The One We Feed Read Free Page A

spoken to me once about it, and
in the forgiving shades of vagueness.
    “I can’t help
what I am, Arthur. I can’t help wanting to keep what happened to Eva from
happening to someone I can save.”
    He sighed. “I am proud of you for that conviction, Lilith. However, decisions must be made from
neutrality and calm, from the foundation of your character.”
    “What does
that mean?” Jinx hissed. “Either you care or you don’t. Who the fuck cares why?
I bet the high-diving were-chick could give two shits as long as her melon
doesn’t end up smeared on a Smith’s boots.”
    Arthur ignored
him. “What you really want is for people to have a better life, but sometimes
people must save themselves. The most important lessons are self-taught. No
dishonest man can be free. He is his own trap, as someone once said.”
    Jinx’s outrage
began to rev, and, with my guard down, I could already hear what was going to
say and in what decibel he was going to say it. I winced, wishing I could have
absorbed the talent of someone named “Mime.”
    “No!” Jinx shouted.
“Not fair! You don’t get to quote science fiction at us you antediluvian
Mephistopheles! And least of all that hypergraphic prophet-teer.”
    Several voices
shushed him at once. He twitched as if the insults were flea bites and looked
around at the book shelves with a paranoid scowl.
    “Art, I just
think she’s important,” I said in a soothing voice. “I think I at least need to
learn more about her.”
    He sighed. “Lilith,
your actions cannot always be a reflection of the loss of your sister. You are much
more than that one tragedy.”
    “But if I
forget….”
    “Moving beyond
does not mean forgetting. Your sister knew what she was doing when she jumped. If
you regret her choice or lament her passing, you are dishonoring what she did.”
    A lance of
self-conscious bitterness skewered me to the spot. I sputtered, but nothing
came out. The betrayal was overwhelming. If not for this man and his
metaphysical mumbo-jumbo, I’d still be a normal woman. Well, maybe a
grief-stricken she-bitch, but human at least.
    Jinx shook his
fire-engine head and grabbed my wrist. “Come on, Lily, let’s bug. This place
gives me the creeps, all these fucking pages .”
    “You know,” I
managed finally, pulling myself out of Jinx’s grasp to press my fists to my
hips, “I’m getting really tired of these games. I wish you would just spit out
whatever it is you know instead of hinting all the time.”
    He looked
away, and it felt like exile. “I am saying what must be said.”
    “Yeah, well,
maybe Ananda will have something more illuminating to say.” I turned to stomp
down to the children’s section where the fourth member of our group, Arthur’s
cousin, had camped out. Initially he had gravitated toward the fairy tales but
had somehow been recruited by the head librarian to lead story time until the
end of the world. He was slowly developing a Feydakin of five year olds, and
parents were having a hard time reclaiming their young. It was really no
surprise. He had a way of making everyone feel instantly at ease.
    “Let’s go,
Jinx.”
    “He’s in the
middle of a Harry Potter novel. I wouldn’t disturb him,” Arthur warned. “Unless
you fancy being chased by toddlers with magic wands.”
     
    Scowling at my
ninja shoes, I dragged my cohort back out to the entrance and threw him down on
a concrete bench.
    “Fuck!” I
shouted to the air in general.
    A woman with
expectant preschooler in tow staggered away as if I’d punched her.
    “Here, here!”
Jinx said, dusting himself off. “I told you traveling with them was going to
get old. You ask what the weather is like, and they think they’re oh-so-fucking
clever when they hold up a finger. When will you learn?”
    “Well you’d
think the Buddha would be a little more compassionate!”
    Jinx coughed. “Right.
But then he’d have to stop quoting Scientology.”
    I collapsed
next to him and leaned