Episode V - Love, Books, and Painful Heartaches

Alice had her stockinged feet propped up on a folding chair, turning through the pages of a book as she listened to the rain falling.

Today's meal was a magnificent hardcover edition of The Iliad, the epic poem by the blind poet Homer chronicling during the Trojan War.

Her black braids poured over her shoulders down to her waist like cats' tails, her long, perfect eyelashes casting a faint shadow over her eyes. One slender finger played with her lips—a habit of her had while reading.

Sometimes she would nibble on her fingertip.

The dust-caked windowpane was wet with rain. There was no light from the setting sun today.

I stopped in the middle of my writing to ask, "Do you like anybody, Alice?"

"Hm? What did you say?"

When she was lost in a book, she didn't really register people talking to her.

"Oh, did you finish my snack already?"

Light broke out across her face. It was so typical of her to let her fixation on food interrupt her reading, despite how much it focused her on her book.

"I asked if there's anybody you like."

"Of course there is. Let's see, Gallico of course, and Dickens, and Dumas, oh and Stendahl, and Chekhov, and Shakespeare, and don't forget Olcott, and then there's Montgomery, and Farjeon and Lindgren and MacLachlan and Cartland and Jordan, and also Melville and Caroll and Conrad, and Mark Twain and Victor Hugo, and, and, and…"

Alice went on and on, looking as if she might start drooling at any moment until I interrupted. "I'm not talking about food. And who are Cartland and Jordan? Basketball players?"

"You mean you don't know who Barbara Cartland and Penny Jordan are? They're both famous romance novel authors. Cartland's The Key of Love is essential for reading. It's about the daughter of an American oil baron who hides her identity and falls in love with a rich, handsome man.

"And Jordan's Silver was even made into a comic book. It was an enormous hit. I definitely recommend that one, too. The shock of being betrayed by the man she loves turns innocent Geraldine's hair silver. She gets revenge on the evil man, and to make him her prisoner, she takes super intense lessons in seduction from a handsome tutor. The tutor is a sexy, wonderful guy."

We were getting further and further off track here…

"Okay, that's enough. I get it. Alice, what I meant was… have you ever been in love?"

"Huh?" She cocked her head, bewildered. "In… Lovecraft?"

"No, not Lovecraft. Have you ever had feelings for someone? Not hunger, feelings, as in love, as in a relationship."

"In that case, I'm always in love."

"I told you I'm not talking about food. I'm asking if you've ever been in love with a person."

I felt tired. No matter how depressed I was, I'd been an idiot to think I could talk with this girl about romance.

Then I noticed she smirk, a distant look flashing in her eye.

Huh? Where had this mature, serious aura come from? I could practically hear the strains of a noir theme playing in the background. Was it possible that her past contained a painful experience with love?

"Well, you see… I'm inside a zone of romantic slaughter."

"Uhhh, what? What's that supposed to be?"

I had steeled myself for anything, but a voice strained by incredulity escaped me nonetheless.

She turned a nihilistic gaze to the rain-soaked window and began to tell her story in a matter-of-fact tone that was yet replete with sorrow.

"At the beginning of this year, I asked a fortune teller—to tell my fortune in love. She told me that I'd been inside a zone of romantic slaughter ever since I was born, and even if I fell in love I would just be spinning my wheels and peril would crash down around me like a raging storm. Even if I were accepted, she said my love would be short-lived and would shatter into hundreds of itty-bitty pieces. So she told me to focus on my studies and hobbies and not even think about falling in love."

"You mean that lady who sits outside the I—tan department store, who's always got the big line? You waited to see her?"

"Yeah. The snow had dusted the city cold and white that day."

"Why would you go line up on a snowy day?"

"I thought it would be less crowded that way. It only took thirty minutes to get my turn."

I felt a headache creeping in.

"You wanted that fortune teller—to tell your fortune that badly?"

"I am a girl, you know. I want to know what my fortunes in love will be, just like anyone else. But to find out I'm in a zone of romantic slaughter… that was hard to hear. Oh, but guess what! She said that the romantic slaughter would end in seven years and then I would meet the man of my destiny!"

Pensive Alice disappeared in a flash of cheer that filled her face. She leaned forward eagerly.

"She predicted that seven years from now, in the summertime, I would meet a man wearing a white scarf and standing in front of a bear with a salmon in its mouth, and we would fall into a fated love. And she made sure I understood that my love line was shockingly short and that this would be my first and only chance at love, so I had to be sure to make something of it. So, unfortunately, I've sworn off love for the next seven years."

"But why would that guy be wearing a scarf in the summer? And if you try flirting innocently in front of a bear, you're going to get eaten."

Alice pouted. "You've got no imagination, Andy."

"You've got too much."

"Well, I am a literature maiden."

"You can't just wave everything away with that excuse. But you know, never mind. Sorry I interrupted your reading."

She looked troubled. "Um… did something happen, Andy?"

"No."

"Is there… someone you like?"

I looked away.

Rain tapped against the window.

"No, there isn't someone I like. It's nothing. That's the best…"

Nothing happening.

Not having a crush on anybody.

I could live in peace, without pain, or sadness, or disappointment.

I prayed that every day would be that way for the rest of my life.

I would never fall in love again.

Alice looked at me in silence.

One year earlier, when she'd dragged me into this club, I had often made her look sad. Every time she made a face like that, I thought how unfair it was, considering what she was like. Even so, I'd be filled with embarrassing remorse.

"I'm going to go home. Sorry."

The silence was making me uncomfortable, so I got up, leaving my story half-written.

I opened the rusted locker and saw that the umbrella I'd left there was gone, just as I'd predicted.

"Here." Alice held out a pale violet pocket umbrella with a cheerful smile. "I've still got your umbrella. You can use this one."

"What are you going to do, though?"

"Oh, I've got my umbrella. A really big one."

"… I see. Then thank you."

"Sure thing. See you tomorrow!"

She waved at me, her smile deliberately bright and untroubled.

I opened the umbrella when I stepped through the main entrance, making violets bloom in the gray rain with a pop.

Violet was Alice's favorite color. I'd often seen her with handkerchiefs or pencils this same pale purple color.

"The rain doesn't look like it's going to let up…"

I stood where I was, holding the umbrella.

I'd known that Alice was lying. She'd only had one umbrella.

Since starting high school, I'd put on a mask for my classmates and kept some distance between us. Even if I smiled, I wasn't smiling. And I had felt small and pathetic when Abigail had pointed that out.

But for some reason, I could act naturally with Alice.

Every time I saw Alice looking sad or troubled, I wished I could smile for her, even if it was fake. But I only managed some inept reassurance. I hated it.

How could I get better at lying?

Could I manage not to get hurt and not hurt anyone else?

I don't know how long I stood there waiting for Alice to come out, gazing up at the cold rain.

I saw a girl in a school uniform run out from behind the building.

Janella.

She noticed me, too, and stopped.

She gasped, and her eyes widened.

Then she whispered hoarsely, "Anthony?"

Huh?

The next moment, she was clinging to me and sobbing.

"What's wrong, Janella?"

She didn't answer, only pressed her dripping face and body against me, circling her arms around my back and wailing. Tears streamed from her eyes, which she kept tightly shut as if in pain.

I was holding my bag and umbrella, so I couldn't hug her back. Besides, this was the first time this had ever happened to me, and I wasn't sure what I should do. Had something happened with her and Anthony? I was just about to ask when we heard a voice call out, "Nella!"

It was a boy about my age.

Janella trembled against my chest when she heard him.

"Nella?"

The voice was coming closer, and from the same direction, Janella had come running from earlier. He sounded troubled somehow. Suddenly, Janella pulled on my arm.

"J-Janella, wait…"

She set her jaw and tugged at my arm with a grim expression, pulling me away.

"Hey, that guy is looking for you. Nella is you, isn't it?"

"No! Don't answer!"

She sounded terrified. She pulled me into the school building.

As we went in, I saw a boy carrying a navy blue umbrella go by, turning his head this way and that. But it was only a momentary glimpse, and I couldn't see his face.

It wasn't until we reached the corridor to the back of the schoolyard that she finally let go of my arm. She huddled into a ball and started to cry, her shoulders shaking.

I told the girl that I would go out with her.

She smiled at me as naively as a puppy.

She had placed an innocent trust in me.

An uncorrupted, pure-hearted, gentle, happy white sheep beloved by God.

I envied her, was repelled by her, but at the same time, I couldn't help but adore her simple effervescence.

But, perhaps, just such a girl might be able to change me.

They say that love changes people.

If so, that girl might be my salvation.

I might become a normal human being, rather than a monster possessing neither love nor kindness.

Oh, how I wish that I could.

I wished it so ardently that my heart seemed on fire.

Let me come to care for that girl.

Even if at first it's only an act, I know that eventually, it would have to become true.

Please—please—let her innocent light deliver me.

But if that girl knew that I had killed someone, would she still love me? Would she still think that I was kind?

I am a monster.

That day, when tender flesh was pulverized and red blood spread its tangy aroma across the black asphalt, I watched with an empty heart.

I had killed a person.