Вера Ефимова – Soulmate (страница 6)
“We need to go. Now.” I say, gaspingly.
He looked at me with an obvious disgust, barely looking at me at all.
“Look, I know you don’t trust me and think you can go on your own. But I promise I figured it out; moreover, we are in big trouble right now; many people in this place recognize you.” I tried my best to sound persuasive.
A stunted old man looked at us in astonishment, pointing at us with his finger.
“It’s them! Bill Hawthorn’s son and his associate!” he yelled at the crowd. It wasn’t even listening anyway.
“Will you go now?” I asked one last time.
“Yeah”
It reminded me of the night we escaped police. Same rush, same nervousness, same path. Scared of the possibility of being caught. But this time, the police were not chasing us, surrounding us on each side. In fact, no police were around. But it could if we stayed for a couple of days.
I was walking away so fast I forgot how tired I was. My eyes were closing on their own, lingering for a few seconds sometimes; my breath was taken away, so it was impossible to run any further. I’m only human, after all.
“I can’t go any further,” cried Fabian with his fading voice. “We need a place to crush.”.
I was more than satisfied after hearing “we” again. An instant feeling of reunion overflowed my already cloudy mind. The point stayed, however. After being scared of our own prejudices, Fabian and I calmed down and made an arrangement, laying down some rules. First, we stick together. Second, in case we split, we will have a walkie-talkie, which I will buy on the way. Finally, I persuaded my so-called comrade to trust me unconditionally, proving that I’m unrelated to his father’s police squad and I’m not luring him straight to the secret base, where he will be ruthlessly punished for not obeying his imperious daddy. It took a while for me to slow down the pace and conventionally talk to him in peace. I realized I knew nothing about a guy I was voluntarily cooperating with.
Sun shone in the last moments of existence in this day, being already at sunset, vigorously trying to point out our way. The hostel was nearby, luckily, so we designated our stop. The designation area was the cheapest place in the state; the hostel looked so rashly and somber it seemed to be haunted. But for two desperate guys, it appeared well and even tantalizing. We were elating deep inside, obscuring it under semi-killed faces ready to zonk out any minute.
“Hustle there.” I told Fabian, being only a few feet ahead of him.
“You got any money?”
“Of course,” I replied with enthusiasm. “Just follow me and don’t fall behind.”
He hurried and entered the building. The inside of it was looking more promising: The Art Nouveau walls were decorated with antique paintings by Aivazovsky and Kuindzhi. The reception was decorated with flowers and Jolie Ranchers candies placed in a small saucer, somewhat resembling a fish head. The staff wore plain red uniforms with ties and white shirts with badges on them. The floor was parquet, so our footprints remained dirty spots on it. I caught sight of one table with money on it, as if the hotel were completely empty. “What a ludicrous move,” I thought. As we got closer, I noticed it was fake. “What a genius move,” I thought again.
“Good evening, how may I help you?” The lady at the reception asked us, smiling. “How long are you planning to stay?”
“One night. Two beds, please.” I was so exhausted I forgot about my manners. “Good evening though.”
“Room 12, first floor,” she giggled.
“Thank you.” I love ladies.
We entered the room. It was light and lurid simultaneously, if that makes sense. Magenta carpet was negligently tossed on the floor. Some mauve, florid lace depicted unbridled pathos; it was not compatible with the dark, scarlet lantern that stood on the square-shaped table with poppies. What an architectural disaster this room was.
“Do you want any food? They serve rooms,” I said, looking briefly at the wallpapers.
“Yes, it would be a pleasure,” responded Fabian indifferently.
“Have you ever been at the hostel?”
“No”
I made my bed and ordered food in the room. The tawdryness of this room still amazed me. I looked at Fabian; he was downright exhausted. I put his dirty clothes in the washing machine with mine and handed over the robe. I noticed how reluctantly he was approaching things when they were caused by me. I decided that we reached a certain point of partnership, so I left him alone for a while. I felt exhausted too: taking care of myself for the first time in my life seriously worn me out. My repressiveness oscillated; fortitude was blown away. I spread myself too thin lately. However, fear was thriving. I absolutely hated today’s dive into the unknown. We were closer to the destination point, at least.
The food came in thirty minutes. We sat at the table in silence until Fabian started speaking.
“Thanks for food and for help,” he goes. “I’m sorry for my latest behavior; I was just scared. New things confuse me.”
I was not expecting that.
“Of course. Feel free to do anything you want. I am always on your side.”
“Thanks”
The rest of the dinner was peaceful and casual. Our chat was the most friendly after we ran away together. I felt like the stone was lifted off my shoulders. Behind every stern thing that we experienced, there was something ecstatic in his presence. I was lacking a man in the smocking, tickling the ivories in the back. I would prolong our conversation, but there was no need.
“Where are we going?” asked Fabian, curiously, not looking at me in silent anticipation, like usually I do.
“To Washington. My apartment is there, and my cousin is going to help us.”.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“You didn’t ask.”
We started making our beds, as it was twilight. I lay in my bed, which was opposite to Fabians, and started thinking profoundly. My fear of being captured
started to abate since we got here; we were really far away from Riverside. I was abetting Fabian all the way; however, I didn’t realize it was him who was abetting me. I was abbot in finding a solution through so many ways, but sometimes it’s beyond my control, which is hard for anyone with a leader tendency to accept. I want things to go my way. Only mine. I won’t ever say how strongly it destroys my ego when things, which were figured out my way, go wrong. And how lyrical it is when they do. I just need an adhesive to glue my resplendent plan and Fabian’s hesitation altogether. However, sometimes it takes two different minds to keep the team complete. A good leader understands it. A good brother accepts it. We were going ambled, but on the on the right path towards our victory. And I would never turn off the path. Oh, I can assure you: under no circumstances are we bound to fail. Not this time. Everything will be accomplished my way.
I look at Fabian, and it immediately makes me wonder, “What is going on inside his teenage head?”. Perhaps someone sees an average teenage guy on his way of becoming a young man, ready to start a new life at college and overcome all the obstacles; others see in him pure expression of originality. But when I first saw him struggling with his unflattering violent situation, I could only think about one thing: strength. Having spent so many years under the roof with the most notorious hypocrite and still having the audacity to confront him, run away from him, making a brute pathetic without his punching bag. It drained all his muscle resistance in one night. Nobody is getting beaten. Nobody but himself, very soon. It is so easy, naturally being an authoritative old cop, taking moving up the ladder as belligerence, taking own son as the spawn of revenge for a broken heart, knowing no clemency, no kindness. Formally, he was following a codex for people’s protection but never for his own son’s. It wasn’t just the way he was ambiguous, but the way powerful and dominant he thought he was. Such complacency always startled me. “What an adamant son of a bitch” always came to mind. Exposure—that’s what he fears. I can’t wait to make justice prevail; it will make the major writhe. A bit of painstaking work to make Mr. Hawthorne go insane in jail, when his comrades will shame him just the way he did to Fabian. What a bit of effort it takes to make one pay. Vindictive vehemence to upturn one vicious presence to a living hell overwhelmed my soul with anticipation. Maybe someday he will get out of prison, look at the sky for the first time after staying in the coldest and most merciless place in his foolish life, and sink in torment of atonement for what was done, wasted, and wrecked. This sort of pain, the pain that makes you pay all the bills, is unhealable. Then he is trudging to his son’s rich house, full of joy and purity, hoping to atone for the guilt, obtrusively. But there won’t be such a thing. The door is shut; the past is forgotten. He unwillingly pulls out a gun, hits the trigger, and leaves his breathless body on the doorstep of the house. Yeah, that’s how I viewed it.
CHAPTER 5
I fell asleep the second I finished reflecting my innermost thoughts. My dream was not very different, though. Smoldering vegetation was seen out of the window on the sunny day of July. I was flattered by the beginning of the day. The birds chirped against the background of the rising sun; the air was almost clear, with moderate humidity. From under the old gnarled branches of the tree standing under the window, newly appeared leaves could be seen, slightly green, not much different from green caterpillars. Other than that, I’ve noticed one peculiar thing: Fabian talks while asleep, and he usually does it with his eyes and mouth wide-open. You should’ve seen me witnessing this picture at four in the morning. I opened my eyes, awakened from barely heard whispering coming from his side of the room. Once I opened my eyes, I was profoundly startled; he was gazing at me with his mouth open, sometimes pursing his lips in an attempt to mutter something illegible. I almost shouted. And if I did, I would have other people startled or alarmed by such a grotesque picture. Anyway, this night was calm, and I had nothing to complain about (other than that incident). I found it soothing that we found common ground with my roommate and had no biggie fights by far. I was hoping we would reach an agreement on trust all along. I was right, I suppose. However, I always keep in mind that there’s always a room for ducking from my plan. I mean, mine and my partner’s-in-crime plan, which Fabian had to strictly stick to. I was always earnest about my own inventions, making them the only thing that had to be put forward. The one thing that appeared unsteady conventionally was bound to be eliminated, but I can’t apply