Mariska Illes's Story

The sweet rumble of thunder above was a comfort.

Sitting on a sidewalk, dragging on a cigarette, Mariska let the sound carry her back to more comfortable days, swathed in a blanket with her baby girl as the TV droned. Rainy days were inside days. Even when the power would flicker and die, the cool air and the beating of water drops on a tin roof gave a sense of serenity.

Today, Mariska didn't have a roof above her head. Black clouds ahead, heavy with rain, hadn't yet let go their loads, but the humidity collected on her skin. Rolled down her neck. It was only a matter time, and she had absolutely no intent to find cover when it started. In a white petticoat and jeans, a purse hanging from her arm, she knew it would be chilly.

But she was going back. Nothing else mattered more.

He moved quietly. Not swiftly, no. He wasn't sneaky, he didn't have enough control over his muscles for that. Remy moved-

Delicately. Like a tin toy.

His movements were deliberate and planned. His feet rolled off the ground as he walked; slow, short steps. His face was doused with tan cover-up. It wasn't quite the tone of his face and it clung to him in splotches. He tried to smooth it with his fingers but all that would result in was tan fingernails. He draped a piece of black fabric over his head, a makeshift hood. A dark green coat covered it's seems.

He parted his stripped lips, his voice was harsh and low "You've seen better days, Mariska" He lead his sentence with a cough and ended it with another.

Marika looked up with tired eyes. There was a hang to her mouth, the way her lips parted, with words lingering there that took their time to come out. She held the cigarette to the side and creased her brows gently. "Do I know you?" she asked with a slight edge to her voice.

That face. She did know it somewhere. It itched, the memory, in the back of her mind. Something from long ago. It took but a moment to bring it up.

"Remy?"

Remy swept a strip of hair back beneath his hood.

"Y-yeah. Remy."

He let out a lopsided smile. As a kid, he had the brightest smile. It practically glowed between his lips. Coulda sworn it had this almost supernatural effect on people, yah know? Like a pheromone or something. Couldn't be sad around that smile. Nah, wasn't possible.

Now it kinda just hung open at one corner.

"I havent been smokin or nothin'. Its just the-" His voice trailed off, that dim smile still on his face. "You know, the bug. Hasn't been kind to me. Still got my sight though. Said it be gone by now, but nope, I got it. Always said those doctors don't know what theyre talkin about." He swept a hand beneath his nose.

At least he still looked kind.

"Its been a while. I missed you."

Leaning forward, Mariska braced her fingers against the grainy cement, warm beneath her skin, to push herself shakily onto her black heels. She dropped the cigarette and rose those hands up to touch her fingers so delicately to his cheeks. They barely brushed his skin.

"Selene bless. We were children. It's been that long." She drew her hands in toward her chest, fists clenching. "I didn't think you'd live long enough to grow into a man. You've always been so sick, Remy. But I'm glad to see you alive."

Her gaze, though worn, was tender. There was a warmness there, a spark of happiness that hadn't wandered into those eyes in a long time.

The smile hung on his face for a moment, her words making it to his ears. They lingered there for a moment.

Remy frowned.

"Alive" He muttered as his gaze fell to the ground. His back had an unnatural arch to it. As if his spine could give way at any moment and his body would cave in on itself. It was like when you buy a new shirt and its got that stuff in it. What do you call it-

Starch. It has starch in it. It holds it up, supports it. It looks good like that, looks new. But then you wear a few times and you wash it. After a while it starts to lose that starch. Then one day you pull it out of your closet and you wonder what happened to it. I mean, it used to be such a nice shirt.

He looked up again.

His mouth hung open at one corner.

"Yeah, at least I'm alive. Im lucky, real lucky. That bug it don't know who its dealin with, you know? Im strong. Always have been. Not gonnah get the best of me. No no, Imah beat it."

A drop of water dropped against his forehead and slid down his cheek. It cleared his powered facade in a crooked line.

Mariska's hand slithered up her chin to her mouth, cupping her lips in her palm. Her eyes, previously half-lidded, were now wide open. She rose her other hand to Remy's face again, to rub the drop sideways and smudge the powder further.

"Remy," she rasped. "You are not okay."

A statement couldn't have been more obvious. Coughing, emaciated. That strained smile. Mariska was no stranger to suffering. She knew its face well, and the masks people wore to cover it. Didn't she use the same one?

"You need a doctor."

Remy cupped her hand in his, gently sliding it towards his chest and away from this face. He turned away slightly, using his finger to smooth the powder across his bare skin.

"Mariska, come on. I've been like this for along time. The doctors cant do anythin for me, you should know that. Not even supposed to be standin up right now. I dont want to talk about it."

He caught his reflection in a discarded bottle.

"Please, I got enough people remindin' me. I came here to see my cousin." He dragged his eyes away from the shattered peice of glass.

He put his free hand against her neck, resting it on top of her shoulder. His fingers traced a pleading circle against her skin, his eyes trailing behind them. "Saw this rat once in the street, scabby little thing. Almost dragged dirt behind it. Wasn't nothing special at first, I mean, I've seen tons of rats. Yah know? But this one-

It wasn't digging through trash or nothing. Like, he was trying to avoid it. Then he saw this... this cherry. It was bright and red, like one you get with those sugary drinks. Had some dirt on it and looked like it had been stepped on a time or two but it was still bright, and it was still red, and he still wanted it. Hes a rat though, yah know? Hes not supposed to have it, rats dont eat cherrys. But the way he looked at it, it was like, I never wanted anythi-"

He paused.

"It was like he never wanted nothin more than that cherry. And I wanted him to have it, more than anything I wanted that rat to get that cherry."

Mariska laid a hand over his, breaking eye contact with him. She looked at his chest, eyes half-lidded again. She could feel the warmth of his hand. Possibly too warm, she thought.

"How did you find me, Remy?" asked Mariska. "I'm not in touch with anyone anymore. It's been a year since I've seen anyone I'm related to or... or even my own family."

"Word gets around, it wasn't hard. You know how people round here like to talk."

Remy stopped, mouth spread slightly as if caught mid word.

"I heard some things, Mariska. I hoped they weren't true."

A breeze shook his hood, pushing it down the back of his head. He pulled his hand away from Mariska, tugging the fabric back over the patches of missing hair and violet bruises.

Mariska took in a shaky, slow breath, at once startled by Remy's appearance. She put her hand up to her head, gazing to the side in complete disbelief. Her eyes glazed.

"Some people screw up, Remy. Some people just keep making mistakes," she rasped, keeping her gaze steadily away from him. "So now I just have to live with it. I'm not like you, suffering for no good reason."