Last night, Kallan and I watch an episode of a TV show about a pawn shop. Kallan is fascinated. As the credits roll, I send her upstairs to get ready for bed. Because Kallan is Kallan, she reappears a few minutes later looking to make a deal . . .
Dressed in her pajamas, she stands staring at me for a moment, waiting for me to start the conversation.
“Yes? Can I help you?”
She takes a step forward and reaches to shake my hand, “Yes, thank you. My name is Kallan, and I have come here today because I have some bedtime to offer. It is of great sentimental value to me, but life is life and sometimes difficult decisions are required. So I was wondering what you might be able to give me for this bedtime.”
“Hmmm . . . why don’t you tell me what you are hoping to get for this bedtime.”
“Well, this bedtime used to be my grandmother’s bedtime and before that it was my great-grandmother’s bedtime, and I have been using this bedtime for many years, and as I said, it has great sentimental value to me. Seems like you should be able to offer me a nice high number.”
“You’re the one trying to make a deal. Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking?”
“I was thinking maybe 11.”
“You just keep on thinking, then, because I am all the way over here at 8 ½.”
Kallan snorts dismissively, “You have got to be kidding. This bedtime was valued at 8 ½ several years ago. No way the number hasn’t gone up since then. No way.”
“Maybe I could see my way clear to 9.”
“Don’t insult me. My rock-bottom number is 10.”
I shake my head, “Here’s the thing. I have to be able to get something out of this deal. At the end of the day, we both have to be happy. You’re going to have to bend if you want to make a deal . . . 9 ¼.”
Kallan pulls a camera from her robe pocket, “Before we talk any further, let me just show you a few photographs that may influence this negotiation.” She turns so that I can see the photos as she scrolls through them on her digital camera, “Here, we have a picture of my great-grandmother about to go to bed. And here we have a picture of my grandmother about to go to bed, and . . .”
I interrupt, “You look an awful lot like your grandmother and your great-grandmother. An awful lot like them. Exactly like them.”
Kallan smiles, “I know, right? That’s part of what makes this bedtime I am offering you so special. Think of the history! Think of the story! Three little girls, separated by years but connected by family and identical appearance, all using this bedtime.”
“Weird, because if I didn’t know better, I would say that these are all photos of you.”
Kallan clucks sympathetically, “An easy mistake to make . . . I can understand your confusion, especially because we are all wearing the same pajamas.”
“Exactly.”
“But that’s part of the magic of this bedtime I am offering you! Not only does it come with a long family tradition and photographic evidence of this tradition, but you will get to see the actual photographed antique pajamas in action.”
“Antique pajamas?”
Kallan caresses the material of her jammie pants and t-shirt, “Yes, passed down through the generations. When you think about it, what I am offering you is actually pretty priceless . . . A look back through the past to bedtimes of earlier days.”
“And I can have all of this at 10?”
“Honestly, I am beginning to regret offering this bedtime so cheap. I am tempted to push you back to 10 ½, but because I am a woman of my word, I will let you have it at 10.”
“Sorry, but . . .”
“Wait, before you say another word, let me show you a few more photos. Look . . . here’s my great-grandmother being sad at having to go to bed so early. And here is my disappointed grandmother after hearing the news that she is going to bed at an unjust hour.”
“They look uncannily alike, these two women. These three women, actually . . . because they both look exactly like you.”
“What an amazing compliment! Thank you for that . . . It won’t change my final offer, but I do appreciate the compliment.” Kallan stares wistfully into the camera’s screen, “They were both beautiful women.”
“So where’s your mother in all this?”
“What?”
“Your mother. Where are the pictures of your beautiful mother wearing these jammies and using this bedtime?”
Kallan sidles up to me confidingly, “Sadly, my mother went insane and lost all track of the difference between daytime and nighttime. A family secret. We don’t discuss it. The truth? My mother lives with the moon.”
I laugh, “She lives with the moon??”
Kallan speaks seriously, “No reason she should be a part of this discussion. No reason at all. So what do you think about 10?”
“It’s a wonderful story, and I can see that you would really like to make this sale, but there’s just no way to make this work for me at anything higher than 9 ¼.”
“That’s the best you can do?”
“I’m afraid so. Take it or leave it.”
Kallan shrugs her shoulders in resignation, “Well, then I guess I am walking away. I’m sorry we couldn’t come to an agreement.”
“Me too.”
Kallan takes a few sad steps away from me and then turns to leave, “I guess that means I have no bedtime tonight.”
“I guess not. Wait . . . What?”
Kallan runs squealing and screaming through the house, giggling hysterically.
Maj stares at me pityingly, “Really, Mother? You didn’t see that coming? Really?”
Damn it.
