quickly writes something and then offers it to me. “I wrote the directions to the cabin. It’s really easy to get to. I’ve also included the number here and my cell phone number in case you need anything. What’s your number? I need to give it to Rog so he can let you know when your car is ready.”
I rattle off my number.
“You should go soon. It’s easier to find before dark,” she suggests, glancing up from jotting down my number. “No need to worry, it’s not hard to find, but it gets dark in the woods. It’s nestled right into the heart of the local forest – perfect for anyone hoping to escape it all. You won’t have any neighbors to bother you. But it means it gets very dark at night.”
“I see,” I answer, intrigued but slightly anxious at the notion of isolation. That’s when I think about Mango and laugh – he’s all the company I need.
“No, no, don’t you worry, Lily,” she assures me, misunderstanding my furrowed brow. “The road that leads to the cabin ends at the front door. You won’t miss it.”
“That sure sounds promising, Koko,” I reply, smiling despite my nerves. I decide to enjoy this enforced break. Perhaps I need this – the quiet, the solitude. I need a chance to heal, to move on, even if it’s just for a few days in the woods.
“Now, the cabin is quite charming. A lovely rustic A-frame – lots of windows, natural woodwork, a quaint little porch. It even has a fireplace! And it’s safeguarded. There’s a wooden domovoy statue sitting next to the porch. It was brought from the motherland.”
At my confused look, Koko explains, “A domovoy is a house spirit. He protects the home and its occupants. If you ever need help, you offer him some leftovers from your dinner.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” I say, accepting the paper and reviewing the directions. Koko winks at me, her excitement infectious. Perhaps this is exactly what I needed – a new place, an unexpected adventure.
“Come, Lily,” Koko says, extending her hand towards me, a cordial smile ghosting her lips, “I’ll walk you back to the garage so you can pick up your loaner.”
Koko is kind enough to take my rolling suitcase, so I don’t have to carry everything myself.
Exiting the bakery, we walk together. The ongoing festival’s vibrant colors and bustling sounds seem to come alive even more. The town is buzzing with laughter and conversation. The boundless energy of joyful celebration fills the air with an intoxicating magnetism. I watch, fascinated, as the people of the town revel in the festivities, eyes gleaming with delight,their faces alight with pure zest for life. Couples dance in the space before the stage as onlookers cheer them on, every corner echoing heartfelt laughter.
There’s a sense of harmony, a shared euphoria that I’ve never experienced before. All around me, the town –as strange as it is – feels alive, thumping with a heartbeat in rhythm with the music and merry chatter.
As we navigate the crowd, Koko commands attention like a celebrity walking the red carpet. The people of the town halt their lively conversations to greet her, their eyes sparkling with reverence and affection.
“Ah, good evening, Mayor. Another fantastic festival day,” the elderly man sitting outside the hardware store hails Koko, his face creasing into a warm smile.
A group of teenagers call after her, asking if she’s got a spot picked out in the park for the fireworks. I notice one of them, a boy probably not much more than eighteen, blushing furiously as Koko winks at him playfully.
And so, it goes on – every step we take, every corner we turn, people greet the mayor, their faces lighting up at the mere sight of the woman.
As we near the garage, I glance at Koko with newfound reverence, the way she’s so effortlessly the heart of this town. I can see why the townsfolk are so smitten by her. She radiates warmth and comfort, like a big cozy blanket.
I can see a sign up ahead that says Svarog’s Garage on a street corner that is far enough away from the town center that we’re mostly alone on our walk. Approaching the building, I see three garage bays, two of which are currently open. My car is in one bay and another unfamiliar vehicle is in the next. Rog is hunched over, his head nearly lost within the labyrinth of the other car’s engine.
When he sees us approaching, he straightens up, pulls a rag from his pocket, and cleans his hands.
“I already put in an order for your window. It’ll take at least two days to get here, if not more, and then another day for me to install it,” Rog warned, his brows furrowed in concern.
