I could have kept it to myself. Maybe I should have, but I felt like I had to change the way I’d been dealing with things.
“Desh, I nearly slept with Elise,” I confessed. The words tasted like vomit as I said them.
He raised his eyebrows and took a deep breath, sighing. “She’ll forgive you.”
I leaned my head on the tree trunk and stared up at the sky. The pink was fading, yellows the color of yolk taking over, shining like gold.
“I don’t deserve it.”
His voice was solid and sure. “Yes, you do.”
I chuckled because I didn’t know what else to do. It was like he’d plucked a pebble off the two-ton weight I was carrying. Maybe I used to be a good man. Maybe that was why this had been so hard for me to accept, to move on. But I liked who I used to be, and I missed being that man. “I’ll try and believe you.”
I worried that the Joseph she fell in love with was unreachable. But I had a choice. I could let what happened with Elise drag me further down. Or, I could use it as a push to grab a hold of the rope and pull myself out.
I turned my head to the clouds. The sunrises and sunsets I’d seen since I’d lost her had washed right over me. I couldn’t see beauty. I was motionless. But for the first time, I could see hope in that gold streak in the sky. I wasn’t going to mend instantly but talking about it had eased my pain and made me see the truth of that night. Each step was a small one, but at least I wasn’t standing still anymore.
ROSA
Judith held a dress up in front of my body, so just my scowling face stuck up from the frill-necked collar. “I think this will please him.”
I wanted to ask her how she could be so calm when she was about to witness her father’s death, but I held my tongue. There was something chilling in the way she moved around the room. The way she meticulously did her hair and makeup. I tried my best not to engage.
Snatching the dress from her fingertips, I went to the bathroom to change.
In the mirror, my reflection held too many secrets. I needed to compose myself and change my face. I stripped down and put on the hideous dress, the taffeta fabric ringing my throat intimidatingly. My roots were starting to show. Dark brown, almost black, hair ran in a stripe down my part. I smiled, a small part of me was returning. Then I took a cavernous breath that scraped the bottom of my diaphragm and tried to convince myself that it was going to be okay.
A knock signaled it was time to go.
I was surprised to see Denis’ face when I opened the door. His nose set in plaster, his eyes ringed with deep purple bruises. He tipped his chin at me, and winced at the effort. He held the door open for his sister, each movement controlled and calm. We joined him in the hall and walked towards the lift.
There were no nervous glances exchanged—nothing. Just calm breaths mixed with my panicked ones. They were ready for this. I was not. I smoothed my dress and tried not to see rivers of blood running between the delicate folds of fabric.
When the lift opened in the garage, Grant and his wife were waiting by a car. The green one. We were told to turn around while the guard helped Grant into the driver’s seat.
“Get in,” he barked, while I stood there agape, agitated and itchy. I scratched my neck, and he rolled his eyes at me.
Judith got in, then Denis opened his arms and ushered me inside. The engine roared to life and I shuddered, wedged shoulder to shoulder with Grant’s murderous children.
Grant grinned as he revved the engine. It looked strange on him. Like the Cheshire cat had loaned him his teeth. Camille, his wife, patted his leg. “Shouldn’t we blindfold the girl, dear?”
Grant pressed a button on the dashboard, and the car rolled backwards. “No need.” His eyes found me in the rearview mirror. I gulped at his gaze. His plans for me were in that gaze, cutting me into bite-sized pieces like a laser. He didn’t need to say more. It was clear my time was nearly up.
Camille wrapped the fur around her shoulders a little tighter. The fox’s glass eyes stared at me in the backseat, seeming to say, You don’t belong here. We drove out of the garage, followed by another car filled with soldiers.
Judith picked at her nails and Denis sat upright, rigid. His earphones were missing. He was missing.
Grant drove at a snail’s pace, cursing every splash of mud that sullied the paintwork and every squeak of the windscreen wipers. It was sleeting until it turned to flurry. I shivered as ice pelted the windows, barely paying attention to where we were going, only that it was away from Grant’s home. We went through gates, which the soldiers had to open for us, futilely covering their heads with their arms as they tried to shield themselves from the weather. I exhaled sadly, missing the forest, fires, and wolves. Wondering if this was my last winter.
Suddenly we dipped, the suspension creaking. Grant drove down a well-lit concrete slope into an underground park. He slammed the brakes on when we reached the bottom, our heads surging forward, and ordered us to leave the car. He seemed a little nervous. A guard quickly came to Grant’s door with the wheelchair. We turned before being asked this time.
Grant was arranged in his chair. He wheeled ahead of us eagerly. “Come!” he said excitedly. I could tell he was picturing himself walking, striding proudly out of this place. Guilt. Displaced, misplaced guilt crept up my skin like ants searching for a crumb.
We followed, with ten guards in our wake, their boots thudding on the concrete in unison.
This was the end, the beginning.
I crumpled my dress in my hands and held my breath as the lift shot upwards. Mirrors lined the four walls, so all I could see were many sets of Grant’s excited eyes dancing under the harsh light. He turned his head slowly to me and his lips spread wide. His glare was cruelly triumphant. I let out a small, hysterical laugh, wondering if he wanted his legs back just so he could kick me with them.
The doors parted, and the smell of a hundred dishes twirled together into one delicious stream hit my nose. A banquet flush with flowers toppling over vases as centerpieces and tall candles wavering in the air conditioning slapped my eyes.
People were gathered in small groups but when Grant rolled into the room, they all turned and started clapping. Beaming, proud faces with an undercurrent of fear of the terrible man glistened in the warm light. I stared down, hiding behind the siblings. Diamond shapes and messy scratches printed on the garish carpet greeted my eyes.
The Grant family stepped forward and I followed like a baby elephant holding the tale of its mother, taking in the table, the plastic chairs with brown velvet cushions, and the glass window that enveloped one whole wall of the large room. Below the window, metal glinted and the glass coffin hung suspended in the air. We were in some sort of amphitheater.
He was going to have a party and then make us all watch as he died.
Two guards grabbed my arms relatively gently and took me to a chair. The eyes of the guests trailed me across the room.
One guard leaned down and spoke to me slowly, like I was slow myself. “Now you stay put, Miss.”
I nodded briefly, distracted by the party and the guests. I recognized with shock that both Superior Sekimbo and Superior Poltinov were present. They looked older than their posters, but still. I shrank smaller into my chair as Sekimbo noticed and approached me, rolling over like a giant dark pudding. He held a plate of food in front of him like an offering.
“So you’re the girl?” he bellowed, his voice like smooth stones being rubbed against each other.
“I am a girl. I don’t know if I’m the girl,” I said, leaning away from his alcoholic breath.