When we finish eating, we climb back in the car, and crack the windows to keep them from fogging. It's still raining heavily outside, and lightening flashes across a dark sky, preceding the daunting claps of thunder. The slow moving storm seems to be passing right over our heads.
Delphine has reclined her seat, folded her arms over her stomach, and closed her eyes as her breathing becomes slow and even.
"When I was a kid I was terrified of storms," she confesses quietly, her eyes still shut, her expression relaxed and at peace.
"Did the big noise make you scared?" I tease playfully.
She smiles and opens her eyes, turning her head to look in my direction briefly. "I don't recall who, but someone told me that thunder was God being angry at me," she chuckles at the memory. "And whenever I heard it I was always trying to remember what I did to make him angry."
"That's an awful thing to say to a child," I comment on a more sober tone, shaking my head.
"Oui…" Delphine replies, but she doesn't lose her lightness. "Of course it was also a very effective way to make sure I behaved."
"Oh please!" I huff and laugh, my eyes still on her, unable to deny myself the pure pleasure of the sight of her, serene and open. "I bet you were a little angel," I add.
Her laugh cuts through another thunder. "I only looked like one."
"Were you that humble back then as well?" I joke, but don't exactly disagree with her.
"I'm just repeating what I heard," she justifies, shrugging nonchalantly and opening one of her eyes to peer at me with an amused smirk.
I feel a tightness in the back of my throat as I unabashedly take in her entire body, relaxed and inviting in its comfortable position. There's a twist in my gut when Delphine, clearly noticing my gaze, nibbles her lower lip, and for what feels like the millionth time since our paths crossed again, I wonder if she's aware of the effect she has on me. I'm left with the suspicion that she does. Delphine seems comfortable enough with herself to be aware of it, her movements always self-assured, and the only time I've seen her confidence falter was two nights ago when I pushed back. Although I suspect that, even then, she knew it wasn't a full retreat. Actually, I'm sure of it.
Delphine gave me space to figure myself out, never pressured me to make a decision. I don't think it's in her nature. She could be demanding in her every day interactions, even as a lover - as I've recently discovered - but not when it comes to that. I could speculate that she always knew what my decision would be, that she never believed I could stay away from her for long, but I don't think that's it. I believe that she's not the type to seek approval from a potential suitor. Maybe she's never needed it, certainly not from me, but perhaps if you need to fight for someone, to keep someone, you've already lost them. Either way, Delphine wouldn't try to persuade me, knowing that only I could decide how to evaluate the nature of our complex relationship and act accordingly.
Not much has changed in the last two days. I have answers for our past; can now see it from a different perspective, and not judge her past actions so harshly. However, the present remains a mystery. How has she come to be the person she is now? What is her role? Her motivations? All of this, she keeps close to her chest, giving me little opportunity to learn more. Perhaps the only difference is that I might be more inclined to trust her, and maybe that's exactly why she finally decided to reveal the past, to give me some answers, even if they aren't the ones I currently need the most. A small drop of honesty in a sea of lies and deception.
Or perhaps I'm wrong; perhaps Delphine is finally warming, and in time, she'll give me the answers I seek. And although this might be the case, even if the odds are low, I still have to presume my first assumption is correct. If I keep my guard up, damage control is possible. But if I trust her completely, and I'm wrong, there's no way back. The damage would could be irreparable.
I catalog these thoughts as she drives us back to civilization after the worst of the storm has come and gone. Scattered sprinkles of rain continue to fall from a sky heavy with clouds, that the approaching night will transform into small flakes of snow with the cold. I feign sleep, and if Delphine believes otherwise, she says nothing of it.
But I do feel a different energy emanating from her. She seems less calm, growing more restless the closer we get to the city, as if she too is working to untangle her thoughts as well, thoughts that are out of my reach.
"You shouldn't go back to the hotel," she says quietly, out of nowhere.
We're at the edge of Warsaw, and the late afternoon is darkened by clouds, the lights of the city already on the horizon.
"I have to," I reply evenly.
"I don't like it," she presses with a frown, her eyes steady on the road.
"You don't have to like it," I respond, gazing out my window.
Delphine sighs deeply and shakes her head slowly. "At least let's make sure the place isn't under surveillance by the wrong people."
"And how can we be sure of that?" I ask.
"We drive around the block a few times," Delphine says and she's clearly thought this over. "And I get in before you do, make sure no one suspicious is waiting for you."
"They might recognize you," I point out.
"They might," she agrees, nodding her head. "But they'll recognize you for sure. Besides, I know how to deal with them."
"And I don't," I comment, annoyed.
Another exasperated sigh. "Let me do this at least, Cosima."
I say nothing and Delphine interprets my silence as consent. She drives around the block three times, slowing down whenever we pass in front of the hotel's entrance. She's not subtle about it, aiming to attract attention, to see if anyone makes a move when we roll down the street. But nothing happens. The street is busy with the usual traffic at the end of a work day, the front of the hotel is bustling with new guests arriving, probably to spend the weekend exploring the historic city.
"See! There's no reason to be worried," I say when she parks us on the other side of the road, still a few buildings down from the hotel.
"We'll see about that," Delphine replies with her eyes constantly scanning the street, monitoring the traffic.
She unbuckles her seatbelt and leans over me, opening the glove compartment. I watch silently as she removes the handgun, a customized M1911 pistol that I only now get a closer look, and a box of .45 ammo from inside, that she places on her lap. Under the light of the streetlamp, Delphine ejects the magazine and reloads the gun, inserts each bullet carefully but skillfully, then pushes the magazine back in and slides the weapon, putting one in the chamber.
"Don't you think you are overreacting a little bit?" I inquire with a raised brow.
"Better to be safe," she says in a tense voice. "I'm surprised you're not familiar with guns, given your line of work," she observes, leaning again to replace the box of ammo and shut the door.
"I'm familiar with them, I just don't like them," I answer, not addressing her implication regarding my job. "Besides, what are you going to do if you run into undesirables? Shoot your way out of there?"
"If I have to," she says and by her seriousness I know she absolutely means it. "When I get out, get behind the wheel. We don't know how fast we'll have to get out of here."
Before I have time to express my thoughts about her insane plan, Delphine gets out of the car in one swift move, tucking the gun on the back of her pants and starting to walk towards the hotel. I blow out a frustrated breath and shake my head as I watch her go, hands buried in the pockets of her coat, and shoulders raised to keep the cold at bay as she scans her surroundings. When she enters the hotel, I slide into the driver's seat, jangling the keys hanging in the ignition, and wait, eyes locked on the hotel's entrance.
Delphine takes longer than expected. The ten minutes she takes to return were not simply to take a look. She was probably very thorough in her inspection. Given the time she took I wouldn't be surprised if she has gone over not only the lobby, but the bar and restaurant as well, both on the ground floor. She probably has gone so far as to look over my floor. However, her calm, deliberate approach, indicates that she's found nothing of concern. When she's close enough I can see the displeased look on her face, which doesn't change when she opens the passenger's side door and slips inside.
"See, I told you there was nothing to worry about," I say, staring at her.
"Just because I didn't see them it doesn't mean they're not there," she answers pointedly. Delphine's noticeably annoyed, her movements tense as she opens the glove box and places the gun inside, shutting the compartment with a slam.
"You sound disappointed," I observe and she gives me an ugly look.
"You can't stay here, Cosima, it's too dangerous!" Delphine says in a hard voice. "Check into another hotel. You can easily justify it to Daniel. Tell him you didn't feel safe here anymore after what happened. He won't say a thing about it."
"If they found me here they can find me at any hotel in town," I reason.
"Then you should just leave, abort the mission, and be happy with what you have," she suggests and there's a pleading note on her words. "If they come back for you, I won't be here to help you," she continues in a softer voice, not really asking for another argument with me. "I'm leaving tomorrow."
If I had any will to fight her, this information drains it out of me. "Oh… back to the States?"
"Paris first," she answers, turning on her seat to be face-to-face. "I don't like leaving you here alone."
"So you've said!" I roll my eyes. "I can take care of myself, Delphine. I've been doing it all my life."
Delphine brings a hand to her face and rubs her eyes, sighing. "These people are dangerous, Cosima." Her warning comes out muffled by the palm of her hand over her mouth.
"Well, thanks for the warning! If you hadn't told me I wouldn't…" I start sarcastically, but movement on the road draws my attention, silencing my flip retort. I turn away from her to see a police cruiser, with the emergency lights off, stopping right in front of the hotel. "What the hell?!"
"They've been tipped off! Probably someone working in the hotel," Delphine says, her eyes tracking the official vehicle as well. "Let's get out of here!"
But she doesn't have to say anything, my fingers are already turning the key in the ignition. "They're not exactly subtle," I comment.
"Do you have your passport with you?" She asks with urgency in her voice, she's growing more tense.
"I have a passport," I reply vaguely.
"Good! Your mission here is over!" She says in a way that's not open to discussion. "You'll spend the night in the cabin, and first thing in the morning you're leaving."
Two uniformed officers exit the cruiser and look around, but we are either too far for them to spot us or, more likely, they don't recognize the vehicle, because after a few seconds they enter the hotel. Slowly, I drive past the entrance, but the reflection of the street lights on the glass door doesn't allow us to see what's happening inside, so I speed up and merge into the late afternoon traffic.
"What makes you think they won't be waiting for me at the airport?" I ask, going over Delphine's plan.
"They probably will," she answers with her eyes steady on the side mirror, making sure we're not being followed. "I'll know more once we get to the cabin, but I think that it's best if you drive across the border into Germany and board a plane there."
"And that'll be safe?"
Delphine nods. "German authorities are not nearly as easily bribed," she says. "Besides, if I understood correctly, the passport you have with you is not the same you used to enter Poland. It's unlikely to raise a red flag, as long as it's clean."
"It's clean." I confirm. "And it's German," I add with a confident smile.
It's also extremely lucky that I have it with me, but after what happened with Sarah when she was here, I thought it a precautionary measure, even if I really didn't believe I would need to use it. And it strikes me as more than a coincidence that, after Sarah has been essentially ran out of this country, the same is happening to me. I might even take the same escape route she did.
"How's your German?" Delphine asks.
"Good enough to buy a freaking plane ticket," I reply. She doesn't need to know that I'm fluent in the language.
"Okay, it's settled then!" She gives a firm nod.
She's not inclined to ask why I have a secondary passport, or why I have a back up plan, and the answer is probably very obvious. The same way I know that she's not exactly what she presents herself to be, Delphine must assume the same of me. Still, I suspect this is as much as she knows and, like myself, she's not any closer to ferreting out my true identity. The complex web of lies woven around our relationship continues to grow, albeit in a much more subtle way, getting closer and closer to the truth without actually touching it.
Delphine gives me directions, constantly watching the mirrors. She relaxes slightly only after we've left the city behind, and the traffic dwindles to a few sporadic cars. When we finally turn onto the dirt road that leads to the isolated house, there's no cars in sight, and the afternoon has been replaced by darkness.
I park next to the motorcycle and Delphine gets out immediately, and shuts the door, sending an echo across the quiet woods that surround us. While the snow seems to have missed this area, the heavy rain that we caught on the journey, has not. The ground is muddy, and when I open the door and plant my feet outside they sink with a squishing sound.
"Shit!" I say, getting to my feet with difficulty, losing my balance for a moment.
"Careful! The ground is slippery," she warns from the front door she's opening.
"Yeah! Thanks!" I reply, slightly irritated and shutting the door.
I hear a small chuckle, but that's it. She busies herself opening the trunk of the car, and carries the luggage to doorstep. Meanwhile, I retrieve the briefcase from the backseat and climb the three wooden steps to the front door, stomping my feet to loosen some of the dirt.
"Take off your shoes!" She instructs, while she does it herself. "I don't want you tracking mud into the house."
"Yes, mom…" I mumble, with my irritation spiking, but I still do it.
"Why are you acting like this?" She asks, sensing the downhill spiral of my mood. "It's not my fault that everything is going to shit."
"No, but it's your fault that I feel itchy because you made walk through a damn downpour," I answer, helping her carry everything inside.
Delphine rolls her eyes. "Go have a shower then," she suggests with thinning patience, both of us tired from the long day locked inside a car. "I have to check the surveillance system to see if anyone has been around anyway."
"Fine!"
I feel a bit more human when I leave the bathroom, finding Delphine sitting on the couch. She's shed her coat and wool shirt, opting for just her tank top, her back to me, with a laptop on her lap. She has built up a fire, making the small house warm and comfortable, and something is bubbling in a pot on the stove.
"Feeling less grumpy?" She asks without turning.
"Just barely." I smile and approach her. "Did the cameras pick up anything?"
"Only a few noisy squirrels," she answers, sliding a bit to the side of the couch to invite me to sit next to her.
I do, and look at the computer screen, unsure if I'm more surprised by what I'm seeing or the fact that Delphine didn't bother to hide it from me. "You've accessed the Polish police internal communication system," I comment in a murmur. Although I can't exactly read what I'm seeing, the crest on the left top corner of the webpage makes it clear.
"I was trying to find out if there was any sort of standing warrant with your name or description on it to justify the police showing up at the hotel," she explains, staring at the screen. "But apparently they were not there on official business."
"Probably just a handful of dirty cops," I venture when she shuts the computer and places it on the low coffee table.
"That would be my guess as well, but we still need to be careful," Delphine says, getting up and stretching her spine with a low groan. "There's some ravioli over there," she tells me, her chin aiming at the pot on the burner, "watch over it while I have a shower."
"What about some sauce?" I ask, turning on the couch to watch her walk to the vanity and open a drawer, getting a pair of sweatpants. "Can't have pasta without sauce."
"This isn't a restaurant, you know," she says, continuing to rummage in another drawer. "Our options are limited."
"That doesn't mean you can't at least try," I answer smiling. "Just because we're on the run, it doesn't mean we have to eat like barbarians!"
Delphine looks over her shoulder at me with a small, amused smile. "Why don't you take care of it then?"
"I will!" I say, getting up and opening the fridge to scope my options.
"Great! Can't wait!" She throws back and heads to the bathroom.