Page 9 of Love, Nemesis
Manaj hit him with the ladle. Lethe tried to move through the door as Manaj repeated the effort over and over, aiming for his head despite their vast difference in height.
“You’re a madman!” Manaj said. “Mad! Mad! Mad!” He then spoke passionately in Hindi as Lethe raced outside the house. Lethe’s foot caught the step, and he tripped and rolled.
He’d never seen the little man move so quickly, ladle flailing as he marched down the stairs.
Lethe whirled around in the street, arms up.
“I’m sorry! Hey!” He dodged another swing. “English!” he shouted back at Manaj as the man continued incessantly in Hindi. Lethe recognized a few colorful words.
“I knew it!” Manaj finally withdrew the ladle but shook it at him. “I knew it! I knew it! I told you that book was not good for you—it was not!”
“It won’t kill me, Manaj! Come on!”
“I knew it was only a matter of time before you did something else, but this—this?” He started off in Hindi again and did a turn.
Lethe noticed one of their neighbors peeking through a window. Luckily, it was still too early for most people to be out in the street.
“What did you expect to happen?” said the old man, pointing the ladle at him again but still marching around so that Lethe had to adjust the distance accordingly.
“I just thought it would calm things down in my head, all right?” Lethe said. “Worst case scenario, it heals right up and does nothing!”
“You push your mutation too far, and you know it!” Manaj said, shaking the ladle as he finally planted his steps in a wide stance. “You don’t know if your brain heals like your body does. You abuse your gift! The miracle of your body! What if you had done permanent damage to yourself?”
Lethe shrugged. “You have to admit, maybe I’d be more manageable.”
“No jokes!” Manaj said, marching back toward the house. “This is an offense against me!” He whirled back around, shaking the ladle. “I was making us breakfast!” He slammed the door, leaving Lethe waiting outside in the street.
Lethe scratched his head and then checked his belt.
He cursed.
“Manaj,” he called, walking up to the base of the steps.
“Don’t come back until nightfall!” Manaj shouted from inside the house.
“Manaj, I need my flask.” He stood with his hands on his hips, staring down at the steps as he waited for an answer.
“No!”
Lethe sighed, looking up at the sky now.
“Manaj,” he called again.
Silence.
“Lethe.”
He looked to his right to see Jamie, an orphan in a stained, yellow sweatshirt, walking up to him on her way to school.
She adjusted her large bag over her shoulder, the edges of her sleeve gathering down near her elbow. She stopped next to Lethe, looking between the door and him before pushing her hair behind her ears.
“You and Manaj fighting again?” she asked.
“Something like that,” Lethe said, glancing down the opposite street to the schoolhouse as he squinted into the sun.
“What did you do?” she asked.
He fished out a stopwatch from under his shirt and clicked it open.
