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Cesare was about to head back to the wagon, when he noticed a light on in the window of the ornate house, which, at this hour, should have been off. He turned, staring up at it and wondering why the light was on, and why the figure in the window kept pacing back and forth. He’d be back before sunrise, he decided; they’d be leaving tomorrow, and while he didn’t understand what was going on, he figured he would at least say goodbye to someone who may have been his friend. He wasn’t sure if she was really his friend or not- after all, they had gotten off to far worse than a rough start- but their last meeting had gone well enough (or at least, as well as the circumstances would allow), and he didn’t have a lot of friends.
He crept once again to the window, habit compelling him to break it, when he remembered she’d told him to knock instead. He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, so instead, he extended a hand, scratching his nails slowly against the glass to produce a horrible grating noise, staring unblinkingly through the window all the while.
She startled, then turned around to see him, threw something on over her shoulders, and opened the window.
“It’s you again,” she said, seemingly in disbelief. “Would you… would you like to come in?”
He nodded, crawling into the window and sitting down on the floor, his long legs awkwardly crossed. “You… are… not… sleeping,” he said.
She sighed. “I should be, shouldn’t I? The truth is, I can’t sleep.” She closed the window. “It feels weird, but I’m actually glad you’re here. I just need someone to talk to.”
He blinked, tilting his head.
She sighed. “Francis and I are getting married tomorrow,” she said. “I finally said yes.”
“What is… married?”
“Oh, how do I put this? It’s when you give yourself to someone else, forever, and-”
“No!” Cesare gasped, clutching his hair and trembling. “You will… have to live… in a box! And- and do whatever someone tells you- and- and eat bad porridge-”
“It’s not like that!” Jane insisted, reaching for his shoulders to calm him. He flinched away. “People who love each other get married, and they live together, and maybe even start a family. It’s not… ” She sighed. “It’s not supposed to make you feel…trapped.”
He looked up. “You don’t… feel…trapped?” He spat out the last word, as if it were a particularly odious curse. “Belonging… to someone?”
“It’s not literal,” she said. “I mean, it’ll be okay. Francis and I love each other; it’s just… I don’t know if I want to marry him, at least not now.”
“And live… in a box,” Cesare nodded with attempted sagacity.
“No, I won’t live in a box.” She looked around. “At least, I hope it won’t feel like that. Maybe things will actually be better than they are now. For one, people won’t keep asking me when I’m getting married, and maybe we’ll even move out of here. We both have a pretty good reason to leave Holstenwall, considering everything that’s happened- no offense.” She continued to pace. “God, I still can’t believe I’m talking to you.”
Cesare watched in confusion as Jane took a breath, walking over to a wardrobe.
“Look at this,” she said. “I’m going to have to wear it tomorrow; can you imagine?” She opened the doors, revealing a white dress, trimmed with black lace and complete with striped, billowing sleeves. “I wish we could have at least gotten one out of town, but everyone insisted on buying one here. You can tell it’s been made in Holstenwall; looks like whoever sewed it did it with their eyes closed.”
“Sleep…walking,” Cesare nodded gravely.
Jane laughed. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humour,” she said.
“What’s… that?”
“Never mind. After I take this thing out and put it on tomorrow, everyone’s going to be staring at me. There will be all this- this fanfare, bells ringing, too much attention… I don’t know if I can handle that; it’s like-”
“Side… show,” Cesare gasped, mesmerized by the way the dress was positioned inside the wardrobe, its sleeves hanging limply on either side of it. His hand shaking, he reached towards it, then recoiled. “At… the carnival.”
“Cesare!” she gasped, anger in her voice. Cesare flinched.
Jane softened. “You’re right,” she said. “That’s exactly what it’ll feel like. But- afterwards, it’ll be okay. I’ll start a new life. Things will be better.” She closed the wardrobe. “I just wish it didn’t have to happen right away. I mean, I guess there’s a lot of things I don’t want to happen right away. But given my father’s position in town, and the fact that I’m his only daughter… there’s just so much I’ve had to do.” She straightened. “Look presentable, be polite to every man who shows up to court me, keep my emotions bottled up…”
Cesare nodded. “Do what… he tells me. Kill. Sleep.”
“Be witty in conversation, but not enough to make them think you’re smarter than them-”
“Stay… in the box… unless… he calls me-”
“Laugh at their jokes, but not too loud; then they’ll find you obnoxious-”
“Let him… touch me… cannot… disobey…”
“And no matter how impossible it feels, always remember that you need to be-”
“...Perfect.”
Jane looked at Cesare, the way he stood with his feet together and arms at his sides, as if at attention. His eyes stared ahead, gazing at nothing. Although she once found them frightening, she’d never noticed the fear behind them, simultaneously piercing and pained. “I guess I don’t have a right to complain,” she said. “Not when you’ve had it worse than I do.”
Cesare didn’t answer, or even look at her.
“I didn’t mean to remind you of anything; I just… I’m afraid. And the thing is, I don’t even know why; I like Francis. I think we could live together- but I just don’t feel… ” She headed back to the window, and gasped. “I just had an idea,” she said. “I know it sounds weird, but… do you think we could maybe take a walk together? Not like last time, but- as friends?”
Cesare’s head snapped towards her. “Friends?”
“Yes. We can even go onto the roofs, if you want-”
“No… touching,” he shook his head.
“Oh, not at all.” She shuddered. “I’ll just walk with you; it’ll be all right. We won’t be out for very long; you don’t have to be afraid.”
“Why…do… you… want… ?”
“Please,” she said. “I just want to know what being free feels like.”
He’d crawled across many rooftops, and had never once felt free while doing so; in fact, he didn’t feel much of anything- except for last time, when there was just panic and exhaustion. He didn’t quite understand, but if he declined, would she still want to be friends? Or would she do something to hurt him? Would she do that, even though she seemed to understand? He glanced at the wardrobe again, and twitched. Finally, he headed to the window and pushed it open.
“Come,” he said, and slipped through the frame.
She followed him out, staring at the sea of crooked rooftops that stretched before them. Uneasily, she made her way onto the closest one, her legs shaking as she struggled to keep her balance.
“No!” Cesare snapped. “You… walk… wrong.”
“Well, how do you suggest I walk?”
“Like… this.”
He stole to the side of the roof that jutted out beside him, placing his hand on the shingles. Carefully, he took slow, even steps, his hand trailing across the surface. He seemed at home among the material, but inside felt a sense of dread; after all, he was used to holding a knife in the hand that wasn’t touching the roof. He looked back at Jane, who attempted to mirror his movements, but did so clumsily, looking down at her feet all the while. Something felt very wrong about someone emulating him, especially here. He wasn’t supposed to be emulated.
“I think I’m actually getting it,” she said, clinging to the roof. “This is actually… This is amazing. Is this how you get around everywhere?”
“Not… anymore.”
Under the stars, something about Holstenwall had changed to Jane. No longer did it seem to be a nightmarish, foreboding prison, but from above, the distorted houses and jutting streetlamps seemed to take on a surreal beauty all their own. “Look,” she said, pointing. “There’s where Francis lives, and there’s the town hall, and there’s-”
“The… asylum,” Cesare whispered, pressed against the side of the roof they were standing on.
“Is that where you…?”
“Do not… say… it!”
She gasped. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hit a sore spot. I’m- I’m glad you’re free now. It must feel… ” She looked up, standing at the edge of the roof as she looked out at the town below them. She recognized each twisting sidewalk, each misshapen door, but from this angle, it didn’t feel like the same stifling mass of ramshackle buildings and skeletal trees she had grown up with. “It must feel… like this.”
“No,” Cesare insisted. “This… is not… how free… feels.” He took a shaky look back, then stretched out his arms, gracefully stepping across the roof, swaying dreamily to a strange rhythm only he could hear.
“What are you-” Jane started, before realizing he was dancing, his movements almost painfully delicate.
“This,” he said, arching backwards as he stood on one foot, the other leg poised in the air behind him, “is…what... free… is.”
“Oh,” she smiled, and, just to see how it felt, began to dance as well, at first shaky and timid, but growing bolder as she took a few steps, arms raised and toes pointed, all feelings of awkward self-consciousness melting away as she followed his movements, then began to invent her own. They stepped and whirled past each other on the roof, exhilarated and emboldened by a mutual sense of lightness each had longed for.
“You’re right,” she gasped. “This does feel good!” Jane laughed, executing a twirl. “I must look very strange right now- but I’m free!” She cupped her hands, shouting into the open air. “Do you hear that, Holstenwall? Jane Olsen is free!”
She caught her breath, sitting down on the roof. “You know,” she said, “I used to feel like this, actually. Back when Alan and Francis and I were all kids. We grew up together, playing games and doing- well, silly stuff like this. And then...”
Cesare crouched down next to her, staring into the distance.
“Then we got older. I just wanted things to go back to normal, but they wouldn’t act normal around me. They were always trying to impress me, doing and saying things that just felt… fake. You see that wall over there?” She pointed. “I kissed Francis once, behind that wall. Before everything changed. It was the only time I kissed him, and I felt so bad for Alan, because he was always so very sweet, and I meant to tell him, but…” She glanced at Cesare, who looked down. “I never had the chance.”
“I… am… sorry,” Cesare muttered.
“Why’d you think he asked you that? Do you remember, when he asked you… how long he had to live?”
“Don’t… remember.”
“Oh- well, he did- and then you… I know you didn’t mean to. It was that horrible man who was controlling you. That’s whose fault it was. But- it was such a strange question, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. I wonder if Alan was really unhappy; maybe that’s why he asked you that. I never would have thought; maybe he felt trapped, too.” She tightened her shawl. “You know, when Francis and I get married, I hope things will go back to normal between us, but I don’t know if they ever will. But… maybe one night, before we leave town, I’ll take him up here, and I’ll dance with him, too. Then he’ll know how I feel. And then, I’ll tell him everything I told you. We’ll start over.”
Cesare looked at her, feet swinging off the side of the roof as he sat placidly, for once calm instead of tense and poised for motion. “I think…” he said, yawning, “I think we are both free now.”