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The high of the party was starting to die down. some had retreated to their room, others stayed behind in their little groups.
In one corner, José, Kevin and Demi were drinking while laughing at the jokes being shared. In another corner, Patricia, Eli and Fiona were huddled over, deep in discussion. Must be an other-worldly thing, thought Vera. No, thought Chloe.
Ugh.
Vera’s head throbbed slightly at the memory. She let out a breath as she continue swirling her red wine.
She was a little tipsy — she was usually good at withholding her emotions, but now, she can feel them threatening to pour out. Maybe it is not wise to stay here any longer.
Vera picked her glass up and headed towards the rose garden. It was night time, not many would visit the garden this late. She hoped to find some solace in the solitude that awaited her.
Except “solace” turned out to be a person — in the form of the quiet Embalmer. He was seated on the bench, unmoving. Vera was not sure what he was doing, but it was unlikely he would initiate a conversation with her. If she was lucky enough, he would even leave the moment she sat down on the same bench. Either was better than staying in the hall anyway.
She entered the garden and made her way to the bench. Not bothering to greet him, she simply sat on the other end of the bench, and took a sip of her wine.
They sat in silence for a while. It was a little unsettling, but Vera quite liked it. The feeling of knowing someone is there, but not needing to acknowledge their presence.
“…Good evening, Miss Nair.” Ah, she spoke too soon.
“A wonderful evening it is, Monsieur Carl.” She replied lazily, eyes remained on her wine.
A brief silence and then some shuffling sounds from the Embalmer. Even without looking, Vera could tell he was struggling to speak up. It seems, he had something to say, but did not know how to say it.
“Don’t worry too much about it, what do you want to say?” Vera’s candid comment threw Aesop off-guard. No turning back now.
He took a deep breath, and then looked at Vera as he asked.
“Do you hate your name?” Vera’s breath hitched. Her eyes blown open, but remained trained on her glass. It was an unusual question.
“Well, do you like it?” A curveball, that should deter him from probing further. Or so Vera thought.
“I… think it’s quite a beautiful name.” Aesop replied earnestly.
Hmm. Interesting.
“What about…” Her voice trailed off. The question came out before she thought about it. She caught herself just in time, but something in her was feeling brave. Something in her wanted to ask the question. It might be the alcohol, or it might be Aesop’s honest and gentle demeanour. Vera did not know, but she decided to take the risk.
“What about the name “Chloe”? What do you think of it?” For the first time that night, Vera turned to look at Aesop.
“Oh…” Now it was Aesop’s turn to look away.
“It’s a beautiful name too. It seems to fit a gentle and caring person.” Aesop mused. Vera could see in his eyes that he meant what he said. Her heart skipped a beat.
No, what was she thinking? Without skipping a beat, she huffed, “No, it’s the name of a murderer.”
Silence filled the space between them. Vera’s heart started beating faster. Some things were probably better left unsaid.
Aesop was about to respond, but Vera jumped in before he could.
“Why do you ask? About my name.”
Aesop hummed slightly.
“We had a match together the other day, at The Red Church. Martha and I were waiting for you at the gate. When we saw you approaching, Martha called out for you — and in that moment, I saw something flickered in your eyes. You hesitated, fumbled and the hunter caught up to you.”
Vera remembered that match. She just did not expect Aesop to catch on her weakness.
“Martha thought she had startled you, but the look in your eyes told me otherwise. In another instance,” The wind blew gently and a brownish-yellow leaf floated gently onto Aesop’s lap as he spoke. He picked it up and twirled it in his fingers as he continued.
“In the dining hall, I remember Miss Dorval calling out to you. And I saw that you flinched, ever so slightly. I thought about it for a bit, and could only come to a conclusion that you hated your name. But that was what I could not understand.”
Aesop gave the leaf to Vera and she eyed it. It was a pretty leaf, too bad it was already dead. She took it from his hand and gave it a little twirl.
“Can you keep a secret?” It was definitely the alcohol pushing her this time. Or, the fact that Aesop’s presence was very comforting. Vera had not felt such warmth in a long time. Ironically, coming from one of the coldest person in the manor.
“Vera… Vera was beautiful, but just like this leaf, she’s dead.” Vera could feel Aesop’s confusion. She let go of the leaf and let it drop to the ground.
“Vera was my twin sister.” She then continued to speak her story, about how she was born Chloe Nair, twin sister to Vera Nair. She talked about how Vera had always been the outgoing twin, and how everyone loved her, whereas she was the quiet and weird one that everyone shunned.
It got to the part where she talked about her perfumes, and how Vera had tried to help her, but she misunderstood her good intentions and ended up killing her out of jealousy.
Vera was her only friend, her only supporter, her twin sister.
Yet, she had killed her.
“Chloe is not a gentle nor caring person, she’s a murderer who killed the only person who ever mattered to her.” Chloe let her tears fall. Sniffles were heard and her grip on her wine glass tightened, the little sip of wine left inside trembling along with her hands.
The was no reaction from Aesop for a while. An unsettling silence save for Chloe’s sniffles.
After what felt like forever, she felt a shift in the bench and suddenly, a warmth beside her. Aesop had moved over closer to her side, leaving only a small gap between them.
He took the wine glass from her, then placed his gloved hand gently on hers.
“I still think Chloe is a gentle and caring person.”
He let go, only to pull his mask down so he could finish the wine.
“A wine glass is always better when it’s filled with wine.” He swiveled the glass between his fingers tenderly, letting the moonlight hit the rim, reflecting a small glimmer off of it.
“Chloe… Is like this empty wine glass. Beautiful on its own, but even better when there’s wine in it. In this case, love.”
He turned to look at her once again, this time he looked into her eyes, straight into her soul.
Maybe she had too much to drink. Maybe her heart was overruling her brain. She reached out and cupped Aesop’s face, tilted her head up and kissed him gently on his lips.
He did not flinch, he did not retaliate. After the shock wore off, he pressed his lips back against hers tenderly, dropping the wine glass so he could reach up and hold on to her hand.
The glass fell onto the grass with a soft thud. It did not shatter, but there was a little crack.
A flaw on a once unblemished surface
A small crack on a once perfect façade.
Nothing a little love can’t fix.