| Chapter Three: Couple of Meals, Couple of Stories |
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| Disclaimer: Normal disclaimer, all I own is Veronica. Though I wouldn’t mind owning V… |
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| I snapped my latest book shut with a sigh. It was hard to put it down, but I was getting hungry. There were delicious smells coming from the kitchen, making my stomach rumble. V really was an amazing cook.
After my initial shock of realization that V would be, in essence, keeping me as a prisoner in his home, I had been angry. I had stormed out of the living room and locked myself in the room I had woken up in. I stayed there for hours, thinking and fuming, trying to figure out some logic for him to let me go home. But after a while, I realized he was right. They would be looking for me. They would hurt me. They would more than likely kill me. So I returned to the sitting room, found V in the exact same position I had left him in, and apologized for my outburst. He had been very understanding and we chatted about books and art until I was practically falling asleep in my chair. It’s been about three weeks since then, it’s hard to keep track since there are no windows in this place, and V has been the most gracious host. He would leave for a few hours almost every day to do some work for his revolution, but whenever he was home, he was very attentive to me and my needs. He would tell me about his art collection, sit and watch television with me, and leave me alone when I’m reading some of his books. I think he took a particular joy in talking about books with me, both of us getting very into the discussion and sometimes moving into heated debates about symbolism or our opinions on writing styles or characters. I’ve already read about ten of the black listed books in his collection. It’s been a little piece of heaven on Earth, honestly. The only thing I really miss in the outside world was working with Professor Thornton. I’m sure he wondered where I was, worried out of his mind, afraid that someone had found out I was the one who organized all of those protests on campus. He was always afraid I would be found out, but I hid my tracks well. Every time I picked up a new book, I felt a pang of guilt that I couldn’t tell him I was safe and fine. He was a good man, like a father to me, and I felt awful that I couldn’t tell him I was all right. Sighing again, I rolled myself out of bed and checked my reflection in the mirror that was placed in my room. I was wearing a pretty dark red blouse over a pair of stone colored jeans. Comfortable but flattering, that was the style of clothing V had picked out for me. The red complimented my dark brown hair perfectly, which hung in a loose ponytail to the lower part of my back. It also made the dark green of my eyes stand out sharply. I pushed some loose strands of hair behind my ear, adjusted my shirt because it was a little wrinkled from lying in bed most of the morning while V was out, and walked my way to the kitchen. As I expected, V was standing in front of a huge pot on the stove, carefully reading a cookbook while adding some spices to the steaming pot. I stood in the doorway and watched him for a bit. He always moves so gracefully in everything that he does. It definitely makes me feel less guilty about indulging in my habitual pleasure of observing him. I had accidentally walked in on him practicing his fighting skills with some knives a few days back and wasn’t able to tear my eyes away from him. It was beautiful to watch him, even though I knew he was lethal. “What are you cooking, V? It smells amazing.” He turned his masked face to me, and I again cursed it for not allowing me to see the smile that was so evident in his voice. “Nothing special, my dear, just some stew and toast.” As if on cue, the toaster dinged that it was done, and V reached over to butter the golden bread. “It will be a couple more minutes, if you would like to have a seat.” I walked into the kitchen. “No, I would like to help. I’ll set the table for us.” I walked around him to the cabinets, pulling out a single bowl and plate, and a mug for my tea. I had learned early on that no matter how much I begged, V would not eat with me. I still felt a bit uncomfortable about it because I had grown up learning it was rude to eat in front of somebody who wasn’t eating, but he absolutely refused to eat with me. So I had no choice but to accept it, even if it was against my better judgement. As I walked by him, V placed the toast on my plate and took the bowl gently from my hands. I smiled up at him and went to the table, placing everything down and pouring myself a cup of tea, fixing it the way I liked. As soon as I sat down, V walked in with my steaming bowl of stew and set it in front of me with a flourish. “Bon appetite, mademoiselle.” “Thank you, V.” I took a large bite of it and sighed in bliss. He really was an amazing cook. “It’s fantastic, as usual.” V chuckled at me as he took his seat. “Why thank you, Veronica. I’m always so pleased that you enjoy my cooking. I’ve never had anyone to cook for before. It’s a refreshing change.” He watched me eat for a few minutes before speaking again. “So, what have you been reading today? I saw that you finished Of Mice and Men yesterday.” I nodded and swallowed. “Oh yeah, it was really good, too. I started A Handmaid’s Tale today. It’s simply amazing! I can’t imagine what it must feel like to be so completely objectified like the main character is. Even though our government sucks, at least it’s not that bad yet.” I paused, taking a sip of tea. “Hey, V, may I ask you something?” “Of course, but understand I may not be able to answer.” I couldn’t help but grin at him. We had had a long argument about a week ago about him not telling me where he got my new clothing from. I gave up after about an hour of heated debate, and just dropped the subject. Maybe I really didn’t want to know. “Well, I was wondering, I know you don’t eat with me around, but I would really like to fix you dinner tonight. You’re an amazing cook, and I would like to repay the favor.” V shook his head in wonder, “You know, you never cease to surprise me. Of all the things to ask…” he laughed lightly. “Of course, I would love for you to cook tonight. Just make a list of ingredients you’ll need, and I will take care of it.” I clapped my hands in joy and gave him a large smile. “Oh, wonderful, I know just what I’ll make, too.” My smile turned into a smirk. “And don’t worry, I won’t ask you where you’re going to get the ingredients.” V stood up from the table, left for a moment, and came back with a pad and a pen, placing it beside me. “Good, I would rather you not ask. Just write down whatever you need, all right?” He was still standing close to me, so I smiled up at him. “Thanks, V. You’re going to love it!” He returned to his seat as I happily began to list the ingredients I would need, stew running down my chin every now and then when I got too distracted. It didn’t take too long to finish my list, or to polish off my bowl of stew. When I looked up, it seemed like V was staring at me intently, and I felt a light blush rise in my face. “What is it? Something on my face?” V started a bit, as if I had caught him by surprise. “Oh, no, it’s nothing. Is your list ready?” I smiled happily and pushed the list to him. “I know some of this will be hard to find, so I put alternative ingredients beside some of them if you can’t find it. I’ll need at least an hour and a half to make it, all right?” He pulled the list closer and studied it. I fiddled with the pen in my hand while he read, positive he was going to tell me it was impossible. He looked up after a few minutes. “Well, I will definitely do my best to find everything you need.” He stood up and moved to take my bowl away. I stopped his hand with my own. “I’ll clean up, don’t worry. You already do so much for me.” He moved his hand slowly away from my grip, his face turned toward me. He just stood there for a second before backing up abruptly. “Well, I better start working on your list. I should be back in a couple of hours.” With that, he turned and left the room. I scrambled out of my chair after him. He had never left me so quickly without saying good bye. I rushed into the main room and paused when I saw him. He was standing by the door, breathing deeply. It looked like he was trying to calm down or something. He shook his head a couple of times before grabbing his knives and clipping them around his waist. I stood entranced. I have never seen him get ready before. He seemed deadly in his precision, checking to make sure the knives were secure, flinging his long cloak over himself to cover the deadly blades, and then put his hat on his head with a small flourish. And with a billow of his cape, he was gone. I leaned against the rough stone wall, a strange warmth in the pit of my stomach. My face felt a bit flushed, and my heart seemed to be beating unusually fast. There was something about him getting ready to leave that reminded me that this man was dangerous and lethal. He has killed. And he would kill again. I walked into the sitting room and fell into one of the armchairs. He was always so kind to me and easy to talk to. He treated me with more respect than I had ever been shown before by a man. He was a good man. But he was still deadly. He was still the terrorist V. But I couldn’t get that strange feeling in the pit of my stomach to go away. I should go read some more, or clean, or something, but all I could do was sit there and think. And all I could think about was him. Four hours later, I was still sitting in the same armchair when I heard the door swing open and close. I jumped up and ran to the front to meet him. He was laden down with bags of food, and when he turned to me, I couldn’t help but break into a large smile. I could feel that he was very proud of himself. “Ah, Veronica. Sorry it took so long, but I was able to find everything on your list.” He held up the bags and I rushed to him, taking them from his hands. “Oh, how lovely! I’ll get started right away, I’m sure you’re hungry. You know, from bringing home the bacon and all of that.” I giggled and practically skipped down the hallway, the bags of food swinging from my hands. I couldn’t wait to get started on my meal for him. I felt like I needed to repay him in some way for all he had done for me, and boy, he was going to love what I had in mind to make. I could hear him chuckling behind me as he took off his hat and cape. I called over my shoulder, “Now you go sit down and relax, V. I’ll come get you when it’s ready.” “I must admit I am very curious about what you are making, Veronica.” V walked into the sitting room and made himself comfortable in an armchair, picking up a book resting on the coffee table. I was already in the kitchen, pulling out all of the packages. “Don’t you worry about it, just something my mom used to make when I was young. You’re going to love it!” “I have no doubt.” I felt myself flush a bit in unexplainable happiness as I pulled an onion out of the bag, picked up a knife, and began to chop it up into small pieces. Two hours later, I pulled dinner out of the oven, delicious smells wafting from it. I proudly carried it to the dining table, set for two for the first time, and placed it between two tall lit candles. I looked around, making sure everything was perfect, before hurrying to the kitchen to clean up. When I walked into the sitting room, V stood up for me politely. I smiled, bowed, and dramatically stated, “Dinner is served.” V quickly came to my side and took me by the arm. “Will such a beautiful woman escort me to dinner?” “You better believe I will, after cooking for two hours.” When we reached the dining table, V paused. “Veronica, there are two table settings here.” I slipped my hand from his grasp, and he automatically pulled my chair out for me. “Well, of course, I’m going to be here when you try my cooking. I want to know if you like it.” V continued to stand behind me after pushing my chair in. “Veronica, we’ve talked about this before. I can’t eat with you.” “I know. Just sit down and let me explain.” V stiffly walked to his chair and sat across from me, folding his hands on the table in the way he did when he felt like he had to be cautious. “Now, am I safe in assuming that the reason you will not eat in front of me is because you don’t want me to see your face? In case I am captured someday?” V tensed up a bit. “For the most part, yes.” I smiled warmly at him. “Then I have an idea.” From underneath my napkin, I pulled out a long, black, silken scarf. V had given it to me when he brought me the large pile of clothing. I gave V a small wink before covering my eyes with the scarf and tying it like a blindfold. When I was done, I put my hands back on the table and smirked. “Well, what do you think? I don’t have to see your face while you eat but I do get to hear you enjoying my cooking. When you’re done, you can replace the mask, I’ll take off my blindfold, and you can talk to me while I eat. Therefore, I don’t feel so rude for eating in front of you, and you can enjoy my company while you eat.” I felt rather than heard V move in his chair uncomfortably. It’s amazing how you learn to read people when you can’t see their faces. For the first time since I had met him, his voice sounded unsure. “Are you sure you can’t see me?” I moved my head around, checking all of the angles. “Nope, nothing. Just darkness. If you wouldn’t mind fixing me some tea, I would appreciate it, since, you know… I can’t see.” I heard him pour the tea into both of our mugs, and his hand gently took mine, placing it on my cup. A small tingle ran through me at his touch. “I don’t know what to say, Veronica.” I grinned. “You don’t have to say anything, V. I understand where you’re coming from with the whole you-can’t-see-me bit. Just please, eat!” “You have to promise me you will not take off that blindfold until I tell you you can, all right?” “Of course, V. Just trust me. Now please, eat.” He hesitated a couple more seconds before I heard something being placed on the table, which I assumed was his mask. I heard the clink of metal against stoneware as he spooned some of my cooking onto his plate. A couple of seconds later, I heard him give a small exclamation of unexpected pleasure as he took his first bite. “Veronica, my God, this is amazing! What is it?” I couldn’t help but grin foolishly. “They’re enchiladas. My mother was from America, the south in particular, and made some mean Tex-Mex food. She left me her cookbook with all of her notes and I love making it. Reminds me of her. I know it’s not common here, so I thought you might like something new and different.” “It’s delicious; I love all of the cheese. And this sauce is great!” I blushed a bit at his praise. “Thank you, V. I’m glad you like it.” There were a couple of moments of silence before he spoke again. “Tell me more about your family.” I took a small sip of my tea, dimly registering that he had made it the way I like without having to tell him. “Well, my father was in the Army. He met and married my mother while on an American base doing specialized training. He brought her back with him when he returned here. They were very happy together. He died in battle about a year after I was born, when things started to go bad.” V sighed, “Oh, I am so sorry.” I shrugged a little. “No matter, I never knew him and my mom had enough love for two parents. She was an amazing woman: strong, independent. She loved books and learning, teaching me everything she could every step of the way. She just had a thirst that could never be quenched. When books started to be banned, she became political, protesting and handing out pamphlets. She would always tell me that when books started to burn, people would soon follow.” “Mark Twain.” I nodded. “I remember once, when I was about seven, she took me to the British Museum. It was about a week before it was shut down. She took me around to everything, showing me all of the artifacts, pointing out random facts. And then she took me to that huge library in the middle of the place. I was in awe; I had never seen so many books in such a beautiful setting. She lifted me up in her arms, held me close, and said, ‘This is what I fight for, Princess. The right to learn. The right to know. Without knowledge, how can we grow and become better? Without understanding, how can we make the right choice?’” I paused for a second, sipping my tea. “I’ll never forget that.” “Why was she taken?” I lowered my head, playing with my mug. “You mean, how was she different?” “Yes.” I wondered for a second if I should tell him the truth before quickly deciding I should. Besides, I had asked him to trust me to keep my blindfold on, it was only fair I trust him enough to tell him about my family. “Well, while growing up, my grandmother on my dad’s side took me to church every Sunday. I always assumed it was just the time I spent with my grandmother because I rarely saw her outside of our Sunday outings. Mom would always smile when we returned home, asking me what I had learned that day. She would listen patiently as I told her about what new story I had been taught and then she would ask what morals and lessons I should take out of those stories. I think I learned more about ethics from the time spent with my mom discussing all of the things I learned in church than when I was actually listening to the sermon. “But on the weekend of my 9th birthday, I overheard my grandmother yelling at my mom. She said that my mom should go to church, if only to make an appearance, to protect me. She said Mom should stop teaching me to question the church. It was too dangerous and would lead to trouble. My mom calmly told her that she would not pretend to be something she wasn’t, even if it was dangerous. She wouldn’t hide who she was. Grandmother was furious, screaming that my mom cared more about her principles than her own daughter. She left soon afterwards.” I wanted to wipe away the tears that were falling slowly down my cheek, but was afraid I would knock the blindfold out of the way. Besides, this was the first time I had told anyone my story, and once I started, I couldn’t stop. “Two weeks later, when we returned from church, my mom was gone. I found her tea resting beside the chair she always read in, her book thrown to the floor. That’s how I knew something was wrong. Mom would never throw a book on the floor like that. My grandmother came up behind me and told me it was for the best that mom was gone. She said at least now I could live with her and grow up safe. I walked numbly upstairs, packed my bag, and left my home forever. It was like I had lost all feeling, all emotion, everything in one single day. I always guessed it was my grandmother who turned my mother in, but it wasn’t until I was 16 that I found out for sure. When I did learn the truth for certain, I left her house and never looked back.” I paused as another tear dripped from my chin. “I found out she passed away about three years ago, alone. She left me a note, bequeathing everything to me and begging for my forgiveness. I donated it all to charity.” I couldn’t hold back anymore. I covered my face with my hands as a sob ripped through my chest. I heard a chair scrape against the floor and felt a pair of strong arms circle around me. It was the first time he had ever hugged me, or touched more than my hand for that matter, but I was grateful for it, grateful for the comfort he was offering me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, crying into his chest, all of the pain and hurt finally being released, after all of these years. He held me tight to his chest, his fingers soothingly running through my hair. I cried for what felt like hours, all of my pent up emotion leaving me, until I sat hiccupping in his arms. One of his gloved hands touched my face softly, wiping away the last few tears that trickled out with his thumb. I leaned my face against his hand, finding comfort in his touch. I felt his hands start to untie my blindfold, and I tried to pull away in alarm. “It’s all right, Veronica. My mask is back on, and this thing must be soaking wet.” I gave him a weak smile as he gently uncovered my eyes, his permanent smile coming into view. I finally was able to wipe my eyes. “I’m sorry about that, V. I’ve just never told anyone what happened to my mom before.” His thumb was gently rubbing my cheek again. “You loved her, didn’t you?” A surge of emotion overtook me and I had to close my eyes against it to keep from crying again. All I could do was nod. V pulled me back close to him and held me tightly. I don’t know how long he held me, but I was grateful for the sense of security and safety he gave me. After some time, I pulled out of his arms and tried to smile. Teasingly I asked, “Are you done eating? I’m famished.” V was still kneeling very close to me. I felt a sudden desire to run my fingers through his hair. “Yes, I am finished.” He stayed still for about a minute before standing up and walking back to his seat. I felt a definite sense of loss when he moved away from me. I scooped out some of the enchiladas and dug in, my emotional release leaving me hungry. After a few bites, I looked up at V. “So, how about you?” “What about me?” “Tell me about your family.” V was silent for a long time. “I don’t have a family.” I paused mid-bite. “None?” V gave a little shrug. “None I remember. I don’t remember much from my younger years.” “Why?” “I would rather not talk about it.” I looked at him long and hard. “Now that’s not very fair, V. I told you about my mom. You can tell me about this.” V just sat there, watching me, and after some time passed, I thought he really wasn’t going to tell me. Then he spoke very quietly, “The earliest thing I remember was the day I couldn’t remember anything else. I was having a check up with the main doctor, and she always started by asking what my name was. That day, I couldn’t remember anymore. I couldn’t remember where I had come from or who my family was, if I had any.” I frowned a bit at him, confused. “Doctor?” “Yes.” He was silent for a very long time, obviously debating about continuing or not. After several minutes, he took a deep breath and kept going, “You must understand, Veronica, I was a part of an experiment, tested by our government. I was used as a guinea pig to try and find a cure for biological weapons. I don’t remember too much about the days I spent in the camp except it was filled with pain, hate, and death. So much hate.” He stopped for a long time, looking at his hands. My food lay forgotten on my plate. “Everyone around me was slowly dieing. I could not figure out why I was cursed enough to be the only one to survive. I thought I would go mad in there. I’ll never forget the screams of pain and agony, the begging for death, the ramblings of madness, but instead I forgot who I was, where I had come from. “Then one day, I could not handle it anymore. I myself begged for death, doing everything I could in hopes the guards would just shoot me and take me out of this hell. I was the only one left, why should I be forsaken enough to still be here? That night, there was a fire. I thought they had really taken me to hell to burn in the flames for all of eternity, but when I saw my wall crumble, I knew that this wasn’t punishment, but release. I escaped through the fire that night. It hurt, my goodness did it hurt, the fire burned away all of my flesh, but it also burned away all of my fear and gave me strength. I was free. Free from that place, free from the pain they had caused, free from their death. But I was never free from the hate I feel for them. All of that hate.” He looked back up at me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Good Lord, what this man had gone through. After a second, I was able to stammer, “Good God, V. Is that why you wear the mask?” He nodded slowly and his voice sounded pained. “And the gloves. The man you would see if I took off this mask is not the man I am. What they did to me was terrible. They turned me into a monster.” I don’t know what possessed me to do what I did next, but I couldn’t stop myself. And if I was honest with myself, I didn’t want to stop. I stood up, walked to him, and pulled him out of his chair. I looked up at him, realizing for the first time how tall he was. He stood there watching me as I took his hand in mine, turning it over and tracing the soft leather with my fingertips. I lifted my face to him, and ran my fingers to the edge of his glove, slowly pushing his sleeve up a bit. I closed my eyes, keeping my face turned toward him, and ran a finger on his skin just above his glove. He tried to jerk away, but I held on tight. The skin was amazingly smooth in parts, and rough in others. Parts were knotted and rough, but it didn’t feel awful. I had a burn scar on my leg from my younger years, and it felt like that, except his scar encompassed his whole body. I lifted his wrist to my lips, and kissed the bit of skin I had exposed. Lowering his hand, I pulled his sleeve back down, opened my eyes, and smiled at him. It looked like he wasn’t even breathing, he was so frozen from shock. I pulled him into my arms, hugging him close, trying to give him the same comfort he had given me, and whispered into his chest: “The body that holds the man isn’t what’s important, V, even if you think your body looks like a monster. It’s the man himself. And you, sir, are a good man.” V wrapped his arms around me automatically, and I felt a small thrill of excitement in the pit of my stomach. “I am not a good man, Veronica. I am working on getting my revenge on the government who did this to me. My whole purpose is to destroy that which destroyed me.” “But you weren’t destroyed. Yes, they hurt you, but they made you who you are today. They shouldn’t have done what they did, but you didn’t let them turn you into a monster. You have been nothing but kind and gracious to me. They may have tainted you, V, but you are still a good man.” I pulled back a bit and stared into where his eyes would have been. “Besides, I don’t think you look like a monster. Well, at least your wrist doesn’t feel like the wrist of a monster.” He pulled away from me, taking a quick step back. I couldn’t help but feel a little confused and hurt at his abrupt departure. “It’s getting late, Veronica. I must be heading to bed now.” He gave me a small bow. “Good night. Pleasant dreams, my dear.” His last words held a tone I had never heard from him before. But before I could say another word, he was gone. I stood there for a long time. I felt like I had crossed a forbidden line, and I could never go back. We could never go back. What was this man doing to me? I could still feel where his arms were when he held me. Sighing, I turned to the table and began to clean up dinner before heading to my room and falling into a fitful sleep filled with confused dreams of him. Meanwhile, V was sitting in his room in front of his vanity. His mask and gloves were laid out on the smooth countertop, and he couldn’t stop looking at himself. He touched his face, tracing the scars he seemed to be seeing for the first time. He looked down at his hand, the hand she had touched without fear, caressed without cringing in disgust. He softly rubbed where her lips had kissed him, and he felt a shiver go down his spine at the memory. He continued to rub the spot absent mindedly as he looked back into the mirror. “Dear God,” he whispered to his reflection, “what is this woman doing to me?” |
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