Then I see him again. Disappearing down the dark hall that gapes blackly like a maw. I follow him. Or I realize I’m following him. My shoes lead me down the hall, in spite of myself. I’m walking right behind him, my footsteps trailing his. He looks over his shoulder and, seeing me behind him, frowns. Quickens his steps. And though I’m angry about this, though I think, Fine, fuck you, I quicken my steps too. I reach out and grab him by his collar, surprising myself. He turns to look at me. Sort of smiling now. Like he’s surprised that I grabbed him, but not entirely. Not unpleasantly. It’s actually a very good disguise, I see. Much better than it seemed through the jellyfish.
“Can I help you?” he says in a low voice. Rough. Deep. Almost like it’s wearing a disguise too.
“I don’t know.” I realize it’s true. I have no idea what I want from this man. “I just… thought I recognized you. From last night. You were—”
He puts his finger to his lips, as if to say shhh. Glances both ways down the dark hall. Then he smiles. Looks at me through his spectacles, spectacles I suspect he doesn’t need. Eyes a slate-gray that reminds me of river water. “Not here,” he says quietly. “Not now.”
“I’m sorry?”
He leans forward, puts his hands on my shoulders. As he leans in, I smell forest botanicals, something bittersweet like green tea. His skin’s very smooth, what I can see that’s not covered in fake facial hair. Could the green tea scent be from a hydrating essence?
“？ bient?t, as they say,” he whispers, as if people might be listening. “For now, just walk away.”
“Walk away?”
“Don’t follow me.”
“I wasn’t,” I whisper back.
He lets go of me and straightens his suit jacket. Looks all around as though there are eyes in the walls. Then he smiles at me with one side of his mouth. A full mouth in that fake black beard. “Of course you weren’t,” he says.
He turns away and starts walking farther down the hall.
Don’t follow him, I tell myself as I watch him walk away. But I’m following him again. My shoes moving more quickly as he moves more quickly. What the fuck am I doing? I think, my feet literally racing down the dark hall that seems to go on forever, lit now and then with a candle on a sconce. He speeds up and I speed up until we’re both walking nearly side by side. He reaches out and grips my arm.
“What the fuck?” But there’s still a smile in his voice. His grip is so different from the male twin’s. Not silky and cool. It’s warm and bold. Unmistakably of this world. “Didn’t I just say Don’t follow me?”
“I’m not,” I lie. “I’m just going the same way. This is where I’m heading too.”
“Is that so?”
I nod.
“And where are you heading exactly?”
“Home,” I say. The word rips in my throat. Rips like a torn page. It’s nothing. I know it’s nothing when I say it. It’s cracked mirrors. Rooms violently empty of all but her scent’s ghost. A counter cluttered with bottles and jars.
He shakes his head. “Home, huh?” he says. Strangely, I hear the rip there, too. He pulls a cigarette from behind his ear. Sparks a silver lighter. In the light of the bright flame, I see three people gliding toward us in the hall. Dressed head to foot in black, veils over their faces just like the twins. They’re carrying black umbrellas as though it’s raining inside. How odd, I think. Although odd compared to what? The red jellyfish in their great tank? This house of curved glass, full of rich, beautiful eccentrics? Who are they? I wonder as they glide closer.
Just then he presses me against the wall and kisses me. His mouth on my mouth, lips crushing mine gently. The fake beard is surprisingly soft. I taste Altoids and cigarettes. A lip balm that gives off the faintest scent of roses. His scent, his mouth, his grip, it’s all a shock to my body, which has been holding itself tight and away. Now opening, melting under this stranger’s kiss. How long since I’ve kissed anyone? Months. The last time was a woman in a bird mask. Halloween party at Damsels. A friend of a co-worker. Lonely. We both were. Outside the shop, my back against a wall of bricks. Clear, cold night. A Montreal quarter moon like a scimitar above us. Come home with me, she whispered into my neck. Home, I repeated. But I knew I couldn’t go back with her. It would have been like fucking my own loneliness. Also, it was Resurfacing Night, the night I apply my Radiance Rescue Exfoliating Dewtopia and follow it up with my NuuFace. Then, after administering various brightening, tightening, and refining serums, I slug my face with Vaseline and sleep on my back, emanating a vague scent of sulfur. But of course I couldn’t explain all this. So I just said, I’m sorry. I have to go.