What Divides Us

            “Look what I brought for you!” Candace says in a sing-song voice as she sprawls her twiggy body onto my navy bed and her blonde hair bounces in it ponytail.  Other than Caleb, she is the only other person that I trust.  Even though she acts just like a crazy adolescent, she’s the closest thing I’ve had to a mother figure.  She practically raised me.  She yells at my instructors when they work me too hard and she tutors me when I feel overwhelmed with schoolwork that my private tutor has assigned me.  Sometimes I, the killing machine, am filled with the anguish of not having parents or not being able to live a normal life, but during those dark times, Candace is always there comforting me and that’s why I love her.

            Pushing my gooey, sentimental feelings aside, I cross my fingers and I desperately hope that within her large tote bag, a OTs-38 Stechkin silent revolver was aching to be in my hands.  Much to my disappointment, various teen and fashion magazines are shoved into my hands.  The contrast of the teens on the cover and I were almost humorous.  Observing their frilly skirts and lacy tops makes me snort in revulsion.  Those outfits did not look comfortable in the least.  Since I had just returned from my mission only an hour ago, I was still dressed in my uniform.  Basically, it consists of a pair of black cargo pants, a black skin tight sport jacket, plus my combat boots.  No, we don’t wear trench coats or anything weird like on television.

            I crinkle my nose.  “Why did you get me those?” I ask not bothering to keep the disgust out of my voice.           

            She chuckles darkly, which frightens me slightly.  “I have a feeling that you will need them soon.” 

            I furrow my brows in confusion, but shrug it off.  She’s like a hormonal teen, you never know what they’re talking about.  Her dark aura evaporates as she flips through the magazines, every so often pointing to a picture and showing it to me.  In return I nodded vigorously and go back to picking at my split ends, waiting for Caleb to come back.  She stops abruptly and a devious smile forms on her face. 

            “Let’s take a quiz!” she squeals.

            Not wanting to hurt her feelings, I comply.  “Fine.”

            “Yay!  It’s called ‘Does he like me?’ First question,” she pauses dramatically, as if it would somehow spark my interest.  It didn’t.  “Has your guy friend ever tried to make you laugh?”

            My only guy friend is Caleb, so I guess that’s how I’ll base all of my answers.  “Umm, yeah, I guess?”

            She scribbles on the page and then looks up at me.  “Has he ever tried to touch you?”

            I give her a horrified look.  “What the hell??” I screech.

            She stifles a laugh.  “I mean like has he ever tried to hold your hand, wrestled with you, punched you playfully, or anything like that?”

            I ponder for a moment.  We seem to punch each other often, usually in frustration.  We also wrestle frequently which results in me pinning him to the ground.  He’s held my hand when dragging me to the Director’s office, to prevent me from running away.  He’s also held me back when I was about to beat this other agent to a pulp.  “Yes.  He touches me a lot.”

            “Does he smile at you and laugh at your lame jokes?”