MirrorMirror

26 / What and Who

Isn't silence meant to be golden?

That's what they say. They? Who knows? But silence is, supposedly, as golden as Jason's fleece. Or the egg laid by Aesop's goose. Or the Grimm Brothers' goose itself.

Is it, though?

If you have a hectic life, full of frantic frolics (try saying that five times fast when drunk), silence can be golden, diamond, or more precious than either. If you're the parent of equally frantic children, that lack of noise can be terrifying. If you're communicating with the dead, and text counts as sound, its absence can be... well. What was it? Scary? Perhaps. Concerning? Definitely.

Cassidy was getting used to the gaps in Amy's comments. She would stop, yes, because she was tired. Her lack of development because of the stagnation from no interaction was draining. She'd admitted that. She also held back because of offence or, he assumed, contemplation.

It was infuriating, though. He was talking to a dead girl! Didn't she owe him a response when he spoke to her?

No. She owed him nothing. His presence may well have awoken her in the first place. She could have been happy in her stasis, and it was he who owed her. An apology, for instance.

She could still sack off this making him wait. What was the point? Was it for effect? Well, great. It was effective, initially. Now, it was annoying. OK, it was annoying from the off. He was being generous.

"Do you remember what happened?" he prompted.

She wanted to speak to him as much as the other way around, right?

Yes.

I remember everything.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

No.

I don't.

That was understandable, though not the answer he wanted. If she corroborated Jazz's story, then it would prove she was who she said she was. He would, finally and fully, believe her. Believe in her.

"I just want to help," he said.

With what?

"With... you. Your situation. I dunno. With whatever you need help with."

But why?

Why would you want to help me?

"You were a friend of my sister's. She said..." It was his turn to pause, the information he was about to divulge embarrassing him. "Apparently, I had a crush on you."

You did?

On me?

"Yes. I don't really remember myself. It's her words, not mine."

The emoji face appeared. The mouth was a horizontal line of ambiguity. As Cass watched, the edges of the line moved upwards into a smile, then another line separated from the first, producing an open, grinning mouth. The animation continued, creating an obvious image of laughter.

Oh, so damned funny. Bloody hilarious.

"I don't know why you're laughing," he said sulkily. "She might have been just taking the piss."

No, she's not.

I knew at the time.

It was adorable.

"Adorable? Fuck off!"

His petulance wasn't real, or not completely. Even though he had no recollection of having any feelings for Amy, the thought that his younger self liked her was adorable in a way. Stomach churningly so, as it may be.