Aimé (WIP)

Copyright Anthony Broussard 2008

Aimé's sandwich was creased a few centimeters from the middle. The crease surprised and disturbed her, she was used to her sandwiches looking almost exactly the same. The same man made her sandwiches on Tuesday that did every Tuesday for the past 25 months. Aimé has lived on 137 Chetswood Drive. for a long time. Over perceptions of long periods of time the human mind turns anomalies into forgotten events. Phenomena are erased from memory and the stretch of time in question becomes composed of a few very simple repeated events. Throughout the previous 25 months of Aimé's life, she remembered mostly: Awaking and showering. Practicing Yoga. Showering again. Eating cereal, fruit, toast, water and orange juice for breakfast. Pedaling her bicycle to work. Answering phone calls for three hours. Walking to a specific restaurant based on which day of the week it was. Eating lunch.

Aimé glares at her sandwich. Not all is well and she is listening to a subtle sense that tells her today is not like the other days of her simple life. Today, her sandwich was creased. Subconsciously her hand moves long hair from her eyes. Her eyes look up. She remembers. The sandwich man. He was moving his hand as if it was wounded and he had less control over it. Aimé had never seen this man wounded before. The last wound she remembered seeing was a boy sprawled next to a mailbox, survivor of a hit and run. Aimé had called the hospital and smiled gently at the boy.

A second disruption in her pattern - her ringing cellphone, the ringtone matched with one that she gave to Thomas Erwvine, her love interest of two years ago. "Day is strange,alright. It was strange when we met, too." A woman walking past the outdoor seating area of the sandwich shop looks at her but returns her gaze to the sparsely populated sidewalk when Aimé gazes back. "Bronze Sweethearts" continues to be played. Aimé answers the phone call.

"Aimé! So glad I caught you!" Thomas had called Aimé once a month, every month, for the last ten months. Aimé chose to forget this for the eleventh time. Her eyes winnowed and her mind jumped to the conversation and on Thomas' face. Strolling past her table, a young couple laughs, absorbed in conversation. Aimé's mouth quivers slightly in a Pavlovian response to their joy.

"Hi Thomas." Silence as Thomas waits for her to continue. She doesn't.

"Well, are you available for dinner tonight? I found a great Thai restaurant near my place, really nice food." She had heard this before. "I'd like to sit down over dinner and talk with you about things."

"About us? We're through, Thomas."

"I'm leaving, Aimé. Flying to Canada next month."

Shock rolls through her muscles and a child stumbling by with his mother stares at her. His mother sees Aimé's focus and deftly lifts the child into her arms while advising him against speaking to people who are making phone calls. His mother feels a faint nervousness as she does so.

"You don't have to say anything now. Are you interested in dinner? I can pick you up, at 8."

"Yes, Thomas. That will be.. fine." As the phone call is ended, Aimé looks around. She sees trees, people and slow moving cars. "I owe him this much.."

She stands, leaving her sandwich on the table and dials her office.

"Hi, it's Aimé. I'm not feeling well, I think I may have a cold.. I'm going to go home and rest." She pauses, then adds more to the lie for flavor and believability. "I think it's something I caught over the weekend, I went camping."

The woman at the other end of the phone call is surprised but expectedly compliant. "Sure, Aimé, that's fine. Wish you well, hon."

"Thanks Natasha. Bye." A fake cough and the phone call is completed. Aimé walks to where she has chained her bicycle, releases the lock and pedals home, slowly.

8 pm. A skirt, a modest blouse, make-up and no lipstick. Prepared. Individually sexual, but disinterested in sexual activity. Aimé decides she doesn't care if Thomas misreads her clothes as interest. She has decided not to go out of her way to prove a point to him, so.. her eyes stray towards the lipstick. Should she? No, her plan has been made. Strategies must be relied upon if they are to work.. she wonders, does she feel anything for him? More importantly, will she feel anything for him, knowing that he's leaving? The echo of her doorbell bounces to her ears. Unused in months, the tube of lipstick remains motionless next to her sink. She walks carefully to the door. A deep breath. Yoga training. Calmness. Freedom. Her hands steadily open the door.

Thomas is standing there, as expected. Unexpected are his wide eyes and nervous smile. Gone is the subtle face of a smooth talker, his lips are slightly open with fright. "Aimé.. it's come sooner.

I have to go, tonight."

Aimé stands inside her doorway, shocked. "What?"

Thomas Erwvine appears, for the fifth time in Aimé's life, genuinely honest. "What happened, Thomas?"

"It's a long story. I can't tell you all of it.. some people are angry. Not at me, specifically, but at what my boss did. And they're hunting after all the grunts like me."

Aimé's memory reminded her that Thomas Erwvine works as a data analyst for SuperSec Systems. A company that, as far as she knew, was legitimate and trustworthy. "Is this with your job?"

"I have two jobs, Aimé. Both of them in the same building. One by day.. one by night" Thomas sweeps the air with his left hand while wielding a comic-book grin with his mouth. "Almost a year ago, I was part of a team that.. performed an illegal data stealing operation. The victim found out shortly after, but they didn't know who. Now, my boss.. he's well, he's sold the data we stole, and the people we stole it from are pissed. And they're hunting us, to find out who he sold it to."

The seriousness of his situation grew on her. Formulated quickly, Aimé responded with a logical answer "Why not ask him, and tell the people who are hunting you?"

"He's already split town. Seven months ago. Went to Italy as far as I know. No one can reach him. I found one of the team dead this morning. A girlfriend of mine, sort of. I went over to her place

this morning" Aimé began feeling sick. "and the door was unlocked. I found her dead in her bedroom, stabbed. They'll go through us one by one, and no one has an answer."

Aimé blinked. "Wh..wh.."

"I'm going to find him, in Italy. I thought I would have more time but they just arrived yesterday. I'm flying out tonight. Goodbye, Aimé. I did love you." Thomas kisses her forehead slowly, then turns his back on her. The engine of his car is still running. He opens the driver's door and sits down. Gazing at Aimé he feels a slight worry that he will be dead before he reaches the airport.

"WAIT!" Aimé shouts defiantly. "Th, these people! They might kill me! Thomas.. can I go with you?" She stares at the car, in shock at her brashness. This was the breaking point, she tells herself. The breaking point you have been waiting for.

Her criminal ex-boyfriend looks up and smiles wide. "Get your keys and credit card. Plane leave in three hours."