by Amanda Jay
FELIX
Felix tiptoed down the hallway to his mother's bedroom, hoping the large cardboard sign wouldn't rustle and wake her. He didn't bother worrying about his father-- his own bedroom was on the opposite end of their large house, next to his office. The early morning light cast long shadows on the walls as he slowly pushed the bedroom door open.
His mother lay sleeping peacefully, her chestnut hair spread around her face like a cloud. From where he stood, she really did look like an angel. It was only when he got really close did he notice the dried trails of tears down her face, but he never thought that made her any less beautiful.
He was careful not to trip over the empty glass and the bottle of wine that lay on its side at the foot of her bed as he held up the sign like Ioana had taught him to.
"Mom," he sang out softly, excited to surprise her.
She stirred a little, but didn't wake up.
"Mom," he tried again, waving the sign back and forth like it would grab her attention.
His mother groaned softly as she opened her eyes.
"What is it?" she mumbled, her eyes not focused on him just yet.
"Happy Mother's Day!" he sang, full volume now that she was awake.
She smiled at him sleepily.
"Come here, my love," she said, opening out the covers so he could crawl in.
He dropped the sign and did just that. It was nice and warm in there as he wrapped his bony arms around her.
"I didn't know today was mother's day." Her voice was still groggy and her breath smelled terrible but he didn't mind.
"Ioana told me. She helped me make the sign," he explained.
"That was nice of her."
"She said that all mothers must be made to feel special on mother's day. Especially the best ones. Like you!"
Even under the covers, Felix felt her body stiffen.
"That's nice." But she didn't mean it, Felix knew. He was losing her again.
"After you wake up, Ioana said she will help me make you breakfast," he said hopefully, hugging her tighter.
"Thank you, angel. But I'd like to stay in bed a little longer if that's alright. It's just my headache, that's all." Her voice was distant and her eyes were closed again like her heart.
Felix waited a while until her breathing was steady and climbed back out of bed. He went back to his room and found the book he had been reading. He would try again next year, he supposed.
TOM
"Where've you been?" Skii asked, as Tom crept in through the attic window. He noticed bread crumbs on the floor and hoped they hadn’t finished all the breakfast.
"No need to get all worked up, Skii, relax," Tom replied, flippantly. Now that the sun was out, and everyone was awake, his trip to the Department of Records seemed rather foolish. He rooted around in the dirty looking brown paper bag that lay on the floor and uncovered a hunk of bread.
"I was worried... I woke up, and saw Felix, and for a second I thought it was you, and..." Skii trailed off, and Tom felt a pang of remorse. He took a large bite of the bread, making sure he didn't meet her eyes.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry. I just got tired of waiting for him to wake up. I wanted to find out anything I could."
Skii's eyes narrowed on him.
"And what did you find?"
"Well..." he knew it wasn't much but it was so much more than he had before, and for some reason he felt a little reluctant to share. But this was Skii, they shared everything, didn't they?
"I think I know who his father is. His name is Ezra Orson, and, well, looks like he killed his wife. What do you make of that, eh?"
Skii's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"Looks pretty serious. It was in the newspapers and everything."
"Oh.."
"And, well, I found out Felix is sixteen, so if you're right and we are twins, I guess that makes me the same age, right?"
"Didn’t I say you were a little 'un?" But her voice was humourless. They needed to ask Felix to leave and as much as a risk as it was to have him there, neither of them were looking forward to that.
"I could have told you all of that," a voice mumbled from the corner.
"Looks like someone's up, finally," Tom called out, cross that Felix had pointed out the obvious.
Felix sat up on the mattress. With his rumpled hair and rumpled clothes, he looked more like a street pest than ever. Tom had to remind himself to stop staring.
"I'm sorry, about last night," Felix offered. "I've never been to this side of Mliss before and..."
Tom snorted. "You don't say."
He ignored Skii's frown and seated himself down with his back to a crate.
"Look, Felix. I don't know what led you here, but I don't think you can--"
"Look, Tom," Felix interrupted quickly, a trace of desperation in his voice. He knew what was coming next. "I know you both don't want me here. But it was the last thing that father asked me to do, it was the only--"
"Yeah I get that, you told us that last night. But there are people looking for you, you know that? And I don't want to have to explain that I'm not you, just because we look alike. Do you realise--"
"Yes, of course I realise. But they want to put me in a home. Our mother is dead and they think our father did it. I have no one else and--"
"Your Mother. Your Father. Not mine. I don't know them." Tom ended, slamming his fist down on the wooden crate.
Felix looked at him helplessly.
"Please. I just need a couple of days. Just a few days to figure things out. He wanted me to find you. There has to be reason for that. Don't you want to know what it is?"
"No," Tom replied flatly. "I don't want to know. I want you out of here. It isn't safe. Not for me, and not for Skii either. You think you can come in here and we would be happy to risk everything we have to help you because the two of us look alike?"
Felix hung his head and started to stand up.
Tom looked over at Skii. She kept playing with her knife uncomfortably.
"Felix, let me pack you up some food," she offered.
Felix looked over at Tom again.
"I can pay you, you know. For your help."
"What?"
"My family-- Our family-- we aren't necessarily wealthy. But we do have money. Money that will belong to you too, once we get to the bottom of all of this."
Tom looked at the boy sharply. At his ruined but well-made, warm coat. At his expensive leather boots. At that impractical machine he had decided to lug with him to the Underbelly. Yes, he definitely had money. But was it worth it? Every fibre in his body screamed no, just as his stomach rumbled in protest.
Felix seemed to sense his hesitation, and took that as an invitation to continue.
"Just help me sort this out and you have my word. You both will be taken care of. I'll give you whatever there is in my savings. And I know there's enough there for you to survive at least a year or two without working. Only to get to my savings I need to clear father's name."
Tom snorted. "I read the papers. That seems like a long shot."
"He didn't do it, I know he didn't."
"But how is that going to help him?"
Felix studied his hands like the answers were scribbled on them in ink. "I need to get back to my home. I'm sure there must be something there. Something that will point me in the right direction."
"That hardly seems like a plan."
"Give me a few days. If we can't fix it by then, you can take whatever is left at the house. I think some of mother's jewellery is still there and there's furniture that will be worth something. And father's equipment too. But if we do figure it out, then, well, no more scavenging for food for the two of you."
"What good is the word of a stranger?"
"Don't do it for me then," Felix relented. He looked over at Skii. "Do it for her."
"Tom, don't you be silly and go listening to him now, you hear?" Skii replied testily. She wasn't sure either. It didn't seem like a terrible dea
l, if they were both being honest. Far fetched, yes, and a little naive, possibly. Tom didn't really think they would be able to uncover anything. But there would be things they could sell in this boy's house. It wouldn't be any worse than them having steal and scrounge almost every day. Chances to make money didn't present themselves to Tom very often.
Tom supposed he should feel bad for the boy, but he didn't feel anything at all. Just a kind of annoying hollowness that he was sure would pass.
At the same time he didn't feel like he could let an opportunity like this go. So, he would help this boy out for a few days? What's the worst that could happen?
"I don't know."
"This is ridiculous," Skii said beseechingly.
Tom hated this. He hated doubting himself. There was a large part of him that wished this boy would crawl back out of the window so he would never see him again.
But, a small voice nagged in his head, if he was able to find out more about himself, well, that wouldn't hurt either, would it?
"When is your birthday?" he blurted out, taking Felix, Skii, and even himself by surprise.
Answers aren't all bad, he told himself. It didn't matter that eventually some answers would just lead to more questions that he wouldn't like the answers to. But it was too late for that already.
"May 24th."
"Do you know why they gave me away?"
"Tom!," Skii cautioned but Felix shook his head.
"Sorry."
"Well, what do you know? What happened anyway? You say he didn't kill her? Why does everyone think he did it, then?"
Felix rubbed his eyes. There was a moment of hesitancy.
"They were never happy, you know. I can't remember a single day when they were happy together. I asked her once, why she married him. She just said I wouldn't understand until I loved someone myself.
"And then, one day, she was gone. Just like that. They pulled her body out of the pond a few days after. That's all we know." Felix spoke softly but his voice was steady. It was as if he was simply recalling a bad dream.
"So what’s the next move, then"
"Next move?"
Tom sighed. There was no way he could be related to this moron.
"Yes, your next move. You said you wanted to get into your house. Do you have a plan for that?"
EZRA
"Are you cleaning? I thought you were making me breakfast?" Kaelyn asked, sticking her head into the small kitchen. She had just rolled out of bed, and was sleepily rubbing her eyes while tugging on a robe. Her hair had frizzed out around her ears, which Ezra loved but learned to never mention for fear that she would pull it back into a bun.
"Well, I can hardly cook when their isn't a single clean pot or plate in the kitchen," Ezra teased, gesturing to the cluttered basin.
"Oh, my fault then. Sorry, you've just been tiring me out so much lately." Kaelyn winked mischievously, making Ezra colour slightly.
"But do you think you could hurry up, just a little? I am starving."
Ezra just smiled. It had been two weeks since their awkward coffee, and he could safely say that he had never in his life come across someone as wondrous as Kaelyn with a K.
"So what brought you to the city?" He had asked her on their second meeting, when they had taken a brief stroll through the university park and finally sat down on a bench overlooking the pond-- her, to watch the ducks, and him, to sneak as many glances at her as he possibly could.
"Adventure," she replied in the drop of a hat. She was smiling, as she always was, but there was a certain seriousness to her voice all the same.
"And have you found this adventure?" He maintained the same serious tone. He wanted her to know that he took her seriously. That what she had to say was as important to him as it surely was for her.
"That depends," she hesitated.
"How so?" he urged.
"Well, the adventure was supposed to be a part of my great escape. I couldn't take it, or well, I couldn't take them."
"Them, meaning your family?"
She sighed.
"I suppose it's a bit of a cliche, isn't it? Tortured daughter of a small town school teacher. What in the Twin Gods' name was she to do? Oh, no, no. Not tortured like that!" She had caught sight of Ezra's expression.
"They just, had all these expectations, you see. Of what I was supposed to turn out like. They wanted me to be more, oh, what's the word I'm looking for? More domesticated, I suppose. Be a lady, marry well, and all that well-brought-up nonsense. And I, well, what part of that sounds like me? You know, the hardest part was disappointing them all the time. They were good people, really, and didn't deserve the heartbreak. And so I left, and came here, looking for my big adventure. I thought it was the right thing to do."
Kaelyn had looked at him defiantly then, challenging him to say something.
"Well that does sound like an adventure."
Her expression softened when she realised that he wasn't judging her. If only she knew how much in awe of her he really was.
"And what plans for now? You mentioned you were taking Accounts?"
"Well, that's for the long run, really. For when I open my own my coffee shop, or bar, I haven't decided yet. I'm working at Big Al's at the moment. It isn't fancy, but it helps me make the rent and gets me about a Kuble a month and I try to learn what I can about running a place."
"And the protesting, where does that fit in?" Ezra hoped she didn't think he was interrogating her. He genuinely wanted to know every little detail. Thankfully, she didn't seem to notice.
"Well, we have obligations, don't we? Being educated folk, or at least, well, moderately intelligent folk, we have to take a stand for what is right. I wish more people saw it that way. There needs to be some sort of change, don't you think? The King is, well, I like to hope that the King wouldn't be able to ignore the voices of so many. I know that a few people have started to get a little rough, but that's not what I want. No one wins if we start fighting. I just wish the Bearoux would see that. That all we want are some peaceful changes."
The more Kaelyn spoke of her past, and her hopes for the future, the more Ezra was enamoured. She had realised she could conquer just about anything she set her mind to. So she set her mind on life and living it to its fullest. Ezra had never seen someone with that kind of fire, and he let her flames engulf him. It was like she was glowing, all the time.
How could someone do that? He wondered. How could someone take on life with such gusto that everything and everyone else simply paled in comparison. But that was how she lived-- in vivid colour, with starlight, and rainbows, and thunder, and lightning. And there he was, feeling monochrome at best.
He didn't want to be monochrome. He wanted her, and he wanted to be like her. He had never, in his entire life, felt like this. It was like he was hypnotised by her. By her every word and every movement. He took her face in his hands then and kissed her. His movements sudden and jerky. Surprising her, but mostly, surprising himself.
He pulled away the moment he realised what he had done, and peered at her face nervously.
"I'm sorry. I hope I didn't offend you. I-I was just..." But it was her turn to cut him off, although her kisses were far more graceful.
"You really should stop apologising for everything, you know?" she murmured softly.
"I'll try to keep that in mind," he whispered back, as his lips found hers again.
And so they spent much of their time together, kissing on walks through the park, then evenings at coffee houses where they could hardly afford anything on the menu, and then, finally, nights at Kaelyn's small flat above the bar where she worked.
Ezra hummed to himself as he wiped down his own breakfast plate, and then Kaelyn's, while she scuttled around the flat getting ready for class.
"Have you seen my journal? The red bound one?" she called. And then, "Oh, no, never mind. Here it is," before Ezra could reply. "But what about my writing case? Ah, I'm going to be so late."
"What time will you be back?"
he asked.
"I finish work at half seven. Pick me up after? What time is it now? Oh, dear."
“I have some bad news--” Ezra tried but was interrupted.
“Then don’t tell me,” she laughed.
“But I won’t be able to mee--”
“Shush, shush, shush! I absolutely detest bad news! Whatever it is, I’m sure you don’t need to tell me!”
He had a meeting with Professor Muriel that would last till eight, at least. Maybe he could just leave early? He sighed happily. These were the kind of problems he was lucky to have.
“See you at half seven then.”
She rushed off towards the door. Why was she always rushing? He wondered. It was like life itself was a matter of urgency and couldn't be delayed for even a moment.
"I love you," he called after her. Logic and mathematical reasoning told him it might be too soon to for them to determine that they were, in fact, in love. But he couldn't help it. In these few short months he felt happier and more complete than he ever had in his life.
He stood at the kitchen sink, trying not to resent the world outside. He wasn't jealous of other men, even though he was no fool and knew that there were many, many others who would have given much to be in his position. No, he was jealous of the world outside. For it would get to have her for the next few hours. It will get to hear her laugh, watch her smile, see the special way the sunlight bounced off her curls. And he wanted them all. He wanted each laugh, each smile, and every beam of light that ever touched her.
"I love you too," she replied. But she was already distracted by the day ahead-- fumbling with her coat, checking if she had enough coins in her purse. He knew it was wrong to be jealous but he somehow couldn't bear not being the centre of her attention.
"I really do," he tried again. She was halfway out the door already. He didn't think she heard him. But then the door swung open again. Not fully. Just a few inches. Just enough to see half of her perfect, perfect face. Just enough to see half her perfect smile, and a few strands of her sun kissed hair.
"I know, silly," she mouthed, her eyes sparkling that special sparkle that he liked to think was just for him, as she blew him a kiss. She lingered in the doorway for just a few more seconds.