Chapter VI. Dr. Erik Yurkov #3
“I know.” Ariadne pointed at the journal. “I read it.”
“I was afraid that you had,” admitted Quaint. “I don’t know what kind of things he wrote about me. The little I’ve seen … That’s not how I wanted you to get to know me.”
“I learned nothing about you from his journals. I learned only what another person thought of you at a moment in time. Only you can show me if his conclusions are true or not.”
Quaint smiled with relief. “I am grateful.”
“No need to be. Whoever you loved … To me, right now, I only care if you still do.”
“Only with the fond bitterness reserved for those we have known for the longest. I did not lie when we met. Nowadays, Erik is my friend,” said Quaint, taking his card to unlock the door. “A friend I would like very much to punch in the face, but a friend nonetheless.”
Raindrops clashed against the window of the rented car.
It was dark outside, but every time the police stopped them, the guls showed their membership cards, and the cops let them go without a question.
In Rio, creatures moved in alleyways, and death squads patrolled the avenues as they passed.
If they stop us one more time, I’ll eat them, Augusto muttered between his teeth, and Rafaela let out a pleased chortle.
Ariadne clutched one of Erik’s journals.
Reading them was the only comfort she had left now; the only tie to him, no matter how faint, the only reminder that he was a person she’d once met and could soon find again.
She also wanted a connection—any connection—between the Erik she knew and the one Quaint knew, a unifying factor between two seemingly opposing forces: his Erik, her Erik, and the real Erik, who belonged only to himself.
By her side, Quaint was a statue, eyes closed and spine straight, resting again as his regeneration process continued.
She glanced at the notebook, the date on the cover corresponding to one of the years Erik had spent with her:
Today I woke up feeling like I could breathe again.
It’s strange, because I have in fact been breathing all this time, in the sense that, when I inhale, my diaphragm contracts and my lungs expand, enlarging my chest cavity.
But merely breathing has not been enough, it seems. What I mean is: I think I’m quite happy with this life.
Erik wrote in another entry: Sometimes, she behaves like a mean cat.
I say that because there are no mean cats in reality, like there are no mean dogs: animals are reactive, not evil.
Case in point: Ariadne insulted me a few times and retreated to her room, but at night surprised me with a plate of blini.
How did she learn? She didn’t say. She just said she didn’t want me to miss home.
The car was silent except for the news and the sound of the rain. Augusto lowered the volume of the radio when he realized the other two guls were napping or pretending to, and Ariadne kept reading with the light of her cell phone.
During any recovery period, we know that there are days that are rougher than others, but that doesn’t make any of them less difficult.
Today has been one of those days. Ariadne made a sexual advance toward me, and I can’t say I hadn’t realized that it would happen at some point.
I just pretended not to notice her interest. Acknowledging it made me feel like an old man trying to flatter himself, but it was there, and I don’t know what to make of it.
Erik left the rest of the page blank, then continued on another day: A.
is too ashamed to leave her bedroom now, and I know I broke her heart.
Please, I tried to tell her through the door, please understand I am not disgusted by you in any way.
You’re just too young. My heart is worried, saddened, filled with compassion.
Whatever I lost that day with the rope around my neck only returned with you.
Her damaged hand twitched, and Ariadne put the notebook aside. Augusto met her eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Awake?”
“Can’t sleep at a time like this.”
“That’s wise of you,” answered Augusto with a smile. “Are you hungry? I underestimated how much gas we were going to need. I can get you something while we fill the tank.”
“I am, actually. Thank you for asking.”
Augusto stopped at a gas station in the middle of the empty road, and she followed him into the convenience store. The only person present was the attendant, and the woman lowered her head, avoiding their faces, like she knew what they were.
“I’ve been thinking about our last conversation,” said Augusto as she chose a bottle of water and a protein bar. “About purpose and ethics.”
“Your purpose is existing.” Ariadne unwrapped the bar and took a bite, eyeing the clerk as she filled the tank of the car. “Every living being is part of a lineage of creatures that yearn to keep existing. Guls are no different.”
“That’s what got me thinking.” Behind Augusto, the muted television showed footage of protests in multiple cities, demanding the end of curfew.
“I understand we exist, and to keep existing, we have to eat. Yet here we are. You and I. Talking. Working together. Because we can do it. How to reconcile the fact that we were made in each other’s likeness, but I have to kill my equals to stay alive? ”
“It feels like you’re asking me to justify why you should die, or why I deserve to.” Ariadne considered him. Augusto was not much taller than her, but he still felt bigger with his wide torso, strong arms, thick neck. “And I won’t.”
“What I mean is that I do see a purpose now. Maybe not concrete. But when I look at this…” Augusto pointed at the television, then at the car. “You know, Ariadne, every gul I have ever met was born inside a palace.”
“A palace?”
“My parents served the Mwene of Mutapa when I was a child. My father came from Great Zimbabwe, my mother from the Manden. Although she was more of a diplomat, she fought alongside the Lion of Mali in the Battle of Kirina, and served Mansa Musa. It’s what guls have done since the dawn of time: sided with the powerful to fill their bellies, and the humans have used our strength for political gain. Did Quaint tell you about his parents?”
“No.”
“They’re the same as mine. His father presented himself as a scholar but served six different dynasties.
His mother arrived at court with the Yuan and was infamously vicious against those who defied the emperors.
She betrayed the Yuan for the Ming, then the Ming for the Qing, and would have betrayed them, too, if she had not retired to grieve for his father by the time of the revolution.
” Augusto opened his wallet and counted bills.
“Quaint grew up in the Forbidden City, surrounded by palace women and government officials. Just like all of us did.”
“Rafaela, too, I suppose.”
“Oh, yes. I don’t know where her father came from, but her mother was good friends with most of the Braganzas.
Rafaela came with the Portuguese to Brazil during the Napoleonic Wars.
In the Príncipe Real, no less,” added Augusto.
“Genebra, too, but she was born under the House of Burgundy. She was so used to life in court that she never hunted in her life. I could list other guls for hours.”
Ariadne hugged herself when they went outside, shivering with the breeze.
“Are you thinking about this because of the government officials who are after Erik?”
“The president, Erik, the news. Our purpose … It might be pointless. It might be cruel that we even exist, for both sides. Maybe this is the wrong word. Purpose implies design,” said Augusto.
“I decided that if I have to take, I will give as well. This is why I’m here.
If guls helped establish this political chaos, we should help dismantle it. ”
They stopped speaking when the clerk finished bagging their purchases, and Ariadne rubbed his arm with more affection than she expected while he paid for everything.
The others were already awake inside the car.
Rafaela looked awfully bored as she removed her fake nails with acetone and tweezers from her handbag, and Quaint looked at the dark forest lining the road.
“We’re close now,” said Rafaela when they locked the doors. “Can you smell it?”
Quaint interlaced his fingers with Ariadne’s.
“When we arrive, you need to promise me you will stay by my side at all times,” he told her in a low voice.
“I promise.”
“I can also protect you!” argued Rafaela, looking at them through the rearview mirror. She touched her belly over her striped jumpsuit and flashed a malicious grin. “You don’t know how hungry this girl makes me.”
“My mother says it’s like having a parasite inside you.” Quaint caressed the back of Ariadne’s hand with his thumb distractedly, but she could see the anxiety in his posture.
“Mine said it was the best three years of her life.” Augusto had his eyes focused on the road. “To each their own.”
“It’s a little bit of both!” Rafaela gestured, her real fingernails looking dry and brittle without the polished extensions. “In any case, I hope the house is full of people. Security. Assistants. That sort of thing. They don’t exaggerate when they say pregnant women even eat other guls…”
Augusto clicked his tongue. “That’s the kind of unnecessary information we don’t want to know when we’re all stuck inside a car with you, Rafaela.”
“I’m sorry, I’m full of energy!” The other woman turned around to wink at Ariadne, white teeth against tawny skin. “See? I’ll protect you.”
“Don’t overdo it, Rafaela,” replied Ariadne. “You’ll burst a vein.”
“You already ruined my social life.” Rafaela laughed like they had not fought twenty-four hours ago. “Might as well stick to you.”