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Authors: Anthony Flacco
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her. It was a brother’s love, with the erotic component safely missing. She had no idea how he accomplished that, any more than she could imagine how Randall did, either. It struck her that these were the only two men on the planet who did not represent a threat to her.
As far as experience had taught her, any man who was given the chance would lunge for her on any pretext, hands grabbing for her face and body. They sometimes descended like flies, either because she was pretty and petite, or because she was a youthful-looking nineteen and appeared to be easy prey.
So much of her love for Shane and Randall was heightened by her gratitude and amazement that after nine years together, both men had always accepted her story about her shared lineage with Shane. She
said
that she was his sister, so that was enough for them. And from that moment on, they treated her accordingly in every way.
It was a mystery to her; Vignette had no other experience for comparison. Her own sexual innocence was gone long before her body had matured. She was forced to learn about feminine wiles and male gratification as a matter of her survival, back when the so-called friars at the orphanage still got away with things like that because she was only “Mary Kathleen,” and that little girl lacked the skills to
move things around
well enough to keep herself protected.
By the time she renamed herself and fled for the streets, her innocence had melted within the corrosive atmosphere of the place. The authority figures who did it to her had always carefully explained why their actions were all her own fault, for arousing their desire.
Nine years earlier, the first time it hit her that she and Shane and Randall were actually going to move in together, she felt the beginnings of a slow panic. How was it possible to survive being alone in the close company of two males? The question burned in the pit of her stomach, a sort of vigil fire, while she waited for the betrayal that was sure to follow. She never went so far as to sleep with a knife under her pillow, but it took the first couple of years for the one in the back of her mind to dissolve away.
She had no idea what particular part of their brains these two men were using that she had never witnessed anywhere else, but she had seen its effect. Her knowledge of it was thicker than water. That knowledge also presented the main quandary of her life, because it did not permit her to loathe and despise men. Otherwise that would have come to her as naturally as breathing.
And then there it was: another example, right there, when Shane released her, stepped back, and grabbed her by the jawline. He playfully squeezed her face. Then he pushed her away with a gentle shove, turned around, and walked out without having said a word.
It took another hour or so before Randall Blackburn peeked around the door frame to the living room and spotted Vignette sitting in a darkened corner. He walked on in and stepped over to the gas fireplace.
“Hi. Why don’t you come on over and have a seat by the fire?”
“I like it in the shadows, right now.”
“Good enough, if you’re happy there. I’ll just sit here where I can poke up the flames.” He smiled at the little joke while he scooted closer to the gas fireplace. Vignette did not react. “Shane went to bed?”
She spoke up from her place in the shadows, without looking up. “Yes.”
He pantomimed poking at the fire with a stick, smiled at her, then stopped poking and stopped smiling. “Well then, uh, I’m glad you waited up.”
“It’s not as if I had a choice or something.”
“What?”
“Stop it, Randall! I can tell she said something. I know she did. She’s like that. She broke the news to me that they had found me out, because the police told her when they came to put in that damned telephone thing. She wanted me to be the one to tell you, at least that’s what she said. Except she had to go and do it herself.
I
was
As far as experience had taught her, any man who was given the chance would lunge for her on any pretext, hands grabbing for her face and body. They sometimes descended like flies, either because she was pretty and petite, or because she was a youthful-looking nineteen and appeared to be easy prey.
So much of her love for Shane and Randall was heightened by her gratitude and amazement that after nine years together, both men had always accepted her story about her shared lineage with Shane. She
said
that she was his sister, so that was enough for them. And from that moment on, they treated her accordingly in every way.
It was a mystery to her; Vignette had no other experience for comparison. Her own sexual innocence was gone long before her body had matured. She was forced to learn about feminine wiles and male gratification as a matter of her survival, back when the so-called friars at the orphanage still got away with things like that because she was only “Mary Kathleen,” and that little girl lacked the skills to
move things around
well enough to keep herself protected.
By the time she renamed herself and fled for the streets, her innocence had melted within the corrosive atmosphere of the place. The authority figures who did it to her had always carefully explained why their actions were all her own fault, for arousing their desire.
Nine years earlier, the first time it hit her that she and Shane and Randall were actually going to move in together, she felt the beginnings of a slow panic. How was it possible to survive being alone in the close company of two males? The question burned in the pit of her stomach, a sort of vigil fire, while she waited for the betrayal that was sure to follow. She never went so far as to sleep with a knife under her pillow, but it took the first couple of years for the one in the back of her mind to dissolve away.
She had no idea what particular part of their brains these two men were using that she had never witnessed anywhere else, but she had seen its effect. Her knowledge of it was thicker than water. That knowledge also presented the main quandary of her life, because it did not permit her to loathe and despise men. Otherwise that would have come to her as naturally as breathing.
And then there it was: another example, right there, when Shane released her, stepped back, and grabbed her by the jawline. He playfully squeezed her face. Then he pushed her away with a gentle shove, turned around, and walked out without having said a word.
It took another hour or so before Randall Blackburn peeked around the door frame to the living room and spotted Vignette sitting in a darkened corner. He walked on in and stepped over to the gas fireplace.
“Hi. Why don’t you come on over and have a seat by the fire?”
“I like it in the shadows, right now.”
“Good enough, if you’re happy there. I’ll just sit here where I can poke up the flames.” He smiled at the little joke while he scooted closer to the gas fireplace. Vignette did not react. “Shane went to bed?”
She spoke up from her place in the shadows, without looking up. “Yes.”
He pantomimed poking at the fire with a stick, smiled at her, then stopped poking and stopped smiling. “Well then, uh, I’m glad you waited up.”
“It’s not as if I had a choice or something.”
“What?”
“Stop it, Randall! I can tell she said something. I know she did. She’s like that. She broke the news to me that they had found me out, because the police told her when they came to put in that damned telephone thing. She wanted me to be the one to tell you, at least that’s what she said. Except she had to go and do it herself.
I
was
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