\nIn the pocket of her pants, Molly carried a book of matches. They weren\u2019t necessary, but a little showmanship tended to open the already loose hands on the boardwalk a little wider.\n<\/p>\n
\nPicking a patron was an art. Younger men worked better than older ones, and a younger man who had only just begun flirting with a girl – or, even better, more than one – worked the best.\n<\/p>\n
\nSelecting her prize, she sidled up, greeting the women first before turning to the man, saying \u201cLight your cigarette for you, sir?\u201d She held up a match, and before anyone could say a word, she tossed it away, snapped her fingers, and the tip of her ring finger erupted into flame. There was a jump of surprise and a little titter from the women. Then, they reached forward to examine her finger, gripping her by the wrist and passing their own hands over the fire. Molly let them do as they pleased, holding perfectly still until they were satisfied, and the man leaned forward to light his cigarette.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cA penny is customary for a tip,\u201d she said. She always asked with eyes lowered, half-bent at the waist. Before, when she wasn\u2019t as skilled at picking patrons, she had been kicked and laughed at by men too ungentlemanly to honor a contract, even if they hadn\u2019t known they were entering one.\n<\/p>\n
\nThis man laughed but stuck a nickel into her outstretched hand. She straightened, grinned, and tipped her cap. As a final flourish – a gift for generosity – she opened her palm and lit a flame, extinguishing it by pulling in one finger after another.\n<\/p>\n
\nAs she dashed back into the crowd, she cried, \u201cCome visit the Blue Sky theater for more.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHer next few patrons only tipped pennies, but the final one gave her a dime, so it wasn\u2019t bad for a couple hours work.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe returned to the shabby boarding house on the farthest edge of the shabby side of the island. It had burned down once and was rebuilt worse than before. The windows either wouldn\u2019t open or wouldn\u2019t shut and little puddles of water gathered on the uneven floors in the top rooms when it rained. The food was lousy but plentiful, and the rent was cheaper than anywhere else.\n<\/p>\n
\nAlice and Annie were on the stairs as she dashed up them.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cGood day, Molly?\u201d Alice asked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYep,\u201d she replied, grinning. \u201cDon\u2019t wait for me. I\u2019ve got to collect Edward.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nAnnie turned, but she couldn\u2019t quite hide the look of distaste on her face. Molly did not let this bother her. She never did.\n<\/p>\n
\nEdward was still in his room when she knocked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cReady?\u201d she asked.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe put down the book he was reading. \u201cI suppose,\u201d he said, rising languidly to his feet.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe repositioned the cap on her head, her hair curling around its edges. It badly needed cutting again.\n<\/p>\n
\nYears ago, she had determined that looking like an interesting boy was better than being an ugly girl and accordingly, purloined Edward\u2019s castoffs, the pants and shirts he outgrew as he gained six inches on her.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe remained small and dark and slight, someone to forget unless she happened to be aflame. He grew tall and golden, which was highly fitting. In their world of cheap parlor tricks, he could do something wondrous.\n<\/p>\n
\nAs the older one, she had figured out her talent first, crying out \u201cwatch me\u201d to anyone who would look and, eager and unafraid, set herself on fire. It had taken Edward longer, his talent undiscovered until after they had been plucked from the orphanage and sent to live in the country. When Edward had been unable to sleep, Molly would stroke his hair and tell him the tales she remembered from their father. Then, she got sick, and, to comfort her, he retold these stories, and they came alive, the little characters performing on a private stage meant only for her and Edward. But his gift was inconsistent and, for a long while, only worked in her presence. Once they started on the circuit, she would stand, silent and unseen, in the wings of theaters in his line of sight so that he could perform.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe didn\u2019t have to stand in the wings anymore, but she still did.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe didn\u2019t watch her perform at all.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe Blue Sky theater was a shade of blue so bright it hurt to look at, but despite this impairment, still boasted the best shows on the boardwalk though the owner paid only slightly more than the other theaters offering acts of lesser quality. The Blue Sky had been there longer than the amusement park that sat behind it, but it did well by siphoning off the park crowd.\n<\/p>\n
\nInside the theater, Molly left Edward backstage sitting with his eyes closed, head bent forward, hands clasped tightly around his knees. Molly crouched at the stage\u2019s edge and watched Andres, the manager of their troupe, who created sculptures out of ice, Annie who levitated objects and her partner Alice who could disappear but only for around a minute, and Henri who grew plants from nothing.\n<\/p>\n
\nThey trotted out their wares and received their applause, and then Molly stepped on stage. She waited for all the lights to dim before going to work.\n<\/p>\n
\nIt started with the tip of one finger. She held the flame close to her face, before extinguishing it, sinking the room into darkness. She opened her palm and a flame rose from its center. This she tossed to her other hand before allowing it to spread up her bare arms. Eventually, all the flames slid back down and erupted from the ends of her fingers. She extinguished again and then, lighting one finger, began to write glowing messages in the dark. The audience laughed and applauded where they were intended to and, in some places, where they weren\u2019t. By this time, the oil lamps had been set out, so she carefully lit each one, the stage glowing with their soft light, so much better than any of the new electric ones and a far better atmosphere for what came next.\n<\/p>\n
\nHer applause arrived and went, and Edward stepped on stage. Whether the audience knew it or not, this was what they were waiting for. He smiled, that warm one that he only used for strangers, and said, \u201cPlease, will you come closer? The children can sit on the stage, but mind the lamps.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nWhen everyone was situated, he said, \u201cI\u2019d like to tell you a story. But what story will we have today?\u201d He looked thoughtful and then said, \u201cLet\u2019s have a new one, yes? But what about?\u201d He knelt on the stage beside a flock of children. \u201cDoes anyone have any ideas?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThere were always ideas, and today\u2019s were a lion, named Harold, and a bear, named Bear, and a trip under the sea.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cRight,\u201d Edward said. \u201cLet\u2019s begin.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHe spoke, voice honey-warm and sweet, and as he did, a tableau formed itself before him. There they were – the old, scraggly bear and the young, spirited lion and their ship with its many masts and crew of animals, bustling around, their movements as purposeful as Edward\u2019s words. Soon, they dove beneath the waves and encountered wonders that would have been difficult to imagine, but there they were, shimmering in colors that seemed too bright to be real.\n<\/p>\n
\nIt was so still it seemed that the audience had been frozen, hardly moving to breathe as Edward created something fragile but tangible, something better than the gaudy ephemerality found next door at the amusement park.\n<\/p>\n
\nOnce the story was completed, the little ship with its bear captain and sword-wielding lion still remained on the stage, laying inert on the floor. From experience, Molly knew that, when held, this object would hum with the remembrance of the story.\n<\/p>\n
\nEdward smiled and knelt down in front of a little girl whose mouth was still agape. \u201cHere,\u201d he said. \u201cA souvenir for you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe child reached out slowly for it and, once she had it in her possession, cradled it against her stomach. Then, Edward stood, bowed, and left the stage. The applause was, as always, delayed, but when it came it was thunderous. Edward never came out for a second bow which Molly thought he should.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe audience scattered, and the stage was set for the next show. Molly removed each of the lamps with Alice and Annie while Andres and Henri swept the stage.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI think,\u201d Andres said to Molly, \u201cthat we should talk again about the double act.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHenri shook his head. \u201cHe\u2019s never going to let it go.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cJust think of the spectacle,\u201d Andres said. \u201cFire and ice.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThink of the mess,\u201d Alice said. \u201cOr would you be cleaning up the puddles of water between acts?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI was thinking it would be our close,\u201d Andres said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cEdward always closes,\u201d Molly said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWell, he doesn\u2019t have to,\u201d Andres said which was a lie, for no one wanted to go on after Edward.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019ll think about it,\u201d Molly said.\n<\/p>\n
\nAndres nodded, knowing she wouldn\u2019t.\n<\/p>\n
\nAndres had never liked Edward. Not when they first joined the troupe, not when they started on the circuit, not when Edward became their headliner, and not now. Andres wanted to believe the worst of him. But he didn\u2019t truly know Edward, the boy that she had cared for, who she promised never to abandon, and who had promised to never abandon her.\n<\/p>\n
\nEdward always slipped outside between shows. He stood on the steps that led into the theater\u2019s backdoor, his arms folded over the railing and his shoulders hunched forward.\n<\/p>\n
\nMolly fell in beside him. \u201cLight your cigarette for you, sir?\u201d she asked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMolly,\u201d he said. He didn\u2019t smoke, and he wouldn\u2019t let her near him with a fire.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt went well I think,\u201d she said, knowing that he needed the praise and eager to give it to him.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cDo you?\u201d he asked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOf course,\u201d she said. \u201cThey were dazzled like they always are.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThey\u2019re easy to dazzle,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with that?\u201d she asked.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe shrugged. \u201cYou should go back in.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe patted him on the shoulder and reached for the door. \u201cDon\u2019t be too long.\u201d She let the door slam behind her.\n<\/p>\n
\nAs she knew he would be, Edward was late coming back in for the second show.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMolly, your brother,\u201d Andres said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYes,\u201d she said and headed outside.\n<\/p>\n
\nEdward had moved down to the alley\u2019s mouth where he was speaking to a handsomely-dressed man, much too handsomely-dressed to be on this side of the island. This had happened before. Wealthy men came and offered Edward what they believed would be attractive to him, and he always listened politely, and then Molly, seeing them for the exploiters that they were, turned them away. This, however, was the first time he had spoken to one of them without her.\n<\/p>\n
\nEdward was the type to be taken in. When he was younger, he would spend what little money she was able to give him on cheap novels about virtuous boys who were plucked from the margins and gutters where they resided by well-meaning and kindly patrons who would make them respectable. He still believed, she was sure, in this fantasy.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cEdward,\u201d she called, advancing toward him. \u201cWho are you talking to?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHe turned to look at her and said, \u201cI\u2019ll only be a moment.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHe has a show now,\u201d Molly said to the other man. \u201cYou\u2019re welcome to buy a ticket if you like\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThank you, but I\u2019ve already seen it,\u201d he said. He held out his hand for Edward to shake. \u201cI\u2019ll leave you to your work.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat did this one want?\u201d Molly asked once the man had gone.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNothing of note,\u201d Edward said, slipping in the stage door behind her.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe left him sitting in the dark of the wings, far from the light of the stage.\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\n
\nThey didn\u2019t perform on Monday or Tuesday. Not formally anyway.\n<\/p>\n
\nAll of them, Molly and Andres and Alice and Annie and Henri, had separate spaces that they occupied along the boardwalk, careful not to intrude into each other\u2019s territories and not to stray too far down to the island\u2019s other side where they would be run off by the wealthy hoteliers. Andres\u2019s spot came right before hers, and she often saw children gripping slowly melting ice creatures as she darted around searching for her own patrons.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhen the crowds thinned after supper, she headed back to the boarding house. From a block away, she could see a car waiting outside, a curious sight, and, even odder, Edward, dressed in his one fine suit that Molly had tailored to fit him, stepping into it.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cEdward, where are you going?\u201d Molly called to him though there was only one place he could be headed.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe turned his head toward her. \u201cIt\u2019s fine,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ll be back soon.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMolly hurried to the car, laid claim to a car door handle, and would not give ground.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWe\u2019re running late, sir,\u201d the driver said.\n<\/p>\n
\nEdward\u2019s hands hovered over Molly\u2019s, fingers stretched as if to pry her away. He curled his hands into tight fists and sighed.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cCome on then,\u201d Edward said, and Molly slid into the car beside him.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe ride was a short one, only across to the island\u2019s other side. Edward fidgeted with his cuffs and his tie and then took to straightening Molly\u2019s collar and brushing off the shoulders of her shirt.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cKeep your head down and your cap on,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd don\u2019t say anything.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe car stopped outside a hotel lit brilliantly against the dark. She followed Edward from the car and into the entrance where a grandly dressed man waited, holding his arms out to greet them.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAh, Edward,\u201d he said. \u201cSo pleased you decided to come.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHe turned, polite but curious, to Molly.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThis is my brother, Michael,\u201d Edward said. \u201cMichael, this is Mr. Wharton.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMr. Wharton smiled. \u201cAh, yes, I remember. From yesterday,\u201d he said and held out his hand for Molly to shake. His hand was broad and warm and soft and his wrists were slim and elegant. She shoved her rough, brownish hands into her pockets and followed Mr. Wharton and Edward into a large, golden room filled with chairs and tables and elegant people engaged in soft, gentle conversation. There was a raised platform at the far edge of the room that Mr. Wharton alighted upon.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe clapped his hands together crisply and said, \u201cLadies and gentlemen, I promised you a one-of-a-kind attraction this evening, and I believe you will not be disappointed. May I present Mr. Edward Borges.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nEdward stepped up onto the stage and bowed neatly to Mr. Wharton and then to the audience. He did not ask for any input from the audience, but instead took a deep breath and said, \u201cI would like to tell you a story.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMolly recognized the tale. It was his first original one that he had told her when they were younger. She had its physical manifestation in her suitcase, wrapped carefully in clothes that she no longer wore.\n<\/p>\n
\nOn stage here, Edward was an entirely different creature than he was in the theater. This was not a kindly storyteller but a master composer, one who commanded the attention of everyone in the room which they gave willingly. They had moved their chairs closer and some were standing, craning their necks to better see the spectacle.\n<\/p>\n
\nMolly could not see at all from her spot at the room\u2019s edge though she didn\u2019t need to. She had heard it before. Besides, she was more invested in watching Mr. Wharton who stood in the corner, watching Edward with shining eyes.\n<\/p>\n
\nEdward\u2019s story went on for over two hours. He kept giving more and more and more to those who would greedily take it. Molly could hear his voice growing rough with fatigue.\n<\/p>\n
\nAbruptly, he stopped.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI can\u2019t go on,\u201d he said, looking over to Mr. Wharton.\n<\/p>\n
\nMr. Wharton looked briefly piqued before his face cleared, and he hopped back up on to the platform. \u201cTomorrow then,\u201d he said. \u201cYes, we will have our continuation tomorrow. But for now\u2013\u201d He began applauding. The audience followed, raising their eyes from the tableau up to its creator, their faces glowing and rapturous.\n<\/p>\n
\nMolly edged closer to the stage to see the story in its suspended state. The two little figures – a girl and a boy, representations of herself and Edward – waited patiently in the middle of a street crowded with buildings and people. The girl was pointing at something in the unseeable distance, and the boy had shaded his eyes to look.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe skirted around the room\u2019s edge and the patrons who had crowded around Edward, carving away even more of him than they had already taken. Mr. Wharton could not stop smiling, and his hand lay heavily on Edward\u2019s shoulder as he guided Edward back outside.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe shook Edward\u2019s hand and said, \u201cTomorrow. And then we\u2019ll talk more about the rest of the season.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOf course,\u201d Edward said.\n<\/p>\n
\nMr. Wharton disappeared back inside.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cCome on,\u201d Edward said to Molly.\n<\/p>\n
\nIt was dark, so Molly opened her hand to create a small flame, holding it away from Edward as she knew he would flinch from it. When they were younger she had, in her excitement, accidentally burned Edward\u2019s forearm. The scar was rarely visible as Edward almost never rolled up his sleeves even when it was devilishly hot, but when she saw it, she always felt an odd mixture of shame and pride. Mine, the scar said.\n<\/p>\n
\nMolly pulled the flame closer to Edward. He widened the gap between them.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat did he pay you?\u201d Molly asked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHaven\u2019t been paid yet,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWell, what was your agreement?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHe shrugged. \u201cMr. Wharton doesn\u2019t like to speak of money.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cEdward,\u201d she said and wasn\u2019t this just like him to think of the art first and the payment second.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt\u2019s fine,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ll get what I\u2019m owed.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cSee that you do,\u201d Molly said.\n<\/p>\n
\nThey had reached the edges of the boardwalk where the lamps were still lit. Molly doused her fire and watched Edward\u2019s shoulders relax. She shoved her hands into her pockets and followed him back to the boarding house.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nOn Tuesday, it rained. Even when it let up in the afternoon, patrons were few, so Molly paced along the shoreline and watched the waves come in, considering the day a complete loss.\n<\/p>\n
\nBack at the house, Edward still hadn\u2019t emerged from his room. It was nearing dusk, and he would be late for his appointment at the hotel. Molly knocked on his door and heard no movement inside.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cEdward,\u201d she called. \u201cAre you quite all right?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nAlice clamored up the stairs. \u201cHiya,\u201d she said. \u201cEdward left a while ago. He said he left you a note.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThanks,\u201d Molly said, heading to her room.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cStop by for an apple when you come back down,\u201d Alice called after her. \u201cI bought more than Annie and I can eat.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cSure,\u201d Molly said.\n<\/p>\n
\nIn her room on the bed, still unmade from the morning, was a folded piece of paper. It read: \u201cI went to the hotel. Don\u2019t wait up. I will be back late.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMolly popped her cap back on her head and went back downstairs. Alice was waiting for her.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHere,\u201d she said, putting one apple in Molly\u2019s hand and shoving another into her pocket. \u201cFor when you find Edward.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMolly kissed her on the forehead and was out the door. The apple was lovely and crisp, a burst of tartness on her tongue. Edward always did like fresh fruit when they could get it. This thought was all that kept her from consuming the apple in her pocket as well.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe hotel seemed more formidable without Edward beside her. She crept around the outside walls until she came to the golden room. The doors to the portico had been left open to allow in the breeze from the ocean. Someone was playing a piano, and Edward was nowhere to be seen. She hovered in the shadows and watched the men smoke and the ladies talk and the children dance impatiently. Then, Mr. Wharton stepped on to the stage and the room hushed.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMay I once again present Edward Borges,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe audience did not clap but pressed closer to the stage. Edward was dressed in a fine suit that didn\u2019t fit properly, the sleeves riding up over his wrists.\n<\/p>\n
\nFrom her spot outside, she could hear his voice, strong and stalwart, continuing the narrative she knew well. But abruptly, the story changed. He was leaving her character behind, cast away on a foreign shore while his continued on. She considered this alteration and believed, after a moment of concern, that it must be a kindness. He would not give them something that belonged to her.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe spoke for one hour and then two, and in that time, no one moved. When he stopped, they sighed. It was still not completed – \u201cto be finished tomorrow,\u201d Mr. Wharton said – and Edward looked completely done in.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe waited in the shadows outside the light of the front entrance. Edward emerged, still in the suit, fiddling with its sleeves.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou changed it,\u201d Molly said, wanting to know if her supposition was correct.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe squinted to find her in the dark. She lit her palm, and he winced.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI wasn\u2019t expecting you,\u201d he said. \u201cCome on. It\u2019s late.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe stumbled after him, reaching in her pocket for the apple.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHere,\u201d she said, popping it into his hand. She waited until he had taken a bite before saying again, \u201cYou changed it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOf course I did,\u201d he said, and she thought, yes, it had been a kindness and felt a wave of affection for him.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhy did you come at all?\u201d he asked. \u201cDidn\u2019t you get my note?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYes,\u201d Molly said, \u201cWhen will you be through?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cProbably tomorrow,\u201d he said. \u201cI doubt this one can hold their attention for much longer. But I\u2019ll probably go back. At least until the season\u2019s over.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat about the Blue Sky?\u201d she asked. \u201cWe have a contract.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHe shrugged. \u201cI\u2019ll do both. It\u2019s nearly September anyway.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAll right,\u201d she said. \u201cWhere\u2019d you get the new suit?\u201d She playfully tugged at the sleeve. He pulled away from her and brushed off the lapels.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMr. Wharton said it would make me look more presentable.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe supposed she could see if there was anything she could do about the sleeves and the trousers which were a hair too short.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNext time, you shouldn\u2019t follow me,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI won\u2019t,\u201d she said. \u201cSo long as you turn up for our shows.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAll right,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n
\nMolly nodded. She was good at keeping her promises. And making sure Edward kept his.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nRoutine settled in. After the final show each night, Edward was ferried over to the hotel carrying in his hands whatever food Molly could scrounge up. One night, watching him drive away from the Blue Sky, she saw him toss a perfectly good sandwich out the window where it was devoured by the always ravenous gulls. She stopped giving him food. He started coming back to the boarding house later and later until one night, he didn\u2019t come back at all. Molly was ready to go looking for him when he appeared five minutes before the day\u2019s first show.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhen she asked where he had been, he said, \u201cEnded rather late last night. Mr Wharton thought it would be best that I stay.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMolly agreed that this was sound though, as she told him, she didn\u2019t like not knowing where he was.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI know,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n
\nLater that evening, when they were cleaning the stage after the last show, Andres said, \u201cWon\u2019t be long now.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWon\u2019t be long before what?\u201d she asked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cBefore he doesn\u2019t come back at all,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe ignored this. He never did like Edward. Of course Edward would come back. He had promised her he would.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe final week of August was hot and unbearably sticky both inside and outside the theater. The only place anyone could find relief was close to the water. The audiences they had were paltry and their applause slow and limp. Their second to last day in the theater, Edward didn\u2019t appear for the early show or the afternoon ones. Initially, Molly worried that he had made himself sick from exhaustion, but he wasn\u2019t in bed at the boarding house.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhen she got back to the theater, Andres said, \u201cLeft us entirely, then?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMolly didn\u2019t know how to respond.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt was always going to happen,\u201d he said. He placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe late show ended, and Molly headed out, walking swiftly up the boardwalk. She didn\u2019t know Andres had followed her until he called out.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhere are you going?\u201d he asked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThe hotel,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cTo do what?\u201d he asked.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe didn\u2019t have an answer.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cCome back,\u201d he said. \u201cThere\u2019s no reason to go to that place now.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nIt was late, and she was tired, and she didn\u2019t know what she would say to Edward even if she did happen to find him because she didn\u2019t fully understand what had happened or why Edward had gone. She trailed Andres back to the house. Her sleep was restless, and she woke angry and discontented. It took her a moment to remember why.\n<\/p>\n
\nEdward was not at the theater the next day either, though Molly hadn\u2019t really expected him to be. At the boarding house, some of his things were gone from his room. The rejected objects – patched clothing, worn shoes – sat in a neat pile on the bed beside a letter with Molly\u2019s name scrawled on the front.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThat\u2019s it then?\u201d Andres asked from the doorway.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cSuppose so,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNo matter,\u201d he said. \u201cCome on. Let\u2019s have a drink.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHenri had gotten wine to celebrate the end of the season. Molly had one glass and then another. She drank too fast, and an ache bloomed at the back of her head. She left the others reveling downstairs and went up to her room to sleep. The night grew deeper and quieter. She rose and dressed, not in her brother\u2019s castoffs but in the one decent blouse and skirt she had kept and slipped out of her room.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe boardwalk lights had long since been put out. The moon seemed hazy rather than bright. Insects chirped, and she hummed a little to herself, a song her father had sung, a song she had once taught her brother. He likely did not remember it.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe hotel loomed dark in the distance, its pitched roof a blacker black than the sky. Approaching it, she felt a flare of fury. She turned away from it to the broad expanse of the beach, sand lit white by the moon. A man stood beside the water, and she walked down toward him.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cEdward?\u201d she asked.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe glanced over at her. \u201cI was going to come to see you before I left.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWere you?\u201d she asked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI did leave a note,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI saw it,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMr. Wharton has some connections with people in Europe,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou\u2019re going,\u201d Molly said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt\u2019s a good opportunity,\u201d he said. \u201cI will write.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWill you?\u201d she asked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019ll try,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWell,\u201d she said. \u201cWhen do you leave?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cTomorrow morning,\u201d he said. \u201cI was going to come to see you before I left.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThat\u2019s kind,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMolly,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cCome here,\u201d she said, reaching for him.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe embraced her, a weak, half-hearted thing, his body already elsewhere. She drew him closer, and he fell reluctantly toward her.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe had cradled him like this when he had been a child, his curly head nestled under her chin. How she had loved him, that small, affectionate, frightened boy. She had cared for him, indulged him as much as she could. She could still see that boy even now, the one she had promised to stay with forever.\n<\/p>\n
\nHeat was building in her hands. Edward tried to pull away from her, said, \u201cMolly, Molly, that hurts, Molly, please,\u201d his panicked voice rising in pitch and volume. Still, she held him fast, held him as tightly as she had when he was little, and then, her hands, glowing a pleasant red, burned their likeness into his back. He cried out, and she released him, watching as he dropped into the sand and crawled toward the sea.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe only turned away once he had reached the water.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nEdward\u2019s stories were stacked on her bed where she had left them. She carted them down to the beach. They were not heavy. They hardly weighed anything at all. She gathered driftwood and lit a fire, and then she tenderly placed each story on it. They burned beautifully, curling under the blooms of flame. They were gone by the time the sun came up. She doused the fire with sea water, scooped up the ashes and threw them into the sea.\n<\/p>\n
\nIt started raining. She walked back to the boarding house. Edward would be gone soon, taking one boat and then another, traveling further than he ever had. Still, he could never truly leave her. Some things were permanent.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe stripped down to her skin and crawled into bed. Water dripped into the bucket in the corner of the room. When she woke up, she would pack her things, head downstairs, and talk to Andres about the double act.\n<\/p>\n
\nIt would be okay. She could see it now. It would be good.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe counted the raindrops as they hit the window pane and fell asleep.\n<\/p>\n
Laine Perez works at the University of Arkansas and received her Ph.D. in English from the University of Texas at Austin. Her work has appeared in Aphelion Webzine, Luna Station Quarterly, and Beneath Ceaseless Skies.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
In the pocket of her pants, Molly carried a book of matches. They weren\u2019t necessary, but a little showmanship tended to open the already loose hands on the boardwalk a little wider. Picking a patron was an art. Younger men worked better than older ones, and a younger man who had only just begun flirting …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":107970,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,20138],"tags":[20139],"class_list":["post-140364","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-tcl-52-summer-2024","tag-the-colored-lens-52-summer-2024","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140364","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/107970"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=140364"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140364\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":140365,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140364\/revisions\/140365"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=140364"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=140364"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=140364"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}