The Truths Behind the Life of Maeve Sun Lively

21

I PAUSED THE RECORDER, DESPITE my wild curiosity for more of the truth. More of the truth to Maeve's life, the person I—everyone, thought we knew so well. We didn't. I don't think anyone really did.

Carlise has been long rubbing her eyes since a few hours ago. I looked up at the clock, it's four a.m., the sunlight just starting to spark through the large window, slithering into the long-been-dark study room. We started around ten p.m., it didn't even feel like time passed at all. I felt frozen through all of it, glued to Maeve's voice, her story. I don't think I anticipated for myself to be so involved with this. No, I don't think this was even the story I've been expecting.

"What's wrong?" Carlise asked, rubbing at her right eye. She looked just as tired as how I am starting to feel. Did we really stay up listening for that long?

"What do you mean?"

She looked from me to the recorder. "You paused it. Is something wrong?"

"I was just feeling a little tired—no."

I looked down at my notebook that's scribbled with lines of connections through people, then I looked at my opened laptop that's filled with search histories of names that Maeve has mentioned in the recording, then my opened doc filled with unfinished sentences. No, something is wrong.

"This isn't right."

Carlise raised an eyebrow at me.

I glanced once more at my laptop and notebook, then up at her again. "Correct me if I sound a little rude, but I don't understand." I'm scratching at my head, the words on my notes becoming blurry and seeming faraway, from another long ago life.

"What's not to understand?"

"This," I gesture at my notes, the recorder, the boxes of printed old articles and all. "All of this. It doesn't add up. How did none of this get leaked to the press? How did no one know?"

Carlise, who had always been smiling kindly at me, unlike the cold face Rosalie puts on, does not smile now.

"Why does the press need to know? Why does anyone need to know?"

I felt the words stumbling to come out of my throat. "I'm sorry. So..."

I have been long suspicious about this, about it since Bridget Wu had showed up. About the way Maeve had been describing things. But have I ever suspected it before listening to these recordings? Never, she hid it too well.

"Maeve was gay?"

Carlise's eyes look sullen. She doesn't answer me, instead, she looks out toward the window. The city of Beijing being overlooked, morning just starting to hit.

I fish around through my laptop, going back and forth through my notes. "I am to write Maeve's biography, and a lot of things that's happened..." I carefully pick my words. "Isn't what I expected to hear. So, in this biography, is Maeve to come out as a homosexual?"

Her eyes darted back to me the moment that last word left my mouth. The kind lines around her mouth that has been creased from smiling turns into something so serious, something I'd never expect from Carlise.

"Don't...don't use that word. That word was referred from those who thought homosexuality as a disease, an aberration. They used that word to defer and name us for years. It's more of a word I'd want to throw away. Don't use that."

The "us" sticks out so seemingly clear, and I looked at her for any explanation. But I couldn't read her, and realizing what I have done, I quickly apologize, swallowing the bile that's formed in my throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend anyone."