INIQUITOUS

CHAPTER XIII

It was 3.47 a.m., the skies were blackish shades of raspberry and blueberry, the air was chilly and wet, the streets were empty, and the roads were almost free of vehicles. Winnie and I were in a temerarious frame of mind, tipsy. It didn't matter that it was a school night. She had filched a bottle of Hennessey from her parents' liquor cabinet and I arrived with a cold case of beers brought from a convenience store open on a dark street in Chinatown. We roamed the streets for a while, pushed each other on the swings in the park and whooped into the cold night. Now we found ourselves knocking knees and sat on a pavement, on the edge of the road. Euphoric moods were subdued, softened into a calm disposition.

I traced an invisible pattern on the cool surface of the black tarmac. "What do you think my soul looks like?"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

She rested her head on my shoulder and set her blurred gaze on the stars in the night sky. "I think it's unhappy, it's stuck in a disconsolate temperament. It wants to escape to cobbled streets in London, to bustling market places in Shanghai, to hot and sticky cafes in Austria and to pubs in Kilkenny where the people speak funny. I think it wants adventure. It craves heartbreak. It wants to discover music in temples in India, it wants to write heart-wrenching tales in Vladivostok and to find love that'll make it ache in Germany. It wants passion, the type that'll never diminish. It wants to create. It wants to find purpose. But it won't. Because Springbridge is where it'll always reside." She ended on a sad note. "And it'll die forgotten and a replica of many others who've sat under the same shimmering stretch of sky craving the same."

I was quiet, pondering her words. I frowned slightly. "You didn't describe me." She had spoken of herself.

"No," she heaved a heavy sigh. "Now it's your turn."

I stared down at the pavement for an awfully long time. Winnie didn't rush me. "You'll have a different opinion of me," I finally voiced.

"I'd love you regardless,"

"It's mangled," I told soberly. "It's malicious, and detrimental. It reeks, it's mephitic. It's discoloured, like a rag gone dirty. Its' love debases those that come into contact with it in a demeaning and humiliating manner. It cheapens whatever it touches. It sits and it waits with an encouraging smile and then when you're most unsuspecting it reveals its' wicked nature. It's evil. It doesn't wish happiness, lies spill out of its mouth, and it weeps in sorrow only when faced with another's joy. That ...that is my soul."

Winnie was immobilized and closemouthed for thirty long seconds. I counted. Then she faced me, her mouth moved, words soft. "You're not like that."

"Do you believe in the existence of soulmates? Not of the romantic variety. Of two people so alike in every aspect, their mannerisms mimic each other, like clones of two people. They're two halves that fit together, like two jigsaw pieces. Nothing else matches. No matter how far you run, there'll always be comfortability with that person. You can burn off your face, fix in a new nose, stitch together another smile but there'll always be a connection, two hearts that thump together in time, left foot first, right foot after, the same gaze, the same mind-set. Soulmates of that kind."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I am paired with hatred. Untouched, in its natural form and it consumes my every waking thought." It felt good to get it off my chest.

My confession startled her. "I've known you for a little over a year. You're not bad-natured, but you're trapped in a past I know nothing about. Maybe it's your parents, although you don't ever speak of a father–"

"Winnie," I tried.

"No, let me finish," she leaned away from me, set her wide, glistering eyes on me. "You rarely mention your mother and when you do it's with a tightness in your chest. You become very careful and aware of what you're saying. You don't sing her praises and neither do you blurt out her faults. What is it you want, Cleo? If the world promised you one wish, what would you ask for?"