Page 65 of Reverence

“See… I am your love… And she is mine… And isn’t that a tragedy?”

The image of Katarina standing outside of the hospital swam in her mind before Juliette closed her eyes and drifted off.

The actual sightof Katarina standing in front of the hospital was nothing like the one had Juliette imagined as she convalesced for two more weeks and underwent another surgery. The antibiotics cleared her pneumonia, though her cough was still a rather painful memory for her ribs. Along with her lungs, her mind gained some of its clarity back. And so the sight was particularly jarring.

Of course it was raining. It should have been snowing. February in Paris was usually reliably cold.

“Guess I can’t even count on Paris.” Juliette belatedly realized she had murmured her thoughts out loud when Helena, who was pushing her wheelchair out the side door and toward the limo waiting at the curb, stopped.

“What did you say, Jett?” And then Helena jerked the wheelchair and Juliette knew she would not have to answer. “What the fuck is she still doing here?”

Helena phrased it as a question, but all Juliette heard was the finality of war being declared and lines being drawn. Katarina was not coming anywhere near her. Well, by the look of her. Hair soaking wet, matted to her face, clothes clinging to her body that somehow looked so much thinner than the familiar willowy form, making her seem frail and fragile, driving Juliette’s treacherous heart to beat faster with worry.

The speeding up of her heartbeats angered Juliette. All the rage returned, at herself, at this damn woman who stood in the rain looking foolish and reckless.

Helena pushed the wheelchair and Juliette turned away, refusing to meet the once beloved eyes that looked on beseechingly.

“Juliette!”

Well, she had some gall. But then bravery was always something Katarina had in spades—Juliette had to give her that.

“No fucking way, Jett. Get in.” Helena growled near her ear and handed her the crutches, then opened the car door.

Juliette stood up, wavered, then gritted her teeth. She would not give Katarina the satisfaction of seeing her weak. She bit the inside of her cheek and straightened, resting her weight on her left leg and the crutches now tucked under her arms.

But when she finally turned to Katarina, who was now much closer, just a few steps away, there was no satisfaction on the rain-washed face. Just pain. Goddamn pain. Would it ever end?

“Juliette…” One word, a lifetime of heartache. Juliette allowed herself to meet Katarina’s eyes. She clenched her jaw hard at the sight. Wan, somehow bruised, as if she was the one who had broken all her bones, the one whose future was as uncertain as the Parisian weather this winter, Katarina looked sick.

“Juliette…” Even her voice was broken, the vowels subdued and the consonants unnaturally harsh.

“You need to stop saying my name as if it is the answer to everything.” Juliette herself knew she did not sound whole, or remotely like herself. But it felt imperative that she speak. She was still alive. She was moving on.

“It is… For me. Please…” Katarina stopped, gulped, and Juliette realized the rain was washing tears off the angular face, the unusually dull pale blue eyes swimming in them.

“Please what?” Juliette heard herself whisper, and then her own vision blurred. The tears infuriated her all over. God, why could she not stop surrendering?

“Please what?” And this time the shimmer of tears was gone, and she was screaming. “What else can I give? You took everything. Was any of what we had true? Was any of it real?Is this?” Juliette gestured with her chin to the distance between them, fingers gripping the handles of the crutches. Next to her, Helena put a hand on her shoulder. As restraint went, it was a feeble attempt.

“Standing here every day, crying in the rain. You’re no romance heroine, Vyatka. You’re the villain of this book. And I am the fool who loved you, despite everyone telling me you’re hiding a knife under your pillow and that I will wake up one morning with it in my back. Enjoy your throne, Your Majesty. Seems like I can’t sit on it anymore anyway.”

The tears were choking her now, and Juliette felt that one more word would make her cry uncontrollably. And despite her earlier assurances that she had nothing else to give Katarina, she’d already given her more than she intended. The hysterics would be too much.

Juliette drew in a desperate breath. Just a few more words and then she’d be done, then she’d allow Helena to put her in the car.

“Are you here to soothe your guilt but getting wet in the cold Parisian rain? How romantic.” Juliette spat the last two words as if they tasted foul. She was certain they would be there tomorrow morning for the street sweepers to throw away. “You’ve accomplished some of that. As for guilt? You always carried enough of it, so what’s a little more,sweetheart?”

Juliette knew the term of endearment was a bullet. She didn’t care. She loaded it in the empty barrel and spun it. Fate of the Russian roulette had it that out of everything she had said on this sidewalk, it was this word that seemed to hit Katarina square in the chest. She swayed, her arms falling to her sides, hands shaking, knuckles white as if she’d been wringing them.

When the smoke from the metaphorical gun settled around them, the rain washing it away, Juliette drew a long breath in. She could have sworn there was a whiff of gunpowder in the air.

“Remember how I asked you to be careful with my love?” Katarina’s gasp was her only answer before Juliette spoke again. “All the lies, the scheming, the intrigue. And for what? You didn’t need to sleep with me to get what you were after. Did you do it because I was…what? There? Lonely? Desperate? I loved you, Katarina Vyatka. I deserved a gentler goodbye from you.”

As the words spilled, opening her heart to this woman one last time felt natural. She knew her smile was distorted. Ugly. Her own tears would follow suit soon, and she didn’t want to give the satisfaction of being seen crying. She’d indulge later. Alone and broken.

Still, Juliette allowed herself one more look. Wet, cold, shivering. No, seeing Katarina like this did not please her, did not take away her pain. In fact, speaking to her, hurling all those words at this fragile figure swaying in the wind, only made Juliette feel like a cad. She turned sharply, Helena’s arm saving her from a face-plant, and maneuvered herself into the car.

Katarina still trembled on the sidewalk as the limo pulled away. Juliette’s tears came then. Hot and bitter.

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