Five Kilos of Sea

Henna runs the car wash by the motorway. At eleven at night, the cars come slowly. Each one enters the tunnel like a quiet animal. Foam falls on the glass. The big brushes turn and turn.

She sits in a small office with a heater and a window. On the desk sits a screen and a cold coffee. The motorway hums beyond the fence. Every few seconds, white lights pass in the dark.

The door opens. A man walks in with a box in his arms. He wears a dusty jacket. His van waits outside with its engine off.

"Sorry," he says. "I do not need a wash. I need a favour."

"Everyone needs a favour at eleven," says Henna. "What is it?"

"My name is Lev." He puts the box on her desk. "The courier van stops here at midnight. Your sign says so. I need to send this."

"That is true. The driver picks up at the side door."

"He checks the weight on every label." Lev shows her a paper sticker. "My label says one kilo. But I think the box is heavier."

Henna lifts the box. It is a plain cardboard box with tape on the lid. She frowns. It feels like a bag of wet sand.

"That is not one kilo," she says.

"I know. I printed the label at my hotel. I guessed the weight." Lev rubs his eyes. "The driver will send it back if the weight is wrong. And then it will not arrive tomorrow."

"What is tomorrow?"

"My sister's birthday." He looks down at the box. "She lives far from the sea. This is for her."

Henna does not ask more. She looks at the clock. It is twenty past eleven.

"Where can we weigh it?" asks Lev. "Do you have a scale?"

"Only a kitchen scale. It stops at two kilos." Henna taps her chin. "A kitchen scale will not work."

"The petrol station?"

"It closed at ten."

Lev sits down on a plastic chair. He looks very tired. The heater clicks. A car rolls into the tunnel, and the brushes start to hum. Henna presses a green button on the wall. Water sprays, white and heavy, against the glass.

Then she turns back. Her eyes stop on a door in the corner.

"Wait here," she says.

She walks into the staff room. She returns with a square white scale. It is flat and a little dirty. "This is the bathroom scale," she says. "It goes to a hundred and fifty kilos."

"A bathroom scale is for people," says Lev. "It cannot weigh a small box."

"It can, if we are clever." Henna puts the scale on the floor. "You step on it. Then you step on it again with the box. We take away the first number from the second."

Lev stares at her. Then he smiles for the first time. "That is a very good idea."

"It is not a big idea. It is a small trick."

He takes off his heavy boots and puts them by the door. His socks have a hole at the toe. He steps on the scale. Both of them watch the number.

"Eighty-one," says Henna.

"Eighty-one," Lev says. "Now the box."

He lifts the box and holds it against his chest. He steps on the scale again. The number jumps, shakes, and stops.

"Eighty-six," says Henna.

They look at each other.

"Five kilos," says Lev. "It is not one kilo. It is five."

"Five kilos exactly. Your label was wrong by four."

"My sister's present is heavy." He laughs and shakes his head. "I carried it from the beach for three days. I did not feel it."

"What is in it?"

Lev lifts the tape and opens the top flap a little. Inside lies a flat grey stone, wrapped in a blue cloth. It has a hole through the middle. A thin line of salt shines on its edge. The room suddenly smells of the sea.

"I found it on the shore," he says. "When we were small, she looked for stones like this. She always wanted one with a hole."

Henna puts out one finger and touches the cold stone. For a second she says nothing. The brushes hum in the tunnel behind the wall.

"I will print a new label," she says. "My printer is old, but it works."

Lev takes out his phone. He opens the shipping page and changes the weight. Henna sends the label to the printer. It groans and pushes the paper out. She peels the old sticker off the box. She presses the new one down. Lev closes the flap, and she presses the tape down again.

The clock says eleven fifty-four. Outside, white lights slide along the fence. A van turns off the motorway. It stops at the side door.

"Just in time," says Henna.

The courier knocks once. Henna opens the door and gives him the box. He reads the label, lifts the box and nods. A moment later, the van is gone.

Lev stands in the office with one boot in his hand. The car in the tunnel comes out clean and shining. Henna presses the green button and the water stops.

"Thank you," he says. "I do not know how to pay you."

"Pay with a wash. Your van is very dusty." She sits back in her chair. "And tell her something from me."

"What should I tell her?"

"Tell her the stone is heavier than it looks."

Lev puts on his boot. At the door, he turns around.

"She will say it was always heavier," he says.

"Most good things are," says Henna.