In the Shadows of Freedom

by C

  Nikki’s face was an emotionless mask at first. She walked forward toward Amanda, her eyes wide in disbelief, her voice hushed. “How did you do this?” Nikki reached out, then hesitated, and finally took the portrait to hold it in her hands and examine up close.

  “I … I don’t know. I just paint. I never meant for it to look so bad, honestly.” Amanda hung her head. “I’m not really good at getting close to other people. I never had any close friends at Valor Academy. I like you. I feel like, you know, we were getting along.” She stopped for a moment. This degree of disclosure was painful. “I’m sorry about the portrait. I don’t know what happened. Clearly, I need to learn a thing or two at the Masters Academy. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, and I’ll paint you a new one, a better one. We can get rid of it.” She grabbed the canvas from Nikki’s hands and walked toward the garbage can in the kitchen.

  “No!” Nikki jumped forward, reclaiming the portrait.

  “What … you like it?”

  “It’s …” She seemed to struggle trying to find the words. “The Nikki you painted is powerful. She’s somebody no one would take advantage of.”

  “You don’t have to be nice. You can call it trash. It’s fine.”

  “No one has ever painted a portrait of me like this before. You’ve done something incredibly unusual.” Nikki studied Amanda, a strange admiration in her eyes. “Is it okay if I hang on to this?”

  “If you want to …” Amanda shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Excellent!” Nikki propped the portrait on the floor in the corner of the room. “I think it’ll be better in the bedroom eventually. Until then, I want to leave it here where I can see it.” She grinned. “I’m starving! Do we still have that leftover Chinese food?”

  Without waiting for a reply, Nikki turned on her music and began taking two plates out of the cabinet.

  Baffled, Amanda watched until something subtle caught her attention—a monophonic beeping. She looked around the kitchenette for the source, then asked, “Do you hear that noise?”

  “Sounds like an ancient cell phone.” Nikki spooned a heaping pile of noodles onto one of the plates.

  Amanda gasped. “That’s my phone!” She raced for the bedroom, practically careening into her bed, reaching the phone just at the end of its ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Amanda?”

  “Yeah, and this is Ethan?”

  “You got it.”

  She could detect a smile in his voice, and it made her grin in return.

  He went on, “I was thinking of what we could do tomorrow, and I wanted to run my plans by you, to make sure you’re okay with things.”

  “Alright. Thanks.”

  “There’s this great restaurant that I’d like to take you to, and then, afterwards, maybe we can go for a walk. It’ll give us an opportunity to talk and get to know each other better.”

  “That sounds great.”

  “I’ll pick you up around six, then?”

  “Sure, thanks. I live in the Bronx at 875 Dawkson Street. It’s apartment 406.”

  Pause. “Did you say apartment 406?”

  “Yeah, 406.”

  Silence.

  She checked to make sure her phone was still working. “Umm … did you get that?”

  “Oh … yeah, sorry.” He seemed distracted. “Just jotting it down.”

  “Do you need directions or anything?”

  He laughed. “That won’t be necessary. Thanks, Amanda! I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

  “Me too.” He had no idea just how much …

  Chapter Six

  Mrs. Ramsey

  “Ugh! What’s that nasty smell?” Nikki came out of the bedroom, wrinkling her nose.

  “Oh. Oops. Sorry.” Amanda hurried to turn off the stove. She had burned her grilled cheese sandwich black as night. Flustered, she reached her hand toward the loaf of bread, knocking over her glass of water.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Nikki tossed a dish towel to Amanda.

  She fumbled it and stooped to pick it up off the floor. “I kind of have a date in a little while.”

  “What? And you didn’t tell me? Come on!”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, you should be. I mean, come on! So what are you wearing?”

  Amanda chewed her lip. “I … don’t really know.”

  “Alright, let’s get to work. Hair and makeup first. What would you do without me, huh?”

  Amanda smiled shyly and followed Nikki into the bathroom. She had been toying with telling Nikki about her date all morning, but couldn’t seem to get the words out. Now she sighed with relief. She appreciated Nikki’s wisdom when it came to fashion. She did want to impress Ethan.

  With the primping and preening complete, Nikki steered Amanda toward their bedroom, where she rummaged through her stuffed closet. “I’m thinking something provocative. At the very least, you definitely want to show some skin.”

  “You know, conservative works for me.” Out of habit, Amanda reached up to twirl a curl, but only grasped the air. Nikki had put her hair up in an intricate design, leaving nothing for her to fidget with.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s your body: show it off!” A few minutes later, Nikki’s muffled voice called triumphantly from the back recesses of the closet: “This is perfect.” Emerging, Nikki handed Amanda some clothes. “You’re going to look fabulous! Put them on and then come out into the living room.”

  She had chosen a tight black miniskirt and a silk gold top. Neither would have been Amanda’s preference, but Nikki was the designer, so she yielded to her choice. Amanda dressed and left the bedroom.

  Nikki smiled, then began clapping. “What did I tell you? Stunning! Here, put on these heels to complete the ensemble.”

  “These don’t seem comfortable or safe.”

  “Who cares? They look so good!”

  The only thing left to do was wait. Amanda glanced at the clock: five minutes until six. Walking over to the window, she stared at the street below, tapping her bitten nails against the sill. A sports car turned onto their street—a cherry-red Anaconda. The coupe looked polished and waxed to perfection. It would stand out anywhere, but most of all here among the outdated and dented jalopies. She knew, even before he exited, that it had to belong to Ethan.

  She swallowed. “My date’s here.”

  “Have a great time! And promise to tell me all the juicy details.”

  “Okay. Thanks for all of your help, Nikki. I really appreciate it.”

  “Of course!” Nikki hugged her. “I like you, Amanda Burrow. You’re growing on me.”

  The intercom buzzed.

  “Go get ’im!” Nikki said.

  Amanda took a deep breath and pressed the button. “Hello?”

  “Hey! Mind if I come up?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Amanda retreated to the couch to wait, wanting to bite her nails again but resisting. She imagined Ethan stepping into the elevator and then walking down their hallway. A few minutes later, she heard a loud rapping on the door. She could barely move: her feet felt like stone. She seemed paralyzed.

  “Here, I’ll get it.” Nikki walked over and opened the door.

  There stood Ethan.

  “Nikki!” He smiled, his face lit with amusement.

  Nikki staggered back a few feet. She looked back and forth from Amanda to Ethan. “Wait, what? You? You’re Amanda’s date?”

  Amanda just stared at them: They knew each other?

  Ethan walked into the apartment and over to Amanda. “Hey again. Wow, you look amazing!”

  “Thanks. The credit all goes to Nikki.”

  Nikki leaned against the kitchen counter, her eyebrows scrunched. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Amanda, when did you meet Ethan?”

  “I met him at the Graduate Academy—my first day there. You know Ethan too?”

  Nikki’s face turned white. Ignoring Amanda, she turned to Ethan. “You met Amanda at the Masters Academy?”


  “That would be correct.”

  “She’s the one—”

  “The one I asked on a date, yes.” Ethan’s composure was a great contrast to Nikki’s growing agitation.

  “But …” Nikki sputtered, a sickened expression on her face. “You knew she was my roommate?”

  “It became pretty apparent after she told me her address last night.”

  “And you didn’t tell me immediately?”

  “I thought a surprise would be much more fun. But I guess not.”

  Amanda glanced from one to another, lost in the conversation. “So … how, exactly, do you two know each other?”

  “We both work for the National Citizens Party.” Ethan hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “We’re coworkers, actually.”

  “Unfortunately.” Nikki spat out the word, her bewilderment changing to fury.

  So they weren’t past lovers, which had been Amanda’s first assumption. That was a relief. Nikki had complained about her “dense coworker” just yesterday. Perhaps she had been referring to Ethan.

  “We have a reservation to keep, so we better be going.” Ethan gestured toward the door. “Ready, Amanda?”

  “Yeah.” Amanda paused at the door, turning to Nikki, who glared at the wall, her jaw locked. “Bye, Nikki.”

  Nikki moved her head to stare at Amanda with a look full of disdain and disgust. Amanda sucked in her breath like she had been kicked in the stomach. Without another word, Nikki strode into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Bewildered, Amanda gazed at the closed bedroom door, her spirits sinking. All this because Nikki didn’t approve of her going out with Ethan?

  Ethan touched her arm. “Don’t worry. It’s me she’s upset with, not you. Nikki has a volatile personality and tends to overreact. But give her a few hours and she’ll be back to normal.”

  It was true: Nikki’s moods fluctuated from one extreme to another. For now, Amanda would have to forget about Nikki and just hope she would cool down. Taking a deep breath, Amanda followed Ethan into the elevator and outside.

  His car was even more impressive up close. “That’s quite the vehicle.”

  Ethan opened the passenger door for her. “Thanks. It does the job.”

  In the few seconds that it took him to walk over to the driver’s side, she observed the interior of the car: black leather seats, immaculately clean floor mats, the smell wonderfully masculine. He slid into his seat, put on his shades, and spoke the command to start, the car roaring to life. He darted out of the spot and began weaving his way through the city.

  She glanced at him. He appeared completely at ease, even with taxicab and other drivers beeping, cursing, and gesturing all around. “You don’t seem to mind all the traffic.”

  “I know where I’m going.”

  “Yeah, but you still have all these other vehicles to deal with.”

  “They’ll move over for me.” He swerved ahead of a taxi to their left, leaning back in his seat, unperturbed. “I live what Hannibal said, crossing the Alps with elephants: ‘I’ll find a way or make one.’”

  She cringed and clutched the seat cushion, preparing for what looked like an inevitable fender bender. Instead, he expertly maneuvered his way in front of another taxi, forcing a space for himself in the adjacent traffic lane. She laughed at his audacity.

  He gave a look of surprise, pretending to be offended. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “No! No, not at all. It’s just … does anything worry you? It seems like the world could be ending and you wouldn’t be concerned.”

  “Right now, I’m in control, so there’s no reason to be worried.”

  “True. But that can’t always be the case. What if the world really were ending?”

  He shrugged. “My priority would be survival for as long as possible—same as everyone else. When that fails, then, hey, at least I can die knowing that I enjoyed my life. Based on your question, I take it that you would be concerned?”

  “You could say that.”

  “What, specifically, would you be upset about?”

  “Some people would say we should fear the unknown … what lies beyond this world.”

  “You think there is something after this life?”

  He stopped at a red light and she fell silent, pondering her response before saying, “I used to believe I’d see my loved ones again someday. I don’t think so anymore.”

  “It’s a nice thought, no doubt about it—but not one I want to cling to at the expense of reality. Science shows us that death is a natural, physical process. Life begins and life ends. That ending doesn’t have to be bad. No regret, no pain—a peaceful nothingness. That’s why the Freedom to Die campaign has been so successful, especially for those whose lives have become miserable. Anyway, I would rather treasure my loved ones here, in this life, than console myself with an illusory ‘happily ever after.’”

  Amanda frowned. “Yeah … I know quite well that ‘happily ever after’ is a lie.”

  “Many people base their entire lives on a whole series of lies.” He put the car into park. “We’re here.”

  The restaurant was almost hidden, tucked belowground on the bottom floor of one of the countless skyscrapers. Ethan opened her door and then led her down a few stone steps to the entrance.

  Ethan walked up to the hostess. “Good evening. I have a reservation for two under Ramsey.”

  So that was his last name. Ethan Ramsey. Her mind next jumped to: Amanda Ramsey.

  “Of course, Mr. Ramsey. Please follow me this way.” The hostess tucked two menus under her arm and led them through the dimly lit restaurant to a quiet booth in the back, where a single candle flickered on the table. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

  They took their places on either side of the table. He leaned toward her, ignoring the menu in front of him. “What are you thinking about?”

  She startled, his words disrupting her daydream of being Mrs. Ethan Ramsey. “Wh-What do you mean?”

  “I could see it in your eyes: you were deep in thought about something. I’m fascinated to learn what it could possibly be.”

  “Oh … I was just thinking about your last name. I didn’t know it until you told the hostess.”

  “We have lots to learn about each other. Your last name is …?”

  “Burrow.”

  “Nice. So we got some preliminaries out of the way. Now tell me about the Burrow family.”

  The waitress appeared, cutting off her reply. Amanda couldn’t stand having to select a dish. Some required special finesse to eat, such as a lobster tail; others were a potential mess, like spaghetti or a stuffed burrito. So she played it safe and went with a basic, no-fuss salad.

  Having taken their orders, the waitress left.

  Ethan took a sip of wine. “Let’s try that again. What’s your family like?”

  She was prepared for this question and answered with ease. “There’s my dad, Kevin, who works in construction, and my sister, Chiara. She’s fourteen and just started a trade program for agriculture and equine work.”

  “Are you close with them?”

  She tilted her head, considering. “Well, they live upstate. This is my first time living away from home. I suppose we’re close. I’m pretty different from them, though. … We don’t share the same interests at all. Or the same values, I guess you could say. What about your family?”

  He started buttering one of the warm dinner rolls sitting in a basket on the table. “There are three of us: my parents and me. My dad is the CEO of a large, multinational software company he founded, so growing up, my mom and I traveled with him around the world. It was an unconventional childhood, you might say.”

  “Did you attend an Academy of some sort?”

  “No. I learned more from my dad than from reading any textbook or preparing for a ‘standardized’ test. My dad taught me all about his new business methodology—stripping away needless bureaucracy within his enterprise and letting people do what people do best without interfere
nce or control. He taught me the importance of freedom: to follow one’s desires without a ‘big brother’ watching over you or hierarchical command dictating what is right. And that’s how I learned: I experienced things, pursuing my interests and discovering the answers to my questions.”

  She could picture him as an inquisitive seven-year-old, standing with his mother in front of the pyramids of Egypt, or as a lanky teenager, exploring the palace at Versailles. He was a world traveler, an eclectic connoisseur of knowledge. She, on the other hand, had never been out of the state of New York. Even more pathetically, she’d never left her hometown until she moved to the city.

  Amanda plopped her lemon slice into her glass of water. “Why did you end up here in the city?”

  “It’s New York! This is where all the action is. All the opportunities are here.”

  She was about to ask what these opportunities and activities consisted of, but the waitress came with their dinners.

  Ethan asked the next question. “So what do you like to do when you’re not in class or hiding in the graphic design lounge?” He smiled.

  If only she could offer him something exquisite, fascinating, or corresponding to his diverse upbringing. If only she could impress him by listing flame throwing or bungee jumping among her skilled and varied pastimes. Yet she had one hobby, one exclusive pursuit. “I paint.”

  “What do you like so much about painting?”

  “I don’t normally share things with other people. I find that it’s safer to keep most thoughts and emotions to myself. Painting is my way of expressing these things. I take whatever is in my heart and project it onto the canvas. It’s like therapy for me, at times. Other times, it’s an escape or a sanctuary or even an adventure. You traveled around this world. I travel to other worlds through my art.”

  He had abandoned his veal parmesan, his eyes now studying her. “Here’s a hypothetical for you. Let’s say you had a paintbrush in your hand right now. What would you paint?”

  “Sorry. I don’t share my personal paintings with anyone.”

  “Why? Don’t most artists like showing their work?”

  “I guess. It’s different for me, though.”