All The Lies We Told Ourselves

25 - The Relic

Rue
*****
July 15th, Saturday

The house was like a relic from a hundred years ago, similar to that one nearly broken down town hall in that abandoned settlement to the west of the wall. Except everything was pristine and shiny, the windows were not covered in vines and moss and the swan fountain worked like a charm. It spat water towards the sky in a clean curve, lit up by the moonlight.

Reid would have loved it there. He always talked about that town hall, about the cracked marble floors and the chapel on the east wing with the crucifix. At the same time I think he would have made fun of it all, how I had lowered myself far enough to step my foot in that place, the place he saw as a symbol of decades of oppression.

I followed her down the driveway and into the lobby with the tall stairs and the gold framed painting by the door.
"Come on." Celestine said and took my hand. She guided me around the house and showed me to all the places, both wings of the house and each room. Silently and in awe, I followed her. Every now and then we would stop at some object or place and she would tell me its meaning. There was the greenhouse in the backyard, like a secret sanctuary, and the little rosary from her grandmother in a glass box on the fireplace.

It all felt like a glimpse into that part of her life I didn't yet know. The ordinary. I could imagine Celestine hunkered over in her office or sitting by the bedroom window looking out at the garden on a rainy evening. In all its sweetness and beauty, I felt like an intruder. I was infringing on that fancy and delicate thing, none of which was for my eyes to see. Bitterness grew inside me for all the times I could have watched Poppy run down that pathway to the greenhouse, with no worry of her sickness or seen Eli eat at that marble counter, my parents watching TV in the living room.

"Are you hungry?" She smiled, when we arrived in the last room unseen by me, the kitchen. It looked like something out of an old story, with the dark wooden cabinets and the black and white tile floors. I failed to make up a smile as she turned to the cabinets and took out a bottle of something shiny and golden.
"This goes great with a sirloin."

Celestine fussed around the kitchen in her emerald green dress and white apron, smiled with bourbon flushed cheeks and joked about how she couldn't really cook because the maid always did it. And I only stared at her, questioning why I was there in the first place, how I had fooled myself by thinking she really cared. Celestine still wanted what everyone else in the capitol did, money and affluence, and for the rest of us to be eradicated. Nothing I said would ever sway her.

After fussing around the kitchen for forty five minutes, she sat down at the island opposite me. "Is it mediocre?" She smiled as I took my first bite. "Forgive me, I am not an experienced cook-" It tasted delicious, there was no getting around it. If I could have eaten five of them I would have. But I couldn't fake a happy expression.
"I don't think this was a good idea."
I said and immediately regretted it. Celestine looked as if the sentence echoed through her mind like a harsh insult. I wanted to snatch it back from her and soften the spot where it had landed.
"Is it that bad?" She chuckled, the hurt showing through.
"No, the food is delicious. Thank you. It's just that I don't think- I mean, maybe we should just stop this."
"Stop what?"
"Whatever this is. Between us."
"If you're talking about the kiss, I am really sorry, truly, I didn't mean it-"
"My sister is really ill." I spat it out like a plea, that maybe she would hear it and understand why I felt the way I did. She seemed so distant then, sitting across the table, picking at her sirloin steak. Reid would laugh if I told him what we had eaten. "They're saying it's cancerous. And anyway, I guess I'm just trying to say that I feel bad for being here. Last week I couldn't afford her medicine and here I am, eating sirloin and drinking fancy bourbon in your kitchen. And we don't even want the same thing, not really."
Celestine was so quiet I thought maybe it was best for me to leave. It's not like I could get in a taxi and drive away, or really even walk out there, but I got up to go regardless.
"I didn't know she was sick." She said, her voice so quiet it barely pushed through. "You should have told me."
"What would it have helped?"