Rokka
- Robyn Weightman
- Mar 6, 2019
- 7 min read
Sweat trickled down Rokka’s face. It was a rare sunny day in Koros and he was not prepared for it. He wiped his brow and fanned his navy jacket to create a breeze. His attempts left him sorely disappointed.
‘Why couldn’t I stay home with Tahnee?’
Rokka strode through Cantors and through the main shopping street of Fadway. It was his weekly trip to mothers. But this time, something preoccupied his mind. A valuable item placed within his mothers.
Rokka pushed his dirty blond hair back, revelling in the slight breeze as it touched his forehead. Around him, others seemed to handle the heat a little better. Women still wore their large dresses and men refused to remove their jackets.
He was not such a man. Rokka removed his jacket, his heart sinking in disappointment at the sweat patches on his white shirt.
‘Oh yes, women love a good sweat patch…’
He sighed and twiddled his hands behind his back as he attempted to walk straight and confident.
‘Should I tell mother of my plans? No… She’d chastise me. To get so closely involved with someone wanted by the government… Perhaps I should ask in secret and tell mother later. Take the ring without her noticing… That’s okay, right?’
Rokka’s mind raced along with his heart, causing his temperature to rise ever higher.
‘Should I unbutton my waistcoat?’
Rokka looked around him, but only the scum of the city were seen without their waistcoat. They could forgive a jacket, but more…
He tapped his cheeks and shook his head.
“Concentrate, Rokka. Think about the here and now,” Rokka said, glancing around in a panic as he heard the words escape his mouth.
He gritted his teeth and hunched his shoulders, shoving his hands deep into his trouser pockets. His stomach growled.
‘Oh, no.. if mother hears she will try to feed me…’
Rokka stopped in his tracks and glanced around. Luck would have it. He had stopped close by his favourite cafe.
The Reveri’s door stood invitingly open, and he swayed inside, removing his hands from his pockets and shaking his fingers out. He breathed deeply and exhaled in happiness. His hairs stood up as the cool air washed over his body. He lifted his arms away from his sides to allow his pits a much needed-breath.
“Good morning, Mr. Rokka. Your usual table?” A waitress offered, folding her brown cleaning cloth away into her belt.
“Good morning Charl. That would be perfect, thank you.”
Rokka took his seat in front of the window where he could watch the world go by. Couples and families danced through his line of vision. Women held onto their man’s arm. His cheeks warmed as he wondered what such a sensation would feel like.
Charl arrived at his table promptly with her notepad and pen.
“What will it be today, sir?”
Rokka turned to look at the various cakes displayed upon their stands, such a choice. But he knew what he wanted, and so did she.
“Strong coffee, Charl, and a slice of your delightful fruit and brandy cake, please.”
Charl nodded and went about her business.
The cafe was small, yet homely. It had everything he loved. Not a corner was left unfurnished, knick-knacks and family heirlooms lined the walls and shelves. The floor was clean enough but not sparkling to an unnecessary shine. Everything Tahnee hated.
His gaze wandered back out the window. An elderly couple crept past, still able to enjoy one another's company after so many long years. He longed for such a life, yet it seemed so very far from his reach.
He looked down at his own slim figure, at his attempt at high fashion. He would never be good enough for the women out there even if he could find any interesting to begin with. As for the woman he wanted...
His thoughts turned to Tahnee sitting in his home, hiding from the cities watch. Would she be there if she had a choice in the matter?
‘She must hate being trapped inside…’
Rokka debated inwardly with himself on how to correct this situation. He’d left dresses in the house. A strange idea his mother had enforced upon him.
“You must always keep a woman’s garments in your home. You never know when a fine young lady could be in need of them,” she’d said.
Rokka was positive she was losing her mind, but with Tahnee in hiding, for once a woman could need those dresses.
‘If she wore a dress and covered her hair, they wouldn’t recognise her. They’re looking for a cross-dressing woman... It might work.’
Rokka made a mental note to suggest such a scheme to Tahnee later. They could go for a walk or meal together. Find a pleasant way to pass the time until she was in the clear after her… accident.
A shiver ran down his spine as the image of the guard sprang to his mind. Of Tahnee sitting upon his floor covered in dust and blood…
But it was Tahnee. He could ignore the rest. For her. His fingers idly touched the pocket inside his jacket. It was empty, but soon...
He’d make a good husband. He had his own business, a home. But to marry a woman who refused to just be a woman had its issues. Though, he wasn’t exactly perfect. People definitely seemed to avoid him at least a little. Whether that was because he knew her or because of something else he didn’t know.
“Here you are, sir. Your cake and coffee.” Charl placed the steaming cup and cake in front of him before sliding the receipt under the browning flowers upon the table.
“Thank you,” he muttered.
“You heading to your mother’s?” Charl enquired.
“Humph, yes,” Rokka spoke through a mouthful of cake.
Charl nodded nervously.
“Well… I hope you enjoy your coffee,” she said before making to turn away.
“Charl,” Rokka called.
The waitress stopped and spun round to face him, her face lit with a pink-cheeked smile.
“Yes?”
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
Charl tiptoed forwards, her hands behind her back like a schoolgirl.
“Of course.”
“It’s… agh. Am I entirely without charm or do you think a woman could be happy with me?”
Charl brought the food tray in front of her and swayed it side to side.
“I think you’re very charming. And I’m positive you could make any woman happy.” Her face turned red as she watched her feet intently.
Rokka tilted his head and smiled.
“Thank you, Charl. I’ll not interrupt your work any longer.”
Charl nodded and skipped away, humming to herself.
‘She seemed strangely nervous.'
***
Paying and leaving a small tip, Rokka headed back out onto Fadway and turned left towards Tawson.
‘I shouldn’t stay too long. I’ll tell mother I have to meet an acquaintance so I can get back to Tahnee sooner. It must be stiflingly dull sitting in my house with nothing to do. Especially for an academic like her.’
A cheeky smile crept across his lips.
‘And if I can find the right time…’
His mother’s apartment was set back from the main street. He couldn’t afford anything grander. Work was always busy, why wasn’t he making enough money for her to have a house yet?
‘It shouldn’t have been my duty,’ Rokka thought.
He cursed his father for not leaving them with more. But then, he didn’t know everything about his father’s circumstances.
Rokka knocked twice upon the purple door before letting himself in.
“Mother, I’m here,” he called, he swung his jacket over his himself once more. His mother hated him not to look pristine, a trait they could both agree on. “I’ll get something and I’ll come through!”
Careful to step lightly, Rokka turned into the plain sitting room and opened the hidden drawer under the fireplace. His eyes wrinkled with delight as he saw the sparkling ring. His grandmothers. The large white gem shone with a silver band holding it in place. Simple and elegant. Tahnee’s style.
He wrapped the ring in his handkerchief and placed it in his jackets inside pocket. He tapped it twice before judging it to be secure.
With a satisfied stride, Rokka went back into the hallway but the house was still silent.
“Mother, are you in?” He asked the empty rooms rhetorically. “If you’re not in, I’ll be very frustrated. It’s the same time every week. You can’t say you forgot. It’s upon your insistence.”
He rounded the corner to the kitchen.
A man was sitting at the table, his boots resting upon its surface. His mother wouldn’t like that. She was very precise about cleanliness, it’s why she rarely came to his place. And another reason Tahnee intrigued him, she was like his mother.
“Emmm, excuse me,” Rokka muttered, clearing his throat as he neared the table, “can I help you?”
“If you can’t then I’m in the wrong house,” the guard growled.
He lowered his feet from the table and lent on his elbows. His eyes bore into Rokka’s. The Guard was in full armour, on such a hot day. A sword hung from his belt. His eyes were heavy-lidded as though the stress of it all was too much.
Rokka stepped forward hesitantly, pulling a chair out across from the guard.
“Does my mother know you’re here?”
The guard scoffed. “Sorry, she can’t be here right now but we need to be sure of your cooperation. I’m sure you understand.”
Rokka froze.
“My cooperation?” He stuttered.
‘They know about Tahnee. Oh, gods, what have I gotten into?’
“Am I correct that you know the historian, Tahnee? Dresses in men’s clothes? A general nuisance to society with her unending questions?”
Rokka gulped.
‘He had to lie, or should he tell them? They were looking for her, but Tahnee said they weren’t very nice about it. Said they would arrest her. Maybe they want to question her?’
Rokka’s mind raced. Sweat congealed on his palms as his heart beat hard against his chest.
“I’m not sure I know who you’re talking about.”
The guard laughed.
“Mr. Rokka, come now. I promise we do not want to harm her. But you are harbouring her, aren’t you? Just tell the truth and nothing will happen to either you or your dear mother.”
The guard smiled.
A lake of sweat pooled upon Rokka’s forehead as he stared at the guard before him. His armour was so shiny and pristine. Was he the Captain Tahnee had mentioned?
“I’ll take your inner battle to be a yes, she’s at your house,” the guard said.
Rokka stared in shock and fright.
‘Oh no. What do I do?’
The guard lent forwards on the table and clasped his fingers together as he addressed Rokka.
“This is how it is."
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