Page 50 of Obsession of the Egoist
“Oh, be my guest.” He smiled, never intending to stop her. “No one will come while I’m here.”
Still holding the phone, she didn’t dial the number, and Yugo wondered why she believed him.
“Did you swallow your tongue? Maybe the girl will tell me. Where is she?”
“My husband.” Her cheek flinched as she replied.
So you have a husband. What a slut…Yugo smirked. “Where is he?”
“Died four years ago. What do you need?”
His gaze caught her bare feet and painted in pale pink toenails. Not taking his shoes off, Yugo strolled past her into the small, light kitchen. She followed. It smelled like fried bell-pepper and meat. Rough beige fabric covered the table, two chairs stood by. Slumping on one of them, he stretched his legs. “Sit.”
Grabbing the back of the other chair, she complied.
“I’ve seen you before,” she said, burning him with her unblinking stare.
“Where is the girl?”
She didn’t flinch but squinted, scrutinizing him. “You were in the park. Many times. You always stare.”
“Where is the girl?”
“Next room.” No fear bled through her features, and Yugo wondered if she was so dumb that she wasn’t scared. “What do you want?”
Yugo didn’t listen. His gaze slid over the clean but old gas stove with nearly burned through rings, jumped to the fluffy, transparent curtains, and a line of plants on the windowsill. An old doll sat in the corner, dressed in a pink dress. The windows were clean as if have been just washed. On his left, above the table, a handful of child doodles hung in no particular order, small colorful pins holding them to a corkboard. Some of the drawings were so old, the corners curled forward and the paper had turned yellow. In colorful crayons, a woman and child figures were barely recognizable. Both had yellow ray lines sticking out from their heads.
“Who are you?”
“Shut up,” Yugo said, examining the pictures. Each one was dated in neat, small handwriting, and he realized that most of them were from two years ago. Only two were fresh. One of the recent ones had a blue sky, sun, and a fluffy cloud with a rainbow sticking out of it. Another one was much messier. It had trees, knee-high grass, and three human figures. A child, a woman, and a man. The man’s face was hatched with white horizontal lines at the place where his eyes should have been. Yugo swallowed, his throat tight.
Getting to his feet, he approached the window.
“Mom?” A tiny voice made him face the entrance. A girl in a blue dress held a piece of paper in her hands. Her curious, questioning gaze directed at him.
“Go to your room,” the woman said.
“No. Stay,” Yugo ordered in a tone that didn’t leave room for disobedience. The woman shot him a glare, starting to get nervous.
For a few long minutes, he examined the girl. With blue eyes and a mop of platinum hair, she looked like a miniature copy of her mother. He approached. Squatting down, he peered into her eyes, noticing serrated stitching around the irises. “What’s your name?”
“Nelly.”
“What’s this, Nelly?” he pointed to the piece of paper.
“A gift,” the girl said, showing him the image. It resembled the last one he saw. The blind man, the woman, and the child, except the colors had changed.
“For whom?”
“For Kuon. This is me,” her index finger poked the drawing, then moved about. “This is Mommy and Kuon. I’ll give this to him tomorrow.”
“Don’t be stupid, he is blind,” Yugo said, feeling irritated.
“You are stupid,” the girl retorted, frowning. “Not forever. When he can see again, he will look at it and be happy. And we will go to the aquarium, and look at all the fish there. Even sharks.”
Pressing her drawing to her tummy, she gave Yugo the evil eye and stomped to her mother. He got up.
“So it’s about Kuon,” the woman said, patting the girl’s head. Getting to her feet, she approached the stove and put the kettle on. “Tea or coffee?”
