Carnival Souls

Why We Can't Be Friends

"Done me in like Baleros?" Lira snorted and pulled the bracelet over her hand, pulling it snug around her wrist. "Some comfort."

"Don't underestimate the position that puts you in. Bebinn needs you—this proves it. She doesn't hold as many strings as you think."

Atlas patted her knee, soft as the flutter of a bird's wings, and rose to walk over to her desk. "Besides, you'll get another of your wishes."

"What are you talking about?"

"If you are going to be working closely with Bebinn, it's likely you'll work closely with Lydia as well."

"Oh," said Lira. She had forgotten all about the need to see the secretive servant. "Yeah, right."

"I'll ask Mitsi to make you some tea," offered Atlas. "Everything will look brighter in the morning after a good rest."

#

Owen was sitting in the dining room picking at an afternoon snack when Atlas stepped into the room. She walked over to the small service window that connected the kitchen to the dining room and spoke to Mitsi. He nodded once and turned to the stove.

Atlas wandered over to Owen's table, her fingers trailing lazily along the smooth wooden surface. She came to a stop across from him and sat down. "How are you, Owen?"

"Oh, living out my dream of being a spiritual wood-carver," he said. He held out his bowl of mixed nuts, which Atlas politely declined. She knotted her fingers together instead.

"For some people, this is a dream," she said.

Owen swallowed, his eyes watering as a dried bit of cashew caught in his throat. He coughed and took a sip of water. "Lira told me about your—what I mean is, I understand why you said what you said that day. I'm sorry for losing my temper. Even if I do disagree."

Atlas spread her hands, revealing the sharp red marks fragmenting her copper skin. Owen resisted the urge to look at the marks on his own hands. "Agree to disagree," she said, giving him the ghost of a smile.

"Right," said Owen. He pretended to search the bowl for another cashew, not knowing what to say next. He was generally good at small-talk having perfected the art to distract people from staring at Ethan, but Atlas didn't seem the type to make idle conversation. She spoke with a purpose.

"There are those who don't realize it until later," she continued. "For some it can be a blessing in disguise."

"For some, maybe," said Owen mildly.

"You may think I'm an outlier, but the truth is everyone here has a reason for being here. Everyone has the opportunity of being happy here. They wouldn't be here if their lives weren't missing something."

"And they didn't have very specific talents," Owen pointed out. He didn't want this to dissolve into another argument and he certainly didn't want Atlas taking stabs at what was supposedly missing from his life.

"There are other wood carvers, other musicians, other cooks," said Atlas. "But there's a reason why we were chosen. We were given a chance to start over. How many people get that chance?"

"It's not a chance if its not a choice. It's not a choice if it's by force."

Atlas sighed and took a handful of nuts. She rolled them between her hands like a sand shaker but didn't bring them to her mouth. "Some people don't know they have a choice. It sits in front of them, waiting, fading until it disappears. Sometimes, people need help with choices they can't see."

Owen popped another almond in his mouth, the sound of it cracking between his teeth filling his ears and blocking out Atlas's voice momentarily. They would never agree on this and the more they went around in conversation circles, the more likely it was to spiral down into a fight. He was saved from trying to find a diplomatic exit when Mitsi came over and set a mug of steaming tea in front of Atlas. Despite his instincts telling him to let it go, he directed his next question at the chef.

"Mitsi, if you had a choice, would you stay here or go home?"

Atlas's eyes flashed to Mitsi who had half-turned to walk away and he glanced back at her as he turned slowly back around. The question seemed to catch him off guard, but he tried to hide it with a strained smile.

"Is that a trick question? Am I on candid camera?"

"Nope," said Owen easily. "Just friendly conversation."

Mitsi shifted his weight from one foot to the other and his fingers tapped against his leg as though his hands didn't know what to do if they weren't cooking. "I do miss home," he said slowly. "But this place isn't so bad most of the time. All I ever wanted to do was cook, and I get to do that here. But, it would be nice to see my parents...my brother..." Mitsi trailed off. He glanced at Atlas again and shrugged before walking back towards the kitchen.

Atlas moved toward her, the sound drawing Owen's attention back to her. "I didn't really come to talk about you," said Atlas as thought Mitsi had never been there. "I came to talk about Lira."

"What about her? Is she okay?" Owen asked. All other thoughts were suddenly pushed from his mind. She hadn't yet returned from her talk with Bebinn and the longer she was gone the more he worried.

Atlas smiled. "I'm glad you care for her. She needs all the friends she can get."

"What do you mean?"

"Lira had a very lonely home life. Her greatest strength is also her greatest weakness. She feels like an outsider even within her own family. I've been trying to make her see that she doesn't have to be lonely. And you help—to an extent."

"What extent?"

"You two obviously get along well. You make her see that she can have friends. But you also remind her of where she came from."

"Yes, our world," Owen emphasized.

Atlas ignored him. "Would you consider yourself Lira's friend?" she asked instead.

"Of course," said Owen.

Atlas stood up, the mug of tea clasped between her hands. "Then answer this last question. Who will be her friend if she goes home?"