Michelle laughs. “That’s one of the strangest things I’ve ever heard. Well, I get it though. When I was younger we took my sister out to a dairy farm… she was probably ten—but whatever, after she saw the cows and realized that was where her hamburgers came from, she refused to eat them.”
“Did she make it through V-Day?”
“She became one of them,” Michelle says as she takes larger drink from her glass. “A fourteen year old Psychotic… after losing my mother when she went Aggro my father insisted on trying to care for her—it didn’t take long for him to realize that she needed to be placed in a facility.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. It seems like a terrible first date thing to bring up.
“Don’t be,” Michelle says as she wraps her arms around her chest and looks out a window. She then pulls up the sleeve of her dress and shows me a long dark scar that runs from her elbow nearly all the way down to her wrist. “A little reminder she left me. Had she made it a bit further, I wouldn’t be here. How about you… any family left?”
“All dead,” I say as I nod.
“Sometimes I think that’d be a comfort,” Michelle says as she pours herself more wine and continues to drink. “Sorry to be such a downer.”
“I kind of brought it up…”
“You’re new,” Michelle says as she gets up. “You need to know these kinds of things.”
I get up as well; I suppose the date is over. Then again, I suppose I was not the best company. I should really figure out how to be more social and less work obsessed in the future.
“Would you like to come back to my apartment?” Michelle asks as she locks eyes with me.
I pause for a moment, caught off guard. Of course a part of me would love to, at the end of the day I am a guy and I know that this is a promise of sex… with someone who is rather attractive. However, there is something in the back of my mind that just does not find her as appealing as I feel I should. Perhaps there is something wrong with me. As I think about it, Cherie’s face keeps coming to mind, her constant smile—her kindness. There seems to be a rather cold and callous personality to Michelle that I cannot look past. Also, I know deep down that this is not about attraction as it is about keeping the population of normals up. “I think I would love to, but I’m… I, I’m a little overwhelmed with this being my first week.”
“I understand. I had a hard time my first week… all the Sitters do,” Michelle says with a single nod. She reaches out her hand.
I accept the hand as she squeezes my hand tightly and pauses for a few seconds. My cell in my pocket chimes and announces that a new contact has been added.
“Whenever you’re feeling more up to it, give me a call if you like.”
“I will,” I say, although I know that once again, I’m lying.
“It was good to meet you, Ethan,” Michelle says as she turns and walks off.
I feel a bit of regret at not taking her up on her offer. After all, it has been a while—longer than I would like to admit. I suppose this makes me not shallow… that or incredibly stupid. I’m not sure which. I suppose, in the end, we are just too different.
I’m not as afraid as I make my way down the elevator. My mind is elsewhere.
When I get home, I begin to set out clothes for the next day. I go with just a white button up shirt and pants. I take out the crumpled note from Noah and reread it. I wonder if it is a good idea—then again, I suppose I did the same thing with Cherie and nothing bad happened. I could leave my badge in the car… I do not see the harm in that. I would just have to go and pick up Cherie beforehand.
As I get ready for bed I turn on the TV. A male reporter is talking about the outrage going on in Japan. The Prime Minister approaches a podium, he looks deeply saddened. He faces the camera and a translator explains what he is saying. He is outraged over the sinking of the Kawasaki Kisen Kaisha just a few miles off shore. An unnamed terrorist group has claimed responsibility. Over ninety thousand Mirror, Amnesiacs, and Manic type Unstables were killed when a bomb went off on the massive cargo ship completely destroying it. Approximately eight thousand C-Shape Sitters and staff, and a hundred and thirty crew members were also killed in the explosion. There are reported to be no survivors. Despite the heavy setback, a new cargo ship will be retrofitted to make the journey back and forth and the plan will go as continued under severely heightened security.
I bury my face in my hands. I do not understand it. Why can’t we stop killing each other?
I turn off the TV just as the reporter begins to talk about the continuing chaos in Los Angeles.
With a heavy heart I fall asleep—I know there is nothing I can do to change the world, so I should at least get plenty of rest so I can continue to do my job.
9. The Truth and the Changes
I arrive at Cherie’s apartment early that day. Although I do not want to admit it to myself, I am excited to see her. However, at the same time I feel saddened that she will probably believe that we are in Paris—that she will have to come to grips with it in some way when we leave to see Noah.
I knock on her door. She does not answer.
After knocking a second time I begin to pace outside of her door. I pull out my keys and I slide it into the lock. I hesitate. I am not even supposed to be here today—it feels wrong to just barge in when I am not expected.
I knock once more, louder. I hear the faint sound of crying. Without any further hesitation I open the door and run into the room. I find Cherie balled up on the couch in tears. Her luggage is sitting beside her.
“What’s wrong, Cherie?” I say as I kneel down beside her.
“I waited…” She says in a barely audible whisper. Her lips are cracked and dry.
I go to the kitchen and pour her a glass of water. She sits up and takes it from me and drinks its entire contents all at once.
“Have you eaten anything?” I say, she looks weak. Her cheeks are red and her eyes are bloodshot and dark circles rest beneath her hazel eyes.
“I waited,” Cherie whispers once more.
I sit down next to her, deeply confused as to what she is referring to. “Please tell me what is wrong.”
Her face turns red with anger. I nervously reach for my phone out of instinct. ‘Please no… not you.’ I think to myself.
With one open hand she slaps me hard across my cheek. She then collapses against my chest and begins to hit me over and over, tears stain my white shirt as she is sobbing uncontrollably.
“Where where you…?” Cherie asks as she stops striking me and instead grabs my shirt and balls it up in her fist. “I waited for you all day… we missed our flight. You promised you would be here. I waited all day—all night… you never came, why?”
“I am so sorry,” I say, confused. My mind suddenly flashes back to Saturday. In all the excitement I had forgotten to have her take her pill—she must not have slept because of my mistake. I only have one major responsibility and I could not even do that properly. “I had a work thing, I…”
“Did you not want to go?” Cherie sobs. “You… you could have just told me. I thought you cared.”
“I do care, I promise.”
“You promised that you would be there…” Cherie says as she gets to her feet. “I thought you were different.”
I nod. I do not know what to say. I realize that what I have done is not something that I can easily fix… if I can ever fix it or be forgiven for it. “I promise from now on… I’ll never do that. I will always be here when I am supposed to be.”
“…when I’m supposed to be,” Cherie says as she stands there dressed for travel.