the present.
Henri hasn't said anything. I don't know how long I've been sitting there not speaking and on the verge of tears, but he's not looking at me again. He clears his throat before he speaks again as if he's aware that I'm managing even though he hasn't looked up. "How much do you know about what she did?"
The question surprises me. I pause to gather my thoughts as I think it over. “Mom was a politician,” I say as if I'm on a quiz show and only mostly sure that I have the right answer. “She used to warn me never to get involved in politics.”
Henri lifts his eyes from the ground then and plants them directly on me. They narrow as he draws his mouth closed and I feel like I've failed the quiz even though she was my mother. Of course I knew what she did.
His hand rests on his thigh, slightly pressing on the fabric, legs open wide before me so that he looks even broader sitting than he did standing. He hesitates, thinking of what to say or how to say it. "She wasn't just a politician; she was an activist. There were things she didn't like, and she told people so. She has enemies.” He levels his gaze at me and I try my best to meet his eyes without facing away. "They're the ones who have her now. There aren't any strings I can pull to get her out."
The letter between my now moist fingers is still very heavy and I stare down at it, my hair falling into my face and covering my view of Henri. I think this quiet lasts longer than the initial quiet at the start of our conversation, but neither of us interrupts it. I assume he's letting it sink in. This isn't the bad news I was expecting, but I'm sure that it isn't any better. In fact, it's probably worse.
For as long as this quiet lasts, it isn't enough. Henri eventually breaks it, his deep voice pulling my eyes up just enough to look at his knees through my hair. "You can't stay here. I want you to go with me while we figure out what to do with you."
I don't like the way he says it as if he has no clue what to do with me, and he probably doesn't. I'm just a banished girl from the Neutral Territory-- nothing more than a stray even if I was handed over to him. What can I do that will be useful here?
My eyes focus on his as I swallow the last tiny bit of moisture from my mouth. Brandon did try to warn me that Henri would want me to go with him at some point, but I wasn't ready to hear it then, and I'm not ready to hear it now. Henri doesn't make me feel comfortable. He watches me with hardened eyes incapable of understanding how I feel.
The front door opens and Henri and I both turn. For half a second, I fear that Grey Eyes has come looking for Henri, but it turns out that it's just Brandon coming home for lunch. He pauses when he sees the two of us sitting, his eyes bouncing from me to Henri and back to me again.
Henri turns back to me and continues his attempt to make me see reason. “It's disrupting to his relationships to have you here.”
Brandon doesn't move. He leans back on the door, and I know his eyes are still on me though I can't bear to look up at him. My eyes stay down on my hands in my lap holding onto the letter.
"What'll you do with me?"
Henri sighs. “I'm not sure yet."
My stomach twists and pokes my insides at the thought of leaving with Henri. Once I'm in his hands, he can do anything he wants with me. He's the leader here; who could stand up to him or stop him if he really wanted to get rid of me?
The quiet in the room takes on a painful edge and I grip the small envelope in my hands tightly. It doesn't feel as if I have any other options but to go with Henri.
Brandon stands up and steps towards me and Henri, but stops a couple of feet away with his hands at his sides. “Can she stay here a bit longer?”
Henri turns towards Brandon with his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Jimmy won't like it.”
Brandon gives a shrug that doesn't