Her eye had healed slightly from her fall the other day, but there was definitely bruising that should concern someone. What if she was bleeding into her brain? What if the fall had bursted an aneurysm? At the very least, she thought she should get some time off from the super. She made her way down to his apartment and knocked on the door. It took him forever to turn the doorknob, and when it opened, his figured clouded the door. He was hunched, pale, and wouldn't look her in the eye. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. His frightened and distraught eyes confused Edna. She hadn't told him anything yet. All of her secrets were safe, they couldn't have been what messed him up. Frankly, Edna knew, they would fuck her up like he looked if she let them. So no, that wasn't it.
"What," he croaked hoarsely. She was observant enough to recognize that this wasn't the time for sympathy, at least from him. "Get to work; I haven't heard anything in days," he spat. "I don't want you leaving this building 'til you figure out what all is going on in this shit hole." The door slammed in her face.
Well, so much for that.
So, she began her rounds. She started at the first floor, saw nothing but dust mites and heard nothing but the rap of her own feet on the concrete floors. On the second floor, again only dust, but this time she heard something coming from the floor above. The thud of her sneakers now competed with the fierce clacks of stilettos radiating from floor 3. Oh shit, Edna thought, Courtney Red. Finally out of her room.
Edna stepped back onto the elevator to find that Braxton kid (her head had been clear enough one day to finally comprehend him) standing anxiously by the buttons. He jumped when her weight shifted the platform slightly, almost as if he was expecting it to fall. Maybe it was this head injury, but Edna suddenly felt compelled to pay attention to this kid in his oversize suit. Something was different about him today. But right as she was about to open her mouth to comment, the chime sounded and doors opened, and a tall, haughty woman with red stiletto boots walked on.
"Oh, Edna!" she exclaimed. "Heard anything interesting lately?"
Now Edna didn't know whether this woman actually knew about her secret job and was trying to pilfer stories, or was just way too cheery and oblivious to understand what was going on around her, but Edna hated her. There weren't many people, other than her parents, that she could label with "hate," but this woman was one of them. She was uppity, annoying, and seemed to have no clue that she was living in a pit of despair.
Edna made some inaudible noises in response, averted her eyes, and rode to the roof just to assure she would not be headed in the same direction as Red. When the approached the roof exit door, abundant sunshine poured through the small barred window; she intended to sit out for a while. After all, the last couple times she'd been out here had been at night, and for very different reasons. A grin slid across her face. She pulled at the door. It was locked.
"Oh no." The thought flicked on in her mind and Day's sullen face accompanied it.
Ethan easily unlocked the roof: he ripped the knob right out of the door. He shook his head and squeezed the hunk of cheap metal in his hand until it no longer resembled a doorknob, but a twisted piece of wreckage. It fell to the gravel with a chink. Ethan laughed out loud. "Come get me," he said. He walked to the edge and sat down. His bare feet scraped the brick.
ReplyDeleteMercutio poked his head out of Ethan's pocket. His nose twitched. His whiskers gleamed in a flash of lightning. A fat drop of rain plopped on his furry head, right between his ears, and the mouse ducked back down into the safety of Ethan's pocket. Ethan laughed again.
"I know who you are," Edna said quietly from the doorway.
Ethan didn't flinch. He knew she'd been there all along. "I know."
"I know what you are." She took a step out onto the roof. Ethan heard her hand tightening on the door. She didn't want to let go but was compelled closer.
"I know," he said again.
Somewhere below, a fire was burning. Ethan could smell the smoke, feel the heat on his sensitive skin, the embers brushing against his face. A piece of paper floated up and landed on the ledge next to his hand. - boy could make out nothing of his face now, and something about the still figure there distracted him. He started to say something again but - That was all the little bit of paper said. Ethan snatched it up before the wind could carry it away again. The paper crumbled to dust in his fingers. "Come here," he said to Edna.
She came. Slowly, her feet leaving heavy impressions in the rocks. And then she was beside him. Smoke stained her skin and made it greasy. The bruise on her eye shone. He didn't say anything, but she sat down beside him, her legs dangling like his, her heels against the building and her feet against the air.
"You are not afraid," Ethan said. Edna shook her head. "No," she affirmed in a whisper.
"Burn it to the ground," he said.
Her head turned to look at him. He didn't know what she saw, but her face became closed off, far away. It wasn't fear. It wasn't amazement. There was nothing there. The fire below reflected in her eyes. "Burn it to the ground," she repeated.
Ethan smiled. Really smiled. Did she see the fangs? Did she finally feel afraid? He held his hand out to her and she took it.
"I trust you," she murmured.
Ethan laughed. "You shouldn't."
My feet carried me to the library all by themselves.
ReplyDeleteNice out today, the doorman said as I left Wilshire. He was right. Blue skies and warm weather forced me out of my customary sweatshirt.
On the way there I passed an odd woman on the sidewalk. Something told me she was the one, the one who'd taken the two. And yet, my feet kept going, unperturbed.
What kind of January is this? I said to the librarian when I entered. An attempt at casual conversation.
She stared at me, squinted one eye. Maybe she was contemplating ordering me out of the library again. Maybe she wasn't used to being asked about the weather.
The kind that kills, she said.
What?
Plants. Kills plants. They'll all thinks it's Spring, and sprout out of their little hiding places and then, sooner than you can say Thanatos, it'll be cold and they'll die. They'll freeze, and whither, and die cold, lonely little deaths.
Without further comment, she returned to shuffling a stack of papers on her desk. Paperwork, I supposed, though she didn't seem to be making any move to do anything with it other than shuffle it round and round until the end of the world.
I spent the next few hours aimlessly wandering the library. No research project today; not on water molecules or numbers or any other ephemera. Just picking books at random from the shelves, examining covers, author names, trying to pick something to read. They say you can't judge a book by its cover, but you don't really have any other choice.
Eventually I settled on one with a blurry image of someone's face on the cover. He was wearing glasses, but where the eye should have been, instead there were the waves of the ocean. Finding a warm corner to sit in, I began to read. It was a story about a Japanese kid. He was running away from home. I read and read.
At first I promised myself I'd go back to work on my project after a few hours, but I couldn't draw myself away from the book. I couldn't draw myself away from not doing anything. I smiled, stretched, inhaled the book smell, and gave in to temptation.
As the pages and hours crept by I could feel the heat slowly pulling down my eyelids . . . I fell asleep . . . and dreamed of nothing at all.