The Rescuer (Alternate Title: The Rescuer and Her Family)
7 (Seven; Sept; Siete)
"Oh, wow. She looks really pretty."
"Who?" Arthur signaled that he wanted a hit. They were playing blackjack in the casino of the hotel where Cobb was sleeping.
"Veda." Eames' head snapped up to view the stairs. Arthur looked over as well. A certain amount of jealousy crept into Ariadne as Veda walked down the stairs. The Rescuer was not particularly drop-dead gorgeous, and she was not homely. But somehow, in a quietly sensual way, Veda commanded the room. Ariadne had not been aware of this air around the Rescuer, but now she had to notice. Both men and women looked her up and down, and some of the drunken ones tried to approach her, but she was too fluid for them.
"Hey." Arthur nudged her, motioning toward Eames with his chin. Ariadne turned her attention toward him. He'd pushed away the other three women fawning over him. His eyes danced in the sultry light of the casino, and a faint smile pulled at his mouth. His alcohol of choice reached his lips, he drained it, and then the glass found its way back to the table. He reached out, and Veda's hand found his.
What happened next confused and confirmed several things for Ariadne. Eames' arm wrapped around her waist, and Veda sat down in his lap. She had a giant smile on, whispering something into his ear. Eames laughed; their lips met. They pulled away, and Veda saw Ariadne and Arthur.
"Hi," she mouthed, waving. Arthur half-saluted; Ariadne waved.
"Oh, is this the wife, Mr. Eames?" The dealer asked mischievously. The Architect knew Eames' ploy to coax the croupier into feeling secure had worked; he remembered his name and was asking about his life. A rather amused, relaxed smirk fell upon Eames' face. The scowling women around Eames waited for either the Forger or the Rescuer to answer.
"I am," replied Veda. Ariadne looked to Arthur questioningly. Arthur shook his head no. The women disbursed.
"Lucky man."
"I am." Eames waved his hand horizontally over his cards and signaled the waitress for another drink. She took away his empty glass. Ariadne studied both Eames and Veda, realizing that they did indeed make a good match. They seemed to exude the same vibe as the couples in magazines, gambling in dodgy places and having the time of their lives while wearing chic fashion and sipping fine wines.
"Mr. Eames wins again." The dealer bowed, taking back the cards. Veda clapped; Eames gave Arthur a smirk.
"Right, right," grumbled Arthur, taking a draught of his scotch. "Another game."
"Darling, you're so hardheaded. Don't you know when to quit? Love, I've beaten him three times now." Veda's eyebrows raised.
"Yeah, after I beat you four!"
"Your fluke wins, Arthur, are inconsistent."
"Guys, the dealer won six times."
"Cheater," coughed Arthur.
"Me, cheating? Darling, you're probably counting."
"What? You are mistaken, Mr. Eames."
"Again, then," Eames announced, grinning for the dealer.
...
Eames was always awake at the same time every morning. Right when the sun touched his face, his eyes would flutter open. This morning, Veda's head was heavy on his chest; she was asleep. Eames was vaguely surprised. He hadn't expected her to still be asleep when he awoke- she usually was awake, regardless if she'd fallen asleep or not. He sighed, preferring not to move. Veda flexed her arm and fingers, clutching part of the blankets. She murmured something indistinct. Eames' raised his eyebrows, but did nothing. Veda jolted awake, snapping up.
"Love?" Puzzled, Eames propped himself up.
"No, no no!" Veda frantically shuffled around, reaching for her discarded jeans on the floor; she lost her balance and fell on the hardwood, yet she still rummaged in her dress' pockets until she found her whistle. She put it into her mouth and blew as hard as she could. A frighteningly loud sound emitted from it, and Eames resisted the urge to put his fingers in his ears. Veda stopped, put the chain around her neck, and sniffled.
"Sorry. I had- I had a nightmare."
"You're just fine." The image of her naked body sitting haphazardly on the floor amidst their clothes from the night before should've been turning him on, but it wasn't. He knew exactly how she felt right now- scared into madness. When he'd felt similarly, Eames often would grab his casino chip and squeeze it into his palm until his knuckles grew white, then trace the grooves with this thumb until his heart stopped racing. Veda had the whistle in her mouth, sifting a thin stream of air into it, just enough for it to sing faintly. She rocked herself forward onto her knees, crawling back into the bed. She put her head on Eames' stomach, looking up at the ceiling.
"I don't know what's wrong with me."
"What was it about, love?"
"My parents. They died a while ago, but I just can't get the image out of my head."
"What happened to them?"
"They, ah, were mauled by bears." Eames straightened up. "Yeah, hm, bears. After my first year of university, I tracked them somewhere in northern Montana. They were doing something involving finding a rare type of bird. Everything was fine until one morning. It was so surreal. Blood was everywhere. I had my whistle then too. My dad gave me my whistle because I had nightmares actually. He said that in a dream, the whistle wouldn't sound like it did in real life. So I'd whistle in my dreams. And I just changed my dream when I realized it wasn't real. During the attack, I thought it might be a dream, so I whistled. It wasn't a dream. It was not a dream." Veda pursed her lips and looked at Eames. His fingers thumbed through her hair, and his eyes said everything she wanted to hear. She shrugged. "Oh well."
0 (Zero; Zéro; Cero)
It was strange that Veda went to school for architecture, especially since she'd never had a home that wasn't on wheels. Her parents were what she called "floaters," people who flowed to wherever life pushed them. Maybe working here or there, as a leather curer or a ranch hand; a seamstress or a fruit picker. Always outside, never inside. Veda never had friends; her world always changed, no time for strings. She found camaraderie in the solidarity of nature- she enveloped herself in it. People were just funny objects to watch, much like ants in an anthill. She understood them well, and they did interest her. It was just that she never had time to befriend them. Alaska, Canada, Mexico. The Mojave, The Appalachian Mountains, The Everglades. West Coast, East Coast, Bering Sea. By the time she wanted to go to college, she'd been everywhere in North America. Her mother paused their drifting ways long enough for Veda to earn her GED from a random high school in California. Wit and good fortune found Veda in Paris sometime after, studying for her degree in architecture.
Well, to be honest, it wasn't the least bit strange, Veda's choice of major. Buildings were the only sense of permanence in the world, something that she never had. She could influence so many things with use of space, and she was brilliant at it. Structure was something she never had, so she invented it. And that was the problem. She couldn't part with her sense of invention- teachers found it as a hindrance. Veda would put arches where there should've been A-beams, courtyards where there should've been dining rooms. And the word they used to describe it- deconstructivism- was so harsh. She wasn't taking the purpose out of the home- she was putting in the smoothness of nature. Of human nature, of the nature outside. There weren't many people who understood what she was doing; only the eclectic professors really did.
So when Veda found that Mal, that French graduate student she absolutely secretly adored, was looking for a roommate for a flat in the Latin Quarter, Veda called her immediately. After getting to know her, Mal thought her designs and models were brilliant and referred her to her father, even though Veda was only eighteen. Miles instantly saw in Veda the makings of a Rescuer- someone who could blend architecture to someone's true nature and pick it apart. So Veda tried it. And could never go back. Once you blend those things, the feeling of a structure constructed and torn down and renovated once more with the feeling of someone's subconscious under scrutiny, one can never go back. Real, concrete architecture feels too tangible, too real, and too ugly. Veda could always tell the difference between the real and the imagined. That's what made her so good. But there was a price to pay- she visited others' dreams constantly, making her only want those perfectly abstract dreams. Reality was her nightmare, and that seeped into her sleep. In her own dreams, Veda would feel that danger, that tempting, delicious, frightening danger that her Marks felt when they traipsed through their own minds.
So she couldn't sleep; she developed insomnia, but nothing too bad- maybe a twitch here or there when she was extremely tired. But it was nothing. Veda was afraid to sleep because she knew she wouldn't be like Cobb and eventually stop dreaming. She wanted those dreams, but she knew that she could never make anything up so beautiful as the people she knew in real life. Thus, Veda held onto them. She hugged the people she knew, loved them like brothers and sisters. She'd never tell them- they thought she was just overly affectionate, dismissive of personal space. Veda would never tell them that her totem was losing its effect and that they were her totems now. They anchored her.
She tried to rescue Mal, her best friend, that woman who had grown to be her sister. But when that romantic French beauty fell to her death that night, the tremors in her hands got worse. Her skin gained grayish undertones, and her eyelids wavered, wanting to shut. Her grip on reality was falling apart; jobs with Cobb and Arthur and Eames and Yusuf grew fewer and shorter; jobs for governments and dignitaries and CEOs grew more intricate and more time-consuming. And when she did work on a team, she rarely let them see her mind. It fluctuated like the weather, bent to any whim she could possibly think. Though she could distinctly feel the difference between reality and dream, Veda Brighton was breaking, and she knew it.
All because she refused to accept her reality as something she could possibly want. So she saved people because, truthfully, Veda didn't want them to be like her.
11 (Eleven; Onze; Once)
"So you put her under as therapy," mused Veda, trying to understand why in the world there was a little dreaming eight-year-old in the warehouse Arthur had rented in Milan. "And now she won't come out."
"Yes. We thought it would help," her father said. It was seven months since she'd rescued Cobb, two months since she'd seen them last, and Arthur had called her out of nowhere with a job and said he would not take no for an answer. She'd wondered why, but this Mark, a little girl named Eliana, explained everything. The little girl had seen something dark, and she wasn't talking. Her maternal grandfather and her father were here- her mother had died when she was little. But there was another odd thing about this job. Her grandfather was the head of a faction of the Mafia in Milan. Probably Calabrian, but no one was talking.
These people had everyone on edge- especially Eames. He'd worked for this particular Don on several other occasions, and he knew what they were capable of. But they paid extremely well, even when the job went wrong, only because they needed complete secrecy.
"Mr. Eames tells us your team is the best," the Don said. "Let us hope his recommendation is not unwarranted."
"Don Romano, your granddaughter will be safe with us," said Veda, her hands shaking, but not from fear. She clasped them together. She needed control. "However, I hope you understand that when someone is lost in their head, there is a high chance that they cannot be rescued. Especially small children."
"I know this. But if you cannot rescue her, at least I will know what troubles my dear Eliana." The Don was visibly distraught, and his son-in-law, Moretti, was also nervous. She could tell their rules were forbidding the father from talking, from negotiating this deal.
"I can guarantee that," said Veda. Eames shot her a warning look- children were difficult. Even Arthur fidgeted at her promise.
"Good. I like you, Miss Veda. Hopefully our flying you out here wasn't in vain." The Don stood, motioning to his bodyguards and his son-in-law. Veda, Arthur, Eames, and Ariadne also rose to their feet. The Don shook their hands. "We will leave her here overnight. The equipment is too precarious to take back with us and then return. We will be back here at nine-thirty sharp to start. I would like to be here."
"Of course," said Arthur. And with a nod, the Mafiosi left in their unmarked car.
"That was unnerving," announced Ariadne, eyebrows raised.
"Mhm. Eames, what do you know about the father?" Veda asked.
"Not much- I just met him today, but I don't like the bugger."
"He looked fine to me," countered Arthur.
"His countenance was wrong," Eames shrugged. Veda nodded.
"He's a grieving father." Ariadne mumbled. "How do you want him to act...?"
"We need a gameplan." Arthur looked pointedly at them all. "We can't fuck this up or we really can't come to Italy ever again. The Mafia, I ask you…"
"Such a bloody downer, Arthur…" Arthur gave Eames a deadpan look- this was the Englishman's fault anyway.
"Before that, I need food- I haven't had anything since breakfast. What time is it?"
"Six."
"I'm going over across the street."
"I'll go with you," said Eames.
"Want anything?" Ariadne looked at Veda and Arthur.
"I don't care what it is."
"Pizza?" Veda said hopefully.
"Alright, I got your pizza," chuckled Ariadne; she and Eames left out the door, talking about pasta. Veda gazed at the little girl dreaming on the chaise, shaking her head.
"I wish people would stop using PASIVs as therapy. It's not therapy unless the person knows they're going under." Veda turned from the girl and sipped some of her water. Her eyelids began trembling; she closed her eyes, knowing that her sunglasses were in her purse on the other side of the room.
"Yeah, well, people are always going to distort what its proper use is. It's inevitable." Yawning, Arthur stretched his arms, shaking off the weary feeling he had. He needed food.
"This job is gonna throw me for a head spin, I know it already. I can't work late tonight. Gotta rest and gather my head, possibly sleep for at least a little while." He threw her a meaningful look, that 'you'd-better-take-care-of-yourself' look. She rolled her eyes at him, draining her waterbottle, continuing on. "I don't really think Ariadne needs to be here for this one. Children can't have set dreams, and we can't be dreamers for Eliana anyway." He didn't answer. Veda blinked a few times, looking around. She sighed. "Alright, dear Mr. Suit, what is your issue?"
"What?"
"Your issue, what is it? You might as well just spit it out- I'll find out anyway." He huffed, leaning on the counter.
"It's-" his eyes were downcast. "It's Ariadne."
"Mhm." She leaned in, smiling a little. But she withdrew the happy factor once she realized this was really bugging him.
"At first I thought it'd be great to have someone around just as a friend, but I don't think I can be just that. In fact, I know I don't want to be just that. And then when I think about it, the more I don't want her around. I can't offer her anything, V, anything at all. Not anything she needs. And I don't want to subject her to this life we live. What is it anyway? Takeout, sleepless nights, fake I.D.s, cold hotel rooms, isolation. And on top of that, there're the constant dangers of the profession. If you can call this a profession. She quit school, and the last time I saw Miles, he just looked at me sternly, like it was my fault, and I feel like it is. I just- I want her to be happy and have all the things that a normal person is supposed to have. A real job, a real house, family, friends. Hell, home-cooked meals and a pet. And it pisses me right the hell off that I can't provide that for her. I don't even think she knows what she's getting into. There is nothing good about this. Look at-" his voice lowered- "look at Mal. Look at Cobb. Me, you. Eames even has identity issues that he'll never admit. And all for what? What is this world? Corporate leaders, petty rich people- the mafia? This world is utterly repulsive. I'm disgusted when I think of what I'm doing to her. There is nothing wrong with her yet. And I don't want to be apart of the thing that taints her." Arthur trailed off.
"You done?"
"Yeah." Arthur scratched his head, thinking for a moment. "Yeah, I'm done."
"First of all, Arthur- er, I'm just gonna be honest because I love you, but- Yes, Arthur, I love you." She folded her arms. "First of all, you don't know what she needs. Like, at all. Or even what she wants. Ariadne's not a perfect, untainted being. Everyone who does what we do is fractured from the get-go. We've all got holes in us. We've all got our reasons for entering into this world, and one of the reasons is that we're trying to feel more whole again. Maybe through extracting and searching through other people's minds we'll find out what it is that we're missing. And maybe we'll never find it. But I know there's a big, gaping hole in my heart- and you've got it too, as much as you don't want to say it- because I know that the world is just what you've alluded to. Pointless, stupid, petty, unmagical. And what we do- what we do is fill ourselves with the possibility that anything could happen, that childlike wonder that we lost somewhere. The world is boring, Arthur. It leaves you unfulfilled and cold. But in a dream-
"Remember the first line you drew from the PASIV? You closed your eyes, and when you opened them, the world was whatever you wanted it to be. Anything you could possibly imagine. You were thrilled, you were frightened. It was the sweetest drug with the highest of highs. But you couldn't leave it be. Because the hole in your heart wouldn't let you. And that's what's happening with Ariadne right now. You see her eyes as she's dragging her pen along her paper. I know you do. You're mad at yourself because you see that spark. And you know the danger and the madness that comes along with it. You know the pain. You know what it feels like to wake up after a dream and grab for the totem that you sleep with under your pillow; you're covered in cold sweat and fear. And to feel the relief that washes over you when you realize that you're in reality… It's a huge price to pay for what we get in return." Veda paused, close to tears.
"And when it's someone you love, you don't want that for them. Cobb will never tell James and Phillipa. I'm surprised he still talks to us. But what you feel right now is worse. You feel like it's you that's changing her. I'll tell you right now that no, Ariadne doesn't know what she's getting into, but when it clicks, and it will be soon, she can't let it go. And she can't stop right now- she's blinded. Blinded by imagination and the promises of love if she stays. Cutting her off will maim her in more ways than you can think of, and letting her stay will damage her to whatever end. And it'll twist your heart to pieces either way. So why not let her stay? Loving someone eases the pain of what we do. That's why Dom needed Mal. That's why you needed Dom. That's why Dom needed to get back James and Phillipa. That's why Eames has to be with someone in any capacity. That's why I need Eames. That's why Ariadne chose you. Dom's gone. So chose her."
Arthur, mouth in his palm, and Veda, hand cupping her chin, stared at each other for a long while. He swallowed back the knot in his throat that had arisen because his heart knew how right Veda was. They couldn't take the Fischer job back. Ariadne would always be with them, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
...
The three of them watched Veda dreaming with Eliana. The Don and Eliana's father were not present, only because the bodyguards had returned saying to start without them as they would be a half-hour late. The two lackeys stood outside, smoking and waiting for their boss.
"Fifty-three more seconds on the clock," announced Arthur.
"Ten minutes is a hell of a long time," said Eames.
"It's what she wanted." Veda was covered in sweat.
"I wonder what it looks like in there." Ariadne tilted her head in interest.
"Eliana's a child- she doesn't have the same restrictions as we do. Children aren't biased- their minds are unbridled. You don't want to know what's in there, darling. Children can make up the malice of devils or the magnificence of God. That's far too much for a simple man to handle." murmured Eames. Ariadne only stared wordlessly at him, wondering what he meant.
"Five. Four. Three, two-" Veda woke violently, sitting up and sputtering and coughing. Her eyes shone with utter horror, her breathing ragged on in spurts. She ripped out the IV, wanting nothing more than not to be connected with the girl. She looked at Eliana crazily, putting her hand to her mouth and beginning to weep. Ariadne backed up a step, not having seen anyone wake up like this previously. The breath left Arthur's lungs, wondering what she could have seen; he was too afraid to ask. Eames calmly stepped forward.
"Love." Eames bent down to her, breaking her view of the little girl. Veda tried to shove him out of the way. "Love, stop." He caught her gaze, taking her face between her hands, forcing her to look at him.
"I- I tried- I tried-"
"Shh, shh." Veda threw herself on him, and he took her into his arms, sliding into the lawn chair with her.
"Eames. Wanted- to wake up early- but they wouldn't let me."
"You're alright now, love."
"But she's not! She's not-" Veda sobbed wretchedly into the crook of Eames' neck, not caring about how she looked. All she wanted was to be warm and happy again. Eames tightened his hold on her, already knowing what she'd seen. He'd just wanted to be wrong.
"Ve-" Eames glared at Arthur to shut up.
The very air in the room stilled as Veda calmed down. Arthur looked beside him, at Ariadne. The look on her face was indescribable, a cross between terror, worry, fascination, and something else. Epiphany. Arthur tentatively took her hand, knowing that this was that moment Veda was talking about. Confused, Ariadne tilted her head up to see Arthur's face. He bit his bottom lip, knowing that he didn't look very reassuring at the moment. But he guessed Ariadne saw what she needed- she smiled. And Arthur's heart swelled with ache.
In the front part of the warehouse, which seemed a universe away, the door opened, and people began talking. The Don and Eliana's father were back. The moment broke, and Arthur and Ariadne went out to greet them.
"Veda just finished dreaming with your granddaughter, Don Romano."
"And-?"
"We don't know yet. She hasn't said anything. She didn't have a good reaction. Something in Eliana scared her." The Don's eyes widened, wondering what could have possibly happened. Quick, sharp footsteps sounded on the concrete floor. Arthur and Ariadne turned around, seeing Veda positively seething. Eames was close behind her, mystified. Before anyone could stop her, Veda's fist connected with Moretti's face.
"YOU FUCKING BASTARD." Blood spattered on the floor. He spat out more blood, and a flood of obscenities in Italian coursed out his mouth.
"WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM?" He spat, clutching his jaw. She thrust her foot into his knee, sending him crashing to the floor.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP. I KNOW WHAT YOU DID. There are no lies in dreamscape. That girl sleeping in there is no longer a girl. I dreamt with her for ten minutes- that's two hours, Mr. Moretti. AND FOR TWO HOURS, I WATCHED YOU RAPE HER. FOR TWO HOURS, I WAS TRAPPED IN HER HEAD, WHILE SHE SCREAMED AT YOU TO STOP. YOU DID IT OVER AND OVER." Veda paused, kneeling to the concrete and looking him in the eyes. Her own eyes had begun to twitch, but she wanted him to see her anger. He shook his head, trying to defend himself. "YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH. And for her, for your fucking daughter, it's still happening. She dreams it over and over like it fucking resets. There is no color, only black and white. The only thing you can hear is your fucking sick remarks about how beautiful she is amidst static and her pleads for you to stop. She said 'Papa, please,' over and over, and you loved it." She pulled him by the collar scruff, by his neck with veins and arteries pulsating- "BASTARD, I COULD END YOU RIGHT NOW-"
"Veda!" Arthur and Eames reined her in; her teeth were bared, primal and instinctive like a tigress protecting her cubs. Eliana's grandfather only stood- face white and paused in suspended animation. Ariadne didn't think he was breathing.
"NO, I AM NOT- LET ME GO- I am not fucking done." They let her go. "The worst part of what you did is that you put a mirror there and made her watch. You're so sick that you made her watch you. What sucks and is gonna haunt me forever is that I couldn't help her. I couldn't dream a gun to shoot your ass or even a dull butter knife! Because I wasn't just an observer. I was her. Everything that you've ever done to your daughter was done to me. Repeatedly. I bet it was your idea in the first place to put her to dreams so she wouldn't tell, because you knew what was wrong. She's a fucking shell of a human-" A gunshot rang through the warehouse, the bullet going straight through Mr. Moretti's skull. The Don lowered his arm, dropping his pistol to the floor. There were tears in his eyes.
"He was no son of mine."
"I hope he burns in Hell," foamed Veda, body shaking with rage. Her hand went to her totem, holding it for a moment. When she spoke again, her strong voice had depleted, and only feebleness remained: "I don't know if we can bring her back, Don Romano, I don't. But we'll try because she's going insane, and I don't know how much more she can take until there's no brain function at all." She looked around at her team. "We'll all have to go in because-"
"Because of that bastard there, yeah?" Eames completed her sentence, and she realized that he was kneading a small circle into her back with his thumb. The contact was comforting. She nodded. The man may have been physically dead, but in Eliana's head, he would always be alive.
"She called for you, Don, sir," whispered Veda. "She loves you a lot. You're like her own personal superhero. But you never came."
"I am coming now."
They rescued Eliana successfully, changing the dream and banishing her father. The Don paid them all three times the promised amount, and left with his granddaughter tucked into his arms. Moretti's body was thrown into a nearby river unceremoniously, not even held down with rocks to hide his identity. They quietly packed up their things, wanting to just get out, directing their eyes away from the pool of tacky blood on the ground. Dinner at the restaurant adjoined to their new hotel was amiable with a somber backdrop.
No one said anything about the job until Veda talked after dinner while they drank coffee. She took Eames' cigarette from his hand, took a long drag, and nestled it back into his fingers. As she exhaled the smoke, Veda leaned back on the stretch of Eames' arm behind her. She licked her lips slowly as if savoring the taste of ash in her mouth.
"If I have children, and anyone hurts them like that, I will choke the life out of them with my bare hands. Same goes for you all. If anyone ever fucks with you, I'll take a gun, and there'll be a bullet right between the eyes." Veda confirmed her comments by nodding, like a bit of finality. And no one ever talked about that job again.
That day in Milan was the day a little girl got her life back. That was the day Ariadne knew what being in their profession was about. And that also was the day Ariadne realized she had an older sister and a family that she wouldn't exchange for anything.
15 (Fifteen; Quinze; Quince)
"Oh, Ms. Brighton- glad I caught you."
"Mr. Edwards, hi," greeted Veda. She smiled. "We're going to the playground for a little while."
"Mind if I join you?"
"I don't. Can he come, mes rêves?" Veda looked down at the twins. William Edwards grinned at them. He was their teacher- a male teacher was an anomaly in elementary schools. They were currently in first grade.
"Mr. Edwards can come," decided Cayenne. "We like him."
"Good." It was a Friday, late in the afternoon. The conference between Veda, the principal, Mr. Edwards, and the parents of a boy in another first grade class, and that boy's teacher had gone on for two and a half hours. There was a lot of aggression on the parents' side (warranted, as Grayson had broken their son's arm), and a lot of crazy talk from the principals about expelling Grayson (which was stupid because the other boy had been equally wrong in kicking and pushing Cayenne in the mud). Veda had felt attacked, just because the fight seemed to be making Grayson a scapegoat for the school's issues with Veda. But everything had turned out alright. Both boys had received two days of out of school suspension, starting the next Monday. Naturally, that included Cayenne as she'd never go anywhere without Grayson.
Grayson and Cayenne sprinted away from Veda onto the mulch and into the playground, holding hands.
"I guess you wanna talk, Mr. Edwards?" Mr. Edwards' face was very young, almost childlike, but when he spoke, the calmness of his voice his age of early thirties.
"Yes, if that's okay." Veda sat at a nearby picnic table with a clear view of the whole grounds. A lovely thing about Mr. Edwards was that he truly cared about all children, which unfortunately was a trait not all teachers had. He was also unfailingly kind.
"How are you, Ms. Brighton?"
"Veda. No one calls me by my last name except the PTA members, and you're much sweeter than that." Mr. Edwards blushed. Veda could tell he liked her.
"Thanks, er- Veda. I guess you can call me William."
"You're welcome, William, and I'm doing lovely. You?"
"Good, good." He paused, scratching his head. "I don't mean to pry, but what do you do for a living?"
"You mean, why does a single mother and her two kids live in a custom million-dollar home built away from the rest of the town in Sonoma, California, when everyone else in the community lives in modest, middle class homes."
"Uh, yes."
"What do people say?"
"Ms. Bri- Veda- I don't like repeating rumour." Veda looked pointedly at him, eyebrows up. He divulged. "They say a lot of things. That you're a mistress of a corporate giant or a drug lord's mistress or a cult leader. But all of the theories don't put you in the brightest of lights."
"And why do you need to know what I do?" Veda tilted her body, watching Cayenne do flips on the monkey bars.
"I always care about children whose families aren't… conventional."
"Conventional?" Veda openly laughed, eyes crinkling. "Yeah, we're the furthest thing from conventional. I can understand your concern."
"Veda, your children- and forgive me if I sound strange, but your children- they're smart. And I don't just mean good grades, high reading level, and high math scores. I don't mean on paper. Your children don't have friends in the class. They may play together, laugh together, but at the end of the day your children walk out hand in hand to the bus or to your car, and I can see that the other kids are a little wary of them. It's like they're too aware of life in general, like they walk a higher plane-" He blushed. "I'm sorry, this is silly."
Veda smiled sadly. "You're very perceptive. And outside of the people I'm close with, you're the sweetest person I've ever met. You genuinely care, and that's rare. My children are different and will always be because of the nature of my work.
"William Edwards, in the world I live in, there's constant danger. There's guns and betrayal and insanity. My friends are few, but the love is great. We, my friends and I, are the best at what we do. We walk a fine line of right and wrong- some may say we are criminals and others may say we're the most moral people on the planet. You know Lee Saito, of Saito Engineering?"
"Yes- he's richer than Bill Gates."
"Two years ago, the twins had meningitis. They were dying in the hospital in front of my eyes. After, I was swamped with thousands upon thousands of dollars in medical bills- someone like me does not have insurance. I received a letter indicating that a transfer had been made to one of my bank accounts. It was a gift from Saito- enough pay for everything and then some." Mr. Edwards stared, mouth agape. A fear was starting in his fingers, edging its way into him. "Mr. Edwards, that is the extent of my reach. Governments and secret organizations, mafias, CEOs- they whisper my name around the globe. What I do is so specific and so incredulous that you'd never believe me. My friends are the same- their father is the same. But when it comes to the twins, they are loved. Very, very much. If I were to die right now, there are five people who would drop everything and adopt them without thinking twice- not including their father. So don't worry about their home life.
"And as for their intelligence- that's because of the job too, I think." Veda thought of the somnacin and how she had worked throughout her pregnancy. The drug had done something to her children. She nodded over to the twins. "Cayenne isn't spicy like pepper, you know that. But she's a burning fire, determined. You can't put her out. She's brave, fierce. With a lot of nerve," added Veda, seeing Cayenne jump from the top of the monkey bars. "Now Grayson, he's… Most kids think in black and white, that it's either wrong or it isn't. Grayson, from the beginning, he was in shades of gray. He understands everything and defends those he loves with the ferocity of a rabid beast. Nothing trips him up, nothing crosses him. But he's more hesitant." Grayson jumped from the monkey bars and did not land on his feet. Mr. Edwards almost instantly tried to rise to his feet- Veda put her hand on his shoulder. "Just wait. Watch. Don't say anything."
Cayenne fled to Grayson's side and checked him over. She decided he could walk, so she helped him up, and together they went to the picnic table where their mother was. Grayson held out his arm where there was blood seeping from his skin. Cayenne reached into her bookbag, fetching disinfectant wipes, tissue, and her crayon bin. She cleaned the cut while Grayson sat calmly. Next, Cayenne took a Kleenex tissue, folded it neatly, and taped it down to his wound.
"When we get home, get Mama to put alcohol or peroxide on it. And a real bandaid." Cayenne sighed. "Gray, you can't be afraid to fall. You'll never learn right. You just gotta jump! Fly like a bird!"
"I guess." Grayson thought about it a moment. "I guess I should just jump. It's the only way down." Cayenne nodded. Mr. Edwards was absolutely floored.
"Mama?"
"Hm?"
"When are Auntie Ari and Uncle Arthur coming to town?"
"They're in L.A. right now, but they should visit tomorrow."
"Could they stay for the party?" Grayson wondered. "If they were there and Daddy were there-"
"-it'd be so much fun!"
"We'll ask," said Veda.
"They could sleep over! Auntie Ari and I could play with my new dollhouse!"
"Well Uncle Arthur and I could build that roller coaster set!" The Twins, elated, jumped up and ran back to play.
"I've never seen children do that before," murmured Mr. Edwards.
"It is a bit weird. Oh, and you're invited to the party too, as you're a teacher."
"I'll be going… You said your husband would be there?"
"Not married," corrected Veda. "I'm not Mrs. Eames." She grinned with a twinge of what seemed like regret.