by Harley Fox
“Hungry?” he asks, and I nod emphatically. He smiles, but it hasn’t got the same charm it usually has. Regardless, we snake through the corridor and into the kitchen area where he searches around the stores of food they have.
“Uh, there’s not much here,” he admits. He pulls out some packages of survival peanut butter crackers. “How do these sound?”
“At this point, I’d eat a boiled shoe,” I try to joke. Again, he smiles, but there’s something missing in it. So we pour ourselves two glasses of water and tuck into a meal of slightly stale peanut butter crackers, munching loudly, not talking as we wash the dry meal down with a tasteless drink.
But despite its lack of pizzazz, the meal is still something, and it fills my empty, gnawing stomach. When we’re done I’m still hungry, but not as hungry as I was before. Of course, given the food shortage and my current social standing, I don’t want to demand any more.
“Want to go for a walk?” I ask, deciding to keep things a bit light. Marc looks at me for a moment, and then nods.
“Sure,” he says. So we tidy up from our lunch and then head through the corridors over to the door, grabbing two umbrellas and stepping outside.
Once again, I’m not prepared for just how hot it is out here. Inside is hot and sticky, and outside is hot and dry. I don’t know which one is worse. The sun is almost blinding. We pop open our umbrellas, and the localized shade helps, but it’s still quite a nuisance.
Marc and I walk around the warehouse together, taking the same route that we did yesterday. God, was it only yesterday we were out here when everything seemed so perfect? What happened? Neither of us try sparking up any conversation. I don’t know what to say. We round the corner and I reach out for Marc’s hand, but when he feels my fingers brush against his, he pulls his hand away.
I’m honestly shocked, my hand lingering for a brokenhearted moment before it drops back down to my side.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I just thought …”
“No.” Marc shakes his head. “It’s … I’m sorry. I just think we … I think we should be careful of our expectations, you know? About us.”
Us. There it is, that giant pink elephant in the room. Desert. Whatever.
“Right.” I feel like I should say more, but I don’t know what else to say. We round the next corner and we’re in the shady side of the warehouse, dipped into a somewhat more accepting atmosphere, at least when it comes to heat. Marc and I let our umbrellas down, closing them, stepping around in the shade and reveling in the muted relief it gives us.
“It’s hot out, isn’t it?” I ask him. It’s like I feel a need to clear the air about something, but I don’t know about what.
“Mm,” he says, nodding. He doesn’t offer any more.
He leans his back against the building and I join him, my body standing next to his. We don’t talk. I decide to tilt my head to the side, resting it on his arm. He doesn’t pull away. A good sign. I let my umbrella drop to the sand and I spin around over him so that we’re facing each other. I reach up to wrap my arms around his neck as I lift myself on my tiptoes and kiss him.
His lips respond, and his hands find my sides, and I think, All right! Finally, we’re back! But as we make out, even though I can feel my body responding to it, it still feels like something’s missing. Even Marc isn’t acting the same way that he did yesterday. The front of his pants has a hard bulge to it, and I place my hand on it, but I don’t feel like going any further. And he doesn’t urge me on. Finally, after a few minutes of making out, I pull away from him and his hands allow me to slip out of them, back to the spot against the wall next to him.
We don’t say anything. The silence between us is deafening. Finally Marc clears his throat.
“We should probably head back,” he says, and I nod. It feels like a part of me is missing. Like I’m hungry still, but it’s not a hunger for food. It’s for something else.
“Yeah.” I bend down and pick up my umbrella. “We should go.”
So we walk back, Marc and me together, neither of us talking as we skirt the building and find the door again. Marc pulls it open and lets me in first before he steps in after me.
Persephone
Marc and I go to the common area but we don’t find anybody there. I don’t want to start doing any replica work in case I overstep my boundaries with Julian, so I suggest some cards to pass the time. Marc agrees and I deal out a hand of Gin Rummy, even though I can tell neither of us are really into the game. We don’t even bother keeping track of the score. Underneath the air conditioner’s intermittent whines I can hear mumbled voices in conversation.
Soon enough, one of them starts to grow louder, and I can tell by the voice that it’s Edward. He appears at the doorway to the common area, talking on his cell phone.
“Okay. Yep, see you tomorrow. Bye.”
He hangs up, and it’s obvious his mood is significantly improved from earlier this morning. He looks around.
“Where are Julian and Rebekka?”
“I think they’re in their corner,” Marc says.
“Well, I might as well tell the two of you first.” He’s actually smiling. “That was our contact. The cops have backed off enough that she can finally leave. She’ll be coming tomorrow morning so we can finally make our deal, and she’ll be taking you back with her.”
Something happens in my stomach. Some sort of jolt. Whether it’s relief or disappointment, I can’t tell.
“I’ll go let the other two know,” Edward says, and he leaves the common area.
I suppose I should be happy that this’ll all be over. But something is still nagging at me. I turn to Marc and see a blank expression on his face.
“Well,” I say, and he nods.
“Looks like you’re going back tomorrow.”
I nod too, wanting him to say more, but he doesn’t. And neither do I. Instead he looks down at the cards in his hand as though he’s seeing them for the first time, and continues playing. I watch him, even going so far as not playing when it’s my turn. But he doesn’t look up at me. Instead he just waits in silence, looking down at the deck, the table, his hand. Everywhere but at me. Finally I sigh and pick up a card.
Maybe half an hour passes before Julian reappears.
“Come on, Persephone,” he says by way of greeting. “Edward told me about tomorrow. Let’s work while I still have you.”
So I lay my hand down even though we’re in the middle of a game, but Marc doesn’t complain. I can’t even remember the cards I was holding. I go over to join Julian, but he’s acting cold toward me. At first I think it’s because of the broken replicas, but then I notice that he’s hardly speaking, and every now and again he wipes at his eyes as though clearing them.
“Julian?” I ask. We’re alone in the common area now. “Is everything all right?”
And to my surprise, he gives a snort of harsh laughter.
“Is everything all right, she asks.” He shakes his head, then wipes at his eyes again. “Rebekka and I had a talk. She said she needs to take care of herself in our relationship. Something you told her. And apparently that means needing more space in her life than she has with me. So, yeah, no. Everything is not all right.”
“Oh, Julian …” I try putting a hand on his arm, but he yanks it away as though he’s been burned.
“Don’t—” He pauses, closes his eyes. Wipes them again. “Don’t try to backpedal. You did this, Persephone. You broke us up.”
“No, Julian. That’s … that’s not what I meant when I told her that. I just meant that you two both need to be happy for the relationship to work.”
“And that she’d be happier without me?”
“No, I didn’t—”
“Just shut it, Persephone,” Julian snaps. “Okay? You’re not our fucking relationship counselor. You have no idea what you’re doing. That’s why you’re fucking some guy who kidnapped you in the middle of a desert, all right? So just keep yourself out of it.”
I b
link, staring at Julian. My mouth is open. He settles himself angrily back down and tries to keep working, but I can tell he’s not focused. I don’t say anything. What else can I say? So I settle back down too and wipe at my eyes, then reach for the sandpaper.
“Here,” I hand it to him. “We need to get this to a matte finish.”
Julian and I keep working, but now there’s a wall between us. I just want to go off to my corner and hide, weep, disappear from all of this. The only person here who doesn’t hate me is Marc. It’s the only solace I have. Even though that doesn’t actually matter, since in less than twenty-four hours he and I might never see each other again.
Hours later Marc announces that dinner’s ready and Julian and I stop work to get up and get some food. Edward and Rebekka are in the kitchen area—Rebekka’s eyes looking red and puffy—and we ladle a meager stew into our bowls in total silence. Back in the common area, we sit down and start to eat. Everybody is quiet. The only sound apart from the random screech of the air conditioner is the scrape of spoons against bowls. My stomach feels empty no matter how much I eat. I can’t even taste the food at all.
Edward clears his throat when we’re all almost finished.
“I want to address something,” he says. He’s the only one here who’s in at least somewhat good spirits. “As we all are aware now, Persephone will be leaving us tomorrow morning. I talked to our contact, and she agreed to take you. But I feel that we can’t ignore the fact that Persephone knows a lot. About us, and about this place and what we do here.”
“I’m not going to tell anybody,” I cut in. I look at Marc. “Trust me. I’ll keep quiet.”
“Well,” Edward says, “that’s all fine and well for you to say, but you did try to sabotage us by breaking that crate this morning.”
Both Marc and I speak up at the same time.
“What?”
“That was an accident!”
“Shut up,” Edward says to me. “I don’t buy that accident crap for a minute. Anyway, it’s over. When you go back tomorrow, you’re to wear a blindfold and hood so you don’t know our location.”
Well, that’s actually not that bad, I start to think, but Edward isn’t finished.
“Also, your job is going to be relocated to a different museum.”
A ripple of silence echoes throughout the room, and me.
“What? That’s crazy. You can’t do that!”
“You have no idea what I can do,” Edward says with his eyes leveled on me. “You’re changing museums, young lady, and that’s final.”
I don’t know what to say. Neither Julian nor Rebekka chime in with their thoughts, both of them intently focused on their dinner instead. I look at Marc and I get the impression he’s thinking what I’m thinking: if I were at the same museum, he could come visit me. But now …
“This is bullshit,” I mutter, but Edward doesn’t respond. He just keeps on eating. Everybody keeps on eating, so I do too, shoveling tasteless stew into my mouth.
When dinner is finished I’m still feeling disgruntled, but I help Marc gather up the dishes anyway and join to help him wash them up. We work in silence together, both caught up in our own worlds. He washes, and I dry. The work seems to speed by—we work well together. When it’s finished we head back to the common area, but everybody there is occupying themselves on their own. No speaking, no interaction. Despite the presence of people, it makes me feel unbelievably lonely.
“Hey,” Marc says in a soft voice. “Come on.”
We go back the way we came and no one seems to notice or care. Taking the corridors and skirting around the common room, we make our way to his corner where we walk in and sit down side by side on his bed. The cot sinks a little under the weight of both of us, but even so, it’s more comfortable than anywhere else in this warehouse.
“So,” Marc says. “Tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Tomorrow.”
“We’ll be out of here. You’ll be in a different museum. Will we even know how to find each other?”
There it is, out in the open. He didn’t even bring it up like Do you want to see each other after this? He just knew.
“We could trade cell numbers,” I suggest, but Marc shakes his head.
“I don’t have a cell phone. Edward says they’re too easy to trace.”
“Email?”
Again, he shakes his head.
“So … this might actually be it.”
My throat is tightening, and I hate myself for it. Marc nods.
“Yeah.”
“But … I don’t want this to be it.”
He shakes his head, and now he sniffs, a wet sound.
“Neither do I.”
We both seem to turn to each other at the same time and our lips connect, our hands wrapping around one another. I’m kissing Marc all over, along his cheeks, up and down his neck. Tears, hot and painful, burn in my eyes but I can’t stop them.
Our clothes come off, piece by piece, and what I feel with Marc is not at all what I felt the first time. This isn’t some quick and quiet fuck in the top of the warehouse. This is … this is love. And when he enters me I gasp, holding him close, feeling him move in me. I can’t stop the tears that are flowing out now, drenching my cheeks and his, my sobs being stifled only by the bare skin of his shoulder.
But my body can’t deny its pleasures, and when I finish Marc finishes with me. And after in the glow of it all, I lie draped across Marc’s chest, his arm around me holding me close. We lie there together in silence, and this time the silence isn’t as deafening as it was before. Instead it’s a calm silence, a comfortable one. I kiss his chest and he responds by kissing the top of my head. His fingers move in a small back-and-forth over my arm. I take in a deep sigh and let it out, content.
We lie together like that for a while. Hours, maybe. And yet, my mind can’t stay still. What’s my life going to be like from now on? Now, having gone on this … adventure, I guess you’d call it. And the repercussions of it. I’m going to switch museums. No more reputation. No more Dr. Coolidge. But no more Marc, either.
What will my life be like? Will it be better? Will it be worse? Can you even make such a qualification? I mean, anything would be better than what I had even a week ago. And I’m definitely glad to be going back to a somewhat more regular life. But now that I’ve been here … to be honest, it was almost like being a part of a community. Or a family. The family I never had. The one that was taken away from me when I was young. And the one I never got again from foster care.
And, if I’m being completely honest with myself, while I don’t agree with the work itself, I must admit that I really enjoyed working with my hands again. Maybe I should learn from this. See if I can start up field work again. And maybe somewhere else this time. Like Greece. I’ve always wanted to go there.
The overhead lights suddenly shut off, drenching everything in darkness. Marc gives a sudden intake of breath, his muscles tensing, but then he settles back down again. He’s asleep, I realize. I didn’t know he’d drifted off. I snuggle deeper against his shoulder, feeling his hard body, his warm skin.
Christ, it’s hot in here. Even with the sun down, I feel sticky and sweaty. My mind wanders to the air conditioner and the wrench that I left up there. I can see it, sitting on the metal platform underneath the unit. At some point, somebody’s going to find it. And when they do, whoever found it will ask who left it there. And nobody will know. Which means at some point they’ll realize that it was me. What was Persephone doing up there with a monkey wrench? Certainly not trying to fix the air conditioner, which at that point had nothing wrong with it. And then, at some point, someone will figure that I had planned on destroying that air conditioner. Then they might blame Marc, and his memory of me might be tainted by this last undone act.
I don’t want that. I don’t want his last memory of me to be a bad one. I’ve got to get that monkey wrench back. The only time I can do it is right now. Because I’m going to be leaving tomorrow. And then it�
��ll all be over.
So, as quietly as I can, I push myself up from the cot. It’s not easy since it sinks down with every movement I make on it. But after a few minutes of imagining myself as a cat I’m finally off of it, and Marc hasn’t woken up. I pick up my clothes and slide them on in the darkness. When I’m dressed I pad out in socked feet and make my way through the corridors, being careful not to bump into anything or, God forbid, knock another crate over.
But eventually I’m at the stairs leading up to the catwalk. I take them one at a time, moving slowly, fluidly. When I get to the top I hear the air conditioner, the cover on it rattling as its engine runs. I make my way over to it and drop to my knees, reaching underneath. Sure enough, there’s the monkey wrench, exactly where I left it. But just as I’m about to stand back up, I realize that the unit’s cover looks loose. And then I remember that I was the one who loosened it! This can’t be the reason it’s crapping out, can it? Well, putting the cover back on certainly won’t hurt. And at least it’ll make things look back to normal when somebody eventually comes up to check it out.
So I pick up the bolts from where I placed them and fit them into place, using the monkey wrench to tighten them back to how they were before. I go through them, one by one, but just when I’m on the second-to-last, I hear footsteps. My heart drops, and I look over to see the silhouette of somebody coming up the stairs to the catwalk.
Fuck fuck fuck! But then I realize it’s probably Marc. Likely he woke up and found I wasn’t there and figured I wanted to come back up here to relive our first time together and now he’s here to join me and everything’s going to be all right.
So I put the monkey wrench back down and stand up. And just in time, because I see his head start to crest over the catwalk as he comes up the stairs. But as he materializes I realize that it’s not the eyes of Marc I’m now looking directly into, but those of Edward instead.
He pauses, seemingly as surprised to see me as I am to see him. He shakes his head, anger flashing in his eyes. Even though I’m right by the air conditioner, I can still make out the words he says, almost as though to himself.