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“All right,” I sign.
“So, I’ve decided.”
Her eyes are trained on my hands, so she doesn’t miss my reaction to her next words.
“I’m going to leave. I want you to show me the tunnel that goes past the city wall.”
I promised her this on my knees. I told her there was a way out, and that I’d show it to her. She’s asking me to deliver on my promise now. And she has every right to.
“I’ll show you,” I sign.
“Thank you,” she says. “Not just for letting me go, but for taking care of me, for healing my burns, all of it. I know I can manage out there. I managed before, and I was deaf then too. Now people might not turn away when I ask for work. It’s impressive what a pretty face can do.”
I could tell that the world is awful and doesn’t deserve her. I could tell her what the road is like for a woman alone, and that people don’t stop being cruel because a few scars are gone and now her skin is smooth. I don’t. As much as I want to keep her here, safe and protected, I know this is a prison to her and nothing else.
Aveline watches me. She’s always watched my hands more than my mask.
“You’re grieving,” she says.
I don’t answer her, because there’s no sign for what’s in my heart that wouldn’t be a plea.
“You were kind to me when I had no one and nothing,” she says. “You fed me, gave me a room and a bed, and you learned sign language just to talk to me. I care about you, Mordred. I care about you more than I know how to say, and I need you to know that before I go.”
I know she means it. That makes it worse. Because I also know she’s still leaving.
She cares about me, and she’s leaving.
I could ask her to stay, but it wouldn’t change her mind. The most it would achieve would be to make her feel guilty, and I don’t want that.
Aveline stands, and I think that’s the end of it. Instead, she gathers her skirt in one hand, puts one knee on the bench beside my thigh, then the other knee on the other side. She’s careful, holding my shoulder for balance until she’s sitting in my lap facing me, with her weight across my legs and her face level with mine.
My eyes widen behind the mask. I don’t move, don’t breathe. I stare at her as if I’m dreaming.
I must be dreaming.
She lays her hands on the sides of my mask and looks into my eyes.
“I want to give you something,” she says, “In return.”
She leans in and presses her mouth to the grille over my lips.
My fingers grip the edge of the bench hard. I feel the warmth of her mouth through the gaps between the porcelain ribs. I don’t understand what’s happening, what she’s doing… Before long, she draws back a little and whispers, so low that a human would never hear it. I am no human, so I register every word. They will be forever imprinted on my brain.
“I want to give myself to you. Take me to your bedroom.”
I shake my head.
“No.”
I want her. I’ve wanted her since she sat in the chair that was empty for a hundred years. I want her now, with her hands on my masked face and her whole weight in my lap. But she said, “in return”, and I can’t take what she thinks she owes me. I also know what it will cost me after. If I have her once, I’ll have to let her walk away knowing exactly what I’m losing. I don’t know how I’ll stand it.
I lean away from her so I can use my hands to sign.
“You don’t owe me anything.”
Aveline takes my hands and places them on her waist. Then she’s kissing my mask again, slower, with more intention behind it. I feel a tremor go through me. My body has never reacted in such a way. She’s not even touching me, not really. There are layers of fabric between us, her fingers press into the porcelain, not into my skin, and her mouth is inches from mine as her lips move over the unyielding grille.
“This is what I want,” she says, pulling away slightly. “I’m not paying you with my body. Listen to me. I already told you no. I’m still leaving, and I’m not changing my mind. So, this isn’t because I can’t refuse you. I did refuse you. This is what I’m choosing on my own. I want us both to have something to remember after I’m gone. I want you to have it, and I want to have it too.”
