Veronika Grossman – Escort For The Witch (страница 3)
“Well, I thought we haven’t seen each other in a while, so I decided to drop by.”
“That’s true,” Mrs. Renton replied thoughtfully. “Your father sent his regards,”
she added casually and turned her attention to the leaves of a fuchsia plant that happened to be nearby. “And when was the last time you got a haircut?”
“Mom, is something wrong?” Since Dad sent his regards, something must be up.
Maybe this even explains the sudden change in weather or in Beth’s behavior, who seemed much friendlier today than usual.
“Yes, we were just sitting here and… Just look at these leaves!” Mrs. Renton exclaimed.
“Mom, we’ve been through this already. And if you don’t tell me what happened right now, your marble ficus plant will turn into a stripped version of it! Trust me on that!” Jack grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the woman who seemed shocked by her son’s words.
“I always knew you were rather cruel,” Mrs. Renton half-whispered before adding almost inaudibly , “We talked a bit and made a decision.”
Reluctantly taking his eyes off the plant leaves, Jack stared at his teacher mother.
Something about that last phrase, thrown in seemingly casually, didn’t sit well with him.
“What decision?” He asked with growing irritation, showing no enthusiasm for continuing the conversation. His mother’s habit of speaking in riddles occasionally got on his nerves, and apparently, today’s conversation wasn’t going to be an exception.
“Lately, Eric’s been behaving, to put it mildly, poorly,” Mrs. Renton began quietly. The way she pronounced his best friend’s name made Jack once again look into his mother’s eyes. This time, her gaze was very sharp and attentive.
“What we embarked on twenty-three years ago was a deviation from the rules of the order. A very serious deviation, as you well know. Every month, sometimes even every week, Alex would send us detailed reports,” she continued.
“People need something to do in retirement,” Jack muttered sarcastically.
“Don’t interrupt me, Jack! As his illness progressed, he sent them less and less frequently, and you know that very well too. In one of his last letters, he promised that Eric would take over from him now.”
Jack lowered his gaze and started studying a piece of old gum dropped by some past student and treaded on a thousand times since by more student feet. He knew where his mother was heading with this, and he didn’t like it. More precisely, he didn't like it at all.
“After Alex’s death, we received only a few incomprehensible scribbles from Eric. Written in completely different handwriting, with all sorts of emoji is and other nonsense,” Mrs. Renton stared intently at her son. “Can you explain that?
And get off the table! What a bad habit!” she scolded her son, clutching her heart meaningfully once again.
“Explain what? The few or the incomprehensible?” Jack asked, still not looking up from the floor, struggling contain his emotions.
“Stop it, Jack, you know what I mean.”
“I think it’s not as bad as you, madam, think. He’s just… finding it difficult to keep an eye on someone who lives under the same roof as him, and that someone happens to be his sister,” Jack whispered the last word almost to himself, thinking,
“I could even bet on who’s keeping an eye on whom there.”
“It’s like me starting to monitor every step of my cat! Sooner or later, he’ll notice and retaliate by ruining all my plantings or peeing everywhere! And if you’re concerned, you could go check it out yourselves. They’re friends, after all,”
Jack looked at his mother again with reproach and once again struggled to suppress a smile. The woman clearly didn’t expect such a retort from her son and froze, her mouth slightly open in confusion.
“And don’t blame Eric. He’s depressed… he’s going through a lot."
“Plantings, you say, he’ll ruin? Mess up everything around?” Jack, I’m not arguing, Eric’s a good guy, but this… what’s her name…” Mrs. Renton paused, trying to recall.
“Sarah.”
“Yes, Sarah. He’s become irresponsible! We can’t rely on him anymore,” Mrs.
Renton exclaimed with concern and unmistakable worry in her voice.
Jack swallowed loudly, looking away from the floor where he was now inspecting a curious dark spot, and met his mother’s gaze, as green as his own.
“And what do you want me to do about it? Should I personally check all his scribbles before sending them to you? Make corrections?”
Mrs. Renton turned to the teacher’s desk and casually remarked, “Now you’ll keep an eye on Sabrina.”
“How do you imagine that ?” Jack growled, slamming his hand on the table, where he still sat, despite his mother’s accusatory and meaningful glances. “Have you lost your mind or what?”
“Starting today,” Mrs. Renton said calmly, ignoring her son’s wave of anger.
“No way! That girl has been aching to tear my throat out! Since childhood!”
“So there’s a reason for that. Since childhood till now,” Mrs. Renton retorted, rising on her tiptoes to water the flowers spaced unevenly on the windowsill and hanging shelves.
Jack nervously ran his hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and put on his most pleading expression.
“Mom…”
“Jack.”
“She hates me!”
“So, make her change her mind about you.”
“Mom…”
“Not up for discussion. And get Eric out of his binge, or he’ll mess things up again and won’t even remember. Report back in a week.”
“About Eric?” Jack asked, resigned.
“About both!” Mrs. Renton replied dismissively, and gracefully spun around on her heels to prepare reagents and concentrates for the upcoming lesson.
There was a timid knock on the door, making Jack jump off the table and briskly walk out of the classroom, slamming the door right in a bewildered student’s face.
Outside, after a few deep breaths, he reached into his jacket pocket for a pack of cigarettes and lit up. All around him, the students were scampering like rats, trying to dodge the falling raindrops. A moment later, he tossed the untouched cigarette away and trudged towards building ‘B’ .
“Well, what mess have you gotten yourself into now, buddy? I guess I should thank my grandpa for adopting a one-year-old son of one of the guardians of the ‘Guardian’ Order, who had died tragically on a mission twenty-three years ago, and then adopting a newborn girl and naming her Sabrina and giving her his own surname
For many centuries, the ‘Guardian’ Order has been monitoring the De Manshand lineage, collecting bits and pieces of the history of this unusual family, and often intervening in their affairs to avoid various troubles and tragedies. So it had been until Michelle, Sabrina’s mother, ran away with her newborn girl upon learning what fate Marie had had in store for the baby. This Marie was that very girl’s grandmother. And that’s when grandpa just couldn’t help himself. That’s when he outdid everyone in the order. I mean those who had ever meddled in the history of this ill-fated family and made their so-called ‘corrections’. He had offered Michelle his help. And she had gladly accepted it. They had first smuggled the newborn girl to the order’s secret hideout in New York City, and then grandpa had secretly taken her to Liverpool…
As for Michelle herself, she had returned home. She had wanted to put an end to the complicated De Manshand story. No one has seen her since.
Meanwhile, the girl grew up beautifully in the Venters family, which consisted of my grandfather and, as she believed, her twin brother Eric. I’ve played the role
of Eric’s best friend, who, aged ten, had moved with his parents from Liverpool to the beautiful city of New Orleans, Louisiana, USA. That’s where my relentless mother and passively-active father had followed their “old friend,” and incidentally, my biological grandfather, Alex Venters, and his newly acquired relatives.They had settled in a small but respectable-looking house near the Garden District, where they had lived until… Until Grandpa passed away. That was a year and a half ago now and was a devastating blow to our entire family. Especially to Sabrina. But Eric didn’t disappoint either! He began drinking so much that it was hard to tell whether his blue eyes were naturally blue or just from what he was drinking. And then he got involved with a quirky girl named Sarah. She was a “free-spirited artist” or something like that. What kind of paintings did she make?
No one knew. The situation worsened with each passing day. They started drinking together, while Sabrina, once tall and sun-kissed, began to resemble a hunched coat hanger draped with a worn-out t-shirt.
Sabrina persistently called me, berating me for ignoring my friend and letting him ruin his life. I felt powerless because Eric never listened to me, it was hard watching Sabrina cry, huddled in a kitchen corner. Eventually, when my patience ran out, I grabbed Eric by the collar and literally dragged him into our family therapist’s office; the therapist also happened to be my father. After a long and, in my opinion, overly intellectual talk, Eric’s common sense returned, but he didn't change his habits. He did substantially reduce his drinking though. But cutting back on alcohol led to a side effect. Eric’s mood soured and he started arguing with Sabrina more, resulting in her calling me more often to vent. I should remind you that Sabrina and I had never particularly liked each other. I had snapped at Eric a couple of times, and at his girlfriend, as she was going through yet another “creative crisis”, thus becoming his worst enemy for a whole five days until…On Saturday, August 28th, at eleven o’clock in the evening, my cellphone rang, and in response to my “Hello” I heard drunken, incomprehensible muttering. All I could get from that strange monologue was that Eric had been in some bar on Bourbon Street feeling very, very bad and sad. He had quarreled with Sarah and decided to drown his sorrows in some old-fashioned “Blackened Voodoo.” Business as usual.