In her mind, Aris sees yellow leaves dropping and flying in the wind. They rise into the sky and drift with the clouds to a distant place. They fall on a landscape of snow and ice. She watches as snow falls, burying the leaves under the white flakes. Blustery wind blows against her cheeks, biting them. Emptiness sits heavy in the pit of her stomach. She aches for the sun and the warmth of her lover’s embrace.
She feels lips on hers, hot and soft, waking her from the trance. She opens her eyes and sees Metis. Her heart flutters like the wings of a bumblebee. She is the leaf in her imagination, being carried up the sky by the wind. She closes her eyes again and lets the feeling take her to a place far away.
Aris’s watch beeps.
“Ignore it,” Metis whispers between kissing her.
She does. But the insistent sound continues. It is unusual. Reaches that are not connected get translated to a databank for later retrieval.
“I think I need to take this,” she says, “I’m sorry.”
She walks through the gray curtains to the backstage room. As soon as she puts the reach through, the image of a man in a brown fedora appears.
“Hello. I’m Officer Scylla of Station Eighteen. I’m reaching you on behalf of Benja. You’re his emergency contact.”
Aris feels coldness running through her veins.
“Is he okay?”
“Yes, he’s at the station.”
“What happened?” asks Aris.
“He was found in a state of undress inside someone’s house. He had broken into it by force.”
The man in the white hat. What was he thinking?
“Is everyone okay?” she asks.
“Yes, everyone’s fine. Nobody pressed any charges. The people who live there said they don’t know him and that it must be a misunderstanding. Benja was inebriated at the time.”
“What can I do to help?” she asks.
“I’m keeping him here for the night. You can come pick him up at the station in the morning. Let me warn you that he may be embarrassed when you see him. We advise that you show him some empathy and understanding. He will need to be with people who care about him,” he says.
“Thank you, Officer.”
Aris feels like screaming.
Stupid man! What were you thinking?
He was not thinking, she decides. He is beyond reason. His senses have been taken over by his irrational quest to bring back the man he believes is his old lover. If only he had not gone to the Dreamers’ meeting and taken the drug. The drug is to blame. That and the dangerous characters Benja is keeping company with.
Metis comes through the curtains. “Is everything all right?”
She looks at him. There are so many feelings surging through her she does not know how to handle it. If she stays there any longer, she is afraid she will do something she would regret. Like crying.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing. I have to go. I’m sorry.”
“Aris, please tell me what’s wrong.”
“My friend’s in trouble. I have to go pick him up in the morning at the police station.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, that’s okay. You better not. I’m sorry,” she says and rushes off.
Chapter Twelve
The police station is quiet like the dead Animals of the Americas section at the Natural History Museum. Aris is the only one in the waiting room. She took the day off work to be here. The glaring light above irritates her. The fluttering cold blue glow makes her feel agitated and jittery.
She hears the sound of footsteps and looks up. A man is walking through the door. Aris remembers him as Officer Scylla. He was the one who contacted her.
“Hello, Aris. Thank you for coming. Benja just woke up. He’s resting in a holding room.”
“May I see him?” she asks.
“Of course. Please follow me.”
He leads her through a long corridor and stops in front of a door to a room. There is a glass window she can see through. On the other side is Benja. He is reclining on a white bed, facing the opposite direction. One of his legs rests on the knee of another. It moves to a rhythm of music Aris cannot hear.
“When will he be released?” she asks.
The officer looks at his watch. “In a few minutes. His sentence is almost done.”
The justice system is a mystery to her. No one she knows has ever committed a crime before.
“What’s his sentence?”
“One night in a holding room. It’s mostly to keep him from inflicting harm on others by accident.”
“Do things like this happen a lot?”
“Not really.”
“Are you the only police officer?” She has not seen anyone else here.
“There are many of us in different stations across the Four Cities. But I’m usually by myself here. I don’t need help, really. Benja is my second arrest this month.”
“What was your last case?” Aris asks.
“Another public disturbance.”
The angry man.
“Was it the man causing trouble by the Natural History Museum?” she asks.
Officer Scylla’s eyes widen. “Why, yes. How do you know?”
“I was there. I saw you take him away.”
“Ah.”
“Did you hold him here too?”
“His case was different. Since he was being treated by the Interpreter Center, I had to turn him over to their care. They said he’s fine after treatment. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Do you often send people there?” she asks.
“Only if I have to. I can’t say I agree with their treatment. Our minds already go through enough trauma every four years. While the Interpreter Center insists there are no side effects to their treatment, I just don’t like the idea of tampering with the brain unless absolutely necessary.”
Officer Scylla’s watch beeps.
“It’s time,” he says and unlocks the door.
Benja turns his head in their direction.
“Hey, Aris,” he says casually.
Aris wants to yell at him, but she is reminded by the officer’s eyes to be sympathetic.
“Uh. Hey, Benja. Are you ready to go home?” she asks in as even a tone as she can muster.
“Yeah. It’s boring here. No offense.”
“None taken,” the officer says. “Being boring is kind of the point to this place.”
Benja raises his
