by Amanda Jay
There was one day when she had been her happy self. She was in the kitchen, pottering around, chopping cherries for a pie while Felix tried to spit pits into the sink.
"Did you see that mom! Three in a row," he exclaimed happily, looking over at her. But she was hunched over the chopping board, not paying attention to him.
"Mom," he called, scurrying over to her and tugging on her elbow. "Did you see that?"
That was when he noticed she was crying. Tears dripping down her face and onto the cherries below, as she smeared red juice on her face trying to wipe them away.
"Mom!" The change was so sudden that it scared him. "Mom! What's wrong?"
His voice came out higher and squeakier than usual, and seemed to drag her out of her thoughts for just a moment.
"Twin Faced God be damned, can you please leave me alone for a minute?" she barked at him.
Her anger scared him even more, but he spun away and ran into his room. As he got older, he realised that she probably didn't want to be seen at her worst. Like it was a weakness that she was ashamed of.
He wished he knew why, at least, even though he often guessed it had something to do with his father. If she was two people trapped in one body, then his father was simply half a person living in a shell.
Felix didn't miss his father like he missed his mother. You have to know someone to miss them, he often thought to himself. Ezra hardly ever spoke to him, except for their scheduled weekly meetings in his office, where he would ask Felix perfunctory questions about his health.
Even then, it felt like they were ignoring the main topic. Felix had often caught sight of the scientist staring at him from across the dinner table on the rare occasions that he joined them, or through a window when Felix lay reading under the tree. But it wasn't his father's love that he craved. His mother's love was enough, even if it was just for half the time.
Felix supposed that was why his fifteenth birthday came as such a surprise. His mother was locked in her room as she usually was on his birthdays, or on any other celebratory day for that matter. He had long given up any hopes of a birthday cake or presents, and as always spent the day finishing off his homework and reading. He had outgrown Ioana a few years before, and his father had arranged for a tutor from the local school to instruct him in his lessons. Felix wished that he could have simply attended the school instead, but Ezra wouldn't hear of it.
Felix had been in a particularly low mood as he entered his bedroom that evening, rubbing his sore knuckles that the tutor would rap his cane on every time he got an answer wrong. He almost didn't notice the large black box on his bed.
He stared at it curiously, wondering what it was. The folded note on top did have his name on it, however, so he hesitantly picked it up and started to read.
Dearest Felix, the note read. This typographer was given to me so I could write down my thoughts-- something that has greatly helped me through the years. I hoped you would find solace in the same. Best regards, Ezra Orson.
He didn't even call himself my father, Felix thought to himself, but moved his attention over to the box instead. He pressed the brass clasp on the side, and couldn't help but break into a large smile when he saw the typographer inside. He had seen one on his father's desk, and had always eyed it somewhat greedily. The smooth movements of the arms and the gentle tap tapping of your thoughts had always seemed so elegant to Felix-- so grown-up, so serious.
He looked over at his new machine and smiled. It was one of the few times someone apart from his mother had given him a reason to be happy.
TOM
Tom had broken into so many places that he had lost count. But the fact that there was no food or candles or anything he and Skii thought to be valuable meant that he had never had to break into the offices at the Wheel before. The offices were a restricted area and those who worked there didn't often mingle with those who worked at the Wheel itself. In fact, you could get in to a fair amount of trouble if you tried to communicate with anyone in the offices. Just another perk of being a part of the pest control problem.
The Department of Energy Manufacture and Distribution was its official name but, as the wheezy librarian said, hardly anyone called it that. Instead, it received its name from the giant Wheel that had to be physically spun by workers, in order to power the cables and smaller wheels and other mechanisms which kept the city ticking. It was the centre of Mliss— the only thing that kept it alive, at least, till nine o’clock Lights Out, when the Wheel shut down.
Hundreds swarmed everyday to the large, once-white, now-beige building which squat just outside the Underbelly. It provided jobs for those who were not privileged enough to be educated, or more importantly, possessed family wealth. There was an entrance at the back which led straight underground for those who worked the Wheel, but Tom had not-so-mistakenly wandered in through the main entrance a few times, just to see what the fuss was all about. What he saw took his breath away and not in the way running the Wheel for hours would do.
The entryway was plain enough, but there was what looked like a large glass dome on the floor. Creeping cautiously closer, Tom peered through, and that’s when he saw it-- the ticking of Mliss’ heart. He wished he was articulate enough to put what he saw into words but all that he kept thinking back to was this painting of sunflowers that he had seen in a picture book at the library. Because that’s what the central cogs looked like—glistening like a pair of giant sunflowers as they spun around ethereally, pushing the smaller wheels along. It was like an intricately woven tapestry, every part joining the other seamlessly, to create a motion and movement so fundamental to their existence.
"We have to go through the main entryway to get to the offices," he told Skii, who nodded, and Felix, who looked worried. They had spent the night back at the attic, planning their next step.
"We’ll just be hustled down to the Wheel if we are spotted and then we’ll never be able to make it through. We’ll wait until the morning shift is underway before we sneak in."
Felix looked a little dubious, but Tom supposed he couldn't blame him. He smiled slyly to himself when he thought about the newcomer's reaction when Tom laid out the plan.
"And you think going to his place of work is the best way talk to the professor?" Felix had asked Tom.
Skii had managed to look up the address that Tom found, and it turned out that Professor Muriel lived with the rest of the city officials, just a few doors down from Mayor Frankly, in fact. It was less risky to try to talk to him at the Wheel.
"Do you have a better idea? Look, it seemed like he and Ezra were close, there's no harm in trying to talk to him."
It seemed casual enough, but the look on Skii's face echoed the doubts that Tom kept trying to push aside. He knew she wouldn't argue with him when Felix was around, and he was quite happy to take advantage of that right now.
Tom didn't know where or when he got this burning feeling in his chest, but now that the fire was lit, he couldn't put it out. There was a part of him that really wanted to know more. And this had brought out a certain type of recklessness in him. He needed to see someone who could give him an answer.
"So we have to sneak into his office, then? At the Wheel?" Skii clarified.
"Doesn't sound too difficult," Tom replied. Breaking in somewhere was nothing they hadn't done before.
And so here they were, huddled on the roof of a building adjoining their workplace, biding their time.
"You reckon the coast is clear now?" Skii asked.
"Dunno. Let me check." Tom wriggled over to the side of the roof and peered down cautiously. There were still a few latecomers hurrying into the building, and a security guard who had come out for a smoke, so Tom reckoned it was probably best to stay put for a little while longer.
He returned back to Skii and Felix who were talking to each other in low voices.
"So what exactly was in that machine?" Skii was asking Felix.
"That's called a typographer. My father gave it to me. I kno
w it's silly to have brought it with me. But, well, I didn't have the heart to leave it behind."
Didn’t have the heart to leave it behind? How moronic could this boy be? And why was Skii just eating it all up?
"So those... words, that I saw. Printed on those papers. Are they yours?" Skii asked again.
"The words or the papers?" Felix asked looking down. The tips of his ears were red, Tom noticed.
"Both. It looked so beautiful."
His face was flaming now. "I didn't realise that you had looked through them. I don't usually let anyone read what I write."
"Oh no, no. I'm sorry." Skii looked horrified. "I would have never... I didn't mean... I can't even read. Neither can Tom. It's not like we went to school or anything."
Felix looked relieved, and this drove a shiver of annoyance through Tom. He didn’t want Felix to know that. He wouldn’t have this smug, pretentious little rich boy making fun of them.
"Reading does little to help you get by in the Underbelly, but it's not like you would know that." Tom bristled. "We've had to look out for ourselves, you know. Never had anyone hand us anything in our lives." It wasn't just defensiveness, Tom was proud of that fact. He wasn't about to let some naive little rich boy make him feel ashamed of himself.
"Ignore him," Skii interjected, returning Tom’s glare. "He’s just being grumpy."
Tom furrowed his eyebrows and glowered off into the distance.
"I do wish I could. You know, read and write. He does too,” Skii jerked her head in Tom’s direction. “So what do you write about, then?"
The tips of Felix’s ears were crimson now, and his face was blotched with red, but he still answered hesitantly.
"It's nothing much really. I didn't have... I didn't have many friends around. Not like the two of you, anyway. So I wrote down things I wanted to say sometimes. Things I would say if, well, there were someone to tell them to."
Skii nodded.
Why was she nodding? Why encourage this madness? Tom couldn’t help but think his so-called brother was spewing out a load of rubbish. Years of fending for himself had left Tom guarded and closed. That’s the way thing should be, after all. Especially in a place like Mliss. And Felix, well, the boy seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve. It was like whoever knew him had a front row seat to his soul. Who shared that much information with near strangers anyway? It’s just not right.
EZRA
"I love you, but do we really have to go?' Ezra asked, tugging on his new bow tie. It was a gift from Kaelyn that he was unsure about, but she seemed to like it. He knew that he was starting to sound like a child.
"But darling, you promised. I told all my friends that we would be there," Kaelyn pouted, and Ezra momentarily forgot about his nerves, and was instead overcome with a strong desire to kiss her lower lip.
Perhaps she misread his expression, however, because she smiled kindly at him.
"Look, we'll just go in for about half an hour or so. If you hate it, then we can leave. Does that sound alright?"
"Thank you. I love you." He couldn't say it enough.
She just giggled. "Come along now. And don't fidget with your tie. It looks good, I promise."
They walked the short distance to the flat where the party was being held, Kaelyn hanging onto his arm the whole way.
"So, whose flat are we going to again? Olive's? Onyx's?" Ezra asked. Kaelyn had so many friends that he could hardly keep track of them.
"No, no, weren't you listening? Onyx is away these days, off sailing through the Savage Isles for some harebrained scheme of hers, as always. The flat is Tristain's. He does work with Onyx though, at the Historical Research Centre at the library. He's the enthusiastic one, remember?"
"Yes, yes of course. Tristain." Ezra still had no idea who Tristain was, but it was no point getting Kaelyn to explain. It wasn't just him, he had come to realise, but everyone around seemed drawn to Kaelyn. Whether it was her unassuming type of beauty, or her almost tangible passion for anything she did, people seemed to notice her wherever she went. As a result, her group of friends was incredibly large and ever growing. She was always being invited to some gathering or the other, most involving some sort of political stance. Everyone wanted to know what she had to say, even though, interestingly, she seemed unaware of her own magnetism. He shook his head a little, thinking of Frank, who he met at the coffee house. The way he seemed to gravitate towards Kay at almost any social gathering. The way he would hover around her, asking her for opinion on something or the other. Of all the things that intimidated Ezra about her, this was probably the most-- that being a part of her life meant having to be around the many, many people who wanted a piece of her too.
He tried to calm himself a little before he entered the flat. He was already a little sweaty from the walk over, and gave his bowtie one last tug before taking a deep breath. Stealing a glance over at Kaelyn, he noticed she was watching him and smiled sheepishly.
"I'm sorry."
She just took his hand in hers.
"Relax. You're here with me okay?"
And she was right, he realised. He was with her. Her glow encased him as well. Everyone in the room might want a piece of her, but he was the one she came here with, and the one, Twin Gods willing, that she would leave with as well. The thought filled him with a sudden burst of confidence. Surely, he wasn't such a boring git if the most beautiful woman in the room held onto his arm?
Ezra straightened up, scanned the room, and realised that he had met Tristain once before after all. Spotting the shorter man with the shock of messy brown hair, he strode up to him with confidence.
"Tristain, thank you so much for having us over tonight," Ezra said, while offering him the bottle of cheap wine they had brought along.
"Ezra, old chap! Delighted you could come. Ah, what's this now? Oh, you shouldn't have!" Tristain greeted Ezra back like they were old friends.
"Have you met the Waldens? Charming couple. Mr. Walden has been doing a lot of research into the Savage Isles. In fact, he sails over there next week. Oh, not to the dodgy parts though, don't worry. Come, I must introduce you!" And Tristain pulled Ezra away into the mix of people gathering in various corners of the flat. Ezra stole a glance back at Kaelyn, and she smiled back reassuringly at him, and even though she had let go of his arm now, her warmth had settled in his chest, and left him feeling like he could conquer the room, or even all of Mliss.
OF WORDS
I am a man of words. Not a few words. Many, many words. Words bring me solace. They keep me safe. They make it possible for me to give voice to what I feel. My feelings now aren’t simply a twisting of my stomach, the flutter of my heart, or the tears I try to stop flowing, but a definite, reasonable reaction to whatever absurdities and uncertainties life has decided to hurl my way.
It is difficult then, when the very words that I depend on so readily fail me. When they fail to stress the urgency of a situation. Like the word "miss."
"I miss you," people say, when they haven’t seen someone for a while. What a silly little word— "miss." Like those four letters could ever convey the foreboding, the torture, the deepest yearning in my soul. If you were to yawn and there was no air, you wouldn’t simply ‘miss’ it. You would die.
There is no word to describe the empty space-- the hollow in my life that once had so much meaning and that I now try to clumsily fill with the mundane in hopes that my heart will finally stop bleeding out.
Yet, we keep on using the word "miss." The same pathetic word one uses when they couldn’t make it to their appointment on time.
EZRA
"So, for someone who claims to hate crowds and parties and people, you seemed quite at home tonight," Kaelyn teased, tracing the dimples on his shoulder. Ezra could only vaguely see her outline in the moonlight that trickled in through the window, and he smiled drowsily, even though she probably couldn't see him.
He had a bit too much wine at the party, he reckoned, but it was probably his newfound confidence th
at caused him to brazenly pull her to him and kiss her, right in the middle of the street, the moment they started their walk back home. They had all but stumbled back to Kaelyn's flat, hardly taking a moment’s break, leaving a trail of clothes flung all over her small lounge as they barely made it into the bedroom. Ezra was insatiable that night, but now he lay, secretly proud of himself, with Kaelyn nestled up against his chest.
"No, really," she tried again. "What brought about the sudden change? I'm not complaining of course. Especially if it leads to... well... you know? This." Her hand slid lower on his stomach but stopped teasingly and instead traced circles around his belly button.
Ezra groaned. Looks like she wanted her answer.
"If you must know," he started carefully. He was rather embarrassed to tell her the truth, even though he knew that lying to her would never be a option. "It was you."
"What do you mean, me?"
"Well, I thought to myself, if the most magnificently intelligent, stunningly beautiful woman in the world could bear to hold my hand through all of this, then I must not be too terrible."
"Not too terrible. That's one way of looking at it." Ezra was rewarded with a kiss for this. He pressed his mouth onto hers hard and started to pull the bedsheet away from where it was bunched up against her chest when she pried herself away from him.
"I do want to know, though. Why don't you like being around people so much?"
"I don't mind being around people. As long as it’s you." With a final tug he managed to get that bothersome bed sheet off her, and reached over to pull her in again.
But she wasn't going along with it this time. She sat up, looking at him, her expression serious. He couldn't see her clearly enough in the dimly lit room, even though he already knew by heart how every freckle on her shoulder faded down on her smooth back, but he knew she was waiting for his answer.