Tabula Rasa

Chapter 14

Calina paused at Matthew's door, her hand raised to knock.

She wasn't sure if this was the right thing to do.

She had slipped again yesterday. Revealed too much about herself. And Matthew's lawyerly instincts - or maybe it was his Daredevil instincts - were leading him closer and closer to the truth about her.

Or at least some of the truth. He now knew that she was good at languages. That she was from Russia, or was at least of Russian descent. He knew she could fight.

It was too much, when he wasn't supposed to know anything about her at all.

And it was too risky to keep seeing him. She should move out of the building. Maybe out of New York. She should think of her safety. She should consider her sisters.

She should do this.

Not do that.

Should. Should. Should.

What about what she wanted?

Wasn't that the whole point of gaining her freedom? So that she could live how she wanted, and not have to do as she was told?

And what she wanted...was to see him again.

So she knocked on the door.

He answered moments later. "Calina?" He sounded surprised to see her. After the way she'd bolted last night, she couldn't really blame him. But was it a good surprise? Or was he sick of the sight of her? They'd spent practically the whole day together yesterday, maybe he wanted a break? She hadn't considered that when debating if this was the right move-

"Are you okay?" he asked, when she didn't reply.

"Yes, sorry. I, um, brought lunch for us. If you want to eat. With me, I mean. But it's okay if you don't. I can just leave this with you." She thrust the paper bag at him, prepared to run away again.

But he caught her arm. Smiled at her. "I want to. Come in."

She followed him to the kitchen, where he unpacked the meatball subs and loaded them onto plates. "Did you get these from that new place that just opened round the corner?" he asked.

"Yeah. It always smells so good when I pass, so I thought I would try it today."

"I'm glad you did. I'm starving."

He carried both plates to the dining table. She joined him, and they tucked into their sandwiches. "You seem like you're feeling better," she commented after swallowing a bite. He had more energy by the looks of things, although his voice still sounded raspy and congested.

"I am. I meditated for a while this morning, and that helped."

"Really?" She frowned at him. "Are you buddhist, or something?"

He laughed. "Catholic, actually. The meditation is more of a...non-denominational mindfulness. I've been doing it since I was a kid."

"Oh. Who taught you to do that?"

"A...teacher...that came to the orphanage one year. He was also blind, and it helped him focus. So he showed me how."

"I didn't realise you were an orphan. I'm so sorry." And she was. She knew what it was like to grow up without parents. To have that connection to your heritage ripped away; to have no home to anchor you as you drifted through life. She wished she could say that to him - to let him know that she understood the depths of that particular pain, and that he wasn't alone in it. But her cover-story included two, very much alive and loving parents who were living in Illinois.