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Rouge(104)

Author:Mona Awad

Luba the cat slinks out of the dark, hissing.

“Please,” I whisper to her shape. “I’m just here to get some roses.”

But she knows I’m lying. She knows I’m Tom’s dark mouse. She looks at me with Alla’s eyes of ice. She presses her paws into the soil, arching her back.

“Please,” I whisper.

She lunges into the air and she’s on me, scratching my arms and face, and I scream. Another yellow square in the dark house. “Who’s there?” says a soft voice.

The little cat runs away, shrieking. I run too. I’m running through the garden on the damp, sinking grass. Running back to the gate I left open, still open. Bare feet running so fast through the flowers while I hear the voice calling louder, sounding afraid and excited: “Who’s there? Who’s there?”

I don’t stop running until I’m back home, until I’ve climbed back through my window, back to my bedroom. Still night. The longest night of my life. I’m alone now, standing in the middle of the room with the bag of rose petals in my hand. No Tom anywhere. Mother still asleep in the bedroom. My heart. Beating so hard, it’s going to break through my skin. But I’m still not breathing, still quiet as a mouse, Tom’s mouse. The police are going to call, any minute, any minute. They’re going to bang on the door, break it open. Point their guns at me. Deny everything, Tom said. First thing, hide the bag of flowers. Not in the closet, too noisy to open a closet now. Under the bed, then. Shove it way down into the dark under. As under as it can go. Then get back into bed like nothing. Nothing ever happened. Close your eyes like you’re sleeping, that’s what Tom said.

I tell myself I can still feel the shape of him there. I can still smell him like oceans, the cold breeze over oceans. But what I really smell is my crime. What I smell is the word forbidden, red and sharp and bittersweet, rising up like crushed roses under the bed. And even as I lie there all night with my eyes closed like I’m sleeping, it’s not until morning that I feel it missing on my wrist. My gold bracelet. I slipped it back on after Tom left, feeling bad about Father’s eye sad and alone in the sea of dolls. Stupid. Where it is now is so much worse. More alone than ever before. Gleaming in the dark soil of Alla’s rose beds.

* * *

12:01 on the Snow White clock. Bright light of day floods my bedroom. Mother thinks she’s letting me sleep in, but I’m not sleeping. I’m standing in front of Mother’s mirror that I stole last night, staring. Because in the light of day, it’s so much worse than I thought. My face, my arms and legs, my whole body’s covered. So many scratches and cuts, I can’t even count them. The bruise on my forehead from Tom’s kiss is darker, bigger than it was before, how is that possible? I hear Mother singing to herself in the living room, some Sting song about beating hearts being still. I wish my heart could be still, but how can it ever be now? Mother will know. She’ll take one look at me and she’ll know everything. All I have to do is look at your face to know you’re lying, Mother always says. And she’ll drag me in front of a mirror to show me. My face, whatever it’s telling Mother. I never had any idea what I was supposed to see there, apart from what I always saw. Until now.

A knock on my bedroom door. “Sunshine?” A happy singing still in Mother’s voice. So Stacey’s mother hasn’t called yet.

“Yes?” Tears in my eyes right away at Mother’s voice that is so sweet and gentle this morning.

“Someone slept in today.” I feel her smiling on the other side of the door.

“Yes.”

“We’re going out for the day. But Grand-Maman’s coming to stay with you. She’ll be here later this afternoon, okay?”

“Okay. See you.”

“Come out and say hello before we go. Bryce’s here.”

In the mirror, I’m still looking at my scratched-up face. My bruised and cut body still smelling of the word forbidden. Bittersweet. Tom, what do I do? And I hear his voice inside like a whisper of a whisper. You’re tired today.

“I’m tired today,” I tell Mother, staring at myself in the glass. I can almost feel Tom nodding on the other side.

“Belle,” Mother says, and this time, there’s no more singing. “You slept all morning, how could you be tired? Come out and say hello. You were very rude to Bryce yesterday. Today, I want you to be nice. Shake his hand, okay? Apologize. Oh, and wear the little white sundress I bought you from work.”