“I am the Face of Love’s Rage,”

Ethel Cain, Ptoelmaea

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There is always a question about destiny—the entire idea of whether one actually has agency in their own life. This entire line of events has been nothing but a question of destiny because, as far as I could tell, I was just a backseat driver in my own life. This only carried on when Geraldt ‘Jer’ didn’t wait for a response but rather looked over at Samson. The latter pulled out a carton of cigarettes from his blazer. Blaze, for lack of any other word, was not too impressed with their actions but didn't say anything. He chose instead to flop down on his bed and, for all intents and purposes, become dead to the world.

Samson got out of bed, shuffling over to the door while we waited for Geraldt to get up. He did so, but he let out a small hiss when he pressed down on one foot, using the chair to keep him steady.

“You a’ight there?”

Samson looked away when Geraldt gave him a look that spoke enough. Still, Geraldt was adamant and sought out his pair of pants, pulling them onto his safe leg first, before supporting himself on the chair to slip his hurt leg through the pants. I’m sure, had he both, he would’ve jumped, but it was an awkward shimmy to get the pants over his thighs and settle properly onto his frame. With that, he looked up at Samson, sparing a reassuring grin before limping over to the door. Samson was not all too aware and nearly got his face hit when Geraldt jokingly ‘threw’ open the door, missing him by just an inch of his life. The latter flipped Geraldt off, and the two laughed as they walked down the hallway, and I trailed behind.

We were going to the aforesaid leisure room. The sound became clear upon entry, or as clear as it could be. The boys were watching a telenovela, but the television let off an echo effect that made the voices only slightly inaudible. Yet, there were subtitles, so all seemed well. I finally got to see the other group of boys who were sitting in view from the hall.

It looked like they were playing a standard game of Go Fish, but I could be wrong. One of the boys looked up at Geraldt pitifully.

“Still bugging you, Jer?”

“Yeah, same as usual,” Geraldt retorted, not sparing even a side glance at the questioner, who now leaned back against the chair as he watched a couple fight on the screen. The two, Samson and Geraldt, found themselves at the window of the leisure room after what would’ve been compared to “trudging through mud." Geraldt slumped against the windowsill, cursing at himself as Samson got out two cigarettes, offering the box over to me.

“No, I’m cool,” was all I said, and Samson nodded quietly, turning over to pull a lighter from the same box. The bottom was singed by a man of taste. He lit his own and then followed by lighting Geradlt’s cigarette, which he just let hang from his lips until it was time for him to take a drag from it.

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“You got a girlfriend?”

I looked up at Samson, realizing that I had just been standing awkwardly. Geraldt was at ease, his wounded foot dangling behind his safe leg as he leaned against the windowsill. He thumbed the bottom of his cigarette patiently, watching me with the same amusement that flashed in Samson’s eyes. I didn’t really have a girlfriend per se. There wasn’t really a lot of room for one, but I guess relationships also weren’t really labeled.

"’Nough said,” chuckled Geradlt, turning back to look outside the window. He took another deep breath of his cigarette, relaxing further into the windowsill. He rested his head against his arms and watched as the gold hour faded into blue and the space got colder. The lamp got turned on, and that also jerked me out of my thoughts.

"A penny for your thoughts?”

Samson had a way with him, always picking up the points when I was slipping.

“Rough day” was all I could offer, but he had a knowing look in his eyes that told me he didn’t believe me. He turned back, only for Geraldt to turn like clockwork.

“You’re like a lost fart; just get over here,” he huffed, gesturing me closer with his hand. I didn’t really have any choice but to comply, but he snapped his eyes back to me when I moved.

“Mind the leg, short stuff,” he snapped. I realized that I was one step from bumping his injured foot. One movement later, and I was seated between the two boys, staring off into the distance.

“You’ll get ’long fine here; just don’t be such a stiff,” Samson commented, taking a drag of his cigarette and throwing the ashes off.

“I don’t think he’s stiff, more just scared,” Geraldt added, “nobody ever comes to a boardin’ school on their own.”

“True, so what’s your story?”

“Fight,” I admitted. “got into a fight, and apparently it was the last straw.”

“D’you win?” One of the boys from the card group asked as he sat closest to us. Geraldt knocked him over the head with his palm.

“You don’t ask the cutie that, right?”

What in Hell’s name? I looked at Geraldt from the side and Samson let out a chuckle that turned into a cough. He snuffed his cigarette on the window sill.

“I really should stop these damn things,” he coughed out. Geraldt raised his eyebrow accusingly before simply carrying on with his own cigarette. Eventually, Samson left, but he patted Geraldt’s back like a small affirmation.

“Why’d you call me ‘cutie’?” I asked, not even bothering to stop myself. I was too tired to care. I really needed to climb under the sheets or take something.

“Aren’t you?” He responded, question for question. Before I could answer, a bell rang, and he put out his cigarette, cursing against some hidden enemy.

“Right, boy, let’s get some grub,” he cooed as he turned around. It took me a while to actually start walking. I was watching a bird on the fields outside run around under the blue light of the sky. When I did turn around, I slammed into his chest. He was waiting for me, but I think he wishes he hadn't. He let out a yelp as he stepped back onto his injured foot.

“Shit,” I stammered, rushing to get his arm so I could support him, but he let out a chuckle, half-panting as he moved the weight onto his safe leg. He moved his arm, wrapping it around my shoulders and hoisting himself up properly.

“For that, you owe me.”

The implication dripped off his words, and I looked down at the floor. I could feel my body heat up, and my heart started beating against my ribs.

“Not like that, you dimwit, unless. Just walk me to the canteen, and we’ll call it even, a’ight?”