(no subject)
I stand accused of a thousand and one crimes,
A witness to events that led to this present time.
These traditions which bind our hands and keep us tied
Will never survive the greatest test of time.
Deliver me from those feverish eyes
That threaten to unbalance my state of mind,
For I must confess only to the smallest of crimes.
A sense of guilt, a sense of guilt
A sense of guilt, a sense of guilt”
---Dead Can Dance, “The Trial.”'>
Dinner with the Ashton’s was rushed as usual for Melora. The entire time she bounced her leg beneath the table, and kept recalculating when it would be appropriate to leave. Mike was laughing about Brian’s crush on Melora, and Mr. and Mrs. Ashton talked about their day. Margo mainly listened and asked questions. The entire time, Melora was turning over what Edward had told her. Not born, but made. Not human, but something very close, and for all of his closeness, he is barricaded within his uniqueness. How can one man so gentle live with such potentially destructive instruments for hands? How must he relate to the world, when everything he touches is altered, usually for the worse? And more, who made him? Was that why I saw those conveyor belts and bizarre machinery, was Edward brought to life on one of those assembly lines?
Melora eventually cleared her plate, and let the Ashtons know where she would be. No one seemed particularly alarmed at this. Melora thought to herself, They have no idea! They never knew about him! This is all so weird... She left then, taking a few extra rolls of paper towels with her, and made haste on her scooter.
“Hey Edward.” Melora said as she came closer to the figure sitting by himself on the couch, next to Melora’s old suitcase. “Do you think I could ask you some questions? You don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.”
Edward nodded, snipping nervously at the air, his arms folded in his lap.
“How long have you lived all by yourself here?” Melora asked, sitting down next to him, the suitcase between them.
“I don’t know,” he said softly, “I lost track.”
“Do the people below know about you at all?”
Edward was silent for a moment, and then said: “One time, a woman found me here. She took me down to the village, and I lived with her family.”
Melora sat, rapt. Edward spoke very softly, and sounded so nervous. She patiently waited for him to go on.
“...I tried to fit in. I tried to make people like me. But that woman had a daughter, and it was only for her that I tried so hard.” Edward stood up then and went to the window, lifting his arms to brace himself against the wall. Melora saw his black silhouette against the moonlit glass, and breathed deeply, feeling something within herself tighten. She instinctually took in the picture and memorized its every detail.
“Kim.”
Melora waited a moment, and then quietly spoke. “You loved her, didn’t you?” There was no accusation in her voice, no bitterness. Only empathy.
“I love her still.” Edward sighed against the windowpane, and then turned around to look at Melora. “But a boy wouldn’t leave her alone, and he made Kim ask me to help them break into his fathers house.”
“Did you know it was his father’s house?” Melora asked, fascinated with the story.
“Yes.”
“Then why’d you agree to it?”
“She asked me to.”
Melora was shocked. She herself knew she could not claim to such devotion to a loved one-to her, Edward seemed suddenly even more admirable than she’d previously thought. “What happened then?”
Edward came to sit back down on the couch. “They left. I was arrested. Everyone saw it happen. No one trusted me after that, and soon they became angry. Kim told me to run, so I did.” He paused. Then: “I was angry. When I came here, Kim followed me. But so did the boy. He tried to hurt Kim, and he tried to stop me from protecting her.”
They sat in silence a long time, Edward looking at the floor, Melora looking at him, her eyes wide.
Finally, Edward turned his head to look at her. “I was so angry. I was so tired of pretending to understand their complex ethics, their incomprehensible morality. I did the only thing that made sense at the time-I-I pushed him out the window...” He paused, lifting his arm to show Melora the razor sharp blades that extended a foot from where his knuckles should have been, “with these.”
Melora was stunned. She had only minutes before guessed at this possibility, but to hear soft-spoken, shy Edward speak it aloud, and to say it as if nothing had ever felt more right to him, it was...well, she didn’t know what to think of it. At first she was mortified, that he had actually killed someone. Then she wondered if she had any right to judge him; it was self defense, after all, wasn’t it? Could she assume the same moral obligations of him, given that he wasn’t technically a human being and lived in isolation for so long? Melora knew she would have to give this a lot of thought.
“Do you hate me, Melora?” Edward asked quietly.
“No, Edward. I don’t,” she said. “Only, what took place after that? Did they come after you?”
“They came as far as the front door. Kim went down and told them I was dead, that we had killed each other. They left, and Kim said goodbye to me.” Edward said. “I never saw any of them ever again. Kim never came to visit me. I’ve been here ever since.”
Melora tried to think of something to say. Throughout his time there, Melora realized, he’d never asked for anything. He’d given all he could, tried as hard and in as many ways as he could to please, but always and forever he would be too different to live among them. Finally, all she could say was, “Your’s is the saddest story I’ve heard, Edward. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s ok.” Edward said. “I’ll understand when you want to leave too.”
Melora was shocked, but at the same time she suddenly realized he was right to assume such a thing, given his experience.
“No, Edward. Please don’t think something like that.” Melora pleaded. “Let’s get one thing straight here. I understand that you’re different from me. I’m never going to ask you to change the way you are to make me feel more comfortable. I don’t expect anything from you-I’m your guest here.”
Edward’s eyes widened. The way she had explained it, it had put things into words which he could have never hoped to articulate by himself. She accepts me the way I am, he thought, I can be myself and still have a friend.
“Granted,” Melora continued, “sometimes I might make the mistake of assuming you’re the same as me. You’re awfully convincing...” she smiled and winked at him, and after a moment Edward’s mouth slowly spread into a brief grin.
“I guess the only thing I can ask from you is patience for my shortcomings. I’ll probably forget about the things you can and can do, and when that happens just remember I’m not doing it on purpose. Sooner or later I’ll come to understand just what you’re capable of, and I will always try to respect that.” Edward nodded at this, amazed that someone from the world below could be so honest about themselves.
Melora stood up. “I think that’s about all I can handle right now, as far as questions go. I’ve never seen you talk so much.”
Edward looked a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”
Melora laughed. “No, silly, I think it’s wonderful when you speak your mind. I know I’d want to talk to someone after so long.” Then Melora grew serious. “You know, no one I’ve talked to down there gives a second thought to me moving in here. None of them know you exist. Whatever happened to you back then, no one must have talked about it afterwards. Those people probably never spoke of it to their kids, and now everyone just assumes this is a big abandoned house.”
Edward nodded. “It was a long time ago.”
“Well.” Melora looked around the room. Still so many things to do. “There’s still so many things to do.”
Edward brightened at this.
“And it won’t do itself, unless I’m crazier than I previously thought. Shall we, then?”
They worked late into the night. Edward was tired of simply watching Melora work, and so became resolute to help out in some way. First they had to stock the pantry of all Melora had bought earlier that day. For this, Edward delighted Melora in holding open the shopping bags for her, slipping the blunt end of a blade beneath each handle and lifting the bag to where Melora could reach inside without having to bend over. Into the pantry went all the canned foods, and also the cookbooks and the books on gardening. In one corner she stored the seeds she’d bought for later planting. In the bottom of the pantry Melora stocked the bulk pack of dish soap.
“I’m going to need to find the outlets around here, so I can set up the electrical stuff in strategic locations.” Melora said, pulling up her sleeves. “I suppose you wouldn’t know where they might be?” Edward shook his head. Kim’s little brother had once tried to convince Edward to stick one of his blades into an electric socket; it was his luck that Kim’s mother intervened, or else Edward might have tried it.
Melora looked suspiciously to the conveyor belts at the other end of the main room. Bending down beneath one of the tables, Melora pushed aside some wax fragments which she’d somehow missed in her earlier sweep, and located a plug in the wall. She pulled the plug loose, and indeed there was an outlet behind it-one that looked compatible to modern standards. Melora proceeded to discover four other outlets in the room; for the time, it was unusual to need so much access in one room. Melora wondered once again if it was on these conveyor belts that Edward was born.
“Edward, do you mind if I set up the stuff mostly on this table here? This room must have once been a laboratory, for all this equipment. I wouldn’t want to disrespect any of your memories here by setting up something as vulgar as a TV set on it.”
“No, it’s alright.” Edward said.
Melora then picked up the TV set, which was a heavier, older model, and waddled precariously with it to the table. She then set the VCR on top, and placed the stereo next to it. Next, Melora turned her attention to the lamps, setting them up on opposite sides of the room. Lastly, she went to her suitcase. Edward looked on curiously as she sorted through artwork, clothes, finally to pull out several small, square, flat objects. She smiled at him then, “I could leave my books behind, but these CD’s are too hard to find in the regular stores.” She went and placed them next to the stereo.
“CD’s?” Edward asked. The word was unfamiliar to him.
“Yeah. Is it ok? I used to listen to my music while I painted, or just to dance at four a.m. by myself.” Melora giggled. “It’s pretty much a mix of classical baroque stuff and modern ethereal. I figure it’s inoffensive enough. And I see colors when I listen to music, so it helps me focus on what I’m painting.”
“You do?” Edward sounded fascinated. He’d never known humans were capable of this.
“Yeah.” Melora shrugged. “It’s pretty rare, but some people have it. Probably part of the reason I paint in the first place, and now that I think of it, probably the reason why I’m having so many visual hallucinations.”
Edward nodded, pretending to understand. He’d heard no music, not really, when he was living with Kim. He knew his creator had put on some records for him to listen to, when he was in the final stages of his assemblage, but he’d been too amazed at the world as a whole to really single out any sort of memory of the music itself. What would Melora’s music sound like?
“Do you think it would be ok if I set up my studio in this room?” Melora asked, “it’s not like we’ll be entertaining anyone, and I figure the closer we keep everything, the less work it will be to keep this place clean. This house is really too big for just two people, if we can stick to just a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room, I think things will be a lot easier for us.”
“Okay.” Edward really had no idea either way. He was willing to trust Melora’s judgement here.
“Speaking of bedrooms, where do you sleep, Edward?” Melora said.
Edward considered for a moment. “My room is in the attic. But I don’t sleep there. I don’t sleep anywhere. I don’t need to, really.”
Melora took this in. How much longer eternity would seem, she thought, should one never sleep at all. How much lonelier a person must have felt. “Can I see your room?”
Edward nodded. Up the stairs he led her, down the hall where her bedroom was, around a corner, and up another set of stairs, these much steeper than the first. Pushing open a plain wooden door, they came to the attic-a large, drafty place, falling to ruin. It was empty save for a fireplace, and set inside the fireplace was a rotting bed, the sheets in tatters. On the floor surrounding the bed were bits of crumbling paper, what looked to be old advertisements. Melora knelt down beside them, and tried to gently piece together one that had not been so thoroughly shredded. It was an advertisement for ladies opera gloves. Melora looked to the date: December 6th, 1922. She shot a glance towards Edward; could he possibly be at least that old? If he was, that meant that whoever created him could very well be pictured in those vintage daguerreotypes she’d found in her room!
Melora moved to stand up, and as she did she caught sight of the window at the far end of the room. She shivered; the glass was completely shattered in the center, leaving only razor sharp fragments cleaving to the frame. A boy fell to his death there , Melora thought, knowing this proved what Edward had told her had really taken place. Suddenly she was glad that at least it had not been Edward himself who met that fate, either in that fight so long ago, or by his own will, driven to desperation and loneliness.
Melora pulled herself back from these depressing thoughts, and instead looked to slanting roof, where a large hole in the beams gaped. The view was breathtaking, she could see all the way to the ocean on such a clear night; and though the heavens turned pinwheels and boiled with celestial dust of every color, Melora could only feel uplifted by the beauty of it all.
When it was clear to Edward that Melora was taking her time enjoying the view, he went to stand beside her.
“Look at it, Edward.” Melora said, spreading her arms. “Those people down there can’t possibly understand how they look to you; they might as well ask themselves what Heaven sees when it looks down upon the tiny earth below. From there, up close, things seem so petty and ordinary. I see it too when I’m down there. Of course they wouldn’t be able to understand somebody as miraculous and beautiful as you. But from where you stand, you can take each of their tiny lives and piece them together as part of a glittering whole, a reflection of the starry sky and just as wondrous. You can see a little farther down the road than they can.”
Edward looked at Melora. Melora looked back up at him. Once more, his expression was hard to read, but only because his features seemed always so impossibly sad. But Melora saw that in his eyes was a look of wonder, that what she said might have made sudden sense to him.
“No one ever said the sort of things you say to me, down there.” He said.
“No one down there ever was homeless, or crazy. It’s given me a new perspective on things.” Melora pointed out. “It’s hard to think of the sacredness in all things when you can talk about the latest TV program you saw or spy on your neighbors’ private lives or try out the latest shade of nail polish.”
Edward had never looked at things this way. When he’d lived with the Avon lady, her quaint little life among the other housewives seemed charming, if perhaps a little strange to him for all its preoccupation with laws, money-making, and with constant social interaction.
Melora yawned. “It’s way late. I’m going to put the sheets on the bed, and get ready for bed. Is that ok?”
“Yes.” Edward said, but then looked unsure.
“What is it, Edward?” Melora asked.
“Is it ok if I sit next to your bed while you sleep? I don’t want to be alone tonight.” Edward did not sleep, but he was able to put himself into a sort of trance. Edward did not know how to explain this to Melora though, the word ‘trance’ was not in his vocabulary.
“Well, I suppose it’s alright. I mean, if not my room, than simply some other room in this place, right? I don’t want you to be lonely, Edward.” Melora knew that in society, it was bad taste to let a man sleep in your room with you if you were not long term lovers, but she supposed that the rules didn’t really apply to Edward, being what he was. And Melora supposed that she herself was no longer bound to society’s laws, being already on the fringe as she was.
They made their way to the living room, where Melora took a tooth brush from her pocket and brushed her teeth in the kitchen sink. She then selected a set of bed sheets and went upstairs to the bedroom, lighting the candles there. Edwards watched her in fascination as she prepared the bed. It was warm enough not to need blankets, though Melora knew that in the winter she would have to chop wood for the fireplace and invest in some comforters.
Melora deliberated for a moment, once the bed was made. She herself did not care if anyone saw her naked; she was very comfortable with her body and did not really care for society’s strict codes for it, but never did she want to make Edward feel uncomfortable. However, Melora was a little hesitant at the thought of changing in the darkness of a creepy, cobweb infested bathroom. Finally she put the question to Edward.
“Um, would you feel terribly uncomfortable if I just changed here?”
“Change what?” Melora reddened. His innocence was endearing, but it had embarrassing side affects.
“I mean, would you mind if I got undressed here? I’ve nothing to change into, really, I’d just be stripping down to my undershirt and knickers...”
Edward considered. The last time he’d witnessed that, Kim hadn’t known he was there, and he had felt rather bad about it at the time. Edward had felt nothing akin to arousal or excitement then; those feelings were unknown and quite separate from his physiology.
“Will you promise not to scream and run out of the room if you do?”
Melora stared at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. “Oh Edward,” Melora said, wiping a tear from her eye and suppressing her giggles, “what did those poor people put you through?”
“The last person who took all her clothes off in the same room as me tried to sit on my lap...” Edward recalled suddenly, “but then the chair I was sitting on fell over backwards, and I thought it was a good time to leave.”
Melora’s jaw dropped at this. What. The. Hell. Suddenly Melora felt a surge of anger. Edward noticed this at once.
“What’s wrong, Melora? Did I say something wrong?”
“I just...I just can’t believe someone would try to do something so selfish to you...I...uh...” Melora stared down at herself. Her hands were smoking...no, they were becoming smoke! Her whole body was becoming smoke! She felt her hair-all she could feel was smoke-choked air. “Edward! Edward, help me!”
Edward watched, frightened, as the girl standing before him became tightly curling wisps of smoke, her entire form at the mercy of the drafts. Suddenly she was flesh again, clutching at her hair and thrashing her head from side to side, screaming.
“Oh god...” Melora sobbed, “what’s wrong with me!” she sank down onto the mattress, unable to stop herself from weeping. “That was too scary, Edward. That was too scary.” Edward sat down beside her, wishing he could comfort her, put his arm around her and hold her, but he wouldn’t dare try for fear of cutting into her skin. After a few moments, Melora looked up. Her face was red in a lot of places, and she wiped away from her cheeks the tears that stained them. She gave a shuddering sigh, and then smiled weakly at Edward.
“I’m sorry. That must have been just as scary for you, huh?” Edward nodded, still quite frightened. “I’m beginning to realize there are certain things I can’t talk about, or else I start hallucinating really hard. I can’t think of anything to do about it though, besides get back into painting again-I’m too poor to afford a therapist.” Melora was shaking. “What I can’t figure out is, how come you can see it too? You did see it, didn’t you?”
Edward nodded again. “You turned into smoke for a second, and then you were back to normal.”
Melora forced a laugh. “Maybe you were created with really special eyes, who knows how you’re put together? Maybe you can see other people’s thoughts if they’re visual enough, and really intense.”
“I don’t know, Melora. I don’t think so.” Edward said.
Melora again wiped at the tears that threatened to spill down her face. “Yeah, I guess so. Whatever the explanation, I’m sorry I scared you like that. Really I am.”
“It’s ok. You’re alright now.”
“Thanks, Edward. I appreciate you sticking around for this stuff. Anyways, I’m going to remove a significant amount of clothing now, just to let you know.” Edward nodded, but did not turn around.
Standing up, Melora first took down her hair. It cascaded down her shoulders in soft ropy strands, and let loose the scent of her shampoo from that morning. Then she removed her tanktop to reveal an undershirt, made of thinner cotton. Bending down, she undid the laces to her ankle boots and stepped out of them. Next she untied her skirt from her waist, dropping it to the floor and shoving it to the side with the rest of her clothing. Off came her pantaloons, under which she’d decided to wear a pair of traditional underwear (as opposed to, say, what Melora referred to as piano wire for the nether regions). All that was left were her socks, which came up over her knees and were black with tiny white pinstripes circling her legs. She sat down on the bed and unrolled these off over her feet, tossing the sock raviolis into the pile.
Edward had never seen someone so pale in the village below. Tanning had been the order of the day, though he never tanned no matter how long he stayed outside gardening. His skin was, after all, not really skin at all.
Melora got up once more to blow the candles out, and Edward took this as his cue to go sit against the hearth. “Good night, Edward.”
“Good night, Melora.”