The Leaf

Silence

Raymond

As much as he had rehearsed Tony Wesley's walk and confident way of talking, Raymond was left speechless when faced with his new wife. He was lucky that the couple barely interacted, never kissed when they saw each other at the end of their day. They barely registered each other's presence, the logs showed.

Claire Wesley was a small, delicate woman, still, the way she narrowed her eyes at him showed strength. They shone like ice, reflecting the bright lights around her. Glass in her hand, she held it as if prepared to throw it at him. She had an unnecessarily complicated hairstyle that looked heavy on her, in a blonde that she changed often but was now settled platinum. Her thin eyebrows asked questions even when she didn't say anything, they were a shade darker than her hair, to make them less invisible.

The furniture hurt his eyes. Raymond had underestimated how difficult it would be to adjust to the artificial light around him. He had expected daylight to be harsh, it was why he chose to arrive during the night, but there were so many street lamps, headlights, ads everywhere. He was lucky the Wesley autopilot worked. He could use that with his wife too, but the sooner he told her, the better. Raymond would not embark on a decades-long trip with a woman without letting her know exactly what she was getting herself into.

Since the History Logs showed a night of no interaction between the Wesleys, Raymond had to wait. There was no way for them to have a conversation that strayed from the usual script without alerting the Bureau of the timeline having been changed. He had to successfully fool Claire Wesley.

Knowing that ignoring her would be better than testing if his voice gave him away, he moved like he'd watched Tony Wesley do so many times, to position himself at the head of the table.

Claire Wesley set the table, a long one like Raymond saw in museums, too long to serve any other purpose but decorative. The space the Wesleys had in their house was enormous, five or six families could live in acceptable conditions in there. Clean water ran from a visible tap, like in all the old stories.

She then sat down and immediately started pushing the rice around her plate, only raising her gaze when she heard him drink water for too long, blue eyes set on him as he poured another glass. Blonde by discoloration from a dark brown, her curls must've taken hours to install. Just for staying inside the house. Because her husband wanted her to, was the official conclusion. Reason unverifiable, the report said, pushing her further down the Leaf List.

It was easy to see why Claire Wesley was a perfect Leaf: she would have spent the rest of her life in a series of nights like the one unfolding. Dinners inside her home, once every month being introduced to some of Wesley's colleagues. No friends, no family. She would never have children, opting not to. She was unable to attach to others, The Evaluators said. They also concluded that, although invisible on the History Logs, her husband was abusive, based on her recorded behavioral pattern when around him. If it weren't for the Blackout she would have been considered as a candidate, no doubt. But Claire's demeanor during her lifetime "did not show conclusive signs of trauma". She never asked for help, never tried to leave, and did not seem uneasy around Tony Wesley.

Not noticing that her husband had been replaced by an imposter, Claire Wesley looked less afraid than he had expected, her fork moving in slow motion. Her eyes investigated him, curiosity adding a new stripe to them. Uneasy, Raymond avoided the meat adjacent vegetables and ate the small white grains as diligently as he could. He had never eaten animals and did not want to meet the limitations of his stomach in front of his new wife.

"You don't like the steak?" She had noticed for a while but she let him try to hide it. It was why she was watching him, he decided. Panic set in.

It was the type of situation that a field agent would know how to handle, ever since their first day at the academy. They would've had thousands of scenarios uploaded, an AI deciding which best to follow. Complications were rare.

But Raymond Reyes was not an agent. There was no AI. If caught, he would be swiftly evacuated. All he had was a folder named 'Wesley' on his drive. And the hope he could fake history.

Claire

Tony ignored her question and continued to eat. He then went to take a shower not once addressing Claire, as promised. It was her punishment for getting drunk at his office party, embarrassing him. Thirty days without saying a word to her. Twenty-two to go.

At the beginning of her penance, she was relieved to be free of his tirades, before realizing that all it meant was that he no longer had to warn her or apologize to her. He had a free pass at being an asshole.

And then he breaks his stubborn vow, out of all things... to say he's sorry. For being late? For cheating? For being weird?

Claire's mind was throwing old vodka bottles off its shelves and trying to push newer, more relevant information, instead. As opposed to her usual night routine, she would not be pretending to be asleep when Tony got out of the shower.

It took him almost an hour, as it always did, to rinse the cheap perfume off. Disgusted, Claire considered ignoring him and sleep into another day. He was in his usual house sweatpants, black to match everything he owned. No shirt, his tattoos barely making a mark on his skin in the darkness, despite covering most of his back with flames and threatening lyrics. Too dark to be removed, they reminded Tony of a time when he was young and stupid, so he hated them. It was why Claire liked them despite their obvious amateurish lines. He did try to cover them more professionally so they ended up even greyer.

Tony was surprised to meet her eyes, Claire saw him flinch, avoiding her, going around the bed. All their years together, she had never considered that maybe he too waited for her to fall asleep before coming to bed. It took away from her small victories.

Unusually crouched, as if ashamed of his bare upper body, he went to his side of the bed. His shoulders were broad, maintained out of a need to entice women to try to feel their firmness with their own hands. His back signaled the night was over, when he sat down, turning his wide back to her like a wall.

He covered himself, then stopped moving, although Claire could tell he wasn't asleep. He was testing her. What could he harp on? His latest obsession was usually communicated to her long after she'd failed to properly identify it and behave accordingly.

On top of hating everything he said, Claire hated Tony's silence more. She did not know anyone in New Haven who did not work for her, so their superficial chats during the night were all she had. In bed, with the lights off, all quiet, was when she missed him the most.