Chapter 9 (Aronade: age 16/ Mark: age 18 — First Ghetto)
The Instructor leans forward. “I want you to go to Mison.” he tells me one day.
I look at him perplexed.
“Mison?”
“You know, the ghetto.”
“Yes, I know.” I reply. “But is it safe? I mean, with everything that’s been happening lately?”
There is silence. He breaks it.
“You will be given an escort in and out. It has already been arranged … it’s nonnegotiable.”
I guess there is nothing left to say.
There is a fence around Mison. There is a way inside … at certain hours of the day. A man at the gate lets me in, which is what the Instructor said would happen. But when I ask the man if he is to be my escort, he doesn’t respond. Instead he just shuts the gate, trapping me inside.
Coming upon Mison is surreal. It feels like a scenario. I watch a leaf trace its way in front of my path. That seems real, but then I’ve come to realize I’m too easily fooled into believing things are real despite my best efforts not to be.
Mison is a peculiar city. This place is dangerous; I can feel it. It had occurred to me years earlier that the danger of a place could change over time. Years ago under different circumstances this place might have been safe, even pleasant. Other people may have gone on with their daily lives without a need to fear.
But now it isn’t safe … now it is a threat to survival.
Today is a Sunday, and most of the streets are deserted. Is it always like this? I know the ghetto is set to be filled with more people, but surely there are more people already here than this. Are they hiding? What am I supposed to be getting out of this?
“What about work?” a man I pass by asks another man. “What are we supposed to do in this place?”
“There is plenty of construction work.”
“You mean build up this place? Make it more of a prison than it already is?”
Suddenly, I hear a distinctive female voice. It is familiar to me. Familiar enough that I find myself searching for the person it belongs to. Who could it be? I can’t place it. A classmate? I suddenly feel ashamed. People shouldn’t be here for entertainment purposes. I didn’t want to be here, but still …
I begin to look around for the guide the Instructor had promised me. I see no one who appears to be searching for me. There is something wholly disturbing when you come upon a scene fully expecting to find someone in particular there, and you find yourself utterly alone instead. A shudder passes through me. Is this some sort of game? It always feels as though I am being punished for something when something bad and unexpected happens. Maybe it has been Nan’s attitude towards me over the years that has caused me to think like this. But still, it is true nonetheless that my first instinct is to conclude that I have screwed up.
My next thoughts are a lot more practical: what do I do now? how will I get back out? bang on the front gate?
I wring my hands, willing myself not to panic — a lot of good that does me. It is starting to get dark. The few people around me seem to have a destination in mind. They walk with purpose. How easy it would be to be lost among them — pulled into a trap you are powerless to escape from. I sense it is like quicksand here — the longer you stay, the further entrenched you become.
I know now that I was stupid to rely on the Instructor to be my safety net. Who knows if he even has the power to get me out of here. Maybe all of his bravado is merely a sham.
And yet, I have never felt as though I’m in the position to disobey him. Has he suddenly unleashed his sadistic side on me and turned against me? I had thought he would only turn against me completely if I openly defied him. But then maybe that belief, too, was naïve. I’m not sure of anything involving my situation anymore, and that is saying a lot since my home situation seems tenuous on a good day.
Then, out of nowhere, I stop short and just stare. My eyes widen more with every passing moment.
“Mark.” I utter barely audibly.
My mind can’t wrap itself around the fact that I could be seeing him in front of me. His appearance seemed to come out of nowhere.
He turns and looks at me. I can’t tell if he is surprised to see me or not. He has a rather cryptic look on his face.
“Doesn’t he recognize me?” I wonder. I decide to call out to him again.
The man who looks like Mark begins to approach me.
“Come with me.” he states disinterestedly when he gets close enough to me for me to hear him.
He then turns and begins to walk off. My eyebrows furrow. I don’t know what to make of his behavior. Does he recognize me or not? At this point I’m even beginning to wonder whether I am wrong that this is indeed Mark.
Still, as I look around me, I realize I don’t have any good options but to follow him. I don’t want to stay here, and there doesn’t appear to be any trace of the Instructor’s guide. I decide the best thing to do is to follow Mark at a distance; that will allow me a chance to run away if need be — if it turns out not to be Mark but rather a lookalike. I proceed to catch up to him. Then, when I get close to him, I slow down to his languidly pace.
I see him turn his face to the side as though to look back at me with his peripheral vision. I feel myself blush. He seems to grin, but is that just my imagination? He turns his face forward and exhales deeply.
We wind through the brownish red streets, which grow and shrink in width.
I am looking around me while deep in thought … so much so that I don’t even notice that Mark has stopped and has turned in my direction. Therefore, I almost run into him.
I look up into his eyes; I am taken off-guard. I regain my footing. He looks at me with intensity. His mouth almost creases into a bemused smile. Then, he turns back around and begins to head under an arch. I notice that he has grown taller than he was the last time I saw him — the day we entered the destroyed city. But then the arches that day had been huge — had reached into the sky — a sky that shed large powdery snowflakes in its wake. Or, had it been dust from those collapsing buildings after all?
“Mark?!” I then cry out.
He responds to the determination in my voice. He turns around, a serious look crosses his face. But his look isn’t as serious as mine. I see him shift his shoulders uncomfortably. Is he afraid to face me? Afraid to be confronted by the fact he never came back for me? I am surprised by my sudden desire to put him at ease about that … but I don’t do it. Instead, I ask, “Where are we going?”
He looks upon me with curiosity for a moment then responds, “Away from this place. No one in their right mind would want to stay here.”
I nod. He is helping me escape. But I have to wonder if his being here is just a coincidence.
“Surely you don’t want to stay here?” he persists.
I can almost hear a hint of bitterness in his voice.
“No.” I return with irritation in my voice.
He nods then continues on his way. My pride makes me want to remain where I am standing until he says something that will make me like him again. But I have a feeling there is no time for that, and I really don’t want to stay here in this town turned prison. I continue to follow him.
Part of me, as I’m walking, tries to convince myself that after Mark leads me out of this place I won’t need to have anything more to do with him. But then Mark unexpectedly speaks to me again, “So is this another scenario?” he asks me, interrupting my train of thought. “Is the Instructor behind your being here?”
It’s a valid question and the answer is “yes.” But I don’t wish to answer the question, for I sense Mark’s interest has more to do with the Instructor than it has to do with me. And I’m sick of being a puppet on a string, being yanked around because of other people’s agendas. But there’s a tension in the air as silence ensues. I sigh and decide to say, “You can pretty much guess.” I begin to find myself angered. “I mean, really do I even have a life that’s my own? Isn’t someone always toying with me?”
I threw in that last question for Mark’s benefit. I still haven’t forgiven him for what transpired before, I guess. If he would apologize … sincerely … but he hasn’t.
And what is Mark doing here anyway? Was he sent in to retrieve me? Does that mean he is known by the Instructor? Or ,does he actually live in Mison? But if he can leave this place, then why doesn’t he? He had noted that I wouldn’t want to stay here. It doesn’t make sense that he would say that if he wants to be here himself.
Mark begins to move some stones from a structure ahead of us. They appear to be just a random pile that is arranged in no particular way. But it turns out it does cover up a hole that is in front of us. It’s already dark on the other side of the cavity.
At one point he just stops. He doesn’t turn back to me, and I realize this is the end of our journey together. If I walk away now, chances are good I’ll never see him again.
“You should come out of here for the night.” I suddenly say. “You can always walk me back to my home if you’d be so kind.”
He turns partially toward me. And I’m surprised to note by the illumination caused by a nearby streetlight that he appears to be hesitant. How could he possibly want to remain, especially after what he had said before? Is there some sort of punishment involved if his leaving is discovered? Is he afraid he won’t have the means to return? On this last question I think about his sister, who he probably still feels responsible for. If Mark truly has the ability to step out from his confinement, which it appears as though he does, then it must be something like that which is keeping him here.
I am prepared to let him go if that’s what he really wants. It’s beyond me at this point to beg him to stay with me. I’m simply too worn out emotionally to fight him on this. I watch as he looks down briefly then back at me. He seems to be looking at me from out of his peripheral vision again.
“Fine.” he states distinctly.
I find myself surprised by this change of events. I fully expected him to refuse me. I don’t have the time to consider what this change of heart could be about, for he is already proceeding through the cavity that leads to the outside world.
Years ago, I was introduced to a mansion and told that this was the Instructor’s house. I ended up staying there from time to time … particularly when the boarding school would have its holidays. I figured the Instructor felt too many questions would be raised if I stayed at the deserted boarding school during those times. The Instructor was very rarely home, and I never asked him where he went. Actually, I saw him leaving right after he told me to go to Mison.
I now find the house is completely dark — not a light is showing. Mark looks over at me as though expecting an explanation. I have none to give him. There isn’t a cloud in the sky nor any rain. It seems the electricity didn’t just go out on its own. The scene is odd; there’s no denying that. It certainly does make me hesitant to enter. And yet, where else can we go?
“I’m assuming this house isn’t usually kept as black as midnight.” Mark speaks.
“No.” I state.
“Well …”
“We’ll go into the gardener’s shed.” I suggest. “He has a cot in there. I can set you up in there.”
“Just like old times.” Mark begins sheepishly.
I just sort of look at him … without smiling. He did sound as though he was trying to make a joke of it. I can tell he is looking over at me, but I am not amused. So, I look away. Then, I roll my shoulders in an attempt to drive the tension from them.
“Follow me.” I tell him.
I lead Mark around toward the back of the mansion.
“So … he’s still doing scenarios …” he mentions while he follows me.
“Not as many anymore.” I return. “The whole world has become a scenario.”
We arrive at the shed. I find a light. Thankfully, it turns on. I think the gardener has a generator.
“Nothing much ever seems to happen in he gardener’s shed.” I inform him. “It should be safe to hang out here. The gardener isn’t set to return until a few days from now.”
“That’s more certainty than I can usually count on.” he tells me.
I look up at him.
“Will anyone wonder where you are?” I question.
“No. Sometimes I don’t return at night.”
I nod. I sort of assumed that would be the case.
“I suppose I should try to find you something to eat.” I offer.
I turn toward the main house. It is still dark. This is strange, but I’m mostly used to strange by now. After what I went through today, I’m not feeling particularly afraid.
“Wait!” Mark’s voice calls out. I turn back toward him.
“I would prefer it if you’d stay.” he lets me know. “You’ll never know if you’ll be detained inside. I figure we should talk since we’ve been given the chance.”
There’s a tightening in my chest as my eyes drift downward. I walk off to the side and sit down on the edge of the cot. Mark is still standing in front of me. I look up at him, my hands clutching the edge of the bed. I am hesitant to hear what he has to say. And yet, I figure it can’t be avoided forever.
I realize how long it’s been since we actually talked. I can tell that that moment is coming. I flush from the anticipation of it. This is someone I had almost lost hope of ever seeing again. All these years … we are both practically adults now. I try to recollect how I used to be; compare myself as I was then to how I am now. But it almost feels as though time has slipped away from underneath me. I am essentially the same person I was then. Some things have changed, and yet fundamentally I have remained the same. The question is whether he is the same. Or, has he, like so many others, faded into a shell of his former self over time?
“How has it been since …” he begins.
I tense. I find I am angry. Though I am glad he is here, both this comment and the comments from before remind me of the past when he wasn’t there for me … and when I didn’t know if he ever would be again. And I find that I am angry about that — that he abandoned me. I suppose it’s not surprising. I never did have a chance to work through my feelings. He was just gone.
“Fine.” I respond. “Things were pretty much the same after you left … Then, I was brought to the city. Apparently, it was the Instructor’s intention to send me here all along.”
“That’s strange.”
“Not really. Not if you know what I know … now.” I state evasively.
Mark nods distractedly. He seems to recognize that I don’t intend to finish that thought.
“By the way, it seems that the Instructor wasn’t the one who tried to kill you.” I inform him.
He surprises me when he says, “Doesn’t matter. He’s done enough.”
“I’m not defending him.” I quickly add, concerned that he will think I am allied with the Instructor.
“I know. We’ve discussed that before.”
I can hear a slight softness in his voice, which catches me off-guard. I bite my lip. I am hesitant to reveal all to Mark. I look off to the side.
“So, how is your sister?” I decide to ask, even though I realize that I am getting close to breaching a topic I do not want to discuss.
“She’s all right. She stays with our tante in the city.”
“That city?”
“That city.”
I believe we are referring to Mison. I am right, for Mark then informs me that Katie is living in Mison unregistered … as is Mark.
“We’re like rats in a bizarre social experiment.” he tells me. “They’re ‘special,’ after all.” Mark pauses, possibly so I could feel the full impact of his words. “So they can live it up while the rest of us have to die. That way they don’t have to share all of *their* resources with us.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I tell him.
“I don’t take it personally. Most people just don’t care.” Mark informs me.
“Then again, there may be some who are fooled, who believe what they’ve been told,” I put forth.
“Maybe at the beginning.” he responds skeptically.
“A lot can happen in a large city.” Mark continues on. “People can get lost there. People can lose track of people. Well, the public can lose track of people — the authorities seem to know a lot about what happens to each individual — if they’re alive or dead. Diseases spread. People can die from those diseases, or they can be killed in some other way, and then the authorities can blame it on the flu or typhus or something else. The point is they’re dead. And then they get cremated, and in the world’s eyes it’s like they just disappeared or never existed at all.”
“So, can I ask you … why is Katie staying there? It’s not a place I would want to be.”
He looks at me intently but remains silent. I realize how naïve my words must sound, as though most people are given a choice, but I can’t seem to stop myself from uttering the words.
“You must think me a fool. Obviously there’s some reason you can’t leave.” I acknowledge. “But that’s an issue for me. I’m not one for being controlled.”
He smiles.
“Me neither.” he agrees.
“And after all you went through to free her, and now she’s trapped again …”
“Well, she doesn’t seem to want to leave.”
I wait for him to elaborate.
“It has to do with what happened to her before … because of the Instructor.”
“I realize she was abducted because of him.”
“How much do you know?” he asks me.
“How much do you?” I return. My eyes are shifty. I sigh. “I know she was taken because of me. He was trying to hide me and abducted the others to cause confusion about my whereabouts.”
I look for his reaction. He doesn’t give me one.
“Don’t ask me why he did that.” I whisper. “I don’t want to discuss it … not now. I mean, do you know?”
“No. I don’t know what you mean.” he admits.
A chill goes through me.
“Oh.” I mutter.
This is awkward. Should I tell him… about the disease I am carrying? And if not now, then when? I don’t know if I’ll ever trust him again as I used to.
“Don’t worry about it.” he assures me. “It doesn’t seem to matter now.”
I breathe. He has no idea how wrong he is. And yet, I can’t force myself to tell him my secret all the same. Still, I am glad he seems to sense this in me and has let me off the hook.
“So your sister …” I begin. “She likes it there?”
I can tell by the look on his face that I have hit a nerve. He seems displeased with his sister.
“She has changed a lot.” he states coldly.
“Well, she is growing up.” I remind him.
My argument doesn’t appear to convince him. But then again, what do I know? I’ve never met his sister.
“And your parents … they must be happy the two of you returned.”
“They are.”
I’m glad to hear him refer to them in the present tense. I had grown a little worried when I heard that his sister was staying with her tante. At least they’re alive, I tell myself. I don’t really want to ask where they are. I figure I’m asking too many personal questions as it is. It would seem wrong of me to ask him for more information since I am withholding information of my own. But I can tell there’s something in this line of questioning that has Mark on edge. Mark suddenly appears to be deep in thought. I think of trying to come up with something else to say, but honestly it is hard to think of anything to talk about that won’t seem obviously shallow. There is far too much baggage between us — far too much we will need to discuss … someday. Perhaps now just isn’t the time. It is getting late, and I am tired. Maybe I will feel less wary of everything in the morning.
“She has become besotted with some guy she met around the time she went missing.” Mark suddenly confides.
“Your sister?”
“Yes.”
“Wow.” I utter. “I had no idea. But … you don’t like this guy I take it.”
“No.”
“And your tante?”
“She doesn’t seem to care. That’s why Katie is staying with her. That and she lives in the city.” Mark hesitates a moment. “Anyway, that’s why I volunteered to come here — to keep an eye on her, but she won’t listen to me or our parents. And she won’t return home. And my tante won’t kick her out lest some harm befall her. Yet, it’s obvious she’s not being supervised … and like you said Mison is a problem.”
I look down. I feel I should say something that will make it better, but I can’t come up with anything.
“Like I said before, regardless of the reason, the Instructor was the one who did what he did. You aren’t responsible for his actions. You were a prisoner there, too. Actually … regrettably you still are.”
I look back up at him.
“What would you have done, though? If you had known who I was — that I was a part of things? Would you still have wanted to help me before?”
“You were still innocent …” he replies. “… still a victim.”
“And now? What do you think now?”
“The same.” he says.
I feel grateful and moved by his words. I am satisfied with his denial. And yet … does he know … about the enormity of things? That people died?
“I appreciate what you said.” I mutter. “I feel a lot of guilt about what happened. I don’t want to be the cause of somebody else’s suffering.”
“I can appreciate that, too.” he responds softly.
“Or death …” I manage to add.
“Then, you know?” Mark asks me. “That one of the girls died?”
“More than one.” I correct him.
Mark looks stricken then nods.
“I wish I had told you.” he confesses. “I discovered one of the bodies.”
I am surprised to hear this. Why hadn’t he told me back then? I start thinking about that time again. He is looking at me. His gaze is not intrusive, but it is inscrutable. That sort of annoys me. After all, I want answers.
“Why did you leave me?” I suddenly hear myself ask aloud.
My heart begins to pound in my chest. My face reddens. I want to take it back, but I can’t. It’s already out there. It’s not that I’ve changed my mind about wanting to know. I’m just not sure I can handle hearing the answer now. He shifts positions. He is clearly taken aback by my question. But suddenly, I don’t care if I’ve made him uncomfortable. I wait for his response.
I see him look down. He appears to be considering what to say. Then, he looks up at me.
“I could say that I thought my leaving was what you wanted …” he begins. “You clearly covered for me, so that I could escape with my sister … but I don’t really believe that. The truth is my priority was saving my sister. That’s what I set out to do.”
“Did you follow me that day … after I left?” I asks suddenly in a soft voice. Mark looks uncomfortable and guilty. Then, he admits that he had not.
“Going back later for you would have been a risk. He would have tracked us all down. And yet, I’ve regretted leaving you behind ever since. I don’t know what else I could have done. And still … it felt … it still feels wrong.”
I glance downward. I am silent. I had thought of the same logical arguments before … and yet, the feeling of personal betrayal aches in my chest. To think, I waited all these years for him to show up for me, and he never even tried. It was just happenchance we met again after all.
“Do you think you can forgive me?” he asks me.
Yes, it would take that, wouldn’t it?
I consider.
“I think so.” I let him know. “Like I said … I, too, feel bad. When I found out what he did … after he admitted … at least some of it to me. What he did because of me …”
“Not because of you.” he corrects. “He doesn’t care about you.”
“Do you?” I finally get the nerve to ask him after a few moments of silence.
“Yes.” he says.
I breathe. My eyes drift away again. It’s what I wanted to hear. And yet, can I believe it truly? I sigh.
“Thank you for helping me.” he tells me. “I realize actions speak more than words. Hopefully, someday I can prove it to you …”
I think on his words for a moment. I realize he feels guilty about me. I admit I want him to regret how we parted. And yet, guilt … that is another thing entirely. Guilt feels too close to pity to me, and I have no desire to be pitied.
“That won’t be necessary.” I say quickly. “For you to try to come up with some grand opportunity to prove yourself to me … It will just take time, I think … your being here consistently.”
“Maybe …” he replies. “But these are difficult times. You never know when something major will come up.”
“I guess things tend to happen around me, given I’m the Instructor’s puppet. Still, I don’t need you to take care of me like you did your sister just because she won’t let you take care of her anymore.” I protest.
Mark seems to take in my words with some gravity.
“You’re right about that.” he admits. “She won’t let me help her, and apparently you won’t either. Yet, I really do feel both of you need it. Then again, she has my parents and tante now. Who do you have?”
I am stunned silent. It is true that I have no people on which I can rely, and that it’s been that way ever since he left and never came back. And yet, he is here now. I remember when he first entered my life all those years ago. I had had no one to talk to before he came, and I felt that he provided me with someone I could confide in. The truth is that it is useful to have a sounding board. Sometimes it becomes difficult to work through what reality is when it comes to the Instructor. I need that.
“All right.” I agree. “Like I said, it would be nice to have you around. I need someone to talk with.”
He nods quickly and looks pleased.
“Well, if you need me, I’ll be around.”
“Are you going somewhere now?” I question.
“I’d better head back.”
“What?” I am surprised. I figured he would be staying in the shed tonight. I had no idea that he possibly never had any intention to do that.
“Don’t worry.” he assures me. “I’ll check the place over thoroughly before I go and make sure no one’s there. You wait here.”
“But what if someone sees you?!” I wonder. “I can never tell when someone like the Instructor may be there.”
“And what’s he going to do? I’ll just get out of there if I run into someone who might have cause to be there. But I’m not going to leave until I’m sure the house is secure. Maybe I can even get the lights back on for you.”
After rummaging through some nearby drawers and retrieving a flashlight, Mark heads out the door. I had forgotten how stubborn he can be.
I sit on the bed and wait for him to return. I try not to think about whether Mark will end up running into someone in the house. I have no idea what might happen if Mark runs into the Instructor. I try to imagine what the repercussions might be — but I honestly can’t guess what would come of it. I can never even tell for sure whether the Instructor is even being honest with me at any given moment. Is he really unaware of Mark’s existence?
And then there is Kurt. After what he tried to do to Mark, certainly Kurt could make things difficult for me if he found out about Mark’s presence here now. He has already done so much to get rid of Mark, so that the Instructor wouldn’t find out what he had done. Surely, Kurt won’t take it well if he discovers Mark has reappeared. Kurt is also unlikely to believe that Mark’s being back in my life is merely a coincidence. Nor is he likely to buy that Mark has come back into the picture for my sake. All I know at this moment is that I am hoping Mark will return to the shed soon and without incident.
It’s very hard to wait for Mark to return, but he does eventually come back.
“I’m done going over the place.” he announces. “There is nobody inside from what I can tell — unless there are some secret passageways like in the complex.”
He seems to be waiting for me to either confirm or deny this.
“I don’t know.” I tell him. “I haven’t noticed any.”
Mark suddenly appears concerned.
“I’m not sure then.” Mark declares. “I wish there were someone you knew who could stay with you. The electricity doesn’t appear to be working. I tried the fuse box, but it didn’t do anything …”
“I can stay in the shed.” I find myself offering, though I don’t really want to.
Mark seems relieved by my suggestion. I guess I will have to stay in the shed tonight after all, I resign myself.
Mark goes and checks over the door.
“Well, I’ll be heading out then.” He turns to look at me. “Oh, and make sure you lock this door.”
He waits to see my reaction.
“Sure.” I agree. “I will.”
I get up as he shuts the door; then, I secure the lock behind him. I’m aware that this lock wouldn’t be hard to penetrate if someone put forth the effort to break it. And yet, it would probably give me a heads up should someone try to enter the shed. That thought gives me some peace of mind, which will hopefully allow me to sleep.
Sleep doesn’t turn out to be so easily achieved. I have a lot on my mind. I can’t believe I ran into Mark again! Even after the disturbing visit into Mison, it’s the thing that sticks out foremost in my mind.
Of course, I have to wonder when I’ll see Mark again. It had occurred to me right before he left to discuss with him how we would arrange meeting up again. But I had hesitated, and he left. Now I have to wonder how we will get together without anyone spotting us. Mark doesn’t seem afraid of discovery — but he doesn’t know about Kurt. He only knows or at least suspects what the Instructor is capable of. I’m not even sure Mark believes me that the Instructor wasn’t involved in his near-death experience. Perhaps Mark thinks I’m being naïve about that. And still, it appears I’m the only one of us who’s worried about the Instructor finding out about Mark. Mark never has seemed to take the danger the Instructor poses to him seriously. Even though the Instructor wasn’t the one who had tried to kill Mark in the past, I have little doubt that the Instructor is capable of murder.
In the morning, I hear a car pull into the drive. I pull myself up and head to the window. Through the foggy window, I can see a dark car making its way up the driveway. I recognize it to be the woman who runs the house now, a Fraulein Blankenship. I don’t know her well — she is a recent hire — but I saw her arrive in the morning the other day. I figure it would be a good idea to follow her into the house. Hopefully, she’ll be able to get the electricity back on. In the very least, I will have the opportunity to change into my school uniform while someone else I recognize is around the premises. I figure it will be safer that way.
The woman hesitates in front of the mansion. She has left her car parked on the circle drive fronting the property. No doubt the lack of electricity has taken her off-guard. I approach her, and yet she isn’t looking at me. I figure it will be highly possible I will startle her if I can’t think of a way to make my presence known to her before I reach her.
I clear my throat softly. She turns and looks at me. I can tell she’s taken aback, but she doesn’t appear too disturbed. I am glad that her reaction isn’t more dramatic.
“I don’t know if you know who I am. My name is …” I catch myself. I almost gave her my real name. Spending time with Mark and hearing him call me Aronade had made me temporarily forget that the Instructor has renamed me. I have to focus. I am back in the thick of things again. The game of scenarios is back on. Nothing can be trusted.
I proceed to give the woman my new name.
“I live here.” I inform her. “Some of the time.”
She nods.
Then, she looks back at the house.
“What happened here?” she asks me.
I shrug. She looks at the house again.
“All right.” she tells me. “I guess I’ll have to call the caretaker … should we go inside?”
I nod. We head towards the house. It feels deserted, but you can never know for sure. Something about the daylight, though, makes it feel as though whatever might have been going on last night no longer is.
I stand by Fraulein Blankenship’s side in the kitchen as she calls the caretaker. Her voice if very soft, and she speaks particularly slowly.
“All right then.” she drones on. “I’ll see you then.”
She hangs up the phone. Then, she looks over at me.
“Should I call Herr Frankfort?” she asks me.
It takes me a moment to register that she’s referring to the Instructor.
I am at a loss as to how to respond. I have no idea why the electricity is off. Yet, I can’t think of a single reason why he would want us to call him.
“Let’s wait and see what the caretaker can do before we call him.” I tell her.
She seems relieved I made a decision. I find her passivity rather surprising. She seems like the opposite of Nan.
I decide to wait with her until the caretaker arrives. I figure I have plenty of time before I have to get ready for school. Plus, quite frankly, I’m not entirely convinced Fraulein Blankenship can handle this situation on her own. I have also decided I really don’t want her calling the Instructor unless it is absolutely necessary. At first I had been undecided but not anymore. Now I feel dread at the thought.
Strangely, it had taken quite awhile for the caretaker to show up. By the time he arrived, I had taken to sitting on a stool next to the kitchen counter. The tension in the room seemed to have mounted as Fraulein Blankenship and I had waited. I had taken a moment to look over Fraulein Blankenship, trying to get a read on where she was coming from. She seemed to be staring off into space. I’d seen that look on actors’ faces before when they were waiting for the next act to begin. And yet, that wasn’t proof of anything. Fraulein Blankenship had looked over at me. Was that a flash of recognition in her eyes? As though we were both in on the same joke?
But in the end, it was just a feeling. That’s when the caretaker had arrived.
Fraulein Blankenship stands and greets the man.
“We’re in need of some help with the electricity …” Fraulein Blankenship begins.
I watch the two of them discussing a course of action. Eventually, I get the feeling that they have things well in hand. There probably won’t be any answers right away as to what had happened, so I decide that this will be as good a time as any to go get ready for the day.
I head up the large staircase toward my bedroom suite. I am not particularly afraid of going up there on my own with two people waiting downstairs. Even if they turn out to be actors, they seem harmless enough. Seriously, I can’t afford to be worried all the time. If I allow doubts to take over my mind I will never be able to function. Indecision and self-doubt can be your enemies. It is best to be sure of your position before you face other people. Your lack of sureness can embolden them.
My room is just as I had left it. Nothing appears to have changed. I quickly decide to take a shower then prepare for the day. I am hopeful that everything will be set right by the time I get back from school. My preparations for the day are uneventful. I have to use the natural light from the outside to see what I am doing.
When I head downstairs again, I find Fraulein Blankenship and the caretaker in the kitchen. They are sitting around the counter drinking coffee and chatting. They look up blankly as I briefly enter the room and lay my bag on a nearby chair. I’m a bit dismayed by their behavior. It troubles me that they don’t appear to be doing anything to restore the power. Then again, maybe they’ve already arranged everything. I could always ask them what they are doing or planning on doing, but by now I am running late. I am also not sure I want to hear about it if the news doesn’t turn out to be good. I would rather hope for the best.
I remember I left my book bag in the kitchen as I head for the front door, so I quickly return. I am surprised by what I find there. I find the faces of Fraulein Blankenship and the caretaker flushed and their mouths unmoving. They are apparently actors after all, and they don’t seem to know what to do with themselves at this point. I know immediately the Instructor’s been at work here. Of course, he studied me long enough to guess what I would do … well, most of it … in regards to the electricity anyway.
I give them a wry smile, grab my bag, and head out.
As I’m passing by the front gate, I cast my eyes around me. I am looking for Mark, but I don’t see him.
Copyright © Jennifer Alice Chandler 2020
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