The Meanings of Lost

Chapter 24

Diana:

Turns out there are no premade pancakes left. Well, no good ones anyway. Two months away and everything has gone bad. So we're making new ones and giving Steve another lesson in electricity and buttons. He's not the worst, granted, for it was only a new invention in his time, but technology has changed so much it might have well been centuries in the future.

I hand him the batter and he pours it into two circles in the cast-iron pan. I bring the mixing bowl over to the sink and rinse it out with soap and warm water before leaving it on a rack to dry. Then I walk back over to the stove where Steve is watching our breakfast. I wrap my arms around him and rest my chin on his shoulder, looking over it, a smile on my face.

"So this is supposed to taste good?" He asks. I imagine him staring uncertainly at the white goo with melting chocolate and blueberries.

"Yes, it's the best quality there is," I reply. "The chocolate will still be melted of you eat them hot and the blueberries add a particularly nice flavour."

"Food here is weird." He says, earning a giggle from me. I instruct him to flip the pancakes using a spatula, as there are enough bubbles on the top.

When they are ready, I take out some plates and syrup. I ask Steve if he would like any and he asks for my expert opinion. I add some for him, then hand him a fork and a knife. We go over to the island and sit across from each other so that I may study him as he tries this delicacy.

"It's not bad." he finally decides. "Very sweet." We both smile.

"I could get used to this," I say, taking a bite.

"Me too." He replies. We share a mutual smile, content in this moment, frozen away from the world.

~~~~~

Later that day, I get a call from the hospital saying Ambrosine is awake and excessively asking for me. Well, not me exactly but the other woman who'd been in the room at the time. Apparently, she'd dubbed me The Enigma Girl and her father thought it might be better if she saw me again and if I explained a few things to her. Of course, her father had said, it was all optional and I don't have to drag myself int this if I don't want too. What he can't understand is how much I want to. I want to be dragged down so deep into this web of mysteries that my presence at her bedside is a constant. So deep that I don't have to restrain myself. It hurts, because I know, deep in that place in my gut where all the dark, uncomfortable thoughts come from, that to be that constant, to be that involved, would only hurt little Ambrosine. To turn her world upside down with the realities behind my intentions is a curse so cruel I cannot bestow it.

~~~~~

Steve:

For weeks I watch Diana dote on the child. Every day that goes by digs a hole inside me and the feeling grows. I want to stay here, I need to. But at what cost?

I stand in the shadows near the door of the recreation room. The girl, I can't bring myself to dirty her name with my thoughts, frowns at the piano flanked by Diana and her father. Since the violin would irritate the stitches, she's been turning to the other instrument available to her with disdain. She knows how to play it, that much is clear, but her will is not there.

An old man in a wheelchair moves up to them. The girl smiles. He taps a few keys and she complements them. While there are pauses between the key, the girl manages to make it sound like music nonetheless.

We've been here an hour, waiting upon a medic to come and tell the results of a test. They seem to think she has some sort of ailment, though it seems fine to me.

People scurry past me. I nearly jump but I manage to hide it quite well. I'm always seeing myself, that other man inside my body, ready to do harm, ready to hurt and kill. My heart pounds in my ears, he could be near or far, I have no way of knowing. It's odd. In this world where there are surveillance cameras in every room, it seems everyone can hide a dark secret safely. Two men can come back from the dead without any questions asked, people and anomalies can hide secret identities while sporting rich lives, and little girls can almost be killed without a single person knowing who did it.

Everyone stands as the nurse comes to greet them. I move closer, intent on hearing what is said.

"All the tests have come back clear." Her brown bun bobs as she speaks. "Ambrosine is free to go." The girl cheers and hugs her father, glaring over his shoulder at the piano. How can such a small being hate an inanimate object so much?

Her father invites both Diana and me for supper at his place. Diana asks me my thoughts and that I say I don't mind. She accepts the offer.

The four of us leave the hospital together, some odd semblance of a family. I walk behind the girl and her father, and Diana, soon noticing, slows her pace to meet me. She hangs off my arm and leans into me as we walk to where the taxis are, a content smile upon her angelic face.