Read Online A Lonely Resurrection by Barry Eisler - Free Book Online
Authors: Barry Eisler
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Harry.”
He looked at me, saw that my expression was genuine. “Thanks,” he said.
I raised my glass to my nose, took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it go. “So she’s got you keeping odd hours?” I asked.
“Well, the club is open until three in the morning and she works every day. So, by the time she gets home. . .”
“I get the picture,” I said. Though in fact, it was a little hard to imagine Harry with an attachment that didn’t have an Ethernet cable and a mouse. He was an introverted, socially stunted guy, with no contacts I knew of outside of his day job, which he kept at arm’s length in any event, and me. Conditions that had always made him useful.
I tried to picture him with a high-end hostess, and couldn’t see it. It didn’t feel right.
Don’t be a prick,
I thought.
Just because you can’t have someone in your life, don’t begrudge Harry.
“What’s her name?” I asked.
He smiled. “Yukiko.”
Yukiko means “snow child.” “Pretty name.”
He nodded, his expression slightly dopey. “I like it.”
“How much does she know about you?” I asked, taking a sip of the Lagavulin. My tone was innocent, but I was concerned that, in the delirium of what I assumed was first love, Harry would be unnecessarily open with this girl.
“Well, she knows about the consultant work, of course. But not about the. . . hobbies.”
About his extreme proclivity for hacking, he meant. A hobby that could land him in prison if the authorities caught wind of it. In the ground, if someone else did.
“Hard to keep that sort of thing secret,” I opined, testing.
“I don’t see why it would have to come up,” he said, looking at me.
A waitress appeared from behind a curtain and set Harry’s order on the bar in front of him. He thanked her, showing a deep appreciation for this newly wonderful class of being,
women who work in restaurants and bars,
and I smiled.
I realized on some level that if Harry was going to start living more like a civilian, he would be less useful, and possibly even dangerous, to me. His increasing transparency to the wider world might offer an enemy a window into my otherwise hidden existence. Of course, if someone connected Harry to me, they might come after him, too. And despite what I’d tried to teach him over the years, I knew that, out in the open, Harry wouldn’t have the means to protect himself.
“Is she your first girlfriend?” I asked, my tone gentle.
“I told you, she’s not really my girlfriend,” he said, ducking the question.
“If she’s occupying enough of your attention to keep you in bed until the sun sets, I feel safe using the word as shorthand.”
He looked at me, cornered.
“Is she?” I asked again.
He looked away. “I guess so.”
I hadn’t meant to embarrass him. “Harry, I only ask because, when you’re young, you sometimes think you can have it both ways. If you’re just having fun, you don’t need to tell her anything. You shouldn’t tell her anything. But if the attachment gets deeper, you’ll need to do some hard thinking. About how close you want to get with her, about how important your hobbies are. Because you can’t live with one foot in daylight and the other in shadows. Believe me on this. It can’t be done. Not long-term.”
“I’m not stupid, you know.”
“Everybody in love is stupid. It’s part of the condition.”
He blushed again, at my use of the word and the assumption behind it. But I didn’t care how he referred to these new feelings in his own mind. I know what it’s like to live walled off, isolated, and then suddenly, unbelievably, to have that pretty girl you’d longed for returning the feeling. It changes your priorities. Hell, it changes your damn values.
I smiled bitterly, thinking of Midori.
Then, as if reading my mind, he said, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. But I wanted to do it in person.”
“Sounds serious.”
“A few months ago I got
He looked at me, saw that my expression was genuine. “Thanks,” he said.
I raised my glass to my nose, took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it go. “So she’s got you keeping odd hours?” I asked.
“Well, the club is open until three in the morning and she works every day. So, by the time she gets home. . .”
“I get the picture,” I said. Though in fact, it was a little hard to imagine Harry with an attachment that didn’t have an Ethernet cable and a mouse. He was an introverted, socially stunted guy, with no contacts I knew of outside of his day job, which he kept at arm’s length in any event, and me. Conditions that had always made him useful.
I tried to picture him with a high-end hostess, and couldn’t see it. It didn’t feel right.
Don’t be a prick,
I thought.
Just because you can’t have someone in your life, don’t begrudge Harry.
“What’s her name?” I asked.
He smiled. “Yukiko.”
Yukiko means “snow child.” “Pretty name.”
He nodded, his expression slightly dopey. “I like it.”
“How much does she know about you?” I asked, taking a sip of the Lagavulin. My tone was innocent, but I was concerned that, in the delirium of what I assumed was first love, Harry would be unnecessarily open with this girl.
“Well, she knows about the consultant work, of course. But not about the. . . hobbies.”
About his extreme proclivity for hacking, he meant. A hobby that could land him in prison if the authorities caught wind of it. In the ground, if someone else did.
“Hard to keep that sort of thing secret,” I opined, testing.
“I don’t see why it would have to come up,” he said, looking at me.
A waitress appeared from behind a curtain and set Harry’s order on the bar in front of him. He thanked her, showing a deep appreciation for this newly wonderful class of being,
women who work in restaurants and bars,
and I smiled.
I realized on some level that if Harry was going to start living more like a civilian, he would be less useful, and possibly even dangerous, to me. His increasing transparency to the wider world might offer an enemy a window into my otherwise hidden existence. Of course, if someone connected Harry to me, they might come after him, too. And despite what I’d tried to teach him over the years, I knew that, out in the open, Harry wouldn’t have the means to protect himself.
“Is she your first girlfriend?” I asked, my tone gentle.
“I told you, she’s not really my girlfriend,” he said, ducking the question.
“If she’s occupying enough of your attention to keep you in bed until the sun sets, I feel safe using the word as shorthand.”
He looked at me, cornered.
“Is she?” I asked again.
He looked away. “I guess so.”
I hadn’t meant to embarrass him. “Harry, I only ask because, when you’re young, you sometimes think you can have it both ways. If you’re just having fun, you don’t need to tell her anything. You shouldn’t tell her anything. But if the attachment gets deeper, you’ll need to do some hard thinking. About how close you want to get with her, about how important your hobbies are. Because you can’t live with one foot in daylight and the other in shadows. Believe me on this. It can’t be done. Not long-term.”
“I’m not stupid, you know.”
“Everybody in love is stupid. It’s part of the condition.”
He blushed again, at my use of the word and the assumption behind it. But I didn’t care how he referred to these new feelings in his own mind. I know what it’s like to live walled off, isolated, and then suddenly, unbelievably, to have that pretty girl you’d longed for returning the feeling. It changes your priorities. Hell, it changes your damn values.
I smiled bitterly, thinking of Midori.
Then, as if reading my mind, he said, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. But I wanted to do it in person.”
“Sounds serious.”
“A few months ago I got
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