2018-12-09: Claire A blue bird
The heat was excruciating as always, out there. In here, the air was temperate and the fans silently swooshing in the background -a sound that made her feel comfortable in the midst of everything else. Not sleepy per se, but relaxed. Or at least, it usually did. Not so now when El Yayo had been disturbed by his sicarios, the sweaty men actually bursting in to the lab which was uncommon to say the least. She remained on her chair, nervously glancing at El Yayo’s darkening appearance and nudging the vials a bit further to her side. Just in case he got violent.
The notes lay scattered across his half of the lab bench, jotted comments mixed in his more pronounced hand with her softer, smaller letters. They had been pouring over the chemistry, trying to see if there was in fact a better way than the three-step substitution reaction that enabled the drug to become this potent, high-class product that it was. Her drug. His drug, now. She was proud of having conceived it, but equally fine with letting him be the front name and director of the actual marketing. Better his name be connected with it, he was after all brilliant.
Jerking her head up, she realized that she’d gone daydreaming again and possibly missed any dangers that were about to appear. Biting her lip, feeling the familiar dull pain from the sore part where she always, too often, bit down, made her focus return. El Yayo was on his feet now, trying to gather the agitated sicarios by the door. He didn’t look back at her, confident that she remained in place, but his men kept stealing glances at her when they thought he didn’t see. In the end, he snapped them back into order with two sharp words and they shrunk under his glare. She knew the look, knew that it was impossible to stand tall then. In fact, she crouched a bit where she was sitting now and pretended to rearrange the papers a bit. Busy. Not listening.
“But El Yayo boss, he’s here…” “Attacks on… several factories on high alert…” “Must be… maybe not all but…” “Georgian..”
“QUIET!” In the cool lab with its hushed environment, El Yayo’s voice would have sent the glassware trembling in the cupboards, or so it seemed. She was out of the chair in an instant, back by the far wall and attempting to stifle any sounds. It had been a long while since he was angry like this. And while she trusted him to not harm her, stray bullets could make as much damage as directed ones. It wouldn’t be the first casualty since her coming here, only the first in her rooms. Or well, in the lab anyway. He shoved them out the door, almost physically, and they almost fell over each other to get out first. Still stealing glances at her, still tense as if she was going to explode at any time now. It would have been hilarious, had her heart not been pounding so much.
Pulling the door closed behind him, El Yayo stopped and looked at her. “Continue working Claire, everything is fine. I have to see to this matter at hand, but you’ll be safe in here. I have to lock you in for just a little while, for your own safety, but someone will be back later to let you out. Alright?” Not a question. Never a question. She nodded, forced her teeth to let go of her lip and unplastered herself from the wall. It felt as if marks from her sweaty palms would remain on the surface and she hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Yes, of course. I’ll… be here.” He kept her fixed with a look, but then nodded and left. The key turning in the lock from the other side had that defining sound that made her both scared and relieved at the same time. Someone pulled the drapes across the window into the lab and probably across the door as well. Now she was truly cut off from anyone on the outside. For her own safety.
She sat down by the desk again and stared at the notes. Letters and numbers swam before her eyes, but she really didn’t notice. Had she heard them right? A Georgian, here, in Bolivia? It made her insides turn to ice, made her want to weep and laugh and vomit with fear at the same time. What did it mean? The death of another would-be hero, most likely. And yet, far, far inside her there was a tiny glimmer of hope that refused to wither and die. A tiny speck of light that pulsed in time with her heart, that whispered impossibly quietly of another life. One that was, and one that might be again.
But no. She was done with hoping. Done with fearing. Done with crying. Done with the loneliness. She stuffed the speck and the voice back down in the dark depths again, refusing to pay any heed to it. El Yayo would handle the matter. She didn’t even have to think about it. Only study the organo-chemistry on the table before her, figure out something smarter than before. She shouldn’t think anyway, not about the outside world. That’s what El Yayo said. That’s what she would do.
----------
It turned out to be much, much later that someone returned to let her out from the lab. By then, hunger and the acute need to pee had taken over all mental functions and she had wandered the small room until it felt as if there should be a depression in the floor where her feet had shuffled back and forth, back and forth.
And even later until El Yayo himself returned, looking a bit more tired than usual but not betraying anything. Not offering any information about the day or the possible events, just sitting down in his armchair and reaching for a glass. She poured the chilled wine just so, having learned a long time ago how he wanted it. He took a sip, eyeing her above the rim. She sat down in the other chair, hands in her lap, waiting.
“Claire, you know it’s christmas soon?” Christmas? Was it really? The weather of Bolivia betrayed nothing of the sort, never turned cold like Canada or… No. Not thinking. “I didn’t. That’s lovely.” She beamed a smile at him, thinking that was expected and wanting to make him happy. Not this tired, ruffled person. “It is! Only a few weeks more. So Claire, what do you wish for christmas?” Taken aback, she felt her eyes widen. Presents? Her stunned looks got through to him, and he laughed out loud. She dared widen her smile into a grin, felt herself back under his care where she was safe. This was much better.
“This is such a surprise! I don’t know… Maybe… maybe we could go see the ocean?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, the thought exhilaratingly clear in her mind before she could shatter it. Her own face fell just a moment behind his change of posture, of his gaze turning black. “No! No, I didn’t mean that, how silly of me, I don’t even know why I said that, I…” “Claire.” Just a word. She halted mid-word, felt her mouth still hang open and not daring to close it. “You know you can’t leave the compound. It’s not good for you. And how am I supposed to keep you safe out there?” “I’m sorry, El Yayo, I didn’t mean it! Please, I… Maybe... “ Wildly casting about for another idea, her eyes darted around the room in near-panic. There, the cage of songbirds. “Maybe a new bird? A blue one?”
Why had she said that? She really didn’t need another bird in that cage. And why a blue one? Was there… Had there been a blue bird somewhere, some time? A whisper of a shadow passed through her mind and she blinked, feeling the room tilt. Dangerous thoughts, dangerous memories.
The room came back into focus and now El Yayo was leaning back, smiling. Sipping his wine, his eyes their normal color.
“A blue bird for my Claire! So be it then!”
The notes lay scattered across his half of the lab bench, jotted comments mixed in his more pronounced hand with her softer, smaller letters. They had been pouring over the chemistry, trying to see if there was in fact a better way than the three-step substitution reaction that enabled the drug to become this potent, high-class product that it was. Her drug. His drug, now. She was proud of having conceived it, but equally fine with letting him be the front name and director of the actual marketing. Better his name be connected with it, he was after all brilliant.
Jerking her head up, she realized that she’d gone daydreaming again and possibly missed any dangers that were about to appear. Biting her lip, feeling the familiar dull pain from the sore part where she always, too often, bit down, made her focus return. El Yayo was on his feet now, trying to gather the agitated sicarios by the door. He didn’t look back at her, confident that she remained in place, but his men kept stealing glances at her when they thought he didn’t see. In the end, he snapped them back into order with two sharp words and they shrunk under his glare. She knew the look, knew that it was impossible to stand tall then. In fact, she crouched a bit where she was sitting now and pretended to rearrange the papers a bit. Busy. Not listening.
“But El Yayo boss, he’s here…” “Attacks on… several factories on high alert…” “Must be… maybe not all but…” “Georgian..”
“QUIET!” In the cool lab with its hushed environment, El Yayo’s voice would have sent the glassware trembling in the cupboards, or so it seemed. She was out of the chair in an instant, back by the far wall and attempting to stifle any sounds. It had been a long while since he was angry like this. And while she trusted him to not harm her, stray bullets could make as much damage as directed ones. It wouldn’t be the first casualty since her coming here, only the first in her rooms. Or well, in the lab anyway. He shoved them out the door, almost physically, and they almost fell over each other to get out first. Still stealing glances at her, still tense as if she was going to explode at any time now. It would have been hilarious, had her heart not been pounding so much.
Pulling the door closed behind him, El Yayo stopped and looked at her. “Continue working Claire, everything is fine. I have to see to this matter at hand, but you’ll be safe in here. I have to lock you in for just a little while, for your own safety, but someone will be back later to let you out. Alright?” Not a question. Never a question. She nodded, forced her teeth to let go of her lip and unplastered herself from the wall. It felt as if marks from her sweaty palms would remain on the surface and she hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Yes, of course. I’ll… be here.” He kept her fixed with a look, but then nodded and left. The key turning in the lock from the other side had that defining sound that made her both scared and relieved at the same time. Someone pulled the drapes across the window into the lab and probably across the door as well. Now she was truly cut off from anyone on the outside. For her own safety.
She sat down by the desk again and stared at the notes. Letters and numbers swam before her eyes, but she really didn’t notice. Had she heard them right? A Georgian, here, in Bolivia? It made her insides turn to ice, made her want to weep and laugh and vomit with fear at the same time. What did it mean? The death of another would-be hero, most likely. And yet, far, far inside her there was a tiny glimmer of hope that refused to wither and die. A tiny speck of light that pulsed in time with her heart, that whispered impossibly quietly of another life. One that was, and one that might be again.
But no. She was done with hoping. Done with fearing. Done with crying. Done with the loneliness. She stuffed the speck and the voice back down in the dark depths again, refusing to pay any heed to it. El Yayo would handle the matter. She didn’t even have to think about it. Only study the organo-chemistry on the table before her, figure out something smarter than before. She shouldn’t think anyway, not about the outside world. That’s what El Yayo said. That’s what she would do.
----------
It turned out to be much, much later that someone returned to let her out from the lab. By then, hunger and the acute need to pee had taken over all mental functions and she had wandered the small room until it felt as if there should be a depression in the floor where her feet had shuffled back and forth, back and forth.
And even later until El Yayo himself returned, looking a bit more tired than usual but not betraying anything. Not offering any information about the day or the possible events, just sitting down in his armchair and reaching for a glass. She poured the chilled wine just so, having learned a long time ago how he wanted it. He took a sip, eyeing her above the rim. She sat down in the other chair, hands in her lap, waiting.
“Claire, you know it’s christmas soon?” Christmas? Was it really? The weather of Bolivia betrayed nothing of the sort, never turned cold like Canada or… No. Not thinking. “I didn’t. That’s lovely.” She beamed a smile at him, thinking that was expected and wanting to make him happy. Not this tired, ruffled person. “It is! Only a few weeks more. So Claire, what do you wish for christmas?” Taken aback, she felt her eyes widen. Presents? Her stunned looks got through to him, and he laughed out loud. She dared widen her smile into a grin, felt herself back under his care where she was safe. This was much better.
“This is such a surprise! I don’t know… Maybe… maybe we could go see the ocean?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, the thought exhilaratingly clear in her mind before she could shatter it. Her own face fell just a moment behind his change of posture, of his gaze turning black. “No! No, I didn’t mean that, how silly of me, I don’t even know why I said that, I…” “Claire.” Just a word. She halted mid-word, felt her mouth still hang open and not daring to close it. “You know you can’t leave the compound. It’s not good for you. And how am I supposed to keep you safe out there?” “I’m sorry, El Yayo, I didn’t mean it! Please, I… Maybe... “ Wildly casting about for another idea, her eyes darted around the room in near-panic. There, the cage of songbirds. “Maybe a new bird? A blue one?”
Why had she said that? She really didn’t need another bird in that cage. And why a blue one? Was there… Had there been a blue bird somewhere, some time? A whisper of a shadow passed through her mind and she blinked, feeling the room tilt. Dangerous thoughts, dangerous memories.
The room came back into focus and now El Yayo was leaning back, smiling. Sipping his wine, his eyes their normal color.
“A blue bird for my Claire! So be it then!”
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