My Beautiful Mind

13.

"I sincerely hope this will be worth my time. Today we are dedicating training to hand-to-hand combat." Cordelia leans against the doorframe absentmindedly tossing and throwing her khukuri into the air, then catching it with her bare fingers. I point the sweaty, still slightly panting girl to the desk chair where an empty notebook, pencil, and books are arranged neatly on the surface, "Please sit," I muster in the strongest voice I can manage. Cordelia raises an eyebrow at the command and I mentally clap myself on the back for not standing down. I'd spent all Christmas Eve morning preparing myself for the unruly Hunter before sending down the mental cable a request to see her. She'd pulled back on the cable in defiance after I started reigning her in when getting her to come willingly was no longer an option. With a huff, Cordelia flops into the wooden chair and looks suspiciously at the supplies readily laid out for her. "Merry Christmas, I'm teaching you how to read," I say in what I hope to be a non-negotiable demand.

"You jest," she says, studying my face for any sign of mirth. When she realizes I'm serious, she ignores my civil requests to stay and immediately stands up. Suddenly, I feel as if the patience that I've stored up for this encounter is sucked dry and replaced with a burning anger at her refusal to hear me out. I use all my strength to push her back down. "You may be able to string guts through chandeliers, decapitate heads, and tear of limbs with your bare hands, but those mean next to shit if you're not liberated in here–" I jab a finger at her temple. "Pure strength may win fear and admiration, but education gains respect," I say fiercely. I gesture to the materials on the desk. "But it's your choice," I add quickly, my fear of her anger returning me back to my old self.

Cordelia gapes at me, finally still and silent for once, then her delighted, slightly manic grin is back, "I see now where it originated." I pick up the pencil and place it in her hands, "Now you'll do well to remember that this is for your own good." Cordelia scowls, but thankfully doesn't put up a fight. "Do you know the alphabet?" I ask, trying to figure out where she stands. She puts the pencil to the empty page of the notebook and scrawls in hastily formed letters, all twenty-six of them. Cordelia looks up from her work triumphantly, "I am not as daft as you think I am." I ignore the jibe and turn the notebook to a page in which I've already written a few simple sentences for her to copy down and read out loud. I pull up a chair next to Cordelia and point to the first of the five sentences. "Can you read this out for me?" In a once in a lifetime sight, the Hunter, weapons and all, grabs the notebook in both hands and brings the page close to her face. "....I-I k-k-kill p-people." She stares at the sentence for another moment then looks up at me with deathly glare on her face. "You are enjoying this immensely." "Maybe," I reply, a faint smile on my face.

For the next two hours Cordelia and I work on reading basic three word sentences each with a subject, verb, and noun or adjective, then adding more complexity once she gets the hang of it. For shits and giggles, I manage to find a box of Cheez-It's and have her read the words emblazoned on the front. "B-bbaked S-snack C-crackers, R-rreal C-ccheese." Cordelia puts down the box and leans back in the desk chair. "I best be going. It is about seven o'clock in Manchester now," she glances one more time at the notebook with her scribbles all over it. "Can I bring this with me?" She asks hesitantly. I immediately push it towards her, "of course. Maybe we can find time to continue our studies throughout our mission?" Cordelia smiles a genuine, grateful smile and stands up from the desk. "Thank you. For everything." With a salute, the Hunter vanishes into a cloud of smoke before I can reply, leaving me alone in my room once more.

"You're most certainly welcome," I say to Cordelia's vacant spot in the room.

*****

Christmas is a quiet, but nonetheless joyous affair as Mom, Dad, and I make the best of our second holiday without Evan. On Christmas morning, we take our time getting downstairs, content to let ourselves get some extra much deserved sleep. But my contented sleep doesn't last long until my phone beeps to notify me of a voicemail. My fingers shake as I play the message on speaker, Jamie's voice floating throughout the room.