-1938-

Huey LaForet watched the window in his cell, closing his eyes when he wished no longer to see it. What do you mean, "getting married?" To whom?

To the one whom I love, Father, Chane replied to him while sitting in a chair of heavy cloth in her apartment. She was watching Felix, who had dozed into a light sleep after eating three large portions of spaghetti. He was sitting in the chair opposite to her, head lulling at his chest. The radio droned, humming in the background. A faint jazz orchestra could just be detected over the static.

And who is this one? I thought I was the only one you loved.

I do love you, Father. Very much. But I have found love in another. Is that so wrong?

You are my daughter, Chane. A father cannot easily release his daughter to another man. When is the wedding?

We are planning on celebrating three nights from now. We are in France, so it will be a French wedding.

Fitting that you should return to the Mother Country for this.

You sound bitter. Why are you upset with me? This is what a woman does when she grows up, yes?

Perhaps other women.

Her hands cinched around her thread and needle. She had purchased her first sewing kit a few days before, and was learning from an old French maiden near their flat. Chane was able to stitch up tears and such, but not much beyond that. She jabbed the needle into the clothing. One of Felix's shirts was ripped at the elbow.

There is little that I know about people, and they often confuse me. But I am learning how to live in this world, and to trust another. Is this not what you want for me? To be happy?

Your happiness was never much of a concern to me, Chane. Huey admitted it quietly, as though it was an afterthought that he himself was just discovering. She was born as an experiment, meant to be observed and studied upon. Chane was never supposed to become something beyond that. It was not expected of her, nor did it seem practical. She was becoming less of an experiment and more of an individual, and that was threatening him.

Do I not deserve this, Father? After what I have done, out of dedication and love for you, am I not allowed at least a husband?

Do not pretend you did not do those things of your own will, Chane. You wanted to do things for me. There was neither a doubt in your heart, nor hesitation in your action.

This was true, and Chane searched in herself and found not a rebuttal against it. Her focus drifted to Felix, watching his chest press against the fabric of his shirt as he breathed. His face had taken on a slightly troubled expression, and she assumed that he thought even as he slept. Huey's voice echoed against the empty air.

Chane? Are you listening to me?

She would not talk to him. She would be silent in thought, as well as voice.

Do not tell me you are regretting what you have done! You would give away your hearing, your sight, even your life for me. That is how much you love me.

I would give my life for him, too.

Now it was Huey's turn to remain silent. He was now staring at the ground, fists closed and taut, resting on his thighs. Pardon me?

You are not the only one I now sacrifice for. I may have given you my voice, but I will offer him my eyes, my ears, my heart and my entire being, if that is what he wants from me. I will do it willingly just as I have done for you.

Huey was stunned, if just for a moment. What an interesting turn in his little experiment. It was almost as if she was rebelling, if only in a very small way.

And what made me love him, Father, she thought to him, ripping the edge of the thread from Felix's shirt, is the knowledge that while he knows what lengths I would go to in order to please him, he would never ask a sacrifice from me.

I have never asked anything from you, Chane.

You did not allow me to finish, Father.

What more is there to say? You will not finish should I not wish it. Respect me.

What makes me love him is that he will sacrifice for me, in return. He will sacrifice. You, Father, will never do that for me. Not ever.

Neither one of them said anything after that. Huey never replied to that statement, and Chane ceased to care. She was shaking all over, feeling cold. She had never spoken to Huey in that way before, but her love for Felix was so strong, so true, that it scorned her to think that her father would deny her of this one vice.

Felix's leg, propped up on the edge of the coffee table, slipped off the edge and he awoke instantly, eyes snapping open. He was seldom groggy when waking. Chane had learned that her future husband had two settings: awake or asleep, and never in between. Felix stared without blinking for a moment, as though gathering his bearings, before catching Chane's eye.

"Something the matter?" he asked. He straightened himself up in the chair, running a hand through his red hair. "You look worried."

She cleared her face before smiling, and then shaking her head. She spoke to him, and he couldn't hear her. No, dear. Nothing the matter at all.