The Moonstruck

Marie

“I still cannot believe you went behind my back and…invited them into my house! My house, Marie!”

With an exasperated roll of my eyes, I gave Stanley a not so gentle nudge and shifted closer to the mirror.

“Well, I pick up half the rent,” I spat, peering at my reflection and sliding on another coat of lipstick, “That means half the place is mine, buster.”

He snorted, thwacking me with one of his elbows as he rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt. The same one he’d worn to work hours before. I’d pressed him enough to dress for dinner. I didn’t have the energy to fight him into something nicer.

“I’ll tell you what: you can have the bathroom and the bedroom,” he barked and I winced at the grate of his voice, “I’ll take the parlor and the kitchen. That about splits it down the middle, don’t it? Cause I won’t allow those freaks to dine at my table.”

“Oh be nice Stanley,” I hissed, setting the lipstick bullet on the edge of the sink and turning from the mirror. “It’s just dinner.” Gripping the front of his shirt, I roughly pulled him toward me. He glared down at me, pouting like a sullen child. With a smile, I popped up onto my toes, planting a kiss on his cheek before frisking away.

“Damnit Marie,” he gave a frustrated groan, pawing at the red stain I’d left behind. But I saw his expression soften in the mirror nonetheless.

The flat was toastier than usual this evening, the air heavy and warm with the wet aroma of spaghetti. I’d spent all afternoon preparing it. And I’d be damned if Stanley spoiled what could possibly be a pleasant evening with that mouth of his.

“When you’re done primping, I’ll need you to open the wine,” I called, striding into the kitchen, grabbing idly at the leather grips and fastenings of my dress. Leather in the summer. Hell, the dress was right.

“You bought wine for these people?” he bayed, tramping from the bathroom, the thunder of his footsteps echoing that of the din rolling through the bruised evening clouds. That stormy look had settled over his face again.

He stomped toward me, wrenching the cork screw from my hands. I shrugged, smirking as he stole the pretty tinted bottle from the middle of the small kitchen table. “What can I say? I like them.”

Maude

Our peakish reflections stared nervously back at us in the rusted number ten nailed to our neighbor’s door. Glancing away from the doorbell before I was tempted to give it a ring, I smiled tensely at Lionus. He returned the gesture, squeezing me round the waist and shifting his weight awkwardly.

“How did we end up here again?” he asked, smacking his lips dryly.

I shrugged one shoulder, blinking blearily in the green fluorescence of the hallway. “I ran into...Marie some five days ago, on my way to visit...” Lionus made a face and I quickly redirected. “Anyway, she’d found the cat and I just felt…obliged to accept her invitation to dinner.”

His lips made a thin little line. “Strange she should be so genial…I didn’t think they liked us very much.”

“Don’t be so paranoid, Lionus,” I scolded, curling my hand into a fist and holding it to the door. I shot him a wide smile. “Maybe they’ve come around- how could they not like us?”

The door gave a hollow shudder as my knuckles beat against it. There were a few brief moments of silence and then from beyond the flaking wood of the door came some echoes of commotion. A few shouting voices, curses flying on the air, and the clang of what sounded like pots being rattled on a stove top. Lionus and I exchanged looks of unease as the patter of hurried footsteps began.

“So sorry to keep you waiting!” The burring voice sounded over the whine of the door as it swung on its hinges. Our hostess stood in the doorway dressed in some ridiculous leather outfit. Her blonde hair was done up and she wore a red smile. I shook off the familiarity of the color and the girth of the grin with a tremor I hoped was less than noticeable and tried my best to mirror her welcome.

“It’s no problem at all,” I managed and felt Lionus’ hand slip into my own as we crossed the threshold into flat ten.

“Have any trouble finding the place?” she jibed, chuckling as she led us into the front room, which looked astoundingly like our own. Glancing around, I noticed a few differences; the jumbo-screen television in the corner, the extensive vinyl collection stacked meticulously beside an archaic record player and, strangest of all, the numerous textbooks and encyclopedias towering in the corner, reaching for the ceiling.

I opened my mouth to ask after them when my attention was called elsewhere as a rather sour-looking fellow sauntered into the room. I recognized him instantly: the husband.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” Marie said, turning to Lionus and extending a dainty hand. “I’m Marie. Marie Motte.” Lionus eyed the tattoo at her wrist but took her hand in his, giving it a polite shake.

“And this is my husband Stanley” she bubbled, reaching for him, “Babe, this is Maude and Lionus, our neighbors.” He stomped over to us and eyeing us suspiciously, offered his large hand, first to Lionus and then to me. Something passed over his face as his hand left my own; something like distaste.

“Nice to meet you,” he grumbled though his tone and general demeanor suggested otherwise. Marie looked slightly relieved and her face split with another warm smile.

“Shall we adjourn to the kitchen?” she chirped brightly, stepping towards me. She looped her arm in mine and I gave a small start; I’d forgotten how forward she was. As she led me on, I glanced back at Lionus who stood awkwardly beside Stanley. He gave me a trying smile as the pair of them started after us. It would be a long night. Undeniably.

The kitchen was as quaint as our own, given the décor was different. No hopeless, wilting house plants. No cat bowls. No transistor radio. Instead there were a couple of half-empty bottles of whiskey, their labels peeling, a few scattered cigarette butts, and a cookbook, its face open to the ceiling, the yellowed pages trembling with the rain-soaked breeze, floating down from the window above the sink.

In the middle of the room sat a small table, draped with simple linen. Our dinner was arranged charmingly across it, the glasses and silverware glinting in the low light. I hungrily eyed the giant bowl of spaghetti, set deliciously in the middle of it all. Marie took note.

“I made it all myself,” she beamed, squeezing my arm as she lead me to an empty chair. I settled into it and she planted herself to my right. She directed Stanley into the seat opposite her, giving him a stern look as he plopped down, glaring right back. Lionus took the chair at the other end of the table. He was terribly far from me. I tried to hide another tremor.

Marie had begun to serve the food, whisking my empty plate from under my nose and piling it high with pasta. She chattered pleasantly to keep the mood from growing more overwrought, asking Lionus some questions about the flat, blathering about the horrible heat and vaguely mentioning our chance encounter. I listened with half an ear, tucking into my dinner and taking the liberty of pouring myself a glass of wine. Stanley and I exchanged ill-tempered looks as I reached for the bottle. He was quick to snatch it away from me when I was through, sloshing a fair amount into his own glass. I caught Marie before she could scold him and exploit the situation.

“So Marie, what is it you do?”

Her face, which was on the brink of a glare, recoiled into a cheerful smile. And without a glimpse of shame she responded, “I waitress at a jazz club downtown. And I go-go dance.”

Lionus made a funny sound, snorting into his wine and Stanley’s face grew more unpleasant.

“That ain’t nothing like stripping, before you get that idea in your head,” he growled, shooting a glare at both of his guests. Lionus gave a few quick shakes of his head as if to ring any such notion from his skull. I shrugged one shoulder in defense, knowing full well that I was not one to be judging occupation, as Marie nodded, sipping her wine.

“Stanley’s right – it’s a common misconception,” she murmured as though she’d said it a million times, “I’d never go nude. So distasteful. And besides, the mob don’t sleaze around the go-go clubs. I’m safer where I am.” She threw me a small smile. “Even if my pockets suffer for it.”

“What is it you do, Maude?” Stanley asked suddenly, spitting my name like an offensive slur.

I blinked. “I work at a hole-in-the-wall bookstore. On Liberty and Tenth.”

Marie clapped her hands, giggling. “I knew it! You looked like a bookworm.” I attempted a small smile, unsure of how to take that. I resigned to fork a few noodles into my mouth. She raised an eyebrow, flinging out her hand to gesture to the parlor. “I saw you eyeing my personal collection. Whaddya think?”

I shrugged again. “I’m really not one to judge a book by its cover -”

“Hah!” Stanley brayed, slamming his silverware onto the table. “Ha, ha! You’re a card!” Lionus and I locked eyes, wincing.

“They look like textbooks anyway,” I added quietly, after a moment or so. “I don’t sell many of those.”

“What do you study?” Marie went right on as though Stanley hadn’t said a word, “I assume you’re a student.”

It’s wrong to assume…it makes an ASS out of U and ME. Get it? HahaHahAha!

I cleared my throat, briefly shaking that voice from my head. “No, I’m…not. I used to be but I…took a break.”

Stanley raised his eyebrows, shooting Marie a look I didn’t care to interpret. She didn’t seem to want to bother either.

“At least you’re one better than me,” she smiled, pinching my arm softly, “I never had any patience for that ‘institution of higher learning’ business. That’s why I started my collection: I’m teaching myself.”

“That’s fantastic!” Lionus chimed suddenly, with more gusto than necessary. He was quick to distract from the reason for my “absence”.

She giggled, basking in her praise. “Well, Lionus that’s the most I’ve heard out of you all night! And what do you do, pray tell?”

He smiled, first at his hostess and then at me. I could tell he was just as pleased as I was that the conversation was back on a more agreeable track.

“I’m an ad man. I design and illustrate advertisements for a number of things, for instance –"

“Well, well!” Stanley barked, slamming his palms on the table. The plates chattered and the silver rang and Lionus and I exchanged nervous glances. Stanley grinned spitefully, licking his lips. “We got the fruity artist and the basket case, right here at my table – drinking my wine, eating my food!” His lip curled in disgust. “I’ve had about enough of this small talk.”

His chair gave a horrible shriek as he pushed away from the table, standing abruptly and grabbing up his plate. Marie looked about ready to slap him and for a moment there, I really feared she would.

“Stanley Motte, what has gotten into you?” she seethed, clutching the stem of her wine glass with fury enough to break it, “You’re acting despicably!”

“Don’t go using your big words with me, Marie!” he spat, his eyes narrowing in hate, “Treating me like I’m some dumb animal. Wear that, say this, sit there… I won’t have it!” He turned brusquely, slopping a bit of spaghetti onto the floor as stalked back into the parlor roaring, “I’m the king around here! The king! The king won’t have it!” until his griping dissolved into angry muttering.

The table sat in silence for a moment. I glanced at Lionus who was staring intensely at his food as though he wished he could dive right in and hide. Marie’s smile had withered into a puckered frown of contempt. She was drilling her long nails in a quick angry rhythm across the table-top, making the wine in her glass ripple. I took a long slug of my own drink and felt my insides burn; I hoped it’d singe away the tension.

“I…apologize for my husband,” Marie said after what felt like an eon of awkward silence. “He can be difficult at times. And I’m sorry to say that it appears he doesn’t find the pair of you as charming as I do.”

“There’s really no need to apologize,” Lionus insisted, wiping at his mouth with his napkin and giving our hostess a smile of assurance.

“He’s usually a proper gentleman,” she sighed, shaking her head, “When he wants to be. He -"

“MARIE!” Stanley’s voice erupted from the parlor with such volume and urgency that the entire table gave a start.

His wife’s agreeable demeanor dissolved instantly. “WHAT?” she screeched, beating her tiny fist on the table. “WHAT COULD YOU WANT NOW?”

Lionus and I were frozen again, staring at each other, the pair of us entertaining the notion of simply walking out.

“Quit your harping and get over here!” Stanley hollered back, his voice mellowing to a slightly gentler pitch “You gotta see this!”

Marie groaned, pushing from the table and stamping from the room with a sassy sway of her hips. “If this is another one of your ball games, I swear I’ll –"

“Nah, nah look here,” I heard Stanley mutter, his voice lowering an octave still, “This is…bad news…bad news.”

Quiet settled over the flat as our hosts arrested their shouting. I could hear the stereo buzz of the television the soft babble of newsy voices. Concern broke Lionus’ face.

Bad news…bad news…

We rose from the table, neither looking away from the other as we followed in Marie’s angry footsteps. I glanced away, pausing in the doorway with him at my side, my eyes flittering to the television. I squinted at the harsh light, struggling to read the words blaring at the edges of the picture.

BREAKING NEWS: ARKHAM MAYHEM! ESCAPE OF NOTORIOUS CRIMINALS, THE JOKER AND CATWOMAN THROW GOTHAM INTO TERROR!

I felt my lungs deflate in my chest. Felt them wilt, sighing feebly in the crooks of rib cage and shuddering against my heavy heart. The news feed drowned into static, echoing in my head.

They’d done it. They’d actually done it. Escaped…Just like Bijou had promised. They’d come for me. And find me….wouldn’t they?

They could be on their way right now…for all I knew…

I was brought swiftly back to the reality of this stuffy and unfamiliar parlor as Lionus curled his fingers around my wrist, giving it a soft squeeze. Glancing back at him, I saw the concern stretched tight across his young face. He looked ten years older. And in the silver stain of light smeared across the both of us, I saw it. Something I’d missed.

He looked like…him. The clown with the tear-away face. Without the paint. Without the menace. I stared at him, waiting for the yellow blood-dynamite smile that would never come.

“Maude?” he murmured, his breath warm against my cheek. It felt familiar, safe. I relaxed.

My throat gave a strange hiccup, choking on the words. “Fine,” I managed, blinking away the memory before it could swallow me back up, “I’m fine.”

His fingers squeezed my wrist again. He knew as well as I did what this meant. “Maude…”

I shook him off, bothered by his persistence, and returned my gaze to the parlor. The scene had changed. No longer upset, Maude had drawn herself close to her husband; one hand on his broad shoulder and the other held to her lips, which had broken into a crooked, worried frown. Stanley had a strong arm around her waist, holding her close as a though a threat was brewing just beyond them.

For all they knew, there could be.

I hid my smile from all of them, silent and rejoicing in my parents’ victory.

They’d done it…they were coming…and we’d be together again…everything would be-

“Finished,” Stanley muttered, his brow creasing in boyish anger, “This town is finished…” He turned in his seat slightly, looking back at Lionus and me. There was confusion in his eyes, as if he couldn’t believe we were still here. Marie patted his shoulder, settling what venom was waiting to be spat. She walked our way, a familiar watery color in her eyes: fear. I was quick to disguise the happy light in my own.

“Maybe you two should head home,” she said, quietly, simply, with absolute etiquette.

Lionus shifted beside me, taking my hand. I could feel the sweat pooling in his palm. “I think that’d be best,” he sighed, smiling tiredly, the weight of what we both knew bearing down on his shoulders.

The three of us shuffled back into the kitchen, heading for the door. The frazzled talk of the television followed after us, reminding us just what world we were stepping out into, reminding us just what this city was capable of creating…just when you thought it was ready to settle down for sleep.

Not in this heat.

“Thank you for having us,” I slurred as Lionus and I stepped out in the hall, my voice slow and mechanical “We should do this…again.”

Marie smiled tightly, her hand ready to close the door behind us. “Of course…” She threw a glance up and down the corridor, peeling her eyes for the monsters lurking in the green shadows. She was looking for purple and paint. She was looking for black and red lips. Her gaze snapped back to us. “Be safe. Good night.”

The door shut with a quiet thud and I was staring at myself again, in that little number ten. I lingered in the hallway as Lionus quickly stepped into our own flat. And I heard Marie do something Bijou had never done. Something my mother had never bothered with, already too mad to be frightened.

I heard her lock her door.