He had almost disappeared down the hallway toward his rooms when Evey called after him, “V? Can you tell me where you hide the wine?”
“It would be better if I showed you. This way.” She trotted up to his side and took his hand as if they were strolling in the park. Her resiliency surprised him. She should still be angry, but she clearly wasn’t. Once again Evey had forgiven the unforgivable and loved him in spite of himself.
Still contemplating his good fortune V led her to a closet and opened the door. Her brow knitted in confusion, but then he pushed the wall of the closet and it opened.
“Very sneaky, V.” She scolded through a smile.
“Unintentional I assure you. I needed a closet and I don’t go back here very often. It made sense at the time.” He said as he stepped through the doorway and switched on the light.
“Wow.” Evey exclaimed as she took in the great length of the tunnel and the number of doors coming off it.
V moved to the first door and pushed it open. The contents did not represent even half the alcohol supply in the Gallery. “For all his talk of warm milk, Sulter appears to have been a lush behind closed doors.”
“This is amazing.” Evey said as she stepped into the room her neck craning up to look at case stacked upon case of wine piled to the ceiling. Turning her attention back to the hallway she asked, “What’s down there?”
“Storerooms.” V remembered filling the rooms and the thought of it made his back ache.
“Can I look?”
“Of course you may. What’s mine is yours.” He responded, knowing she had already begun to explore. He had seen her trail in the dust. She is so like you. She has not lied, but she has neatly skated past the truth. You could call her out, but it would serve no purpose. She knows you know and through your silence she knows you don’t mind. How odd to say so little and convey so much.
V’s thoughts were interrupted when she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. It surprised him, but his body was on automatic pilot and before he had time to process a response his lips were returning her kiss. Just as his brain caught up with his body and he was actively engaged, she broke away. “Go change. I’ll meet you in the kitchen with champagne and a willingness to chop veggies.”
VEV
It felt fantastic to kiss him. It felt even better to be kissed back. He would have stood there all night snogging she knew, but she had once again broken her own rule. His time table had not called for kissing. Hers had. Move slower. Let him initiate, she reminded herself as she carried two bottles back to the kitchen.
When he joined her V looked like a ninja, clad in black from head to toe. His shirt was a second skin revealing every ripple of muscle and the trousers were wide and loose on his hips. Once again only his lips were visible which made them a bull’s eye target. His pace, move at his pace, she reminded herself again.
When he stepped around the counter he made an elegant bow and said, “Command me, madam.”
He only played when he was feeling confident and pleased with himself. It had been a long time since Evey had seen this mood. Happy to play along, Evey put on her poshest accent and commanded, “Prepare the roast beast.”
“As you wish, my lady.” He said and she could not only hear the smile in his voice she could see it on his lips. He had perfect teeth. Expensively perfect. Braces perfect. What was his childhood like?
As she considered the past, V set the roast on the counter and pulled a knife from a drawer. He took his time inspecting its edge. Where did he learn so much about knives? How did he memorize so much Shakespeare? Where did his perfect manners come from?
“You volunteered to chop did you not?” V asked, flipping the knife in his hand he presented her the hilt with his head bowed.
“Did you always know Latin?” The question popped out and she inwardly cringed, certain she had destroyed his good humor.
“Yes.” He withdrew the knife and leaned against the counter behind him with his head cocked to the left.
Posture indicated he was not upset by the question and her curiosity flowed on. “And fencing, did you always know that?”
“Yes, Evey.” He nodded.
“How did you learn to make bombs?”
“I’ve no idea where the knowledge for the first one came from. Subsequent efforts were refined by renewed study.”
“Oh.” She muttered as he turned his attention back to the roast. Stop asking questions. Let him be.
With his back to her he continued, “Eclectic is it not? I often wonder what possessed me to study pyrotechnics alongside literature. It’s an odd pairing if I do say so myself.”
“A true renaissance man.” She smiled glad her interrogation had not upset him.
V turned back toward her and allowed her to see the slight smile on his face. “It is an uneasy lot at best, to be what we call highly taught and yet not to enjoy: to be present at this great spectacle of life and never to be liberated from a small hungry shivering self--never to be fully possessed by the glory we behold, never to have our consciousness rapturously transformed into the vividness of a thought, the ardor of a passion, the energy of an action, but always to be scholarly and uninspired, ambitious and timid, scrupulous and dim-sighted.” (24)
“You are anything but uninspired or timid, V.” Evey scolded.
He shook his head. “Perhaps only a little dim-sighted and scholarly. But why dwell on the past or wallow in present failings?” Once again he held the knife hilt out to her. “Might you would see fit to keep your earlier promise to chop the vegetables?”
Smiling Evey reminded him, “I am not the knife expert in this house.”
He chuckled as he made a complicated flourish with the knife before driving the tip of it into the chop block with a loud thud. “I see. Perhaps you would be good enough to open the champagne?”
“That I can do.”
As Evey tried to remove the foil from one of the bottles V looked up from what he was doing and sniffed the air. “Your cookies are burning.”
“Oh bollocks.” Evey moaned as she reached for an oven mitt and pulled out a tray of charred cookies.
V laughed and turned on the air vent. While she sulked he finished opening the champagne and handed her a glass with a smirk on his lips.
“I feel like an idiot.” She took a sip and leaned against the counter. It figured when she tried to impress him with her culinary talent it would go spectacularly wrong.
“There is only one idiot in this room and it is certainly not you.” His head was down making her fear his mood had swung to the morose.
Beating herself over the head for being so insensitive with her questions and hoping to stave off his misery Evey moved over beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Maybe we’re both idiots and that’s why we work.”
His arm came around her and he pulled her in tighter. “Or perhaps we simply balance each other.”
VEV
V hurried through his chopping. The pieces he cut were not as even as they usually were, but he decided vegetable symmetry was not important. He was nervous and nothing was ever as perfect as it could be when he was feeling shaky.
He was close to completing the preparations for supper. Evey’s cookies were done and she was sitting on a stool watching him as she sipped champagne. V had three potatoes to go and then they were on to the next step in Evey’s holiday marathon. Nap time.
Though she called it a nap, which by definition involved sleeping, V was fairly certain sleep was not her intention. Being desired was a new sensation and one he could not quite comprehend. The possibility she would be repulsed and refuse him no longer existed. She had seen and accepted every ugly truth he could dig up about himself. She asked questions out of interest and concern and she accepted the answers without judgment. She loved him. It was no longer a wish or a hope, but a reality. If he thought about it too long it sent him reeling.
“We can clean later. It’s nap time.” She said the moment his knife sliced through the last potato.
“As you wish.” He said stripping off wet, dirty gloves after a moment’s hesitation. His hands were horrible, scarred worse than anywhere else. A second fire had undone all the work of the burn center. It was accidental, a careless mistake. He put them behind his back, out of sight, but Evey grabbed one and looked up at him with an encouraging smile.
“Come on.” She pulled and he followed. V could not understand why the texture of his hand did not bother her the way it bothered him. Looking down at her perfectly formed hand engulfed in his deformed one, V almost pulled away from her. She doesn’t care. She never has, this is your problem.
At the door to his bedroom Evey paused. “There is no graceful way to do this so I will just out with it. If you would like company I would be happy to oblige. However, if you want to sleep alone, that’s okay too. I know you’re exhausted.”
“Evey, I…”
“It’s okay. I love you and it is okay. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” She squeezed his hand and started to turn away.
V held on. “Had I been allowed to finish, I would have invited you to join me.”
A smile bloomed on her face. “I see. You would have. Does this mean I am uninvited now?”
“Of course not.”
Immediately she removed her white hoodie, revealing a very small red camisole and slipped into his bed. Apparently she expected some sort of dilemma because she immediately informed him of her intentions. “I promise not to molest you.”
V hesitated for just a moment wondering if not being molested was a good thing. He was fairly certain it wasn’t, but if he wanted more than a nap it was apparently up to him to make that happen. Scenes from hundreds of stories danced in his imagination, each giving him a different impression of what he was supposed to do next but none of them strong enough to guide him.
Evey solved his problem by holding out one arm and patting her chest with the other hand. “Your head goes right here.”
He obliged, shifting halfway onto his stomach and resting his head over her heart in mimicry of all the times she had done the same to him. Her arms came around him and one hand rested on the back of his head while the other rested on his shoulder.
She shifted a little under him and then sighed. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Do you?”
He could feel her smiling against his forehead. “Yes, I do. I owe you an apology because my timing was very bad and I want you to know we’re moving at your pace from here on. Whenever you’re ready, I’m willing…but not right now. Right now I need some sleep.”
He could not think of a response, but apparently she did not need one. Evey kissed the top of his head and said, “Sweet dreams.”
V did not think he would sleep, but the line between reality and dream began to fade and before long he tasted the first sleep he had had in several days.
VEV
Evey lay awake listening to V breathe. She figured he would be tired and she had been right. Anguish was exhausting. She was tired too but the novelty of having him so close made sleep impossible.
Long ago she had equated physical closeness with security. Falling asleep in her mother’s arms was the greatest comfort she ever knew. Later JRC taught her that closeness could be dangerous too. Bad things happened there, but in spite of the price she inevitably paid, Evey never gave up looking for the security she had felt when wrapped in another’s arms. Over and over again she had been used and then abandoned but still she kept trying.
She didn’t have to try anymore. At least not in the same way. She was not the child seeking comfort, but the mother offering it to a reluctant child. Bad analogy, you do not want to be his mother.
Still, V didn’t remember the safety of an embrace. He had no mother, no father, no sisters or brothers. There was no one who gave him comfort or offered him security. He associated people with pain. He tried not to. She knew he did, but the hurts he had suffered were as deeply rooted in his psyche as her memories of love and kindness.
Yet here he was, asleep in her arms, trusting her with his secrets and his body, trusting her when he did not even trust himself.
“I love you.” She mouthed the words not wanting to wake him and ruin the moment.
It was as if he heard because he snuggled against her in his sleep. His face was buried in the crook of her neck.
Evey’s hand ran down his back. She was risking becoming a projectile again, but V didn’t stir. Taking an even greater risk she let her hand roam further down his spine to the curve of his very squeezable bottom. This earned her a sigh but nothing more.
He knows he’s safe, she thought, perilously close to over confidence. He knows I love him. She kissed his masked forehead wishing this final barrier could be removed. One step at a time, Evey. Be patient.
As she basked in the glow of his trust she heard the distant buzz of the oven announcing supper. V, usually so alert, did not move.
Evey smiled telling herself a week ago she would be in a heap on the floor across the room. Doubt flickered, reminding her that what she thought of as trust might simply be exhaustion. No, he trusts me.
In a perfect world she would have slipped out, turned off the oven and then slipped back into bed without being noticed, but he was half on top of her and she could not move unless she woke him.
She tried to ignore the sound, but it grated on her nerves and Evey began worrying. First Christmas, first roast beast, first meal together…it was too important to ruin. She would have to wake him.
“V?” She spoke close to his ear.
His head shot up and he was sitting in bed before she knew what was happening. He glanced over at her and then sank back into the pillows with a yawn. “Roast is done, it seems.”
Evey leaned over him, thought about kissing him, reminded herself about her promise not to press and with a sigh reached across him to turn on the light. “Phase three of Operation Christmas is about to commence. Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
Looking at him, her Jacobean ninja posed against the pillows like the cover of a very odd romance novel, Evey had a hard time containing herself. I want him. God, do I want him. No, you promised. Maybe I could just kiss him. There’s no harm in a kiss, is there? No there isn’t. He wouldn’t mind. He’d like it. He liked it in the hallway. It isn’t really pushing. Not really. It’s just kissing. He’s thinking about it too. Look at him. Come on V, kiss me.
It felt like an eternity as she waited for him to make a move. It was as if she could hear the wheels turning in his head. Just as it seemed he would reach for her, V pulled back the covers and asked, “Shall we eat?”
“Oh yes, I’m starving.” Evey tried to sound chipper.
VEV
V found eating with Evey delightful. It was such a common thing shared by people all over the world, but he had never done it before. The closest he came to eating with someone was when the feeding tube was removed at hospital and a nurse had helped him eat the first real food, if you could call Jello food, he’d had in months.
V pushed the memory aside, recognizing it for the sink hole it was. He did not want to live in the past tonight. He wanted to enjoy the present.
Evey looked so happy sitting across the table from a burned man in a mask. He did not like her looking proudly at him as though a simple dinner was some sort of accomplishment. Surely it had not always been like this. It must have been normal once. He must have been normal once.
You ate meals with your family Before. He looked across at her. She is reliving her past with you. These are her family’s traditions. You stole this from her. Shame followed and he fought it off by making his most common emotional transaction trading guilt for anger. They stole this from me first. I don’t even have the memories to share with her. Nothing. They left me with nothing.
“V?”
“I’m sorry. You were saying?” He tried to focus on Evey. She was concerned and he didn’t know why.
“I didn’t know you could bend steel.” She said pointing her fork at the L shaped knife in his fist. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes. I’m fine.” He lied in an effort to invent a truth. He wanted to be fine.
She contemplated him for a while. There was nowhere to hide from her staring and V grew uncomfortable. Just as he was about to rise and clear the table she said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something. May I?”
The last thing V wanted was another question, but he settled back into his chair and nodded.
She glanced away and a flush bloomed on her cheeks. “Why did you invite me to your concert that night?”
“Why did you go with me?”
She gave him back her eyes, expression serious. “I asked you first.”
His thoughts jumbled and the only thing he could think of to say was, “You know how often the turning down this street or that, the accepting or rejecting of an invitation, may deflect the whole current of our lives into some other channel. Are we mere leaves, fluttered hither and thither by the wind, or are we rather, with every conviction that we are free agents, carried steadily along to a definite and pre-determined end?” (25)
Seriousness turned to irritation on her face and she leaned back in her chair. “That’s a quote isn’t it? I used to love it when you quoted literature to me. I really did, but now it drives me crazy because you only ever do it when it’s something important.”
“I see.” She had a valid point. He did fall back on the mountains of books he had read. Nearly everything he knew about how to interact with Evey came from them. On his own, V felt awkward and unable to communicate adequately. He tried to explain. “In my defense, the words of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle expressed what I could not. They are no less true because they are the words of someone else.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “But I want to know what you think, not what some dead writer said.”
“As you wish though I think the answer will displease you.” He paused wishing for a stroke of genius which did not come. With a sigh he admitted, “I don’t know. I’ve often wondered why I did it. All I do know is I am glad I did.”
She smiled and uncrossed her arms. Leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table in a pose which gave him a direct view down her shirt Evey told him, “That was a much better answer.”
Trying not to stare, but to not look like he was trying not to stare, V asked, “Why did you accompany me?”
“I thought you were barking mad, but it had been a very long time since someone stood up for me. You made me feel safe. How could I say no?”
“I see.”
She blushed fiery red and let her head hang as she mumbled, “And you reminded me of Zorro.”
He laughed out loud.
Her head shot up and she protested earnestly, “In a good way. Zorro was hot.”
He laughed harder. “You thought I was…hot?”
“I still do.”
Suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore. Instead he could think of hundreds of reasons why her statement was untrue. Looking at her he could tell she was sincere but she had to be insane to think he was…hot. What a stupid expression. Hot. He had been hot once, on fire in fact. Blazing hot. Flames licking away his skin making him a monst…
“I don’t think I have ever been so full in my life.” Evey said loudly interrupting his thoughts and catapulting him back to the present. “Want to see where roast beast comes from?”
VEV
Evey sat on the couch with her back against V’s chest. One of his hands was on her stomach, bare skin against bare skin. When he first put his hand there his touch had been tentative and cautious. He seemed ready to pull away at the slightest indication from her, but after a while he relaxed and so did she. Toward the end of the film he kissed the back of her head and pulled her tighter against himself.
Evey was only half watching the movie, inside she was still beating herself up for choosing her words so poorly. Why did you have to call him hot? Of all the adjectives to choose you select the fire reference. Gah.
On the screen the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes. Evey remembered her brother and how he had loved this part. He had been overjoyed when the Grinch gave back the presents. It confirmed the childish belief that in the end, everything would always be okay. Back then they both had been so certain there were no truly bad people, only people who needed to be loved. Evey knew better now. Some things were never okay and no amount of hope or love could fix them.
She ruminated further as the roast beast was carved and all of Whoville came together to sing. She and Johnny used to sing along back in the days when she could trust blindly and love innocently.
The next year he was dead. Her parents went through the motions of Christmas for her, but it felt hollow and forced. Two Christmases later she was in JRC and her parents were dead. There were no more Christmases after that. It was little wonder her spirit finally collapsed.
V reached for the remote and Evey realized the film had ended. He changed the disc and started “It’s a Wonderful Life”.
“I love this movie.” She said quietly as the opening credits rolled past.
“Am I correct this is the film where a child says, ‘every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings’?”
“You are. You’ve seen it?” Evey asked shifting so she could see him.
His hand drifted over her cheek when he replied, “I don’t believe I have.”
The movie started as Evey explained, “This was my dad’s favorite film. He liked to think he had an angel. Of course, he told us that was our mum. Johnny took it literally and asked mum where her wings were.”
“I’m sorry, Evey.”
She mimicked his gesture and let her hand brush his cheek. He hesitated for a second and then his own hand moved to her throat, lightly tickling down to her clavicle. Leaning into his touch she tried to reassure him. “It’s okay. Now my mum is an angel. So are dad and Johnny. They watch over me.”
V said nothing, but withdrew his hand.
Evey sighed. “You can’t keep blaming yourself, V.”
“No.” He shook his head and she didn’t know whether he was agreeing with her or resisting her.
“Are you okay?”
He shifted further away, sitting up on the couch with both feet on the floor. He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. He was facing the television, but she knew he wasn’t watching it.
“Do you suppose they think I am an angel?” He asked quietly.
“What?” His voice was so low Evey wasn’t sure she heard him correctly.
“My…family. Do they think I watch over them?”
V had never mentioned his family before. Not once. While she groped for something to say he stood and walked away.
VEV
It was like déjà vu. Again he sat on the floor in the dark. Again Evey stood in the light of the doorway. She moved toward him and he knew she would sit beside him, close but not touching. He wanted her to leave him be for a while but it was pointless to ask.
After a while she took his hand and without looking at him asked, “Do you want to find them, V?”
“I am not the child they lost anymore. He died.” I killed him, he silently admitted. It must have been necessary. Whoever he had been could not have been strong enough to face what eventually came.
“If Johnny walked through that door right now I wouldn’t recognized him and you know what? It wouldn’t matter what he looked like, why he was gone or what he had become. I would give anything to have him back.”
“I know you would.” But it would be different with me.
She read his mind asking, “Do you think it’s any different for the people who love you?”
Yes, he wanted to tell her but he knew where the conversation would go and he didn’t want to make the journey. Instead of focusing on the life he lost he needed to develop the life he had. To save them both he changed the subject, “Is it time for gifts yet?”
Evey glanced away and he was certain she was considering pushing the issue, but then she stood and offered him a hand up. “Sure. Come on.”
VEV
We are staying in the present by opening presents. Evey led him back into the main room and settled by the tree in front of a gift she hoped he would let her have early. She patted the floor next to her. “Come on.”
After he was seated she continued, “Okay, want to hear the rules?”
“There are rules?”
She nodded. “Here is how it works: each of us gets one gift and one veto. If I pick something you don’t want me to have until tomorrow you can veto it. The next one I pick is the one I get to open and you just have to live with it. Got it?”
“Yes. Choose.”
There were two jewelry boxes under the tree. They were identical in size and shape, only the wrapping paper was different. One was teal and the other violet. She picked up the violet box and shook it listening to something small rattle inside it. “Okay. I want this one.”
V immediately plucked it from her hand and put it back under the tree. “Something else if you please.”
Evey smiled and reached for the teal box. “Are you sure? My other choice is this one.”
He nodded. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Evey tore off the paper like a greedy five year old and cracked open the black velvet box. Sitting in the middle was perfectly round black pearl the size of a marble. “Oh my God.”
Gently she lifted the pearl out and discovered it was attached to a long chain of what she assumed was platinum. Dangling it from her fingers she gushed, “V this is beautiful. I absolutely love it.”
He reached out and took it from her. As he undid the clasp he asked, “Do you know how pearls are made?”
“An oyster gets a bit of sand in it and makes a pearl.” Evey said as she watched the pearl descend until it rested on her chest right where cleavage should have been. There should be breasts here. You need to put on a few pounds and have a shape. You look like a pre-teen boy for heavens sake.
“It takes years of suffering on behalf of the oyster to make one of this size. It seems a cruel irony that such beauty can only be achieved through so much torment.” He sat back on his heals and continued, “The pain passes, but the beauty remains.” (26)
“I will never take this off.” Evey said, understanding the pearl was a representation of himself. He was giving her his pain because she saw it as beautiful.
“Pearls are fragile. They must be the last thing you put on and the first you take off when you wear them.” V reached out and touched the pearl allowing his fingers to linger for a moment on her skin.
“I love it. Thank you.” She said, as she clutched his hand to her chest over the pearl. “I promise to take good care of it.” And of you.
Looking at the presents instead of V because she thought if she did look at him she might cry, Evey realized she had made a serious mistake. Wishing she had time to redo her shopping she mumbled, “I feel really stupid now.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t get you anything like this.” Why did you buy so many stupid things? What were you thinking? He brings you pearls and you give him ridiculous aprons and tacky boxers. Nothing says I love you quite like ugly undergarments. Idiot!
“I have no need for pearls.” V brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, which to Evey was remarkably romantic.
Suppressing the urge to grab him by the mask and stick her tongue down his throat she quipped, “Good because you aren’t getting any. It’s your turn to pick.”
V withdrew his hand and regarded the pile. “You do it for me.”
“That isn’t how the game works. You have to pick something.”
“Evey, I’d really rather not. You choose.”
She could feel him retreating but could not understand why. “V…”
“Please, Evey.” He cut her off, head down, lips pursed.
Though she knew she should let it go and just grab something she felt compelled to tell him, “There’s no right or wrong choice.”
There was a long pause during which Evey grew fairly certain he was going to run away again. Why do you always have to push him? Can’t ever leave the poor man alone can you?
Finally he broke the silence. “I have never received a gift before, Evey. I understand the game and will happily play it next year, but this time…please, Evey.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Great, now you’ve done it. On top of being an insensitive dolt, you went for gag gifts. Brilliant, Evey, truly genius. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Considering the presents she had bought for him she tried to find one that wasn’t completely absurd. All of them were silly. Finally she picked up a package that looked like a shirt box wrapped in red foil. She handed it to him. “Here. It isn’t a pearl, but I hope you like it anyway.”
V unwrapped it carefully calling to mind Evey’s grandmother who had always wanted to save the paper. Skin crawling at the painfully slow progress he was making Evey had an urge to rip if out of his hands and open it herself.
When he finally opened the box and pulled out a lace covered, bright pink floral apron he laughed, “Are you making a commentary on my fashion sense, my love?”
“Just appealing to your taste for brightly colored kitchen wear.” Evey smiled back relieved that he liked her gift.
“Now I shall have to cook you something.”
“Make me breakfast. I’m tired.”
VEV
(24) George Eliot – Middlemarch
(25) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle – The Stark Munro Letters
(26) Pierre Auguste Renior