FORTY-THREE: tell me

 “Excuse me, Arous?” Hearing a soft but full alto, she looked up to see Siobhan.  She had a scarf draped over her head and pulled it down so it draped about her neck and shoulders.

Siobhan sat. Arous had nothing to say, no warmth, no trust. She could only remember the ambiguity of their last conversation and the abruptness at which it ended. The bitter crossness that welled up inside of Arous surprised her.  She watched Siobhan’s tapping finger. 

Silence passed between the two girls like the ebbing tide on a summer night.  Siobhan saw an empty cup and poured herself some tea.  They both sized each other up without looking at one another. The girls faced off, hands on hips in the playground of boys and ice cream.

 “So you want to know what happened to you mother,” said Siobhan.  “Well, you won’t find her.  Not alive, anyway.”

She watched the words as they bounced off Arous’ face and their meaning reflected in her countenance. Arous’ skin turned white, then red.

Arous brain stuttered as she looked to the walls and to the floor and the trees, the vines, and her cat for what-exactly-is-this-all-about.  She found none.  Arous looked into the wall of Siobhan’s face to see surprise smiling back at her and then lowering its gaze.  Arous glanced down and began to study the lines in the wooden table.

“I don’t believe you,” said Arous as she looked into the cement mask of Siobhan’s face.

“Good,” said Siobhan, then whispering, “I’m not sure I believe it either. You hear certain things, are told how things are . . .” Arous nodded still staring down and Siobhan took this as a clue to continue.

“I did know your mother.  We worked together, as Starins.  Your mother was a political and social star. But one of the lead Agents at the company we worked for was accused of treason.  Your mother was his biggest Idelle. She went down with him, so to speak.

“She was my mentor.  Took me under her wing.  Showed me how things were done in the business. How to build character, how to build an image, make people want you, want you to be their face.  

“It was my mother’s idea that I become an Idelle, it was what she always wanted.  But it was your mother who made me a good Idelle. 

“Your mother seemed irreplaceable.

“See, the best of us work as sort of political advisors.  We put a face on the MOTA – Members of the Assembly. Every City on each of the Pantaganents have their MOTA. We’re the only City that have Idelles, though other’s are warming up to the idea. Idelles put a face out there that people enjoy seeing. We speak for them, we represent them.   To the rest of the world we are them – we are their face, their image; we are the words out of their mouths and the change they promise to bring. Your mother, Lady Grey, promised that everybody was unique, that everyone had a place. She was also connected to one of the highest, most respected MOTA in the government –.”

Siobhan stopped for a moment and cast a side-ways glance at Simon at the table across from them.

“Look, I don’t want to go a lot of detail. I just wanted to meet you.  Tell you about your mother, but I’ve never seen anyone come back from a HaleSpa. Not someone one who was put there for . . . treason. It’s the only thing punishable by death. They told me I wouldn’t see her again.”

“Who? Who told you?”

“I can’t.”

Siobhan continued in a whisper, leaning across the table.

“I know that she was planning to leave, but I don’t think anyone else knew,” she paused. Arous could hear Siobhan’s voice begin to tremble. “You see, your mother was good at what she did. She was invaluable. She was smart. More than that, she knew.”

“Knew?”

“She wasn’t just an Idelle. I mean, she was, but she went on special . . . assignments.”

“What do you mean?” asked Arous.

“What makes you think she’s not dead?”

“I got an VIH-dot from her less than a month ago, about two weeks.”

Siobhan looked shocked, paled then recovered.

“Where’d you get the cat?” Siobhan said louder leaning back.

“What?” asked Arous.