the counter.
“One is fine,” said Lucas.
I gaped at him before turning back to
the man and forcing a smile. Lucas dug into his backpack and handed
the man some cash. I made a basket out of my hands and the man
dropped the keys and some change into them.
“Goodnight,” I called.
“Buonanotte ,” he said.
We climbed four flights of stairs and
found our room. Room nineteen.
I flicked on a light switch, which
illuminated two lamps on either side of the bed. A few crushed
mosquito carcasses were stuck on the cream-colored walls. A man in
a neighboring room was snoring.
“That guy downstairs was loud,” I
said. “How do you concentrate with all of the noise?”
Lucas dropped his bag on the bed. He
spoke without looking at me. “Your senses grow more acute as you
get older but you’ll learn to block things out.”
I removed Jerome’s soggy runners and
held them in my hands. The image of his death flashed in my mind
and I fought a wave a nausea. Instead, I pictured us in the
field.
“Now it’s just Noel and
Lucas.”
“And you.”
“And now you.”
His mischievous smile.
Now it’s just Lucas and
me.
Lucas’s eyes were also fixed on the
runners. He clenched his jaw. He removed a small black satchel from
his bag and shook out a thin, flat stone. He snapped off the
harness that fastened his swords to his back. He pulled a sword out
of its sheath and began rubbing the stone on the blade.
I crossed the tiled brown floor and
opened the balcony doors. There was nowhere to step out, just a
railing. Clouds obscured the moon. I imagined the general standing
in a nearby alley under this murky sky, his soldiers fanning out
across the town. I imagined him sneaking up behind me, biting my
shoulder, crunching my collarbone. I shuddered and closed the
doors.
“I have to rest now,” Lucas said,
sliding his sword back into its sheath.
“You can have the bed. I don’t mind
sleeping on the floor.”
“Too much sun in the room,” he said.
“I’m going to lie in the bathtub.”
He gathered his bag and headed to the
washroom.
“Lucas,” I said.
He turned and I launched a pillow at
him from the bed. “Here.”
He looked at the saggy feather pillow
as if it was a contraption requiring instructions.
“Hey. What if I have to use the
washroom?” I asked. As soon as I said it, I realized that I hadn’t
felt the need in awhile.
“You’re dead. You have no bodily
functions. The only thing you do that’s human is bleed.”
Chapter
17
I could not sleep. The sunlight
streamed through the light curtains.
When I closed my eyes, I
saw Noel. His crumpled, devastated body. His open, unseeing eyes on
his detached head. You rescued me and in
return, you died. I writhed with guilt and
buried my face in my pillow.
From the room I was experiencing the
life of the town. There were so many voices. Children laughing.
Seagulls in the harbor. A man was dragging chairs across the road,
yelling in Italian. A couple argued in shrill tones in a nearby
apartment. And then there were the smells—baked goods, fish on a
grill. Fresh linen. Cigarette smoke.
As the sun started to set, I perched
on the edge of the bed and waited until Lucas opened the
door.
“You didn’t rest. I heard you tossing
all day,” he said. “It was annoying.”
Despite his angry tone, I was
comforted by his voice. It was a respite from hearing my
conscience.
“I couldn’t sleep. It was so
noisy.”
He walked around to the other side of
the bed and put his backpack and swords down. He looked at my
pillow; it was spotted with blood from my tears. I quickly flipped
it over.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about what
happened,” I said.
Ignoring me, he strapped his harness
across his chest.
“I just feel sick about Noel
and…”
His head snapped up. “Don’t,” he
said.
“I’m sorry I…”
“I know you’re sorry. I don’t want to
talk about it. Ever.”
I nodded and faced away
from him. He doesn’t want to hear
“One is fine,” said Lucas.
I gaped at him before turning back to
the man and forcing a smile. Lucas dug into his backpack and handed
the man some cash. I made a basket out of my hands and the man
dropped the keys and some change into them.
“Goodnight,” I called.
“Buonanotte ,” he said.
We climbed four flights of stairs and
found our room. Room nineteen.
I flicked on a light switch, which
illuminated two lamps on either side of the bed. A few crushed
mosquito carcasses were stuck on the cream-colored walls. A man in
a neighboring room was snoring.
“That guy downstairs was loud,” I
said. “How do you concentrate with all of the noise?”
Lucas dropped his bag on the bed. He
spoke without looking at me. “Your senses grow more acute as you
get older but you’ll learn to block things out.”
I removed Jerome’s soggy runners and
held them in my hands. The image of his death flashed in my mind
and I fought a wave a nausea. Instead, I pictured us in the
field.
“Now it’s just Noel and
Lucas.”
“And you.”
“And now you.”
His mischievous smile.
Now it’s just Lucas and
me.
Lucas’s eyes were also fixed on the
runners. He clenched his jaw. He removed a small black satchel from
his bag and shook out a thin, flat stone. He snapped off the
harness that fastened his swords to his back. He pulled a sword out
of its sheath and began rubbing the stone on the blade.
I crossed the tiled brown floor and
opened the balcony doors. There was nowhere to step out, just a
railing. Clouds obscured the moon. I imagined the general standing
in a nearby alley under this murky sky, his soldiers fanning out
across the town. I imagined him sneaking up behind me, biting my
shoulder, crunching my collarbone. I shuddered and closed the
doors.
“I have to rest now,” Lucas said,
sliding his sword back into its sheath.
“You can have the bed. I don’t mind
sleeping on the floor.”
“Too much sun in the room,” he said.
“I’m going to lie in the bathtub.”
He gathered his bag and headed to the
washroom.
“Lucas,” I said.
He turned and I launched a pillow at
him from the bed. “Here.”
He looked at the saggy feather pillow
as if it was a contraption requiring instructions.
“Hey. What if I have to use the
washroom?” I asked. As soon as I said it, I realized that I hadn’t
felt the need in awhile.
“You’re dead. You have no bodily
functions. The only thing you do that’s human is bleed.”
Chapter
17
I could not sleep. The sunlight
streamed through the light curtains.
When I closed my eyes, I
saw Noel. His crumpled, devastated body. His open, unseeing eyes on
his detached head. You rescued me and in
return, you died. I writhed with guilt and
buried my face in my pillow.
From the room I was experiencing the
life of the town. There were so many voices. Children laughing.
Seagulls in the harbor. A man was dragging chairs across the road,
yelling in Italian. A couple argued in shrill tones in a nearby
apartment. And then there were the smells—baked goods, fish on a
grill. Fresh linen. Cigarette smoke.
As the sun started to set, I perched
on the edge of the bed and waited until Lucas opened the
door.
“You didn’t rest. I heard you tossing
all day,” he said. “It was annoying.”
Despite his angry tone, I was
comforted by his voice. It was a respite from hearing my
conscience.
“I couldn’t sleep. It was so
noisy.”
He walked around to the other side of
the bed and put his backpack and swords down. He looked at my
pillow; it was spotted with blood from my tears. I quickly flipped
it over.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about what
happened,” I said.
Ignoring me, he strapped his harness
across his chest.
“I just feel sick about Noel
and…”
His head snapped up. “Don’t,” he
said.
“I’m sorry I…”
“I know you’re sorry. I don’t want to
talk about it. Ever.”
I nodded and faced away
from him. He doesn’t want to hear
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