Page 199 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

I shove the door open and can barely hear the bells that used to be familiar over the crowd of drinkers out tonight. Glancing at Desdemona, I see her head is down. Perhaps it was a dimwitted response.

“No shit!” Barley shouts from behind his bar as we approach. “Long time!” He pulls me into a hug and pats my back roughly. I return the gesture. “Where’s Elijah?”

Azaire.

I have hopes that my few redeeming actions would make him proud—while doing my best to ignore any thoughts pertaining to what he would think of the guards I’ve killed.

“He’s busy with the family business.” In our imaginary worlds we came up with at eight, his family is alive. I twist to Desemona for no good reason, and she looks up at me with her chin tilted down.

She knows. It’s written in every crevice of her face.

“That’s too bad.” Barley walks behind his bar. “Sit, sit! Vena on the house!” Vena—the septic’s fake vesi. A shot glass appears in front of both Desdemona and me. We take them down like we haven’t been through anguish today.

“Thank you, sir,” I say with an exhale. “This is Catarina.”

Desdemona looks up for a split second. “Hi,” she whispers with a smile.

“Good to meetcha, Catarina. Sure Andrew told you, but I’m Barley.” He holds out his hand to shake hers. Then he’s looking at me again. “So, you gonna tell me why you two are in such get-ups?”

I lean in closer to him. “Truthfully, we’ve had a difficult day. By any chance is that room?—”

“You in trouble?”

“—still free?”

“No trouble, sir,” Desdemona says before I register the question.

“No trouble at all,” I second. “Just far from home and a bit too tired to make it back.”

“If there is trouble, you can tell me.” Barley leans down behind the bar and resurfaces with a key. “The room’s always open for you, bud.” The key slides across the table to me. “The missus is in our room, she’ll get you two something more comfortable.” He flashes a crooked-toothed smile. “Free of charge for my finest young friend.”

“I offer you the highest form of gratitude for the upgrade in title,” I say a bit sarcastically and Barley chuckles. I smile back, pocketing the key and walking to the hidden stairwell with Desdemona.

It’s exactly as I remember it. Every inch of this room is an assault on my memories. The truths shared with Azaire when the snow would coat the window on the days we escaped from our lives.

I sit on the bed, facing away from the window into a wooden wall.

I surrender.

How I’d love to follow in that path. Is it an option for me?

Consequences be damned is what I said, and it was never what I meant. There weren’t supposed to be consequences. There wasn’t supposed to be a world without him.

He’s not next to me, but he is in this room with me. He’s leaning against the wall, under the window, telling me more about what lies under his beanie. He’s under the bedspread shivering, and I’m looking up from the floor when he tells me what happened to his parents.

He’s understanding me when I tell him of Lilac and the things Lusia has done to me since my father’s death.

We’re in this room, together, alone, on every one of my real birthdays that I was never allowed to celebrate.

He’s everywhere and he’s nowhere, and for the life of me, I can’t under-stand it. It’s not like my parents—I hardly remember them. Perhaps, I didn’t understand it then either. Because he was here all but a moment ago.

So, where did he go?

If there’s a soul and fatta venom kills that, I don’t understand where that leaves him. In the snow?

In this room?

I won’t believe him to simply be gone.

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