Page 9

“Want a snack, or is your stomach still queasy from the rides?” she asks, dropping her purse onto the pool table.
“Just tea.” I’m not hungry, not now.
She makes a clucking sound, then motions for me to sit at the table. “I’ll make the tea, since you don’t feel well.”
I sit down, but have so much energy I can’t hold still. It bothers me that she acts as if nothing happened. I get up and go into the kitchen, and see that she has an apple, a pear and a block of cheese on the counter. I go up behind her and slide my arms around her. She pulls open the drawer next to us, and pulls out a knife.
“Mireille…” I start, but falter. What can I say to her, and should I say anything at all?
“So who was it?” her voice cuts into my thoughts. “You never told me.”
My body gets a chill. I don’t want to talk about Chloe. I want to forget the manor, forget the look on Chloe’s face, forget what I have done.
“Mireille…I can’t…”
“It was her, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?” her tone is as sharp as the knife she’s using on the cheese. Without warning she jerks her hand out to the wall, grabs the cutting board and slams it down on the counter, making me jump. I swallow hard, but she says nothing else, and begins to cut the fruit.
“So what else did you two do?” the knife keeps cutting with slow, deliberate precision. “Hmmm?” she scoops the apples onto a plate. “You must have done something to pass the time there.” Her voice is measured and even, but I can feel the tension in her body. I let go of her and step back. The teapot whistles, and she reaches over and snaps off the burner. She holds onto the counter and sighs.
“Every time I think there’s nothing else you can do to hurt me…” she whispers, her voice choking. My eyes widen and I step back further. The pain in her voice, so much like the pain in Chloe’s voice….I cannot be here. I cannot take this pain, I cannot take causing any more pain.
“I’m sorry Mireille. I’m so sorry.” I choke out, and stumble out of the kitchen.

I run out the door, and take the steps down two at a time. I feel the stuffed animals flying out of my pockets but I don’t care. I burst through the door into the cool night, seeking some sort of relief. The cold air is like a slap to my face, and I lean against the wall, panting. I have to do something. I have to…suddenly I remember a piece of paper wadded into my pocket. I run down the block to the pay phone and dial the number. After a few rings, my prayers are answered.
“Uncle? It’s Kirika.” I try and catch my breath. “Can I talk to you?”

The apartment is dark as I quietly open the door. It’s after one in the morning. Uncle gave me money for a taxi home, after we had finished talking. I gave him the last stuffed animal I had left, and he seemed very pleased. I feel much better now too, although part of me is afraid. Afraid of what will happen next, but knowing I can’t go back now.
I make my way to our bed, but it’s empty. A sudden fear the Mireille may have left engulfs me, and I quickly run back out into the rest of the apartment, looking for her. I pass by an empty wine bottle on the table, but no Mireille. Finally I see her kneeling on the veranda outside, her head bent down. Her nightshirt waffles slightly in the wind, but she remains motionless as I go stand next to her.
I look down and see her gun in her right hand, with the silencer in place. Her other hand holds a small white object that after a moment, I realize is the baby seal I gave her from the carnival. Seeing her holding it makes me feel like crying, for some silly reason.
“You came back.” her voice is flat and dull, as if she’s lost all emotion. She lays her gun down and pushes it towards me. “You do it then.”
“Mireille?”
“You do it. Noir, you do it. Send me back with my parents.” her voice is so low, I can barely hear her. “You should be the one to do it.”
I feel myself shaking, as if I’ve never been colder in my life.
“No.” it barely comes out, I’m shaking so much.
“Why not? You took everything else. What’s one more life.” she pushes the gun so that it touches my foot. “Finish it.”
I put my foot over the gun, dragging it away from us both. I’m shaking so hard that the gun wobbles, grating over the concrete.
“I can’t. I can’t …Mireille, I love you.” my voice is thin and shaking, but I’ve said it. I hear her sob and her head goes lower, then her fist hits the ground.
“No.” her weak voice almost blends in with the wind. “Don’t. Don’t, Kirika…”
I squat down next to her, wanting to touch her, but afraid. I put my mouth close to her ear.
“I love you Mireille. I do.” I let the wind take my words to her.
She crawls back on all fours and presses into the corner grate of the veranda, crying. I want to hold her, but something tells me not to touch her when she’s cornered like this. I stand back up and go back into the apartment.
I get dressed for bed, silent tears rolling down my face. She’s right. I’ve taken everything. I took her family, and because of me, she took her uncle’s life. I lay back on the bed, flat on my back, and look up at the ceiling, thinking.
“Take care of her.” I can see her mother’s face, hear her voice once again in the darkness.
“I want to…I really want to.” I whisper back. “More than anything. But how?”

Page 10