Jalivia (Jacques Snicket+Olivia Caliban) ASOUE

Olivia's Point of View 4

Recieving a wake-up call from the rising sun rather than Carmelita's rising voice was an unsurprisingly welcome change. While I had been curled uncomfortably in the back seat of the taxi, asleep, Jacques had awoken and prepared pancakes of a dubious quality, in the shape of a heart, on a camping stove which tasted far better than they looked. We sat on the hood of the cab in near silence while we ate our breakfast and tossed the paper plates in a trash can. Jacques shot me an apologetic smile for the quality of our meal before sliding into the front seat and placing his hands onto the leather steering wheel.

"Ya like jazz?" He asked, tuning the radio to a station I would enjoy listening to. Eventually a popular song began to play that I'd heard students humming around Prufrock. "Nah, that's no good." He decided, turning the radio off and gesturing for me to join him in the front of the taxi to talk with him.

"It's nice speaking to someone in this lonely taxi." He said. "All of the customers think that I'm odd. Can't see why." I chuckled at his attempt at a joke, and continued the conversation. Somehow, we ended up talking about how everything started. Esme Squalour, the Baudelaire's current guardian, sounded awful and cruel. Orphans who have been through so much should not have to deal with her on top of that.

The taxi slowly drove up to the gates of the Baudelaire mansion and all pleasant conversation ended. The building sat, completely crumbled and turned to ash. It was destroyed. My hand found itself closing around Jacques' and we stood in silence, staring at the wasteland.

"A sugar bowl?" I asked him after a while. "All of this started with a sugar bowl stolen from Esme Squalour?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to leave?" I asked him, holding on a little tighter.

He nodded, all emotion gone from his face in an attempt to stay strong.

"Let's go."

We slowly walked back to the taxi, Jacques just focussing on putting one foot in front of the other. We walked past the Baudelaire's letter box, when I noticed something strange.

"Jacques," I asked him, turning around. "why is their letter box so full of letters? Are they still being sent bills?"

"Letters?" He stopped walking and looked back at the box. It was indeed bursting with letters, so much so that some had landed on the ground.

We walked up to the letter box and I pulled out the letter stuck in the top. On the front, it said:

Beatrice Baudelaire
28, Prospero Place
Boston
Massachusetts

I slowly turned over the faded envelope and read the back.

Return to:
Lemony Snicket
Room 343
Ash Hotel
668, Dark Avenue

"Jacques." I said slowly. "May I open this? I need to check the date."

He eyed the letter warily and nodded. I slowly released my hand from his grasp and opened the letter, careful not to tear the envelope. I lifted the letter out slowly and looked to the top right hand corner.

"Remind me how long he has been gone for?" I asked.

"A year..." Jacques confirmed. The date on the top of the letter was from days ago. I turned my head to look Jacques in the eyes and passed him the paper slowly.

"Lemony is still alive." The words hung in the air as Jacques stared in numb silence.

"Olivia." Jacques said, releasing his grip. "How many letters are in there?"

"There must be many, but it could just be full of advertisements." I said, realising how bad my word choice was.

"Olivia." Jacques said again. "Is it illegal to open someone's letterbox and take the letters out?"

"Jacques, Beatrice and Bertrand are dead. No one owns this home anymore. You can open it." I told him.

He proceeded to pull out a long spyglass from his coat and twist the sides.

"The last time this estate saw this happen, it burned down. I just need to melt the lock."

"Be safe." I said, as I held onto his hand once more.

The lock of the post box completely melted away, opening it up. Jacques quickly turned off the spyglass and made sure he didn't damage anything. Carefully, he picked up all of the letters and put our opened one on top, before closing the box and walking back to the taxi. He placed the letters and the back seat and let me into the passenger seat.

"Olivia Caliban." Jacques said, while he sat down in the driver's seat. "What you noticed will change my life. You are an incredible librarian and I thank you so much for that." I smiled, flattered, and held his hand once more.

"You giving me a second chance at life changed it forever too." I responded.

"I love you, Olivia Caliban." Jacques said, looking at me.

"I love you too, Jacques Snicket."

This time, I leaned in. Jacques did too.