Sentenced to Life

7

Emory awkwardly stood at the door, playing with her hands. Silas beckoned her in with a small smile. Unbeknownst to him, she'd noticed something during the robbery. Usually, Silas was demure, almost nonthreatening. But when he'd confronted that maniac, he'd seem to stretch to his full height almost as if he were slouching intentionally to make himself smaller. She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, as he began to undress.

"Why do you do that?" She asked.

He shrugged. "I am used to having many servants, dressing me and bathing me. I do not think before disrobing in front of people. Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Emory couldn't tell. His skin was pristine, and even though he'd been in prison for hundreds of years just a few days of hot showers, and lotion, and it seemed like he'd reverted to his lifetime of luxury.

Emory tapped her fingers against the desk looking away from his nude form. She needed to know more without being too forward. She didn't know him, but when people thought you were inclined to agree with them, they told on themselves more often. He'd gone to jail for murder, but there were an awful lot of crimes he could've gotten away with, particularly because he was rich.

"What is your interpretation of the word no," she asked carefully, staring out the window.

Silas glanced at her. "Interpretation? We both speak English. No is no. I do not know of an interpretation. Is there one?"

She shrugged. "It could mean not now, not ever, maybe later, not with you, not at this time, not in this space."

Silas was quiet for a moment and then frowned. "Yes but...doesn't all of that just equate to no?"

Emory smiled. "I think you're right."

"I'm quite certain I am." He let a beat pass. "Have I passed your test? You know I wasn't convicted as a rapist."

"No...not according to what I could find."

Silas clothed himself and sighed. "Perhaps that was odd phrasing. I am not a rapist."

Emory nodded. "Good to know." Then again, who really went around introducing themselves as that anyway? And at this point did it matter? Or rather, if she'd learned he was a rapist at this point, it would probably be the hard way.

She sighed heavily at her own carelessness. All she knew about Silas was that he was from the 1800s and was a convicted murderer. What was she doing here? Where was her common sense?

"The first crime I ever committed was fraud. You won't find that anywhere though," he remarked offhandedly. "I was quite young, before age of ten, and my father would not allow me the purchase of a new pony."

He smiled softly. "So I stole his seal and signed for one anyway. Ah...he'd beaten me like I'd stolen something because of course—I had, over 300 pounds, in fact."

Silas sat across from her. "He was a callous man, that much I remember with no tolerance for nonsense. But for his wife and his one legitimate son, he tolerated much."

And just like that, Emory was hooked. "Legitimate? Your father cheated on your mother."

Silas nodded ruefully. "My parents were in love, a novel among the elites. But the societal pressures on him were too great. To be seen as a man who loved his wife was alright for a poor man. But for the wealthy, it was seen as weak."

Silas shook his head. "And he was weak to appearances. They were important to him. I never understood. My mother would cry and so would he and I'd think...then why not stop?"

Silas didn't find pleasure in reminiscing, but he did like the look on Emory's face when he spoke of the past, the way he had her rapt attention. He smiled gently looking away. 

Emory scoffed and stood, his hand sliding across the table, his fingers brushing against hers. Emory swallowed roughly. Silas let his hand linger.

"My apologies," He murmured but didn't move his hand. 

Emory eventually broke the contact, clearing her throat, removing her hand from his, and standing. 

"Do you think your old castle is still standing?" She said softly, trying to change the subject.

Silas debated on whether to let her. He licked his lips and smiled, looking away, unsure how to fill the silence.

"I think we have an interview to do," He said carefully. "I find myself in a reminiscing mood."

"I'll set up the camera," She offered a grateful smile for the break in tension. he gave her a small nod.

"You haven't told me about you," He asked. "I know you're married, you're a beautiful, young intelligent woman, interested in history." he waved his hands. "But I don't know much else."

"There is much else to me," She shrugged. "It's boring, but that's me. Tragically unfulfilled housewife with too much time on her hands and a boner for history."

He noted the word unfulfilled but didn't comment on it. "I don't think you're boring," he said instead. "You're the most interesting thing I've seen in three hundred years."

Emory scoffed and looked away, her cheeks hot. "I'm just the only woman you've seen in three hundred years. Coincidence? I think not."

The two sat in silence, as Emory set up the camera. Silas wondered what it feel like...to touch her. Emory sat back down and smiled, her hands ready on the keys. 

"What are we talking about today?" She asked eagerly. Silas stood, straying toward the camera, where it sat on the tripod. He squinted at the small screen, watching the slightly distorted image of Emory.

"I want to talk about you tonight," He murmured. "I'll be you, and you be me."

He smiled softly. "Just once."

Emory shifted. "I don't know..."

"We've got about...285 more years of my history to go. It'll take a while. So I want to get acquainted with you, Emory. You'll be the keeper of all my secrets after all. What's 20 years of yours?"

Emory found it unfair how smooth his voice was and how he made a little sense. He was sharing his life story and she did intend to profit off it and not give him any of it, so...if he was curious...

Why not?

"Fine," She cleared her throat, closing her eyes. "Just this once. But you're about 10 years off."

He smiled. "As long as I'm years off in the right direction."