Lacrima: Chapter Five

Left Out

Bae Yuri locked herself into a pigeon pose atop her yoga mat. She held the stretch, needing to feel the strain in her body. The lack of a gym disappointed her, but that would never prevent her from exercising. Bae carved her routine into her body over the years. Right as she eased the stretch to transition to another pose, an envelope slid underneath her door.

She unfolded herself and rolled over to it. Bae clutched the envelope, tore it open, and slid out the letter.

“Hey Bae!

Just so you know, we’re having a social mixer in the dining room at 7:00 p.m. This is a big welcome party for all the guests in Lacrima. With the host awol, I thought it would be best to step in. Dress nice and formal, but I don’t think that’ll be a problem for you. And don’t worry about bringing any food, of course. That’ll be Service’s job.

Can’t wait to see you,

Lucille Azure.”

A party?

The final click of processing blared like a clarion through her system. Bae Yuri got to her feet immediately. She walked past her gored travel backpack and into the closet. Bae pondered the clothes she recently hung up on hangers. A tentative glance went to the hamper where she discarded the corduroys and white button-up from earlier in the day. She shook her head and returned to thinking of a fresh outfit. After some staring and comparing, Bae settled on a sleek pair of dark gray khakis, a deep blue button-up, and a gray sportscoat. She picked up a tile-like red tie with gray stripes hacked through. Grinning, she draped the tie over her neck.

Each tailored piece came onto her easily. After she trotted to the mirror to touch her mascara, she admired herself in the reflection. Bae spun around. A past her would have seen this as guilty-minded cross-dressing. Now, she couldn’t help but be excited to run out and greet people in this outfit.

Bae Yuri slipped into her standard loafers and sauntered out to the hallway. She checked her disconnected phone: 12:33.

Shoot, I still have plenty of time, Bae thought.

She then decided to reconstruct the “chance meeting” with Job. Bae had gotten good at hanging around until a stranger came by her. She liked being around people, but the initial hurdle of striking up a conversation daunted her. Sometimes, she just hung around until a passerby swung by. Bae was a sucker for meet-cutes. Who said reality couldn’t be a romantic comedy?

She lingered outside her door, positioning herself as if she just closed it. Using her peripheral vision, she watched to see if anyone ventured outside their room or came through the hallway. Bae waited a while. The silence of Lacrima, only disturbed by the rain outside, deafened her.

A minute passed.

The sense of loneliness crept in, scratching its nails against her skin. Bae steeled herself in patience. Five other people. One was bound to slide on through.

Another minute passed.

She might catch Lucille giving out more invitations.

Another kernel of sand drops in the hourglass.

Catherine might walk through with a notebook in hand.

Sixty seconds went and disappeared.

Job. Oh, Job. Couldn’t there be a sequel to their conversation?

Consecutive minutes upon minutes…

Would she be so desperate as to earnestly talk to Service?

Bae’s nervous system jolted her up. She needed to move. She couldn’t wait. She had to find someone. All the while, she rubbed her arms. Lacrima’s enclosed quiet suffocated her. A wayward voice gave her breath.

She halted her nervous hunt right outside Konrad’s door - slightly ajar. From that gap, Bae could hear his footsteps, quick and successive. Guiltily, she peered into the breach. Crumpled paper in his hand, Konrad stared at the missive and paced. Unbecoming of his long limbs, his feet shuffled in a series of truncated steps.

Bae stepped back, breathed in, and knocked on the door. She could hear him give a bewildered inhale.

“Yes?!”

“Konrad, it’s Bae. May I come in?”

He cleared his throat. “Sure you can.”

Bae finally crossed the threshold, accidentally kicking a hoodie as she came in. Konrad yelped and picked it up, throwing it onto his bed. She walked deeper into the room and noticed all the strewn clothes. His camera equipment laid in a jumbled pile of wires, lens, batteries, and stands next to the desk. The room looked exactly like hers, as she guessed all the guests had identical rooms, but the explosion of jeans and tee made it look thoroughly his.

Konrad saw the slight, subdued creases on her face. “My bad. This place is a wreck.”

Bae looked at him. He wore his anxiety all over him. She didn’t have to hide her motivation. “Are you okay? You looked stressed.”

“Yes, I’m fine…” He elongated the word until it became a syllable, stretched taut beyond any meaning. Just a flimsy excuse to fill space. Konrad shook his head. “No, I’m not okay.” He crashed backwards onto his bed. The mattress or sheets didn’t make a sound.

Bae rolled up the desk chair. She planted it right in front of him and leaned back into the swivel chair. “Talk to me.” It’s what she wanted, after all.

His fingers unfurled. Bae recognized the handwriting as Lucille’s.

Konrad held the invitation up and read aloud: “‘Wear your best stuff. Formal dress code.’” He motioned to the vomit of fabric around them. “See the problem?”

Bae sucked air through her teeth. “You have nothing to wear then?”

He hung his head in a pathetic nod. It lolled limply. “I’ll just stay in my room.”

“Hey. Hey.” Bae stood up and made a circuit of the room. “I’m sure we can throw something together.”

Her hands dove into a pile of laundry. She plucked out dozens of mismatched socks. Parting past the underwear - which she dearly hoped were clean - she spotted a gem in the rough. Bae lifted up a sleek black turtleneck up above. At her grin, Konrad smiled again.

“Pick out your best pair of jeans,” she said. He hopped up and grabbed the least wrinkled one. Bae handed him the turtleneck. “Do you have a belt?”

“Sure I do!”

“With how small your waist is, I assumed you did,” she laughed.

Konrad awkwardly reciprocated the laugh with his shaky own. He picked up his black faux-leather belt on his way to the bathroom to change. Bae settled back into her chair, dusting off her hands.

After a short interlude, Konrad appeared in front of her. He walked with more of his gait. Still, his brow creased as another object found itself wrapped in his fingers. He sat on his bed again.

“Do you think a piece of jewelry might help?”

“Maybe. Show me.”

Gingerly, his fingers successively unclasped. A metallic figurine held up with a thin chain rested in his palm. At first, Bae thought it was an owl.

Those look more like antennae than ear tufts… she thought.

The wings met in the middle to provide an anchor point for the chain. Its eyes jutted out as rounded, insectoid orbs. A pair of tiny hands grabbed along with its talons.

“What is it?”

“Mothman!” He yelled, he knew, a little too loud. “You know. He’s a cryptid from West Virginia.”

“Aaah. Never heard of it before.”

“Well, he’s pretty well known,” he said, bringing the necklace closer to him. Konrad looked down at his little cryptid. “Maybe I should leave it here.”

“No, if you want to wear it, then go right ahead!” Bae implored. She didn’t understand why he might want to wear it, but that didn’t matter.

“I do. But what if others-”

“Judge you?” Bae scoffed. “Our fellow guests are good people. You’ve seen that yourself. Wear it and own it.”

“Yeah.” The sentiment settled into him. “Yeah.” After a second, he internalized it. Konrad slipped on the necklace with pride.

Bae clapped. “See, you look nice. Nothing to worry about anymore.”

“Thanks, Bae.”

“I would’ve given you one of my sports coats, but I think the measurements would be too… disparate.”

“Yeah,” he echoed. The joy in his features eased away like an ebbing tide.

“Were the clothes the only thing that was bothering you?” Bae probed.

“It was fuel for the fire,” he admitted. His hand rubbed the necklace. “You don’t have any signal either, do you?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “And I’m glad for it!”

“Good for you,” he sighed. “I have the opposite opinion.”

“Oh.” Bae slinked back, realizing the context Konrad brought the subject up. She felt ashamed at her faux-pas. “You didn’t know that Lacrima’s a dead zone?”

“No. I just heard the rumors that Nebbel might be dead,” he replied, breathing heavily.

“But you need to contact someone?”

“Yep.” His nostrils flared. The worry he discarded so readily came back to him just as quickly. “Shit. Grandma’s gotta be worried sick.”

“I-” Bae got to her feet, but froze standing. She couldn’t do anything. Bae couldn’t magically send a message to Konrad’s grandma. Anymore than she could send Daniel or anyone else she knew a message. She sat back in the chair. “Sorry about that.”

“You didn’t do anything.” Konrad touched his left arm. His fingers slid from shoulder to wrist in long strokes.

Bae clenched and unclenched her hands. She spun in the chair until it faced the desk again. “That’s more equipment than I usually use.”

Konrad snapped from his fugue. “That’s right. You’re a content creator like me.”

“I could probably help with…” Her hand gestured at the coiled wires and black-cased hardware. “...all that.”

“You would?” He scratched the back of his neck. Konrad seemed wholly focused on his new topic.

“Of course. We have too much time before Lucille’s party, so we might as well.”

“Cool!” He stood up sharply. “When we get everything set up, I’ll have to show you my spirit-boxes. Yes, I have multiple.”

Bae followed along with him, nodding along. They worked on the pile of computers, cameras, and assorted paranormal equipment. Dividing, plugging, and organizing away, they chatted idly. Bae let Konrad carry the conversation. Let him get lost in his worlds.

Control what’s stressing you, Bae mused on old advice. If you can’t control it, distract yourself until the stresser resolves itself or you stop stressing about it.

Besides helping Konrad, Bae liked that he, unwittingly, was helping distract her. He may think that she just helped him, but Bae knew it was more mutual than altruistic. Konrad’s distraction was his passion, for Bae it was other people.

Distractors make good distractions.

Eventually, Konrad’s rig came together splendidly. His laptop, connected to a mechanical keyboard and wireless mouse, whirred to life. He flicked open folders to show her blurry photos. Bae nodded and assumed Konrad saw what he saw in the images. Then, she saw the time.

“We’ve been at this for a while. Look: 6:42.”

“Woah,” he agreed, eyes wide. “We could head down at this point.” He shut down the computer with routine efficiency. Konrad and Bae returned to the hallway. Taking a pause, he looked back at his door.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just noticed: there’s no keyhole. The room doesn’t lock.”

“I’ll be honest, it worries me too,” she agreed. “Thankfully, I don’t think any of us are unsavory characters.”

Konrad shook his head. Then an idea came to him. “Service, can you lock my door?”

“Of course, Konrad, give me a moment,” the voice rang as a bell. A mechanism clasped into the door. Konrad gave a nudging tug.

“It’s locked now,” he said, a bit amazed.

“Give me a moment.” Bae went off and did the same for her room. She came back to Konrad. “We should tell the others they can lock their rooms.”

Is Esau locked in his own office? Bae wondered. The rooms are sound-proofed. When the doors are closed, of course. Does he just have Service wait on him in his office? Then, why didn’t he greet us? Didn’t he invite us?

“That’d be a good idea,” Konrad said, bringing Bae out of her thoughts.

“We can tell them at the party,” she said.

“Tell what to who?” The two craned their heads to Catherine who stood right behind them. Konrad hopped a bit to the side, as she came a little too close for comfort. He then told her about the locking doors.

Catherine’s eyebrows knitted. “Why didn’t I think to ask that? I’ll write that down later.” She put a hand to her temple and rubbed circles. For the occasion, she wore a new dress: one of zig-zag patterns of green and red. Catherine also replaced her previous earrings with square-shaped hoops.

“You looked great!” Bae said. “And tired, but mostly great.”

“I definitely feel more tired than great.” Catherine pulled a water bottle from her purse and took a swig. “I lost track of time in the library.”

“Oh, you were down there. Read anything good?” Bae asked, trying to coax Catherine from her steady track. To Bae, Catherine seemed to always be somewhere else. As a perpetually present person, Bae felt uneasy with that.

“I didn’t read anything.” She stashed away her bottle. “Besides my own notes. I got sick looking at my own writing for that long.”

“Well, maybe talking with people would be a good idea. I know for me being stuck in your head can be torture. Other people can make all your problems look so small. Especially when they have their own problems. Right, Catherine?” Bae chuckled to fend off losing the leash on her own words.

“Yes?” She raised an eyebrow, looking unsure how to respond. Glancing at Konrad, she smirked. “How’s your investigation going there?”

“Had to put it on pause,” Konrad replied, smoothing his sleeves. “Bae’s been keeping me company.”

“You might find this interesting. I asked Service to make a copy of my notes.” She pulled a bundle of notes from her bag. “Look, they even stapled it. If you don’t mind reading over it, here’s all the questions I fed to Service and their answers. You might gleam something.”

Konrad grabbed it then flipped through the pages. “Do I have to show my work?”

“A highlighter might be helpful,” she said, drily.

If Bae were being honest with herself, she really didn’t care about this “Service investigation.” It was an AI. She played with those tools plenty of times. Yes, it was fancy with it interacting with the house and all that, but Bae felt they were losing the forest for the trees.

Lacrima’s a resort. A retreat. A place to meet people, she thought. How am I supposed to relax if I’m interviewing the digital help the whole time? Some people have strange definitions of relaxation.

She hoped they would move onto a different topic.

They never did.

Even as they entered the dining room, Konrad and Catherine chatted about her findings. They didn’t even acknowledge that Job and Lucille were already there.

And, Bae thought, how could anyone not notice Lucille right now?

Lucille took her proposed dress code to a whole new tier. Her strapless dress shimmered with fine sky-blue silk. She pressed her hand against the fabric, patting where the cloth met her legs as she sat. Diamond studs hung in her earlobes. She tapped her white sandals against the floor. Her make-up accentuated her natural freckles, but brightened them as white dots, scattered as snow.

When Bae finished gawking, she sat next to Job. He just wore the attire he boarded the boat with. Luckily, he dressed well.

Lucille fluttered her fingers, nails a new, matching shade of blue, to Bae as she sat down at the table. Bae laid her hands on the white tablecloth. Pears carved into small knots and crusted in honied nuts glistened on a serving tray. Each was speared with a toothpick. Bae picked one up.

“Bae, so glad you could make it. In fact, I’m happy to see everyone here!” She smiled, cheeks dimpled. She shifted back to her conversation with Job. “You were engaged?”

“Twice actually.” Job interlocked his fingers. “And I left the community before the matchmaker tried a third time.”

“You’re still Jewish, though?”

“Ah, an eternal question: can anyone really stop being Jewish? Can a covenant with God on high be so easily broken?” He looked down, drumming his fingers on the table. “I’ll tell you I no longer believe in God. Still, God’s demands have a hold on me. Religion is my comfort. Religion is my chain.”

Enraptured, Lucille mouthed the words he just spoke. Her lips relished his phrasing. “Tell me more,” she sighed.

Bae listened as much as she could, but she mostly watched. She, reluctantly, sunk into herself. Chewing on the candied fruit, she observed Lucille drawing closer and closer to Job. The handsome man edged nearer and nearer. On the other end of the gathering, Catherine sipped sparkling soda from a flute. Konrad pointed to the corners. Catherine nodded, smirking with delight.

Bae even watched as Catherine brought the pair over to speak with Job. Konrad spoke about how to lock the doors. He acknowledged Bae. She bowed, but felt so sunken that she labored just to do that much. The group of four split back up into pairs, so wrapped in their previous conversations.

How easy was it to slip away?

Too easy.

For others, they connected with others as easily as drawing breath. For Bae, the opposite was the case.

Here she was, not talking, not conversing, not even trying to listen. Bae desperately wanted to be real. To be the wooden boy who became a flesh-and-blood child. Yet, her strings couldn’t be so easily detached.

Lacrima was her opportunity to do just that, but it was slipping away right in front of her. Sitting back, as a spectator. Distance, however, afforded her realization.

Lucille has Job. Konrad has Catherine.

Everyone here… Everyone…

Bae looked at the clock. It was six past eight.

Lucille was wrong, she thought. Everyone’s not here.

“Where’s Argus?”