Author's note: To say I forget about this piece would be an exaggeration. I wrote a bit and locked it away in a dusty box in the corner of my brain. Basically I forget to update and if it wasn't for a kind reviewer I would have left it for an eternity. But I'm updating. Adding and hopefully it will be worth something. : ) Enjoy
-_____-
Taipei the second time around was different. Maybe that was because I had been there 5 times throughout my lifetime. But never for my own pleasure… If you could call this pleasure. Pleasure is usually associated with theme parks and ice cream filled hazes of a summer past. This was more like torture.
Torture at every corner. Even at every step. There was the airport that Vaughn and I had gone through a year ago. The Swatch ad still posted on a kiosk on the street that we had amused our selves with. There was the smell of Taipei that had become a stench of death to me. There was the club that Vaughn had been so over-protective of me at. It was his alleged resting place.
I kept the outfit from our mission in Taipei. Blood stained…never washed…
The smell of him was still evident.
His sweat embedded on the thin fabric of the whorish outfit that I sported that evening.
I kept the dog collar that he had despised. "You're not REALLY going to wear that" his words still echoed.
The blue hair was long gone though. My mother…Irina….I can't call her my mother because that would apply that there was a connection and the truth is that there never was, and any hint of one was severed long before Taipei.
My mother ordered my hair bleached. Streaked of color…
The harsh chemicals burned my scalp. They fried my follicles; they were part of my experimental torture…
When I had returned from Taipei I went to A Salon in New York and the Woman asked me what I wanted a done. "Something." I said. "Something?" she had questioned. something. Anything to let me forget Taipei. To forget that Vaughn told me my hair reminded him of a Smurf. Instead of explaining that there was more to my vague something I nodded and allowed her to treat my hair with gentle fragrances and delicate products. Eventually the shine of my brown hair returned but the twinkle in my eye did not.
*
As soon as I returned from Taipei I sat in the dark waiting for his call. A covert "I'm ok", a clandestine "I'm safe", even a confidential "Joey's pizza" The phone didn't ring, except for Will, my father and one misdirected call to Frank's Florist…I pondered that call a good six months. I had my father trace the number, I investigated but sadly I found that Frank the Florist's phone number was similar to ours and that Paul Miller the misguided caller had no affiliations to espionage. It was not Vaughn. It never was Vaughn. Not even a postcard as Shepard had sent me after our escape from the institute in Bucharest.
It was like he didn't exist. Donovan, his dog was watched by Weiss. His apartment was Sold. His possessions went to his mother. I hated to admit it, but I went apartment hunted for a month to disguise the fact I was eager to see where he had resided. I hoped it would clue me into where he had gone. I didn't let myself believe he was dead. I even went to his mother's garage sale and bought some old books of his and Hockey jersey. I felt like a fool when Weiss saw me. "Sydney. You can't be here" he had said as he ushered me aside. "I can go any damn place I please" I hissed. "Not here. It's too risky." He muttered. "I don't care about the risks." I mumbled as I pushed through him to get to my car.
He was reassigned as my handler, but I wouldn't let him handle me. I wouldn't let him near me. I didn't even let him meet me in the warehouse. The warehouse became a Shop Rite a few weeks after my return. I couldn't loiter. I couldn't morn. I could buy pancake mix though. I rather have my tears and the solace of memories than prefabricated pancake mix…
The whole world that was laid out in from of me was prefabricated and mirror image after mirror image. Day after day, nothing changed. A Starbucks here, a Shop Rite there. Somehow when Vaughn existed things seemed different. It might have seemed clichéd or hackneyed but blue skies and golden sun danced when he was around. Happiness was evident, and unlike today individuality and free will existed.
Going through the motions wasn't free will. Vaughn's attempt to help me was though. He would have inspired me to work harder. Rebel with more conviction… but now I grieve and think I see him in a crowd. Think I see the back of his head, push through the unsuspecting faceless drones and discover it's not him. It's some ordinary guy. Some one else…someone who G-d never attended for me to have to met. But is there really a G-d? I seem to doubt it these days. If there was, wouldn't Vaughn have been saved.
I saw him again. I thought 'It's just another stranger traveling through Taipei.'
Another dimpled, dashing, charming stranger…It had to be, right? He died, right? I had to check, just to be sure…I ran through the throng of commuters on the hazy summer evening. Pushed my way through them all.
Old.
Young.
Didn't make a difference.
I tapped him on the shoulder, He turned around and I hoarsely uttered "Vaughn?"
TBC
.
-_____-
Taipei the second time around was different. Maybe that was because I had been there 5 times throughout my lifetime. But never for my own pleasure… If you could call this pleasure. Pleasure is usually associated with theme parks and ice cream filled hazes of a summer past. This was more like torture.
Torture at every corner. Even at every step. There was the airport that Vaughn and I had gone through a year ago. The Swatch ad still posted on a kiosk on the street that we had amused our selves with. There was the smell of Taipei that had become a stench of death to me. There was the club that Vaughn had been so over-protective of me at. It was his alleged resting place.
I kept the outfit from our mission in Taipei. Blood stained…never washed…
The smell of him was still evident.
His sweat embedded on the thin fabric of the whorish outfit that I sported that evening.
I kept the dog collar that he had despised. "You're not REALLY going to wear that" his words still echoed.
The blue hair was long gone though. My mother…Irina….I can't call her my mother because that would apply that there was a connection and the truth is that there never was, and any hint of one was severed long before Taipei.
My mother ordered my hair bleached. Streaked of color…
The harsh chemicals burned my scalp. They fried my follicles; they were part of my experimental torture…
When I had returned from Taipei I went to A Salon in New York and the Woman asked me what I wanted a done. "Something." I said. "Something?" she had questioned. something. Anything to let me forget Taipei. To forget that Vaughn told me my hair reminded him of a Smurf. Instead of explaining that there was more to my vague something I nodded and allowed her to treat my hair with gentle fragrances and delicate products. Eventually the shine of my brown hair returned but the twinkle in my eye did not.
*
As soon as I returned from Taipei I sat in the dark waiting for his call. A covert "I'm ok", a clandestine "I'm safe", even a confidential "Joey's pizza" The phone didn't ring, except for Will, my father and one misdirected call to Frank's Florist…I pondered that call a good six months. I had my father trace the number, I investigated but sadly I found that Frank the Florist's phone number was similar to ours and that Paul Miller the misguided caller had no affiliations to espionage. It was not Vaughn. It never was Vaughn. Not even a postcard as Shepard had sent me after our escape from the institute in Bucharest.
It was like he didn't exist. Donovan, his dog was watched by Weiss. His apartment was Sold. His possessions went to his mother. I hated to admit it, but I went apartment hunted for a month to disguise the fact I was eager to see where he had resided. I hoped it would clue me into where he had gone. I didn't let myself believe he was dead. I even went to his mother's garage sale and bought some old books of his and Hockey jersey. I felt like a fool when Weiss saw me. "Sydney. You can't be here" he had said as he ushered me aside. "I can go any damn place I please" I hissed. "Not here. It's too risky." He muttered. "I don't care about the risks." I mumbled as I pushed through him to get to my car.
He was reassigned as my handler, but I wouldn't let him handle me. I wouldn't let him near me. I didn't even let him meet me in the warehouse. The warehouse became a Shop Rite a few weeks after my return. I couldn't loiter. I couldn't morn. I could buy pancake mix though. I rather have my tears and the solace of memories than prefabricated pancake mix…
The whole world that was laid out in from of me was prefabricated and mirror image after mirror image. Day after day, nothing changed. A Starbucks here, a Shop Rite there. Somehow when Vaughn existed things seemed different. It might have seemed clichéd or hackneyed but blue skies and golden sun danced when he was around. Happiness was evident, and unlike today individuality and free will existed.
Going through the motions wasn't free will. Vaughn's attempt to help me was though. He would have inspired me to work harder. Rebel with more conviction… but now I grieve and think I see him in a crowd. Think I see the back of his head, push through the unsuspecting faceless drones and discover it's not him. It's some ordinary guy. Some one else…someone who G-d never attended for me to have to met. But is there really a G-d? I seem to doubt it these days. If there was, wouldn't Vaughn have been saved.
I saw him again. I thought 'It's just another stranger traveling through Taipei.'
Another dimpled, dashing, charming stranger…It had to be, right? He died, right? I had to check, just to be sure…I ran through the throng of commuters on the hazy summer evening. Pushed my way through them all.
Old.
Young.
Didn't make a difference.
I tapped him on the shoulder, He turned around and I hoarsely uttered "Vaughn?"
TBC
.