KINGSMAN

X

SHE WOKE BEFORE THE SUN; WHEN DEW STILL FORMED ON LEAVES AND THE BIRDS READIED THEIR CALLS.

She woke before her mother did. She'd planned to. Last night had ended with Sylvi and Lorraine sitting on the couch as the record player crackled song after song, in silence. And then talking about everything but really it was nothing. Then- sleep. They'd shut off the lights and gone to sleep. Neither of them mentioned the phone call.

Waking, Sylvi slightly regretted not brushing her teeth before she'd slept. The crusted, time-worn taste of her food sat in the back of her throat and dried her tongue.

Her phone laid on her nightstand, plugged-in and glowing green. Buried under her clothes was the outfit she'd picked for Samuel's. Disgust curled in her at that, bitter. She didn't like thinking anything she did or chose was for Samuel. This was for her. Even if she was a Kingman, she'd never kneel.

She'd had to go into her second closet like she had for the funeral; all the clothes April had gifted her before realizing that Sylvi would likely never wear them. The word of importance there was likely. She wished it was never, but circumstances changed.

Black dress pants and a black dress jacket that had no buttons. April had told her it was meant to stay open and that it was meant to be paired with the gauzy white shirt that had a silk-like tie around the neck. So that's what she'd done. Looking at herself in the mirror, it was nice. Something expected. Something that wasn't her uniform for Singh's, basic so she wasn't looked at too long. That wasn't meant to draw attention. This was. It was very April but something Sylvi couldn't imagine her wearing. April liked colors and statements, she liked to be bold. Sylvi liked to be unmemorable.

She snuck into the bathroom and brushed her teeth twice. Then combed her hair and pinned it up so a few curls fell to her face like her mother always wanted her to style it when she was younger Sylvi called a driver and told them to wait around the corner across the street and then tiptoed into the kitchen. The curtains weren't drawn.

The sun crested the horizon, spilling rose gold across the sky. A steaming, abandoned cup of coffee sat coastered on the table. Her mother was likely up and then asleep again. Sylvi opened the door, cringed when it creaked, and exited her home, leaving the buzz behind.

She and the driver spoke less than five words before she was off.

The Webb estate seemed more grandiose in the early hours edging the morning. It was far, but not too far from her home. By the time she arrived it was a more reasonable hour. She paid the driver, thanked them, and stared at the outline of the house.

Sylvi started up the long driveway, through the open gate in a gated community, and stopped at the large door. It reminded her of her trek in the cathedral. The quiet before the storm. The threatening precipice before entrance. She reached for the knocker but the door opened and she stumbled.

A young girl with accusing eyes and high brows looked her up and down. She took in Sylvi and her brows raised into her hairline, taut with the tightness of her bun. "I'm sorry, can I help you?"

Sylvi lowered her fist. "I'm..." She tried to imagine how Samuel would introduce her, explain her. "Carson. Sylvia Frances-"

"Oh!" The girl opened the door wider. "Yes, Mr. Webb has been waiting for you. Follow me."

The house seemed impossibly larger as she followed the girl. The cold of the floors reached her through her shoes. Everything was so... stiff. She couldn't imagine living there, growing up there. Waking in the morning to a numbing, stiff home that didn't love you. Sitting at a long wooden table in utter silence except for the scrape of silverware against plates. Lounging in sitting rooms while fires blazed in the fireplace, shadows casting over the walls. Having no one there when the shapes in the closet began to look like monsters. It almost made her feel a twinge of sympathy for Samuel Webb. Almost.