Bora Bora Bora

20: The street girl

Lorna's POV

Red and I ate our rissotto sitting silently in the kitchen, while everyone else was going about their day. After our heart our heart there wasn't much left to say. There was no sound but the forks scraping against our plates, an occasional sigh from her and my interminable sniffles. Despite the quiet tears still streaming their way down my face, I smiled to myself when I remembered something Red told me a few weeks after I'd gotten in and I was following her around the kitchen chatting with myself:
"Russians don't do small talk. We either have something important to discuss or sulk in silence," she'd said, and gone back to mashing potatoes.

When we're done and Red has cleared our plates I know it's time to show up for work, I can't put it off any longer. I'll probably get a shot for showing up late, but I don't care.

"Thanks for everything, Red," I say as I'm about to leave the kitchen.

She doesn't respond, but walks up to me and wipes a tear away from my cheek. Her hand rests on my cheek for a moment before she nods at me to go.

Maybe Russians don't do small talk because they understand that
sometimes, talking is overrated.

I see Suzanne sweeping the floor of the cafeteria, and I try to smile as I walk towards her.

"Hey, Suzanne."

She salutes me with a small wave, looking nervous, as if she didn't know what to say to me and then grips her broom tightly. I take a mop from the trolley and start moping. I wonder what kind of job Nicky got at Max, if they even have jobs. I have no idea what a Maximun security prison is like, but I hope they have jobs. I hope they're giving her something to keep herself occupied, because oh God if she's not occupied she'll be...

I don't even want to picture it.

I feel Suzanne's warm hand on my shoulder, and I stare into midnight-black eyes full of concern.

"Are you sad?"

"Yes, Suzanne. I'm very sad now, because they took Nicky away."

"But are you sad or are you lonely?"

I furrow my brows, puzzled. "Aren't they  the same thing?"

"Well yeah, kind of. But sometimes you're sad because you're lonely, and other times you're lonely because you're sad."

The corner of my lips arch into a sad half smile. Somehow, that makes a lot of sense.

"I guess a bit of both."

"It's okay to cry if you're sad, and it's okay to cry if you're alone. My mama always said so. All that loneliness will make you sick if you keep it inside."

I nod, "That's very true."

I would know. Loneliness under your skin can drive you crazier than any kind of substance in your veins.

"I like talking to you, Suzanne," I say, and pull her into a hug. After a few seconds she hugs me back, even tighter.

When we let go and go back to our job, her eyes are overbright, even though no tears are falling. I think those eyes are beautiful. And I think people call them "Crazy Eyes" for the same reason they call me crazy:

We qualify as crazy anything that holds too much feeling.

After work and a little bit before dinner, I decide to go to the laundry room to look for Alex. I don't find her there and I figure she must be at the library.

When I get there I close the door behind me and lean against it for a second. It's quiet here, nice. I realize now I've never come alone, it was always Nicky who brought me here, usually to fuck, and sometimes to get something to read.