CHAPTER THREE
“I thought I made myself clear,” I say as we drive back towards the house. “I thought I told you exactly what you need to do with Kerri.” I glance in the rearview mirror and see Shiloh looking out the window wistfully.
“I know, Mommy,” she says quietly.
“And to do it, everything you need is in the basement.” I say. “I just don’t understand why you’re putting it off.”
“I just need the time to be right,” she says in her soft voice.
“You can’t wait forever,” I say. “When I give you an instruction, you need to follow it. What we do is important. Can’t you see that?”
“Yes, Mommy,” she says, her voice still soft.
I sigh and say, “Kerri will be back tomorrow. I’m giving you a week from tomorrow to complete it. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Mommy.” Her voice quivers slightly.
“Don’t be afraid,” I say quietly. “Think about the fun we had today. Focus on that.”
We fall into a silence, and not an entirely comfortable one. But it doesn’t bother me. Uncomfortable subjects are what I am best at.
You have to be willing to tackle things head on, lest the madness get you, like it did him.
He went too far; he went mad. He was a true artist until he lost it all. I will never lose it. I know that as a matter of fact. What I do is a service, and I treat it as such.
I don’t allow personal feelings to cloud my judgement. I don’t get attached. I don’t even learn their names.
They are they .
An entity that has come to me for a purpose.
I pull up to the house and help Shiloh take her prizes to her bedroom before I go to make dinner. I don’t particularly like junk food, but I let Shiloh have some cotton candy. Now she needs something healthy to balance that.
I make a vegetable casserole and put it in the oven to cook. I sit down at the table with a book and pick up from where I was reading. It’s an anatomy book, and it always gives me new ideas for my room.
Maybe I’ll go again tonight. Shiloh sleeps through the night and Kerri will be back in the morning. Perhaps I will see if anyone has wandered in, looking for their final release.
La Douleur Folle calls me back.
The oven dings and I take the casserole out. There’s no necessity to call Shiloh. She knows that ‘ding’ means it’s dinnertime. I hear her washing her hands and I do the same before I set the table.
She comes and sits down, and I dish up food for her before I dish up for myself. We eat in silence, Shiloh concentrating on her food. She’s probably worried I’ll bring up Kerri again.
She needs to learn to let it go. It’s nothing personal. It is an act. All things come to an end, sometimes sooner than expected, and people like us are sometimes necessary to hasten along the lives on the mortal coil.
When we’re done, I load the dishwasher before packing away the leftovers for Kerri and Shiloh to reheat tomorrow.
I turn to my daughter. “Go shower and get into bed. I want you asleep early tonight.”
“Are you going out?” Shiloh asks curiously.
I smile and kiss her head. “I won’t be gone long.”
Time is relative. She’ll be asleep and I’ll be home by the time she wakes up.
Time will pass like a river flows, without any grand announcement or important ceremony.
It just is.
Like we just are.
The things that I do today have no bearing on tomorrow, other than to snuff out a tiny light that was insignificant to begin with. Those who come to me have nothing left, or they wouldn’t come to me in the first place.
I go change into jeans and a different shirt. A black one. It’s easier to hide the blood on black clothes, but I need to do the laundry tomorrow, anyway.
I go to Shiloh once she is in bed, and I kiss her head. “You’re the best daughter in the whole world,” I say quietly. “Don’t you forget it.”
“You’re the best mommy,” she says in return with a toothy grin.
She curls up and I sit there until she falls asleep, then I go retrieve my coat, my purse, and my car keys and I lock the door behind me.
I leave that Esther behind. The doting mother, the caregiver, the birth mother. It’s left behind like a forgotten pet.
Carelessly and without worry.
I drive to La Douleur Folle and park. The old building beckons to me, and I know there are others that it calls to. But it feels like it has something specific in mind for me today. I decide to take a stroll to the cliff around the back of the property, overlooking the city park. It’s a haze in the dark–maybe because of the mist that’s forming, or maybe it’s because the air quality is so poor.
I stand there for the longest moment before I hear the crunch of leaves behind me. I don’t turn. It could be anyone, but I have no fear.
“Excuse me, do you work here?” A young voice asks me. I turn to see a boy, an older teenager, standing with his hands in his pockets like he’s in the principal’s office.
“It depends on what you’re looking for. Do you know where you are?”
“ La Douleur Folle, ” he says confidently. “I’ve been looking for it for some time.”
“What is it you want?” I ask, turning to look out at the lights again.
“To die,” he says in a quiet voice.
“Then you’re in the right place. But know this, if you enter you cannot leave, there are no take backs in a situation like this. Do you understand?”
“I know. I mean, I understand,” he says. “Do you, do it?”
“I do.”
“Will you… kill me?”
“I will end you, but I feel like that’s not all you want, boy.”
“My name is…”
“I don’t need to know your name.” I turn back to him. “You are a boy, and you want more than just death.”