The inside of the building was largely bare concrete, lit with severe fluorescent lights. Harry tried to ascend the stairs quietly, but every sound he made seemed magnified by the hard surfaces on all sides. Judit fidgeted with her keys as they climbed.
"Sorry about the…" Judit waved a hand vaguely, her voice echoing around the stairwell. "It's not really, um…"
EMPATHY:She doesn't like having people here. She wishes she lived in a nicer building, in a nicer area.
"Judit, I'm forty percent sure I lived on this street at one point. Maybe in this building. I know how it is. Or I did, at least. Besides," Harry smiled a little, "you saw my apartment when it wasreally , probably the worst apartment I've ever seen. Or smelled."
Judit smiled back, a little. "Yes, it was pretty bad," she agreed, then immediately covered her mouth. "Sorry."
"No, 'pretty bad' is a description for the dog statue on Rue de Charles. That place was a travesty."
PAIN THRESHOLD:It really was. It was a good thing Jean had a spare key. They'd never have convinced you to open that door.
"Aw, I like the dog statue," said Judit.
"Whoever made that dog statuewantedyou to like it. But it's not good." Harry shook his head disapprovingly.
"Of course they wanted you to like it. Why would they make it if they didn't want you to like it?"
"They were more invested in the attention from having made it than they were in actually making it."
Judit laughed, a real laugh, despite everything. "How could you possibly know that?"
Harry grinned. "I think there's a whole art degree up here." He tapped his head.
Judit stepped off at a landing and into a hallway. As she walked down it, Harry could see her shoulders tensing again. When they reached apartment 37, she stopped, gripping her keys tightly.
EMPATHY:She doesn't know what to tell her kids.
SUGGESTION:Don't tell her what to tell her kids. You don't know either.
Judit glanced at Harry. Harry gave her an encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, she inserted the key into the handle and turned, briskly.
The door cracked open. Harry glimpsed an apartment that was far warmer and more inviting than the rest of the building suggested. A worn but sturdy dark red sofa sat next to a wall, which was covered in a collage of paintings: some of which were done in a child's rough hand, some of which were delicate watercolor views of the city. Judit managed to get one foot over the threshold before a small boy, around six years old, crashed into her, burying his face in her stomach.
"Oof!" said Judit. She put her arms around the boy. "Hello, Louis." She stroked his blond hair gently.
"Mama, Papa isn't here." The boy sounded a little tearful, his voice muffled by Judit's coat.
"I know, sweetheart. Your sister called and told me about it." Judit knelt down in front of the boy, looking into his face. "I'm sorry, that must have been scary."
Louis nodded and sniffed. Judit wrapped her arms around him and kissed his forehead.
"Did you find him?" came a small voice from inside the apartment. Harry looked up, and noticed a girl, older than the boy, maybe eight, half-hidden behind the open apartment door. Her dark hair came down to her shoulders. Her bangs were a little too long - she brushed them out of her eyes. Her eyes met Harry's and she looked away nervously.
Judit picked Louis up, cradling his head with her shoulder.
CONCEPTUALIZATION:He's getting a little big to be picked up. Soon, maybe within a year, she'll put him down and never pick him up again.
"Hello, Olive."
COMPOSURE:She hesitates. She has to decide what to tell them, quickly.
"I…heard from him. He took a job for tonight. It was last-minute, so he didn't have time to wait for you to get home from school. He told me to tell you he's sorry."
EMPATHY:She doesn't like lying to them. But she's also trying to leave as soon as possible, and she's afraid how they'll react if she told them the truth.
SUGGESTION:She'll push past it quickly so they don't question her.
"I'm very sorry, too, but I also have to do some work tonight."
"No!" said Louis. He flung his small arms around her shoulders, clinging to her. "You can't leave us alone again! Olive isn't allowed to use the stove!"
COMPOSURE:Judit's lip trembles. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions in check.
"Don't worry, Louis, I'm not leaving you alone. I brought my friend from work to look after you and make you dinner. He'll stay with you until I get back. Louis, Olive, this is…Mr. Du Bois?" She looked at Harry for confirmation. A memory nearly surfaced in Harry's mind - a vague image of kids running down a basketball court. Before he could grasp any details, it slipped back down into the depths.
"You can call me Harry," he said, giving a small wave.
SAVOIR FAIRE:How did you make a wave look so awkward? Stop doing it.
Harry put his hand down.
"Harry, this is Louis," said Judit, angling the boy towards him, "and Olive. Come out here for a moment, Olive."
The girl stepped reluctantly into the hallway, peering at Harry under her bangs. Louis stared at him suspiciously.
"It's nice to meet you both," said Harry. He tried a reassuring smile.
COMPOSURE:Now what is going on with yourface? Do you even have control of your facial muscles? Are you having a stroke?
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT:No, nothing wrong here. Must just be how he is. Sissy-boy afraid of embarrassing himself.
DRAMA:Are you in need of me, my liege? Is it time to play...arole?
COMPOSURE:No, stop. Don't make this weirder than it already is.
"Okay, I really need to go, darlings. Be good for Harry." Judit kissed Louis' cheek and put him down. She brushed Olive's bangs out of her eyes. "Thank you for calling me, sweetheart. You did a great job taking care of yourself and your brother." She kissed Olive, too, then passed Harry the apartment keys and started down the stairs.
"When will you come back?" Louis called after her.
Judit stopped on the stairs for a moment, then turned around, a gentle smile on her face.
COMPOSURE:She's barely holding it together.
EMPATHY:She really doesn't want to break down in front of her kids.
"Probably after bedtime. I'll come in and say good night when I get back." She blew them a kiss and hurried down the stairs, leaving Harry and the kids to stare at each other.
EMPATHY:Are we sure she'll be okay alone?
RHETORIC:She won't be if we leave the kids alone again. And Jean is waiting for her.
"Well," said Harry, "would one of you mind showing me around your apartment? I'm afraid of getting lost."
Louis cackled. "You can't get lost in here! There's only…" he hesitated. "Five rooms."
"I don't know…" said Harry. "I'm really bad at directions."
"Hmm…" Louis considered. "Okay." He marched through the door. Harry followed, and Olive slipped in behind them, carefully closing the door.
"This is where you come in and take your shoes off," said Louis, spreading his hands. There was a small shoe rack by the door. "I don't always take my shoes off right away because I don't always want to. But my mama gets mad when I don't, so you probably should."
"Okay," said Harry. He pulled off his green snakeskin shoes and put them on the shoe rack. The faded black and white linoleum felt warm through his socks.
"Ha, I see your toes!" said Louis. Harry looked down. One of his socks had a hole. His two little toes were poking out through it. He wiggled them, and Louis giggled, then ran into the living room.
"This is the living room! You're not allowed to jump on the couch or eat snacks on the couch." In addition to the couch, the room contained a gray armchair upholstered with fuzzy fabric, a small bookshelf, and a reading lamp. Harry leaned closer to look at the paintings he'd seen from the hall.
"Did you paint any of these?" he asked Louis.
"Yes, I did this one," he jumped onto the couch and pointed at a scribble with teeth. "It's a monster that eats people's heads."
"Just their heads?"
"Yeah. Sometimes he gets really tired and has to sleep for a thousand years. But he's really hungry when he wakes up, so watch out!"
"I'll be careful," said Harry, nodding sagely.
"Mama did these ones," said Louis, pointing out several of the cityscapes. "She likes to paint the city because she says there's always something happening."
One of the paintings featured a girl in a green dress holding a palm up to the sky, rain pouring around her, buildings rising high on either side.
ESPRIT DE CORPS:Two blocks away, Patrol Officer Judit Minot leans against the wall of a building, arms wrapped around herself, sobbing as quietly as she can. She wipes the tears from her cheeks, slaps her face lightly, and starts to jog again. Farther down the path, in a park, Satellite Officer Jean Vicquemare restlessly paces back and forth, occasionally glancing at his watch.
"Olive did these ones," said Louis, pointing out several other paintings. They were rougher than Judit's delicate cityscapes, mostly focusing on people, an intensity burning under the soft colors.
"You did these?" said Harry, turning to Olive. She was still standing by the front door, watching silently. She nodded.
EMPATHY:She has a hard time with new people.
SUGGESTION:Don't pay too much attention to her - it's easy to overwhelm her. She'll warm up to you if you let her observe you for a while.
"They're very good," said Harry, turning to look at the paintings again. One featured a man sitting at a table, his head thrown back, dropping a handful of red flower petals on the floor.
"These are my motor carriages," said Louis, bored with the paintings and trying to get Harry's attention. He was holding a pair of wooden motor carriages, pushing them along the arm of the couch.
"My friend Kim has a motor carriage," said Harry. "Maybe he can show it to you some time."
"Kim is a girl's name," observed Louis. The motor carriages sped down the front of the couch and onto the floor, and Louis began to roll across the soft rug - red, with yellow flowers.
"Not always," said Harry. "Sometimes boys are named Kim."
"Hmmm…" said Louis, digesting this information. "Oh!" He stood up and raced over to another door. "This is the kitchen." He opened the door, and Harry saw white cabinets, a few dishes piled next to the sink, and a dark wooden table that was slightly too large for the space.
"This is the stove. We're not allowed to turn it on. I guess you can turn it on, since you're a grown-up." Louis wrinkled his face at Harry, baring his teeth. Harry wasn't sure what the expression meant. Apparently that was all Louis felt was important to note about the kitchen, because he hurried out again. "Come on, Harry!"
Harry followed, and found Louis heading down the hallway. "This is the bathroom," said Louis, patting one of the doors. "If you have to use the toilet, you can do it in here." Louis gave Harry a sidelong look. "It's not my bath night tonight."
DRAMA:He lies, sire! It is bath night!
AUTHORITY:Don't stand for that! This kid is disrespecting you!
SUGGESTION:Don't fight him on this one. He'll be fine without a bath.
EMPATHY:His dad may be dead. He probably won't be fine regardless of the bath.
Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. Louis raced across the hall. "This is our room," he said, opening a door. A set of bunk beds stood inside on one side of the small room, across from a desk covered in stickers and art supplies and a dresser wedged into the corner next to the door, which stopped it from opening all the way. More paintings and some sketches hung on the walls, and a handful of toys lay on the floor, likely where Louis had left them. Olive pushed into the room and shoved a few sketches that she was clearly still working on into a drawer. Uncertain what to do now, she pressed herself into the corner behind the desk. Harry gave her a small nod, then looked away, trying to give her as much space as possible in the small room.
"I'm on top!" said Louis, clambering up the ladder to the top bunk. "Mama put stars on the ceiling above my bed."
The ceiling was dotted with white plastic stars that would glow in the dark. "That's pretty cool," said Harry.
"If you spin around really fast, it feels like you're in an aerostatic," said Louis. He demonstrated a few turns, spinning around on his knees on the bed.
"Careful!" said Harry, putting out a hand to catch him if he fell.
"It works better in the dark." He scrambled down the bunk bed ladder (clearly a practiced motion) and out, to the final room across the hall.
"This is Mama and Papa's room," said Louis.
"Louis, I don't know if we should–" Harry started, but Louis had already pushed open the door.
A vice seized around Harry's chest. The bed, unmade, covered in a striped white and blue blanket, sat waiting across the room. A small, low dresser crouched at the foot of the bed. Above the headboard, a jagged crack carved its way up the wall, the sight of it cutting right through Harry.
PERCEPTION (SIGHT):You've seen this crack before.
RHETORIC:Are you sure? It's just a crack. Most apartments in Jamrock have a crack in the wall somewhere.
PERCEPTION (SIGHT):Yes, but this crack isfamiliar.The placement, the shape.
HALF-LIGHT:You didn't just live on this street. You livedin this apartment.
LOGIC:That doesn't make sense. Why would you have a two-bedroom apartment? You've either lived alone or with…
VOLITION:Don't say her name.
RHETORIC:You may have rented a two-bedroom apartment, if you were thinking about having children.
INLAND EMPIRE:In a different life, your daughter shows you her artwork and your son tells you about his toys. You sit at the table, eating dinner together as the sodium lights flicker on outside. You read them books at bedtime and hold them when they cry. You watch them grow up, learn new things, go through difficult phases, and find their footing in the world.
HALF-LIGHT:It's too late, now. You wasted your last chance chasing after her.
VOLITION:Maybe. But you're still here. There are still things to do. Children are still born here, even if they're not yours. This is still a life. Keep going.
VISUAL CALCULUS:There are a lot of apartments in Jamrock, and a lot of cracks in the walls of those apartments. It's impossible to be sure if this one is the same, or merely similar.
"Are you okay?" said Olive. She stood in the door to her room, watching him. Louis looked up at him, confused.
COMPOSURE:You've been staring blankly into their parents' bedroom for ten seconds. Keep it together.
Harry cleared his throat. "Yeah. Just…spaced out for a second." Carefully avoiding looking at the crack in the wall, he pulled the bedroom door shut. "You guys hungry?"