by JA Huss
Underneath the coat are tan leather gloves. Which make me laugh, because I left mine in the cab yesterday and even though I’m not sure if I care about exposing my hands, I will surely need gloves to leave the house on a such a cold winter day. There’s a scarf too. But not a thick one to cover my face like I usually wear. Silk. Cream with a intricate tan pattern.
There’s even a new pair of sunglasses. Not big and round and meant for hiding, but sheer, and sleek, and chic.
The second box contains over-the-knee suede boots the same color as the coat. Heels high enough to make me worry, but I dismiss that fear. I’m done with fear.
There’s more to unwrap. It’s like Christmas and I feel like I’m young again.
I go back over to the bench, find the package marked three, and sit back down on the rug to open it. The skirt of the dress pools around me like a puddle of snow.
The ribbon gives in as I tug, just like on the other boxes, and when I open the lid on this one there is… a necklace.
I can’t stop the huff of surprise that escapes my lips. Because this is no ordinary necklace. It’s diamonds and sapphires intricately woven together on a strand of silver, or white gold, or platinum, that would make a queen feel special.
“Oh, Ix,” I whisper. “This is…” I shake my head. “Too nice for a coffee house.”
The crackle of the intercom urges me to keep going. So I lay the box aside, get up to get number four, and sit back down in a pile of ribbon that looks like spun gold.
The fourth gift is earrings to match the necklace.
He bought me an entire outfit. And it’s perfect. It’s… me. So very, very me.
I didn’t even know who I was before coming to this house with Ix, but these clothes on my body add up to the image I’ve always wanted for myself.
No longer the child prodigy, but a grown, competent woman.
I daydream about how gorgeous I will look wearing this ensemble.
“What time is it?” I get up, rush to the kitchen to find the clock, and realize I only have an hour before the car will come collect me.
I shower, blow-dry my hair, and lightly apply a little makeup. Not too much. Today I don’t want to hide. I want to be me.
I put the dress back on, slip the boots up my legs with a sigh, and fasten the necklace around my neck and the earrings on my ears.
For the next ten minutes I just stare at myself in the mirror, amazed at how different I look. How well I have grown up. How beautiful I am, even without the violin.
“Do you think I’m pretty?” I ask the camera above the bed. “I think I’m going to like you, Ix. When I finally meet you properly. I think I’m going to like you a lot.”
The door chime pulls me away from my own reflection. I put the coat on, fasten the wide belt at my waist, pull the gloves over my hands, put on my sunglasses, and walk downstairs, ready for this day to begin.
The driver is at the door wearing a dark suit and dark sunglasses. He says, “Good morning, ma’am,” as he extends his forearm.
I take it. Unafraid. And let him walk me to the car, open my door, and hold my hand as I slip into the backseat that smells like rich leather and honey.
There’s tea set on the console between the two luxurious leather seats. A small pot made of white china. One cup. A tiny dish filled with golden honey and an equally tiny honey dipper sits off to the side.
I decide why not indulge? It’s been so long since I had this kind of luxury in my life. Luxury I could afford to enjoy. Luxury I felt I deserved.
So I pour a cup of tea, drip long viscous strands of honey into the amber liquid, and sip, fully content in the stillness of the smooth ride as we make our way through downtown.
We stop and I look out, surprised. “Where are we?” I ask the driver.
“This was the destination, ma’am.” He gets out, opens my door, and holds out his hand to help me out. He says, “I was told to give you this note.”
For some reason the small, folded piece of white paper in his hand makes my stomach clench up with fear. “What does it say?” I ask.
“I don’t know, ma’am.” I take it, and he says, “The car will be here when you’re ready to leave.”
I look up and realize we’re parked in front of what might be a hotel valet area. There’s a large revolving door, but no sign above. It looks… empty. “Is this—“
“No, ma’am,” the driver says. “There.” He points to the shop next door that does have a sign, which reads The Tea Room. And then he bows his head a little and walks back around to the driver’s side and gets into the car.
I’m alone. Again. And I don’t like it.
Hesitantly, I open the folded note and read.
Evangeline,
Go into the tea room and tell the hostess you’re looking for Jordan Wells. She’ll tell where to go next.
Ix
I don’t think I want to do this. Something inside me is screaming, No! A gut feeling that whatever is waiting for me inside that shop, it’s not what I’m looking for.
But I came all this way. All the way from frightened girl to confident woman, and I don’t want to run away now. I don’t want my future to slip through my fingertips. I don’t want to go back into the past.
So I draw in a deep breath, walk over to the door, open it up, and step into the tea room.
Inside it’s quaint. Lots of tables, mostly full of chatting women sitting in overstuffed chairs. It’s bright—far brighter than any room I’d have been caught alive in one week ago—and smells delicious. Like fresh baked goods and summer afternoons.
“Ms. Rolaine?”
I turn my head to find a tall woman with long, dark hair—about my age—looking at me with an air of familiarity. “Yes,” I say. “I’m Evangeline Rolaine.”
I don’t think I’ve introduced myself to anyone in public since I was fourteen. Managing it excites me, because it’s a huge step forward. But it also scares me. Why does she know my name?
“They’re waiting for you back here.” She smiles and turns, her long hair swishing from the quick movement.
“They?” I ask, but she’s steps ahead of me now, so I feel like the only thing I can do is follow.
I’m very glad Ix left me the sunglasses, and I’m also extremely happy that they’re not the large, dark, round ones I used to wear, because these don’t look like sunglasses you have to take off indoors and those did.
I leave them on as I maneuver my way through tables and people, until we reach a set of double doors at the back.
The panic sets in as she reaches for both doorknobs and pulls them open to reveal a man. Standing tall and still in the middle of the room. Hands clasped in front of his body. Uncertain smile on his face.
But I have no idea who the man on the other side of the door is.
“What’s going on?”
“Oh, my. Evangeline.” I turn to see Dr. Lucinda Chatwell off to my left, walking towards me with her arms outstretched. “You look so… different. So beautiful.”
She pulls me into her, grabbing both my hands and kissing me on the cheek as I awkwardly embrace her back.
“What’s going on?” I ask again. “Who’s this?” I ask, motioning to the man in the room.
“This is my partner. Ixion said you were ready to leave the house and you wanted to meet Jordan before you left.”
“What?” I shake my head and blink my eyes, like I’m dreaming and just need to wake up. “This isn’t Jordan. I know him. I’ve been watching him all week. In the gardens next to the house and at the coffee house for lunch.”
“What?” They say it at the same time.
“Jordan. This isn’t—“
“What are you talking about?” Lucinda asks. “This is Jordan Wells, my partner. He’s the one who found Ixion. That’s the name of your watcher. Ixion Vanir. When he called me last night he said—“
“He called you last night?” I ask. “And he set this up?”
“Yes,” Lucinda says. “What’s w
rong? Why—“
I tune her out as all the puzzle pieces all into place.
X. Ix. Ixion. My watcher. My stranger.
He was the one meeting me all week. It was him in the greenhouse. It was him in the coffee house. It was him the whole time.
“Where is he?” I ask.
“Who?” Lucinda asks. Jordan just stands there looking as confused as I feel.
“Ixion,” I say, trying out his name. He wanted me to look at him last night. He wanted me to see him. And I said no. I wanted to stay blind. “I have to go,” I say, rushing back the way I came. The woman who took me to the private tea room is blocking my way, also wearing an expression of confusion on her face. I push past, then weave through the tables and people—all the while Lucinda is calling my name.
But I don’t turn back. And I’m not running away, either. I’m running towards something.
Ixion.
This is why I had such a bad feeling all morning.
No. No. No. No.
I push through the front door and run to the car, Lucinda follows me out, calling my name, but I slip into the backseat and tell the driver, “Take me home. Right now. Quickly! Quick!” I say it again when he looks at me in confusion. Lucinda opens the door, but I put up a hand and stop her from getting in. “No,” I say. “This is not over yet.” And then I push her back, close the door back up, and lean into the front seat. “Drive! Now!”
I chew my lip as we weave our way through downtown traffic, the familiar gut-wrenching, all-too familiar fear I’ve known for the past ten years overtaking me again. I need to get inside. I need his eyes on me. I need… him.
He can’t leave me like this. He wouldn’t.
But when I get to the house and rush through the front door, the first thing I see is the missing bulb up in the chandelier.
He’s gone.
I had a chance to know him. Really know him. And I turned him down.
And now he’s gone.
“You never told me the end of the story!” I scream, whirling around, looking for more cameras.
That’s when I see the last two gifts still sitting on the bench where I left them this morning.
I sink to the floor in the grand foyer, the piles of golden silk ribbon surrounding me like a pond of summer, tears welling up in my eyes.
“I don’t want them,” I say. “I don’t want presents. I don’t need more clothes. I don’t need jewelry, I don’t need any of this stuff! I just want to talk to you! I’ll take off the blindfold. I promise.” I’m pleading now. Begging to the empty air.
And because he’s gone, there’s no reply.
No crackle of the intercom to urge me on. No sense of his all-seeing stare.
I am alone. Unseen. Unheard. Hidden from the world.
And it’s ironic, after all those years of wanting to be invisible, right now I can think of nothing I want less.
The front door is still open. The wind is whipping through the house, making me shake with cold, when a shadow falls onto the floor in front of me.
I look up, hopeful, but see only Lucinda standing there, her body a silhouette of darkness against the bright winter sun.
“What’s going on?” she asks. “What happened here? Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head as a tear falls down my cheek. “No,” I whisper. “He was gentle, and good, and I want him back. Can you bring him back?”
I see that Jordan—the real Jordan—has also come. He steps out from behind Lucinda and says, “He left. About an hour ago. Called me up and said the job was done, I should go to the tea room to meet with Lucinda and you, and that was it. He hung up. I tried to call him back after you ran out… but…” He shakes his head. “He won’t answer.”
“Where did he go?” I ask. “Where does he live? I need to find him!”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, Evangeline. Somewhere up in Wyoming, I think. I found him in jail a few weeks ago.”
“You what?” Lucinda asks. “What the hell is wrong with you, Jordan? Why the hell did you hire a man who—“
“He’s a friend, OK?”
“Then why don’t you know where he lives?” I ask, getting to my feet. “If he’s your friend, then where is he!” I yell that last part. “Is this part of your stupid game? Am I just another piece to play with?”
“Evangeline,” Lucinda says in her stupid, calm doctor voice.
“No!” I scream. “No! You people put me here with him and now you think you’re gonna take him away? No!”
“I’m sorry,” Jordan says. “When Ix disappears, well, he just… goes. He’s just gone.”
The three of us stand there, staring at each other. Lucinda looking like she really needs me to accept reality. Jordan looking guilty, about what I don’t know, but I want to find out. And me… God, me… I feel so… alone.
That word in my head makes me wilt. “I want to go home,” I say in a soft, small voice that reminds me of the woman I was before I came here. “I want my apartment, with the curtains drawn, and the city far, far away.”
“Why?” Jordan asks.
“Why what?” I snap.
“Why go back when you came this far? Ixion was never part of your future, Evangeline. He never was. He wasn’t supposed to talk to you or… whatever else he did,” Jordan says, starting to put the pieces together. “He broke the rules, OK? You need to forget about him. Believe me, he’s forgotten about you. That’s what he does best.”
I seethe at that characterization of Ixion Vanir. I glare at Jordan. Stare him straight in the eyes. Let him see me as I draw myself up, square my shoulders, lift my chin and say, “You don’t even know him. You don’t even know me. But I know you,” I say, pointing my finger at him. “He told me everything about you.”
Jordan shrinks back.
“Yes,” I say, nodding. “And if he left here, it was because of you. Not me.”
We stare at each other for several seconds. I pull away first and that’s when I see the last two gifts. The one marked Five is about the right size. And when I walk over and pick it up, it’s the right weight too.
“What’s that?” Lucinda asks.
I glance at Jordan as I pull the ribbon apart, tear the paper off, and hold our book in my hands.
“The end,” I say. “This is the end I was waiting for.”
I grab the other gift, walk out of the house, get back into the still-waiting car, and give the driver my address. I don’t open the book. I sit quietly as I’m taken back to my home. And when I walk through the front door of my building, I stare straight at the concierge and say, “Hello,” as I pass. “I’m going to need you to let me in my apartment. I seem to have left my purse behind.”
He stares at me, then offers up a quick, “Hello, Miss Rolaine. I’m glad to see you again,” as he pats his jacket for a key card and follows me to the elevator.
“It’s good to be home,” I say, as the elevator door opens and we get inside together, the unopened present in one hand, the book in the other. And when the doors open, and when I’m let in, and the door is closed behind me, I walk to the couch, set the unopened gift down, and collapse into the cushions with the book in my hand.
If I read it, it’s going to be end of everything.
It’s going to be the end of us.
I open the book and turn to the page where we left off.
Chapter Forty-Four - Ixion
I was done. I enjoyed sex with Augustine, but it wasn’t the sex that made me love her. I didn’t need her body, just her mind. Likewise with Jordan. I wasn’t in love with him. He’s a good-looking man and we had some fun, but I’m not interested in being in a relationship with a man.
Besides, they didn’t really need me. They fucked, and most of the time I just watched. Sat in the chair across the room, stroking myself as they went at it. And even that wasn’t necessary.
I wasn’t necessary.
Except it turns out I actually was.
I was the glue that held them togeth
er. I was the necessary part that made their machine run. Augustine loved me the way I loved her. We were friends first. Business partners second. Lovers came a very distant third in our relationship.
Jordan is smart. He understands people. Most of the time better than they understand themselves.
He had that advantage over us, I guess. He knew us better than we knew ourselves.
When he came up with his plan, he knew she was longing for Alexander again. He knew I was done. He knew it was already over.
But he also knew she loved me. Not him, but me. Not Alexander, but me. I was the glue that kept her and Jordan together.
Alexander was the one who kept them apart.
Jordan told me… wouldn’t I like just one shot at her alone? And he asked her, wouldn’t she like me, with her and only her? Just one night, just Ixion and Augustine? One night to do whatever we wanted. Whatever our hearts told us to do?
I was going to say no. I didn’t expect her to say yes.
But she did.
Chapter Forty-Five - Evangeline
It ends there?
No, that can’t be the end! That’s not a fucking ending! What the hell, Ix?
I stand up and the last package rolls on the couch cushion. It’s too small to be another notebook, but I pull on the gold ribbon and tear at the black paper anyway, eager and hopeful that I will find the answers I was looking for.
It’s… a phone. My phone with a new touchscreen. And there’s a voicemail alert blinking at me.
Ixion’s voice is clear and calm when I press play.
“Hey,” he says. “Bet you’re wondering what the fuck, right? What happened next?” He sighs. Silence for several seconds as he works through whatever’s on his mind. “Me too,” he finally says. “I think about it constantly now. I know what happened. I know what he did. I know what he didn’t do. I know that most of what came next was just… bad luck.”
He pauses again. My mind is racing with questions.