5.
"Wait!" gasped Alice, trying to pretend she was not breathing heavily as she leapt over wide gaps between roofs and pulled herself over high walled barriers. She looked dubiously at the fallen beam, barely the width of her heavy gardening boots, which Claude had just darted nimbly across. "Slow down! Don't leave me..."
Claude paused, his hair haloed by a beam of light, and gave her an impudent cherubic grin. "I thought you said you were cut out to be a soldier?" he teased.
Alice rolled her eyes, laughing at the in-joke she had accidentally made. "You're terrible." Had she been within arm's reach, she might have lightly messed up his hair-- not that it would much affect that spiky jumble. She wondered as she stepped onto the beam why she'd had the sudden impulse to mess up his hair, as it was not a normal gesture of hers.
That fine golden hair looked as soft as down. She Iwanted/I to touch it; that was why.
I Stop it,/I she told herself, Iremember he's a fighter. He'll go off and get killed while you wait at home./I
Or Iwould/I he? How committed was he to his cause? After all, he was no actual soldier, though he had the distinct look of one. Perhaps he had deserted or been kicked out, which would account for his reluctance to talk about the army-- ex-soldiers were supposed to be proud.
"Hey, Claude. Were you ever a soldier?" she questioned as she reached the section of red-tiled roof where he stood.
He put a hand at the back of his neck, pulling lightly at his tufted hair, and let out a puff of breath. "Used to be," he admitted. "How did you know that?"
"Your eyes," she said, equally reluctant to divulge her secrets but equally curious. "They have a strange glow..."
"Oh, that... that's the sign of those who have been infused with mako... the mark of a soldier." He shot her a quizzical glance. "But how would you know?"
"Oh--" She floundered for another alibi. "Nothing. Um." Wonderful, now she sounded suspicious. She struggled for the nearest explanation, something, anything, as long as it was far from the truth. "My mother says--"
"Your mother says, your mother says." Claude said it softly, jesting. "Do you know anything that your mother doesn't say?"
Alice turned away so he would not see the tears in her eyes. It was a joke, but like all teasing it had an element of truth. "Yeah, I know I listen to her a lot." She tilted her head so her dripping bangs would further conceal her expression, unable to face him. "I guess it's just... she's the only family I've got. And she's sick and stuff. So." She shrugged, trying to blow it off.
"Your mother's sick?" His tone dropped instantly into sympathy. "I'm sorry. I didn't know..."
"Yeah, she's sick. So, um. I listen to her. I take care of her. I obey her. Is that a problem?"
"INo/I, it's not a problem..."
"It's not like I have no will of my own. It's just that I Iowe/I her." Alice forced down the rising edge of pain in her voice. "She wanted to see the crocus... I promised her I'd show her the crocus. I owe her that." She scrubbed at her damp eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry, I... god, why am I telling you all this? I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I'll listen if you want me to."
"T-thanks." She sniffled.
After a moment, she sat down on the roof, head propped up in her hands. It wasn't easy to just start talking, and she'd already said as much as she could have thought of to say, but Claude seemed to be waiting for more-- and it still hurt. "I just feel... this immense debt to her. I mean, she isn't even my real mother. She didn't have to take me in. But she took care of me for all those years, and now it's like it's my turn."
"Not if it destroys your life," said Claude. "She didn't have to take you in. She chose to."
"But I owe her," said Alice. "All these years, and she's still trying to help me, even though she thinks I'm hopeless. And I'm trying to listen to her, to be what she wants. Some of it's simple enough, but some of it... it's not altogether me." Her mother was a proper mother, who wanted to raise a little lady. Alice wanted to be that lady worthy of respect, but every prescribed choice seemed to constrict her inclinations with shackles of lace.
"You didn't ask to owe her, did you? It wasn't a willing bargain."
"No," said Alice, gazing absently at the color-streaked sky, "that's true."
"So stand up for yourself. Be yourself. You have to live your own life, even if it means you have to get away."
"Do you really think so?"
"Yeah," said Claude. "I did the same."
"Wait!" gasped Alice, trying to pretend she was not breathing heavily as she leapt over wide gaps between roofs and pulled herself over high walled barriers. She looked dubiously at the fallen beam, barely the width of her heavy gardening boots, which Claude had just darted nimbly across. "Slow down! Don't leave me..."
Claude paused, his hair haloed by a beam of light, and gave her an impudent cherubic grin. "I thought you said you were cut out to be a soldier?" he teased.
Alice rolled her eyes, laughing at the in-joke she had accidentally made. "You're terrible." Had she been within arm's reach, she might have lightly messed up his hair-- not that it would much affect that spiky jumble. She wondered as she stepped onto the beam why she'd had the sudden impulse to mess up his hair, as it was not a normal gesture of hers.
That fine golden hair looked as soft as down. She Iwanted/I to touch it; that was why.
I Stop it,/I she told herself, Iremember he's a fighter. He'll go off and get killed while you wait at home./I
Or Iwould/I he? How committed was he to his cause? After all, he was no actual soldier, though he had the distinct look of one. Perhaps he had deserted or been kicked out, which would account for his reluctance to talk about the army-- ex-soldiers were supposed to be proud.
"Hey, Claude. Were you ever a soldier?" she questioned as she reached the section of red-tiled roof where he stood.
He put a hand at the back of his neck, pulling lightly at his tufted hair, and let out a puff of breath. "Used to be," he admitted. "How did you know that?"
"Your eyes," she said, equally reluctant to divulge her secrets but equally curious. "They have a strange glow..."
"Oh, that... that's the sign of those who have been infused with mako... the mark of a soldier." He shot her a quizzical glance. "But how would you know?"
"Oh--" She floundered for another alibi. "Nothing. Um." Wonderful, now she sounded suspicious. She struggled for the nearest explanation, something, anything, as long as it was far from the truth. "My mother says--"
"Your mother says, your mother says." Claude said it softly, jesting. "Do you know anything that your mother doesn't say?"
Alice turned away so he would not see the tears in her eyes. It was a joke, but like all teasing it had an element of truth. "Yeah, I know I listen to her a lot." She tilted her head so her dripping bangs would further conceal her expression, unable to face him. "I guess it's just... she's the only family I've got. And she's sick and stuff. So." She shrugged, trying to blow it off.
"Your mother's sick?" His tone dropped instantly into sympathy. "I'm sorry. I didn't know..."
"Yeah, she's sick. So, um. I listen to her. I take care of her. I obey her. Is that a problem?"
"INo/I, it's not a problem..."
"It's not like I have no will of my own. It's just that I Iowe/I her." Alice forced down the rising edge of pain in her voice. "She wanted to see the crocus... I promised her I'd show her the crocus. I owe her that." She scrubbed at her damp eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry, I... god, why am I telling you all this? I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I'll listen if you want me to."
"T-thanks." She sniffled.
After a moment, she sat down on the roof, head propped up in her hands. It wasn't easy to just start talking, and she'd already said as much as she could have thought of to say, but Claude seemed to be waiting for more-- and it still hurt. "I just feel... this immense debt to her. I mean, she isn't even my real mother. She didn't have to take me in. But she took care of me for all those years, and now it's like it's my turn."
"Not if it destroys your life," said Claude. "She didn't have to take you in. She chose to."
"But I owe her," said Alice. "All these years, and she's still trying to help me, even though she thinks I'm hopeless. And I'm trying to listen to her, to be what she wants. Some of it's simple enough, but some of it... it's not altogether me." Her mother was a proper mother, who wanted to raise a little lady. Alice wanted to be that lady worthy of respect, but every prescribed choice seemed to constrict her inclinations with shackles of lace.
"You didn't ask to owe her, did you? It wasn't a willing bargain."
"No," said Alice, gazing absently at the color-streaked sky, "that's true."
"So stand up for yourself. Be yourself. You have to live your own life, even if it means you have to get away."
"Do you really think so?"
"Yeah," said Claude. "I did the same."