The Mute

by Libby Sparks

  Remy doesn’t know what to do. He looks her up and down and then knits his brow in question.

  “I asked you a question, what are you, deaf?”

  He taps his lips, and shrugs. She looks at him for a while, and then she says in a calmer tone, “If you’re looking for the girl, she’s gone. The old lady died, and she left. Gave up her rent three days ago.”

  Remy is frozen in place by what he heard as the door closes in his face. He’s left in the dark.

  He sinks down onto his heels in the street, knotting his fingers in his hair, trying to think. She’s gone. She didn’t even come to say goodbye. His heart feels as if it’s in his throat, and his breath comes out in short gasps. His only ray of light is gone. He’s never been surrounded, enveloped, engulfed in tortured darkness the way he is right now. All the misery he’s been through since the incident at the Eiffel tower feels like nothing compared to losing her.

  Remy crouches in the street for what feels like an eternity, fighting the urge to give up. Then he straightens up, and turns around, aimlessly pushing his bike around town. The moon is high in the sky when he finally realizes what he must do.

  The Champ de Mars will be empty without her, the sun will shine without a purpose. He will act out a story of emptiness, having nothing to show if she’s not the one to see it. He can’t go through every day, not seeing her wave at him, or rejecting the silver coin she always offers him. He’s grown accustomed to her presence in his life and he doesn’t want to lose it.

  He thinks about all the coins he saved in his attempt to starve himself. He hasn’t been going out and he’s always spent a minimal amount on food. Surely he must have enough?

  When he finally reaches his apartment, the horizon is starting to color with the promise of dawn. Soon the rays will reach over the edge of the earth and stroke his face with new hope. He will sleep a few hours, and then he will start. He is determined to find her.

  When Remy wakes up again, it’s well past noon and he feels rested for the first time in weeks. He considers for a moment if he should go to the Louvre and put in half a day of miming, but he decides against it. His mind is all over the place, trying to think of a way he can find Claire.

  He prepares a plain meal of bread and a bit of broth, and sits down at the table, weighing out his options as he slowly works to swallow the food.

  The first thing that he needs to consider is that fact that he can’t talk. He has no way of asking after Claire.

  The second thing to keep in mind is the probability that everyone who knew him think he’s either missing or dead. Leon knows where he’d gone that night, and perhaps he told the others when Remy didn’t appear after he’d gone after Francois. He considered how different he looks with a clean-shaven face, and having lost a great deal of weight. No one will recognize him.

  He realizes that these factors will make it extremely difficult for him to find out anything about Claire. Still, he decides to head toward that side of town after the sun sets.

  When it starts to get dark, Remy heads toward Claire’s home on his bicycle. It’s as good a place to start as any. Standing in the dark alley, he looks around him, hoping for anything or anyone that will be some sort of sign because in all honestly he doesn’t know what else to do. There’s nothing. He won’t knock on the door again. Even if the new woman from his last visit to the home were less hostile, she wouldn’t know more than she’d already told him.

  His shoulders drop slowly as he saunters out of the alley and down the avenue. Remy feels like a dry leaf, rattling aimlessly around in an autumn wind. Looking down at his feet, he listens to the fall of his footsteps softly beating out a rhythm on the cobbled street.

  He’s so lost in the pattern of his walking that he doesn’t notice them until he almost smacks right into them. When he looks up he’s facing the square mountain of one of the brother’s backs. Fear seizes him instantly. Two of the brothers are standing huddled in the shadows, away from the lamps that light up the avenue. He didn’t see them concealed in the dark corner, which is also why they don’t see him. He backs up slowly, taking care to stay out of the faint halo of light from the lamp he just passed, and slips into the dark shadows of a corner where one building juts out further into the street than the other.

  His plan is to just wait there until they leave. The last thing he wants is being confronted by them again. Remy has no doubt that this time, he will surely lose his life.

  They don’t make a move to leave, and as he starts calming down, focusing on relaxing his body to get his hands to stop trembling. Their hushed conversation drifts past him and he can’t help but overhear.

  “I know. It’s a pity we didn’t make a move when we had the chance.”

  “You were the one that wanted things to die down a bit, not me. I don’t have issues with justice.”

  “I don’t have issues with justice either but someone is bound to notice when people disappear.”

  “No one knows what happened, we made sure of that.”

  “Yes I know. I still think that was a bit harsh, though. One of these days we’re going to kill the wrong guy.”

  “What do you think we run here, a mercy parade? You’re too soft. And the only way anyone will kill the wrong guy, is if someone kills one of us.”

  “I can’t believe the girl left.”

  Remy holds his breath, straining to catch every single word.

  “I know. It’s too bad. She was a pert little one. Would have been fun getting my hands on her.”

  “You shouldn’t have taunted her that way. She wouldn’t have left if you’d just shut your mouth. Instead you had go and scare her like that.”

  “How was I supposed to know she was going to run?”

  “She’s clever, and you already took out her brother.”

  “Yes, well, there are other women around.”

  They start walking away from Remy, and he can’t hear their conversation anymore, but he’s heard enough. Enough to make his blood boil with rage. How dare they threaten his Claire?

  So Claire left because les frères were after her. He can’t help but breathe out in relief. She’s a smart one. Had the brothers gotten to her, there was no saying what he have done.

  At least it now makes sense why she left without saying goodbye. Running for your life leaves little time for farewell, and the fewer people that know about it, the better. Although, what could a mute man really do to jeopardize her safety? Still, it’s better to know that she is safe, or at least that she left the city safe.

  He stays in the shadows for a while longer to be sure the avenue is empty before he walks on towards the tavern. He walks slowly, but then stops. After a moment of thought, he turns back to the alley where he left his bicycle.

  They won’t be able to help him at the tavern. Chances are that he knows more than they do right now anyway. Les frères don’t share information with others. Besides, the men at the tavern won’t recognize him and they don’t take well to strangers. They’re a very tight group, and the alcohol in their blood will more likely fuel aggression rather than compassion.

  No, Remy decides he will go back home, and contemplate what to do from there.

  The idea that Claire is in trouble has seriously shaken him, He pictures her running from the brothers, frightened out of her mind. Rage slowly starts to build again as he thinks about how Les frères have made her life so miserable. However, it sounds as if she managed to get away without being harmed, and that calms him again.

  Still, he worries for her. A woman travelling alone is a target, and she is so little, how will she fend for herself? She may be strong emotionally, but physically she cannot ward off any danger. Who knows what can happen to her? He has to protect her from the looming danger.

  A sense of urgency grows in his gut until it’s so intense it threatens to consume him completely. The helplessness that accompanies it is the worst of all, and Remy knows that if he wants to reach her at all he must leave as soon as he can. He needs
to find a way of figuring out where she could have gone – that is his biggest problem right now. She already has a three-day head start, and she could have gone in any direction, although he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t have gone north. Prussia lies in that direction and she won’t be likely to head towards anything that could remind her of war.

  His racing thoughts cause the reality of his handicap to resurface. His mood turns black. Where will he find anyone that will help? It’s not that there aren’t people who might be prepared to aid him, it’s that he has no way of telling them of his situation. Remy slams his fists on the table as beads of sweat trickle down the back of his neck and down his shirt. Leaning his elbows on the table, he rakes his fingers violently through his hair.

  If he could curse he would, and he grunts softly, racking his brain to try and think of anything, anything at all that will change things for him.

  Remy wakes up in the morning feeling dull and lifeless, having nothing to show for his effort to try and find a way of reaching Claire the night before. He feels the heavy weight of guilt anew, and his helplessness makes him feel trapped.

  He collects his things and goes to the Louvre, determined to at least earn enough money to be able to leave, even if nothing else will allow him to. He’d already saved up a decent amount of coins recently, but earning money seemed to be the only thing he had has control over at the moment. Perhaps accomplishing something will make him feel better.

  The day is overcast and gray.

  Halfway through the morning Remy has quite a crowd assembled around him, smiling with delight as he entertains them with his silly moves and exaggerated facial expressions. Coins are dropped into his cap repeatedly with clinking sounds. Other than Claire’s soft voice, the sound of the coins being added to his cap is the only thing that gives him something to live for.

  Green eyes in the crowd catch his eye, but when the crowds shift a little he catches a serious expression with lips pressed tightly together, watching him from a curtain of lifeless hair. She watches Remy only for a short while before she pushes through the crowds without dropping a coin into his hat.

  He feels uncomfortable, but he doesn’t know why. He never minds when people don’t give him money, there are enough that do, but somehow he’s thrown off now.

  During lunch he’s on the grass at the Champ de Mars again, looking at the tower. Someone sits down next to him, and when he turns he’s staring right into those green eyes.

  “You’re that mime, aren’t you?”

  He nods.

  “You lunch far from work.”

  He shrugs. She pokes at his bag, but he moves it to the other side. He’s getting irritated by this intruder.

  “I’m Justine.” She extends her hand and after a moment’s hesitation he takes it and nods stiffly. Remy wishes she’d go away and leave him to his thoughts of how to save Claire.

  “Are you planning on telling me yours?”

  He taps his lips, and shrugs.

  “Oh. That makes a lot of sense. Makes it hard to address you without a name though.”

  Remy shrugs again and takes another bite, chewing slowly, hoping she’ll leave. She stays put, but doesn’t talk any more. The woman stares at the tower and while she does he has a chance to have a proper look at her.

  Her clothes are very worn, with holes here and there, and she hasn’t made an effort with her hair. It dully drapes straight over her forehead and down the sides of her face, reaching past her shoulders but only just. He focuses closely on her face. Despite how worn she looks, she’s quite young. She wiggles her one foot frustratingly at an off rhythm. When she looks back at him it’s so quick that she catches him staring at her and he looks away quickly, feeling embarrassed.

  “I think I’ll call you Pierrot. What do you say about that?”

  He frowns. Somehow he feels like calling him Pierrot should belong to Claire, because that was the first line she drew when she met him as the stranger who couldn’t speak. He doesn’t want this ragged and rude stranger to take away one of the very few things he holds dear, even if it is something as silly as a name that never really belonged to anyone.

  He shakes his head clearly, looking her square in the eyes for a second or two, trying to make his point clear. Her eyes are incredible. Pools of deep green that make him feel extremely restless. When he looks away she laughs.

  “Don’t like that, do you? Well, you can’t say anything about it, which I can only imagine being a curse, don’t get me wrong, but I will call you anything I want.”

  His face is taut and he clenches his jaw, refusing to look at her. She laughs again. Remy considers how rude it would be if he just got up and walked away. He has more important things to do that spend any more time in her unwanted company.

  “Your miming has made you very good at communicating with your face. You are upset with me. Very well, Monsieur Pierrot, I will leave you in peace.”

  She gets up and dusts herself, although it doesn’t do much for her already haggard appearance.

  “Perhaps you and I will talk again. Well, I will talk again,” she giggles and starts walking away. When she reaches the avenue she turns around and looks at him again, and then adds, “Unless, of course, that woman you sit with at times, comes back,” and disappears down the street.

  Remy stares at the spot where she vanished for a second or two as her words ring in his ears. Then he jumps up and starts forward, but turns back and hurriedly gets his belonging together. He doesn’t dare leave them on the grass while he chases down the street. There is no telling how long they will remain there before someone else takes the opportunity to snap it up. When he reaches the avenue he looks up and down, desperately trying to find her, but she is long gone. Stamping his feet in anger and frustration, he turns back.

  Slowly he pushes his bike back to the Louvre, searching every female face that passes him. He searches every face for a pair of green eyes that knows his Claire, but they are nowhere to be seen. Through the afternoon he’s distracted and his miming doesn’t get as much attention as it usually does. Right now he doesn’t care. That rude woman, Justine, knows Claire, and she knows that she’s gone.

  The rate at which he’s trying to work things out in his head as he pushes through his routines makes him dizzy. Anxiety builds up inside of him, the thought that there is no longer any trace of her, makes him nauseous. When it’s time to go home, he’s in such a state he doesn’t know what to do with himself. There is nowhere he can start looking for her. He’s never seen her before and she disappeared into thin air.

  The days pass slowly and painfully, but Remy has a new goal now. Instead of waiting for Claire, the way he used to, or aimlessly going through the motions, as he’s grown accustomed to doing, he now searches the face of every stranger on the street and in the crowds, hoping he will see Justine again. He must find out what she knows of Claire, and how she knows who he is. As time passes he grows certain that she is the only hope he has of finding Claire at all.

  His restlessness grows stronger every day that passes. Time is running out. Soon it will be too late to find Claire. Soon she will have been able to go anywhere. Anything could have happened, and he will never be able to track her down. Not even if he has help, which he is starting to believe he will never get. Remy knew he has lost the one chance he had at locating Claire.

  One afternoon, just after Remy gives up hope, he sees her again. She’s standing in the crowd, staring at him with that very serious expression again. His heart leaps and he stops dead in his act and then lunges into the crowds towards her. They gasp and jump to the side and even Justine has a look of surprise on her face, her green eyes widening as he charges towards her.

  He grabs her by the wrist and pulls her, trying to make her follow him to the back of the Louvre where he always stashes his bike.

  “Hey, let go of me!” she squeals and tries to dig her heels down. She puts up a good fight but Remy knows that even without his former strength she can’t stop him. He does l
et go, however, and she rubs her wrist, looking at him accusingly.

  “You didn’t have to man handle me, you know. You could just ask. Or, you know, whatever.”

  She laughs with a burst and then her face falls serious again.

  “So, you did the math, did you? There’s something that I know that you desperately need. Isn’t there?”

  He grabs her by the shoulders and nods vigorously, his reserve completely forgotten at the urge to draw all the information he possibly can from her.

  “Easy, let me go. I know you’re desperate, but really, don’t’ touch me.”

  He lets go of her shoulders and focuses solemnly on her face, trying to convey all the desperation he felt to her.

  “Don’t look at me like that. If I knew you were going to be this serious about everything I would never have mentioned her.”

  He grunts in exasperation. There is something about this woman that drives him crazy. He just needs to know about Claire. That’s all, but she taunts him with it. He is not asking for something hard, or painstaking, or life-threatening. He just wants to know where to find her, and he doesn’t have time to play games with Justine.

  She studies his face for a while, and then a glint of mischief lights her eyes.

  “She’s your sweetheart, isn’t she?”

  Remy just stares at her. She says it in such a mocking tone; it seems as if saying yes would only edge her on. But he won’t say no, because to him, she really is.

  “She is! Oh this is even better than I thought. When I heard the word that the brothers were after new blood I thought that it would be good to suss it out, but when I recognized her from the Champ de Mars I would never have thought that she would be with the jester from the Louvre.”

  Remy grits his teeth and fights the urge to turn his back and walk away. She just called him a jester. A jester. She literally called him a fool to his face.

  Luckily, the information she has about Claire glues him to the spot and helps prevent his anger from showing on his face.

  “Look, why don’t you calm down, and we’ll have a talk sometime. But you have to calm down, your expressions are really nailing me,” she giggles again.