by Aria Ford
"How we are we doing today class?” she said optimistically. “Hope everybody's having an interesting week.”
She hoped that she sounded normal, then she remembered that she was in her class of gifted students.
"We know you're sad, Ms. Larson," Maria Uratsu, one of Sienna's most intelligent and perceptive students offered.
Her face was stern as to convey to Sienna that nothing could get past this top student.
“Yeah, we know what's going on with you, Ms. Larson. not fooling us." Deandre Knight added.
He was captain of the basketball team and had decided he was going to pursue a career in industrial engineering. Sienna had helped him find his calling in life.
"We don't like to see you like this, Ms. Larson,” said Tyler Lautner, with his caring blue eyes fixed on his teacher. "Because of you, our lives have improved. We want to return the favor.”
Sienna remembered that he was going through a rough patch with his family. His mother had passed away only a few months after being diagnosed with leukemia. He didn't understand why things in his life had turned out as they had, and his lack of understanding turned into anger. It was hard for Sienna to imagine Tyler angry now that his expression was so compassionate.
“Guys, I’m OK,” she said. “Believe me. Let's just get on with class. We have a lot of work to do before the end of the semester.” Sienna tried to hide her despair with urgency. With a termination hanging over her head, it wasn't that difficult.
She turned her head away from her students as if not being able to see her eyes would throw them off. It was futile of course; these were the brightest kids in the state.
When she walked over to her desk, she found an Americano waiting for her — just the right amount of cream and sweetener. Her students knew how to make her day.
"Let's get on with the lesson plan,” she encouraged.
A tinge of emotion poked at her. She noticed that her desk had a shine to it and saw how everything on her desk was organized, which she desperately needed.
"Your weekend will start off great, Ms. Larson." Jane Anderson said. Her hair was long and straight and had a shiny brown color to it. When Sienna had first met her, Jane's hair was short and disheveled. Sienna had learned that her drug-addicted parents made it difficult for her to live a normal life. Once Sienna stepped in, Jane Anderson was one of the brightest and most beautiful of her students at the school.
"Ms. Larson," Claudia Perez called out. She was easy to spot because of her curly black hair. "Don't you see the black envelope, Ms. Larson?"
The golden seal was the first thing that she saw on the black envelope. It sat on top of the manila colored folders. A hint of swelling in her eyes made it harder for Sienna to feign indifference. It was the kind of black that was similar to her favorite Chinese restaurant, the Black Lotus. She opened it briskly and saw that a card was full of signatures from her students. In the center was an invitation to the restaurant, saying that all of her students would like to have dinner with their instructor.
"Guys...." She couldn't hold her tears back any longer."Guys... this is too much." Tears came streaming out of her eyes. She closed them in a desperate attempt to contain her emotions. She was suddenly embraced by many arms. Sienna opened her eyes and saw that she was surrounded by her entire class.
"So is it a date then?" Deandre asked. He was on one side of Sienna, hugging her as if he was trying to absorb the pain that she was going through. She was only able to respond with a sob.
"You know how much I hate Chinese food, Ms. Larson. But this is how much I love you," Claudia Perez said.
"Guys I don't know what to say," Sienna said, in between sniffles. She could feel several of her students’ heads resting on her back and shoulders.
"Just say you'll be there," Maria said with her head resting on one shoulder.
"Of course," Sienna said, trying somehow to return one big hug back to her students.
"It's a date, guys!" Tyler declared to the rest of the class.
"It's a date," Sienna said softly.
She embraced her students, with thanks.
.:.
It didn’t matter where he woke up, be it a leather sofa or on a pile of leaves. He was comfortable. He loved watching the morning sun show itself even when he was stiff from spending the night on a stone park bench. He stared at the sun for a while, feeling confused, and then he realized — he wasn’t watching the sun rise. He was was watching the sun set.
“The Whorehouse from last night!” he recalled.
After walking along the streets all night after leaving the building, he remembered wandering into a park filled with trees and a pond.
“Wealth lies within the heart!” he muttered to himself — it was a line that Mags had shared with him. “Boy, she was something different.”
He stood up from the bench and made his way out of the park. A clear plan was formulating in his mind. He was walking with purpose now that Mags had helped him sort out a few of his priorities.
He came across a woman who was jogging. He knew right away that she was a prim and proper woman, or, at least, that’s what she wanted to present herself as. He could tell because of her pink sports bra and black yoga pants.
As he had judged her, she had also judged him. She gave a loud gasp once she saw him and ran quicker to gain distance from him. He knew that it had been days since he had a change of clothes. When a man wandered for days, basic hygienic tasks began to lose importance.
He found a restroom close by and decided to wash up before he scared away anyone else. The mirrors in restrooms were filthy and had graffiti, but he was still able to see what had scared away the woman. His shirt was drenched in blood; it started from the collar area and then spread downwards. His chin was also covered with dry blood, as well as his nails. He tore off his shirt and splashed water onto his face — rubbing furiously at his chin.
“How in the world did I turn into a bloody mess?” he thought. “Last thing I remember was walking into the park, but I don’t recall falling asleep.”
Nothing came to mind.
"Excuse me, sir,” came a voice from behind his shoulder.
He kept the water running in hopes that the bloodied sink would go back to its proper white color.
“Are you carrying any kind of ID?” Through the scratched up reflection, he could see that the speaker was a short Asian man wearing a park security uniform.
“What's this about?" He asked the security guard knowing full well what it was about.
"There was a report of a suspicious homeless looking man, and I’m just here to check on things.”
The security guard’s eyes were looking towards the direction of where the bloodied shirt was thrown.
Aside from the water still running, the restroom became deathly silent. The security guard had decided that he was approaching a heightened threat situation. The security guard drew his gun and pointed it at the haggard looking man.
“Look, man,” he began, trying to calm the guard down. “As much as I would like to cooperate, I can’t go with you; it wouldn’t work out for you in the long run. So what do you say we just pretend that you didn’t find anything here.” He raised his hands up to the roof though he knew how this situation would pan out.
“Turn around and keep your hands up in the air!” There was a tremble in the security guard’s voice. His voice became shakier when he spoke into his radio. After he had notified headquarters, he pulled out his handcuffs while still pointing the gun, quivering at his suspect.
“I don’t want to do this,” said the homeless man, “Just say I got away….”
“Shut the fuck up!”
When he sensed that the security guard was within distance, the haggard man rammed his elbow down into the Asian man’s face. A loud deafening shot rang in the bathroom. When he turned around the security guard was on the floor.
“Damn it.” He hissed to himself. He exited the building and made his way through the trees of the park.
He jumped over a fence and found himself in an alley littered with garbage. There was an old homeless man sitting behind a dumpster, who held out his hand for alms.
“Not right now, Old Man,” he said, reaching into his pockets to show that there was nothing to pull out.
“I recognize you.” The old homeless man said. “Was it crystal meth or heroin that brought you to this?” The man was genuinely concerned.
There was no time to answer. Even if there was, he would not think about the past. He gave the homeless man a farewell look and sprinted away as police sirens drew closer.
“Hope everything works out for you,” the homeless man called out. “Here! You might want to put this over your shoulders. It’s gonna rain today. I’m sure you’ll compensate me well in the future. I ain’t going nowhere.”
Coming back, if only for a moment, the man caught an old trench coat that was offered by the man from behind the dumpster.
“Thanks,” he replied, grudgingly.
He didn’t want to think about his identity, but he knew he needed a trench coat. After all, a man couldn’t be walking around the streets without a shirt on.
Then, someone caught his eye — a woman wearing a red coat was surrounded by young adults. Each young adult was taking turns giving the woman a hug. The sirens grew louder, but he couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the woman. She was hugging each of the younger people dearly.
He watched the group until they had all departed, leaving the curvaceous woman standing by herself. She seemed too aware of the fact that she was alone. The urge to say something to her was strong. In a different life, he would have simply approached her and initiated a conversation.
As if she sensed that she was being watched, her head turned to return the stare that he had been sending her way. They locked eyes for a minute as the police sirens grew loud.
“Such incredible eye contact,” he thought. “She really sees me.”
Her stare promised the same kind of inner salvation that Mags had offered. Transfixed in her gaze, he walked towards her. Words were forming in his mouth when he was suddenly disturbed by a loud commanding voice.
“Freeze! Don’t you fucking move!” said a cop that was accompanied by a supporting officer. “Get the fuck away from her.”
He raised his hands up to the air. He looked up at the darkening sky. It began to rain, and he looked back at the woman who did not seem to blink. Several other cop cars arrived.
“Tsk, tsk, brother. Always letting a woman get the best of you," a voice said that he hadn’t heard in several years — a voice that he wished he didn’t have to hear for the rest of his life.
Boots, made of top quality material, stepped closer to his position.
“Marcel,” the haggard man said, bitterly. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pound your face in.”
“Still letting emotion override logic, huh, Markie?” the newcomer replied. “Well for starters you will get shot and it's lights out for you…. And god damn do you look like shit.”
“Shut the fuck up,” the haggard man replied in disgust.
“You’re a Moriarty,” the man continued. “Doesn’t do your family name well to have you walking around, looking like a god-damn street clown. When was the last time you combed your hair?”
In comparison, the man named Marcel looked the opposite of his haggard brother. He held a black ivory cane in one hand. Mark knew it wasn’t for walking assistance. His hair was slicked back and held the same shine as the cane.
“How’d you find me?” Mark asked in a growl.
“I spoke with the right people. Took longer than I thought, considering you're the twin brother of the CEO of Effico Industries," Marcel offered, casually.
It seemed as if the rain wasn't hitting Marcel at all, while Markie, the woman in red, and the cops were getting soaked.
Mark turned his attention back to the woman in red. She hadn't moved a single step. The urge to speak to her remained strong. Something had to be said, but Mark wasn't able to come up with the words. He was only able to stare.
"I would tell them to let you go, but seeing as how you have no self-control, I'm going to let you spend the night in jail," Marcel said, breaking Mark's trance.
Marcel’s attention turned immediately to the woman in red.
”You look like you need a ride,” he offered with a slick grin.
”I'm fine, thanks." the woman replied, shaking her head.
Mark felt his hands forced together and then hooked into some handcuffs. He maintained eye contact with the woman as he was being arrested. He noted that the front of the restaurant had a sign which said, “The Black Lotus.” He was pushed into the car, which for a brief moment broke his gaze from the woman. The car door slammed shut, obscuring his view of the window that was full of water droplets. His brother persisted in his gentleman’s game as Mark was escorted to the police station.
.:.
Within a moment’s separation from Mark, she was sitting on plush leather seats with Marcel. The inside of the car was a natural car smell and was one that Sienna found pleasant. She couldn't see the driver as her view to the front was blocked by a tinted black window. He and Marcel sat in back, and she felt heavily embarrassed given that her shirt was soaked wet.
“You'll have to excuse my brother. He can be a knucklehead at times.” Marcel broke the silence.
His eyes were fixed on her in the same manner as his twin, except that Marcel demonstrated more control. He lifted his cane to tap the roof of the car. A platform emerged from the upholstery above, and a bottle of scotch, of a brand that Sienna had only heard of, but never tasted, appeared.
"Seeing a long separated sibling can raise so many emotions,” Marcel confided. “Especially when they look like shit.”
She didn’t know how to respond.
“A drink should help. How about you, want one?" He asked raising an empty glass in her direction.
"Yes," was all she could think to reply.
Sienna was never much of a drinker, but Marcel seemed like the kind of man where the word 'no' shouldn't be in your vocabulary. Two glasses were filled in no time, and within moments, she felt the warmth of the liquor in her body. The rush increased in potency, though the drink had gone down smooth.
"So you two are twin brothers?" she asked, trying not to sound too nosey.
“Yeah,” Marcel replied. “If he cleaned up, it would be more obvious, but yeah, flesh and blood. Heir, or was heir, to a trillion dollar corporation,” he said taking a hard gulp from his glass. "He said he needed to find himself and go on some spiritual journey or some shit like that.”
Marcel took another gulp from his glass, obviously finding distaste in his brother’s decisions.
The more she looked at Marcel, the more she could see that he and the disheveled looking man were brothers. He was just as handsome as his brother that was sitting before her. All he needed was a bath, clean clothes, and a haircut. There was just something about him that made her forget her pain. At first glance, she only saw a homeless man. After that initial glance, she found herself captivated. She could tell that he was something more — she sensed something primal within him, some secret that she felt an urge to discover.
"My dad had a thing for a french woman so it was no surprise that he would marry one,” Marcel said. "It didn't last long, but he didn't want us growing up without knowing our mother.”
Marcel took another drink.
“We took turns staying in Paris. As you could tell, I was the first one to stay with Mom. Markie stayed with Dad in Chicago. It was an interesting experience, being aware that you have a brother but seldom being able to see him. No wonder there’s a fair amount of tension between us.”
After taking yet another swig, he poured himself another glass.
Sienna took another sip. All she could think about was Mark. The desire was so strong that it seeped out into her words. As if to muster up the courage to ask him, she took a much longer sip.
&nb
sp; "How long are you going to leave him in jail?" Sienna asked, hoping that her voice didn't crack.
"Just for the night. They did say he was covered in blood, like he bit into an animal or something. I wouldn't be surprised if that fucker has rabies. He's always getting into trouble,” Marcel said, bitterly.
"With the law?” she asked.
"Not so much. They found him once out in the woods. All scratched up with these dead wolves and his dead dogs around him. If it weren't for his dogs, he would be dead. They were two German Shepherds that were loyal and obedient as fuck.”
Marcel took a drink and then continued. "He had an ax for chopping wood. That's how he killed three of them. They found a knife in one of their throats, but those wolves fucked him up good."
The inside of the Lincoln was quiet save for the car humming. Sienna felt more comfortable than usual. She let herself relax in the luxurious leather seats. She looked back at him and saw that he was staring. She saw buildings that indicated she was close to home.
"So tell me a little about yourself,” Marcel said. “Maybe that will explain why Markie stopped running.”
He took another gulp, and Sienna noticed that the effects of the scotch were beginning to show.
“Well,” she began, “I'm a teacher. I teach English to students that are gifted and to some that are not so gifted. Usually, I am up to the task of helping out the disadvantaged but lately…."
The thought of her broken engagement crept back up on her, and depression set in once more.
“Lately, things took a wrong turn for me,” she said, finishing her glass of scotch.
"I see." Marcel said quietly. He scooted closer to her, causing her to notice that there was much less space than usual.
"But my students are helping me," she said, trying to keep the conversation going. "They remind me that I am loved, and that my engagement ending does not mean that it’s the end of the world for me."
Marcel nodded his head in silence. "Husband-to-be left you at the alter huh. That sucks. Well, marriage is a shitty deal anyways. Trust me, sweetheart. It never works for long." Marcel emptied his glass for the third time. For a moment, he pondered something deeply and then poured himself another glass of scotch. He took in a deep breath and then exhaled.