I clean up the dinner dishes and place them onto a rack. I make my way down the hallway and Noah is sitting in front of the TV set, only this time it is on. More stories about Unstables going Aggro… more deaths.
“I’m heading out soon, do you need anything done?”
“I’m good I think.”
“Don’t forget to do some writing,” I say, remembering to keep him busy.
“I’ve got some here,” he says as he digs out a small pile of printed paper. “Read a little of it.”
I scan the first few lines:
There was a tree that grew so tall that it reached the sky. My mother does not believe me because she cannot see the tree. I am the tree. I am the tree. I am not the noises that I hear at night but I make noises that I hear at night. Therefore I am the noises that I hear at night. I am the tree.
“This is really good…” I say as I am once again overwhelmed with sadness.
“You don’t look like you think it is,” Noah says, catching me off guard.
“It is,” I immediately backpedal. “It has just been a really long first day—still getting used to all this. You were always great at writing. I always thought so.”
“How did you know I wrote?”
“Caseworker told me,” I say, taking the easy way out this time.
“Oh, right.”
“You’re a good Sitter.”
“It’s not much work really; I just kind of hang out and make you food… I’m glad though that you said that.”
It did mean a lot to me at the time. After all, I was so nervous that I was going to mess this up. I never really had good luck and always seemed to mess up at other jobs. I was a little surprised, honestly, that I did get accepted into the C-Shapes program… then again the caseworker said they were rather desperate. Although it makes me wonder, why even have me on a waiting list? Anyway, what he said that day made me feel more confident about being helpful.
“I’ll see you on Wednesday,” I say as I turn and begin to head up the staircase.
“Why C-Shapes…?” Noah asks.
“I’m sorry?” I reply as I stop at the third stair.
“The sea comes in many shapes… it’s never in one constant shape. It’s redundant. You can’t stop the sea and make it into one singular shape; you can’t control something so big.”
“I don’t think they mean the actual sea, Noah,” I say as I shrug my shoulders. “I’m not sure why they came up with the name. I think it’s more to do about the letter C and the shape of it, like one could look at it like a defensive shield or a place to take refuge in.”
“Either way it is redundant.”
“I can’t disagree.”
“Do you think it’ll rain tomorrow?”
“I hope so, Noah. I hope so.”
Exhausted, I begin the drive home. My heart weighs heavily in my chest. I find it to be some kind of cruel fate that I ended up being a Sitter for a childhood friend. I begin to hope that he never goes Aggro with me; I don’t think I could deal with seeing him being dealt with. I used to think so highly of his writing, and it was such a sad state to see how far things have deteriorated. Once I get back to my apartment, I take a long hot shower and think more upon the events. I know that I cannot let things like this get me down or else I’ll not be able to make it. After all, this was just my first day.
I receive a message on my phone, I pull it out and it is a message from C Shape Central. It simply asks, “How was your first day?” I write back “It went pretty good.” Seconds later I get another response asking me on a scale of one to ten how well I think I was trained for this. I realize that I am speaking to a computer and mindlessly numb my way through the answers I know that they’ll want to hear.
As it gets later I crawl into bed and turn on a machine that simulates the noises of a busy city, the sound of traffic and an indistinct sound of people talking. I find all the busyness of the sound soothing. It reminds me of being younger in the city… it reminds me of a time that has long since passed. I fall asleep wondering how the new case will go tomorrow. In the back of my mind I wonder myself… ‘will it rain tomorrow?’
3. The Girl from Paris
As I get ready that Tuesday morning, to my slight bemusement, it is raining pretty hard outside. I look out my large picture window and watch as the cascade of rain flows down like a waterfall against the glass. The morning sun is hidden behind the heavy clouds and a grey tone sets the mood for the day. I do not mind so much, I like the rain and am rather partial to the color grey. I wonder if Noah is pleased to know it is raining so hard, though probably not enough for him to swim in.
After a short drive I reach the apartment complex of the oddly named Cherie Derry. I walk up to the second floor and find apartment 7B. I give the door a rap with my knuckles and wait. I knock a second time, and I can faintly hear footsteps.
“You’re too early,” a soft voice speaks as the door opens a fraction of the way.
“I’m you’re new Sitter.”
“I haven’t unpacked yet.” The voice speaks.
“No, I’m… I’m your caretaker.”
“No, I’m your caretaker…” The girl repeats as she closes the door softly.
“Can I come in?” I ask in a raised tone.
I am answered back with silence for moments as though she is contemplating the idea of allowing me in or not. I have a key—while in training they said it was best if they just invited you inside. It would seem rude to just let myself in, but it is also in my training to do so if I am not allowed access… as long as it poses no danger to me.
“Please?” I add.
The door slowly swings open and Cherie greets me with a curtsey and a smile. Despite it being summertime, she is wearing a long flowing brown scarf and tan long sleeved shirt. Her legs are covered by tight fitting dark fabric and she has on a pleated brown skirt.
“I’m Ethan,” I say as I enter into the small apartment building. I am immediately drawn to the huge unfinished painting of the Eiffel Tower that stands nearly six feet tall against the far wall of the living room. “You’re Cherie right?”
“It’s Che-rie” she corrects my pronunciation.
“I’m sorry, of course, Cherie.”
“I’m sorry.” She replies.
“For what…?” I ask, as I cannot think of anything she should be apologizing for.
“For what…?” She mimics in reply.
‘I get it…’ I whisper to myself. I keep getting thrown off even though I know I should be more than prepared for this kind of thing. She’s a Mirror. She’s going to repeat some of the things I am doing or saying. I have to either let her break the chain or stop talking for a moment for her mind to reset itself. I give the conversation some time and begin to look around, there are a lot of pictures of Paris up on the walls, or I’d assume that is where they are—having never been myself, I’m at best… guessing. Tourism and travel are not really big these days. Mostly it is the diplomats or politicians doing all of the traveling to other countries.
“Can we go out today?” Cherie asks as she sits in a barstool chair and looks longingly out the window.
“We can do that, it is raining though—what did you have in mind?”
“Paris is always the most beautiful in the rain.”