Peppermint And Gunpowder

Chapter Forty-Nine: Lie to Me

"No." I say, my facade of bravery has fallen and I do everything I can not to weep. I will not let her see me cry. "No, no, you're wrong. You're wrong."

"Her death certificate is right here," The Director flips to the final page where bold letters read CERTIFICATE OF DEATH. She points to one of the first lines which reads 'Final cause of Death: Childbirth. Unknown complications.'

"This isn't right. You're wrong, you're lying." I push the manila folder towards The Director and wipe away tears that aren't there. "My mother did not die in childbirth. She was shot, she was killed in war. You're lying!"

"It says it right here, Marie." The Director gently sets the manila folder beside her on the desk and keeps hellish eye contact. "Official documents do not lie."

"Maybe. But you do." I do not look her in the eye, I only manage to stare at the words for so long they blur together and make no sense.

Maybe if my mind blurs them together enough, enough to the point where they are incomprehensible, then they won't exist. The words nor document will not exist and my mother did not lose her life to give me mine.

"You lie all the time." I say, though I think not of the words I speak. "You lied to me, you lied to my mother, you lied to the people of this city, you lie to your workers... you lied to yourself."

"Marie, you do not know what you're talking about. You're in shock, surely, and look at you... you're so little, so frail. Your face and hands are dirty, your skin is burned. Your eyes are sunken and your cheeks are hollow. When was the last time you had a proper meal? Or slept a full night?" She sighs and gives a sorrowful smile, reaching up with an open palm to caress my cheek. I close my eyes and release a shaky breath but do not pull away.

Gathering myself, I pull away from her hand and mumble, "That doesn't matter. What matters is that you are a liar to everyone and yourself."

She drops her hand but does not look away. "You're malnourished, you're dehydrated, you're sleep deprived, you're in shock--Marie, you are not thinking clearly. Please, let me help you. I can make you better."

"No." I say, my tone sharp and voice of someone else. "You can't help me, you can't help nobody--not even yourself."

"Marie, you cannot take care of yourself. If you would hear me out--"

"I said no. You cannot fool me, I see right through you. So go ahead, lie to me." Leon's hand digs into my shoulder, I feel the blood constrict and pulse against his fingertips. I ignore it.

"Look at the dirt on your face, Marie. And there, I cannot tell if it is sand or blood. When was the last time you bathed?" She reaches up and rubs at a smudge of dirt or blood for as long as she can before I pull away. She scowls. "Your skin is dry and cracked, your fingertips are swollen, your eyes are bloodshot, you haven't slept for days--and yet I am the one who cannot care for themselves?"

"That means nothing. I am fine." A sour look crosses my face. "At least I can think for myself."

"Come again?" She says, though I know she heard me perfectly fine.

"I can think for myself. Everyone I know thinks for themself. I love my family because I am capable of love. I am a mother to my baby because I am able to nurture her. I am loved by all the people I am around because they can think for themselves." I pause for just a moment. "That's more important than if my skin is smoothe or if I've bathed properly."

The Director looks confused. I allow her to gather herself for a minute.

"Mother?" She almost laughs. "You're someone's mother?"