by C. E. Wilson
“It could change everything,” I said growing desperate. I understood that Verity was right, but also that she could be the key to stopping this kidnapping ring, maybe even to overthrowing the new elect. No new elect meant no more Project Isolation. “Verity, you could change the course of history if you come forward and talk about what they did to you.”
“And everyone would be so quick to believe me, wouldn’t they? You certainly believed me right away, didn’t you?”
I looked away. I hadn’t believed her.
I, just like probably everyone else would, had seen her as a doll, a fairy, or a plaything. Though Janet had good intentions, Verity was probably right. She would be nothing but a tool in Janet’s eyes, a tool to shut down Project Isolation or some such. And it probably wouldn’t even work. I slumped in my chair. If only she and that other Verity had escaped together. They could be someplace warm, living out their days in isolation, avoiding scary huge monsters like me. I squirmed in my seat.
“Verity,” I said at last. “Would you mind if I lie down for a little while?”
“You don’t have to ask me,” she said. “I know I put a lot of things on you, but I…” She lowered her head, nervous about saying something to me. Or asking something of me. I could feel the doubt in her voice since I had brought up Janet. Verity was probably worried I would tell Janet and turn my back on her like everyone she had ever known or remembered other than Jason—who seemed like a saint in her eyes. I wanted her to think of me that way, but I couldn’t stop that nagging voice telling me Verity might be the key to getting me out of there.
Maybe she wasn’t even alive.
What did it matter anyway?
Would Verity’s existence bother me in a year or two when I was back at home?
The room spun and my stomach churned. I had to lie down. I stood up gingerly from my chair on wobbly legs, limped over to my bed, and crashed onto it heavily on my stomach, burying my face in the pillows. I didn’t even wait to hear what Verity had to say before my eyes grew heavy and an uneasy sleep overtook me.
Chapter Fifteen
I woke up to a sound I hadn’t heard in months, a sound so foreign to me that, at first, I thought I was dreaming. I covered my face with my pillow and groaned loudly, convinced I was still having a dream—or a nightmare. The high-pitched sound was important, I knew that much. But was it important enough to wake up for?
I groaned again and pulled the pillow even more tightly around my ears, willing the sound to stop. It pierced my ears, and I didn’t want to believe it was actually there. Of course it wasn’t. It had been weeks—no—months since I had heard that sound. Something landed on the bed next to my face, and I pulled the pillow away, only to see Verity kneeling on the bed. Quickly, I sat up and let out a pained cry as I did so.
Verity looked as though she didn’t have the slightest clue why I was acting so strangely. She was on my bed! She was never on my bed!
“What?” I asked her.
“Don’t you hear it?”
She heard the sound too? “Am I dreaming?”
She shook her head and pointed to my phone. “Your phone’s been ringing for the past five minutes. It rings four or five times, hangs up, and then starts ringing again.”
My phone? Ringing? I quickly jumped off the bed and hobbled over to the phone.
“Hello?” I asked as soon as I put the receiver to my ear. Silence filled the air at first. “Hello?” I tried again. “Who’s there?”
The voice was so slight at first that I almost didn’t hear it. “M-Malcolm?” it asked. “Malcolm, is that you?”
My face contorted, and my eyes glanced over to Verity. She was still on one bent knee on my bed and looking at me strangely, but she couldn’t have been more confused than I was in that moment. That voice. So familiar. So missed. I had almost forgotten what an effect that voice had on me. Maybe I really was dreaming.
“M-Mauve?” I croaked. Verity stiffened, and I quickly turned away from her. “Mauve?”
“Yes,” she answered. “It’s me.”
My face lit up. She’d called me. After just over two years, she had finally called me! My heart swelled, and I started to sweat. All of the good memories we’d had together came flashing back to me. “How…how are you?” I asked softly.
“Been okay,” she said. “Trying to keep busy. You?”
My cheeks grew hot. I was hearing Mauve, but her voice was much calmer. She sounded so controlled. “Well, you know,” I said, hoping she would catch the hint. I was still in jail. “Same old, same old.”
“Yeah, I figured that.” I could hear her lick her lips over the receiver. “Baby…I mean, Malcolm, I know I haven’t called you before, and I wanted to say that I’m sorry about it right off the bat.”
Baby. She called me baby again. And it didn’t sound as though she was trying to tear me down. It honestly sounded like she had slipped up and forgotten that we weren’t together. Verity remained silent behind me.
“That’s fine, Mauve,” I said in a low voice, knowing that my conversation was being observed by an audience. “I…I get why you did it.”
“It was still inexcusable. My behavior that night. It was also inexcusable.”
I couldn’t argue with her about that. “Don’t worry about it,” was all I could mutter. “It’s in the past now.”
“I know it’s in the past, but I’ve had a lot of time to think lately,” she continued in her new, softer voice. She no longer sounded like a cat about to strike—no longer like an alligator getting ready to snap. She was calmer. More mature. I remembered that she was twenty-five now or would be soon. I wondered about her life. I wondered about how much things had changed, but I was too nervous to ask. I worried if the conversation was even real.
“It’s still good to hear from you,” I said.
“And it’s good to hear your voice too, Malcolm. I have so much I want to say to you, but I wanted my life to be in the right place before I said it.” She sucked in a breath again, and I pressed the receiver so hard into my ear that it burned in agony, but I didn’t pull it away. I couldn’t.
“So does that mean…you’re in a good place to tell me now?” I asked.
“Y-yes,” she said shortly. “It’s taken me a while to figure out what I wanted to say to you, but I think I’m finally ready.”
“You…you are?” Visions of what she could be about to say to me danced in my head. She wanted me back. All was forgiven. She would be waiting for me when my sentence was over. Hell, maybe she’d lifted the restraining order. “So…go ahead,” I said finally, trying to keep my voice calm. “I’m listening.”
“What I want to say to you,” Mauve continued, “I don’t want to say it over the phone.”
My face fell. So she’d called me to say that she’d talk to me in nine months? “So what are you saying, Mauve?”
“I’m saying…that I’m coming up to visit next weekend.”
I dropped the receiver with a loud thud, and both Verity and I jumped at the impact. As I stooped to pick up the phone, I saw her face. She probably understood what was happening. She could see my face light up. I didn’t mean to appear so obviously happy, but the woman on the line…she was my everything. And she was coming back to me. I pressed the phone back to my ear. Maybe I had heard her wrongly. “What did you say?”
“I know you are allowed visitors on Saturdays,” Mauve continued. “I talked to your parents about it.”
“You talked to my parents?”
“I know they never really liked me, but they were right not to. Once I told them why I was coming and what I had to say, they were really supportive.”
“They were?” My parents? My parents were supportive of Mauve? She must have really worked a number on them.
“Yes, Malcolm. They actually offered to pay for the flight, but I told them no. This is something I wanted to do on my own in its entirety. I wanted to be the one to decide to come up there. I wanted to pay for the trip, and I want you to hear what I have to say face
-to-face. There’s no other option. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you would prefer me not to come there.”
Was she kidding? “Of course I want you to come, Mauve!” I burst out, sounding like a kid at Christmas. I cleared my voice and lowered it to a respectable decibel. “I mean, of course. I would love to see your face next Saturday. We have a lot to talk about.”
“Yes, we do,” Mauve said. “I’ve called my lawyer, and the restraining order isn’t in effect since I’m choosing to see you. I’ve signed a contract explaining that, so no trouble will come to you based on my decision to see you. Like I said…it can’t be done over the phone. I have to see you.”
My heart swelled. “I have to see you too.” For the first time since being there, I felt truly happy. What I felt for Verity, I realized it couldn’t possibly compare with what I had with Mauve. We had a history. We had gone through so much, and she was finally ready to forgive me. Being patient finally seemed worth it.
“My plane will land in Sand Point late Friday night,” she said. “The next morning, someone will take me to your island. I should be there around noon.”
“And you’ll stay until four?” I asked, pressing my luck.
“I will stay for as long as it takes to get out what I have to say, Malcolm. I’m not putting a time on it. I only ask that you listen to me when I come, okay?”
“Yes,” I said, nodding hard. “Yes, I’ll listen to everything you have to say! I’m so…Mauve, baby, thank you so much. I can’t tell you how much this means to me—”
“I have to go,” Mauve said, cutting me off.
“That’s fine,” I said, still smiling like an idiot. “I’m sure you’re busy and have a life now and—”
“I’ll see you on Saturday,” she said, cutting me off again.
And then the line was quiet.
Holy shit. I set the receiver down, barely able to keep my footing as I tried to fully comprehend what was happening.
Mauve.
Coming.
Two days.
Mauve.
Wanted to talk.
Had to see my face.
Oh, God!
“Was that who I think it was?” a smaller, higher-pitched voice called out to me. I blinked, suddenly remembering that I wasn’t alone in the shack.
I blinked down at Verity and smiled. “Yes,” I said with a smile. “That was Mauve. I think…I think she wants me back.” I expected Verity to smile with me, to join in my happiness, but she only looked puzzled as her eyebrows pulled together in a delicate frown. “What?” I asked, slightly irritated that she wasn’t as happy as I felt.
“Is that what she said?” she asked quietly.
“Well, no, maybe not in those exact words,” I said.
“In any words?”
My eyes narrowed. “Look, Verity. You don’t know what kind of history I have with her. I could tell in her voice that something was up, and I don’t know what else she would have to fly across the country to tell me. I don’t know why else she would talk to my parents. I don’t know why else my parents would be supportive. It’s obvious, isn’t it?”
“Is it?” Verity asked.
“She wants me back,” I said, grinning ear-to-ear. “That must be it. I never thought she’d want…”
“Did she say that at all?” Verity asked. “Are you sure you’re not jumping to conclusions?”
“No,” I said sharply. “I know Mauve almost better than I know myself, and I know she wouldn’t come the whole way out here unless she wanted to forgive me. It took her some time, but she’s finally forgiven me, Verity! I never thought it was possible, but it’s time. In two days she’ll be right here, sitting across the table from me and telling me that everything was such a whirlwind.” I was on a roll. “She’ll say that she was overwhelmed with everything that had happened and how everything was so fast. She’ll say her lawyers were looking out for her, but now that her mind is clear, she knows what she did was wrong.”
“Malcolm, I don’t know—”
“There’s no other reason,” I declared. “I have to clean up.”
“Malcolm…” Verity cried out. “Are you sure that’s what she wants? Are you sure you’re not getting ahead of yourself?”
“I’m fine,” I called, hobbling around the shack as I started to clean things up. Suddenly nothing else mattered. Not Milo. Not Felix. Not Janet. Not Flynn. Not the new elect and Project Isolation. And though I wouldn’t dare say it, neither Project TruthSeeker nor Verity herself weighed very heavily on my mind. I knew what I had said to her, but she hadn’t tried to say anything back to me. She had simply rejected my feelings, and I was classified as nothing more than a kind monster. That was fine, though. Knowing Mauve would be here… I could hardly contain my excitement.
“I should sketch something new,” I said, “and use the rest of my watercolors to color it. Dammit! And here I was saying that I would have returned the paint! I would have kicked my own ass for even thinking such a thing now!” I scrambled around with my sketch pad and settled down, picturing my Mauve in my mind and memories. Her highlighted red hair, her light-blue eyes.
“Malcolm.”
Everything about her was so hypnotic.
“Malcolm?” a voice came again.
First I’d sketch it out, and then I could paint it on Friday morning. That way, it would have plenty of time to dry. I would give it to her as a gift, as proof of my love for her! Mauve had no idea that I was into art now. How surprised would she be when she saw how talented I was!
“Malcolm!”
I shook my head. “What?” I asked, shooting Verity a sharp look. “What is it now?”
She winced at my voice but didn’t back down. “I think you should take it easy,” she said carefully. “I mean, you don’t know what she’s going to say.”
“I know exactly what she’s going to say,” I said crisply. “Now…” I trailed off as I started to gather my paints and brushes, setting them on the counter while humming.
“I’m serious, Malcolm. I know you may not want to hear it—”
“So don’t say it,” I said, not letting Verity ruin my buzz. Was it so wrong for me to be happy? Just one time? For a few moments, would the damn woman let me smile about something other than her? “Don’t be so greedy,” I muttered.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means what it is. I know you’re upset because I’m not paying attention to you—”
“That’s not it at all!”
“You have to remember I had a life before you, Verity. A life before Project Isolation. I had a family, and I had a girlfriend. An amazing girlfriend.”
“An ex-girlfriend.”
“Not for long,” I tittered. “When she sees how much I’ve missed her—”
“I wish you’d just listen to me. If you think about it logically—”
“Like you know anything about logic,” I scoffed, taking a seat in my favorite chair for sketching. “Sorry if you want to take a nap, Verity, but I get my best work done here. You can have the bed.”
“The bed belongs to you.”
“So sleep wherever you want. I need the chair.” I quickly set to work sketching what I remembered of the woman I loved—was about to get back—the soft curve of her jaw and those frighteningly sharp blue eyes. She could see through anyone’s bullshit. That was why I loved her so much and why I was so honored when she picked me.
As I continued to sketch, Verity left my bed and fluttered closer, landing on the table. I glanced up at her face, and she looked hurt. Why? She’d rejected me. Maybe I wouldn’t have cared so much about Mauve if Verity cared, but she didn’t. So here we were.
“What do you want?” I asked, deep in concentration.
“I want to help,” she said gravely.
I lifted up my head, questioning her with my eyes. “Huh?”
“If this is really what you believe, I mean, if this is really what you want, I�
�ll help you. I’ll help you get ready for her arrival on Saturday. It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me the past few weeks.” She shook her head as I opened my mouth to argue. “It’s the best thing,” she said. I detected sadness in her voice but was too embarrassed or too distracted to admit it. Instead, I slid over a cup toward her.
“You can dump that out into the sink if you want,” I said. “I’ll need clean water to clean my paintbrushes before I start painting tomorrow.” The instructions felt cruel on my tongue, but Verity only nodded and picked up the glass with two hands and fluttered away from me.
Was treating her like this really the right thing to do?
I didn’t know what else to do.
I liked Verity, and I wanted to help her and take care of her, but I couldn’t possibly love her. Could I? It wasn’t possible. No. Focusing my feelings on a woman who was actually alive and human made the most sense.
A few minutes later, the cup was set back down on the table with clean water, and Verity moved around to set the brushes inside. The silence was awkward but also nice because I was trying to get the sketch done as quickly as possible. I had to make everything perfect. It might be my only opportunity to get Mauve back, and I couldn’t spend time thinking about the new elect and their secret projects. I couldn’t even think about Verity.
Mauve was the only woman I had ever actually loved.
“Thanks,” I muttered to Verity, dipping my head back down to finish my sketch.
She didn’t respond.
Chapter Sixteen
“Wow.”
“I know, right? It turned out pretty good, I’d say.”
“Pretty good? I’d say it’s your best work to date.”
I looked down at the tiny, pink-haired woman’s eyes and tried to find just a trace of true happiness in them, but all I could find was emptiness and perhaps disappointment. Though she was saying the right things and had been so helpful for the past few days, her spirit seemed broken. I was probably the cause, but I couldn’t stop myself from hurting her. Today was my everything. It was Saturday morning, and a boat would be arriving with my ex-girlfriend any moment now. Still, something was going on inside me that didn’t allow me to be as excited as I wanted to be—as excited as I should be.