Miriam
That's such a pretty name
I'm gonna say it when
I'll make you cry
I feel the same rush of relief that I always feel when he gets home. He could have been dead - there are plenty of people who would like him dead - but he’s fine. Perfect. He wraps me into a hug and I bury my face into his shoulder. We can do that here, we’re alone.
But something is amiss.
I can tell, as soon as I try to breathe in his scent, which was always the same, indescribable, and I’m greeted with a strange sort of perfume instead. Cinnamon and roses is all I can think of to describe it.
That’s not him, definitely not.
That’s another woman.
And why does his shoulder smell like her?
I pull away from him.
Why does he smell like her?
I don’t want him to smell like anything but himself and me. My stomach flips.
–Lucius?â€
–What’s the matter, love?†He runs his fingers through my hair. I hate that. I’ve always hated that. I’ve only ever had to tell him that once, but he knows I hate that. Or at least, he knew. Did he forget? There are lots of reasons why he could smell like a woman’s perfume, I tell myself pointedly, lots of them. I can’t jump to conclusions, not yet.
–Oh, nothing.†I pause, wondering how to best go about this. –You were out late, where were you?â€
–Just working. How’s your cold?†he asks.
–I can smell again, which is lovely.†I watch his face carefully, but I needn’t have paid such close attention. His discomfort is obvious when he immediately takes a step away from me. Two.
–I’m g-going to go change - I’ve been in these robes all day, and they’re awfully …â€
The stutter gave him away, and he knows it. He knows it, and I bloody well know it. But I’m not going to be accusatory. Not yet.
–You smell like roses,†I say conversationally.
–Do I?â€
–Yes, you do. Why?â€
–I don’t know,†he says quickly, –are you sure it’s not you?â€
–Yes, I’m positive. I’d never wear roses, they make my entire head get … stuffed … up …â€
That cold. I’ve had that fucking cold for over a month now. Just when I thought it was going away, it would come back.
And now I get it, and I’m certain. Completely. Like a curtain lifting, it’s so obvious to me that that’s all that it could have been, and I can’t believe I never saw it until tonight.
So help me, I’m going to kill him.
–Who is it?†I’m letting my anger get the better of me, and I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself.
–I don’t know what you’re talking about, Cissy, I…â€
–Who?†I speak with a finality, I'm not asking him to tell me. –Look, if you’re honest with me I might consider forgiving you. If you keep lying to me then one of us is leaving this house tonight, and I don’t mean maybe.â€
–Fine, fine, you’re right. I was.†I open my mouth to speak, but he rushes on and stops me. –I’m done with it though - done. When we were - you know, a bit rocky a while ago; we weren’t technically living apart, but ... I started seeing - someone - but it’s - it’s done.â€
–Will you break it off?â€
–I already did,†he says. And I think I believe him.
But then we both stop. He looks apprehensive, worried. There’s a crack in the floor here, shaped like a cross, that I’d never noticed before. I stare at it for a long time before answering.
–Fine.â€
He breathes a sigh and folds me into a hug again. –I’m so sorry, love. I’ve just been … confused lately. But I’m through all that now.â€
I bury my face in his shirt, glad I have my husband back. But the scent of roses still forms a cloud in my brain. Warm, pink and nauseating. Cloying. Dizzying.
I make Lucius go upstairs and change, but it still doesn’t go away.
********
Miriam
You know you done me wrong
I’m gonna smile when
You say goodbye
Now I’m not the jealous type
Never been the killing kind
But you know I know what you did
So don’t put up a fight
I pace around the drawing room until I’m sure I’ve left a track in the carpet.
Where is he?
I push it out of my brain - I know where he is, he told me this morning he’d be working late, and told me exactly why. Exactly when he’d be home, which is quite a while from now. It’s making me edgy.
He’d been like that since I found out about her. He’s been good, perfect even. Whenever he went out, he told me where he was going. He never let me have any legitimate reason to worry, which worries me all the more. Why is he being so careful? And was he telling the truth? I’ve watched him lie to other people for years, but it honestly never crossed my mind that if he could lie to them, he could lie to me.
I’ve watched him sweet-talk other people to get what he wanted, ever since I’ve known him, but I never thought about him doing the same to me. I’m naive, I suppose. But I never did.
And now I know, and it’s eating away at me.
Scratching at my insides, like an itch you can’t get rid of. A dull ache.
I want to trust him, want so badly to trust him. I know he wants me back on his side, at least, I think he does. And I know he wouldn’t go to somebody else, because that would mean he wanted to be away from me, which he claims he doesn’t anymore. But what about her? Would he go back to her?
If it’s possible for anything to make this whole thing worse for me, it’s this: He still hasn’t told me who the affair was actually with.
But I know.
I didn’t at first, but I found out when he had me come to talk to the minister with him. I’d walked with him to the minister’s office, and his secretary had come briefly to tell us that we’d have to wait a few minutes longer than was expected. His entire body had tensed up when she walked in, and she had fixed her eyes on a space on the wall while she spoke.
And as she swept away, her dark curls bouncing around her shoulder-blades, I caught an overpowering scent of cinnamon and roses.
A little further prying taught me her name, and that I’d gone to school with her. Miriam Prior, a Ravenclaw, who lives right next door to the Three Broomsticks now.
It had almost gone away, but the scent of the roses came back that night.
Because what if? What if he can’t take it anymore? What if he’s missing that goddamn rose perfume and he goes back to her?
It hurts. My entire being aches.
Sometimes, when I can’t sleep at night, I imagine myself with a time turner, going back in time and fixing everything.
Miriam
When you were having fun
In my big pretty house
Did you think twice?
I’d been away from home for a while, while Lucius and I weren’t on very good terms. Had she been there then? I lie down in my bed at night and sometimes wonder whether she’d been there too. It’s not so comfortable anymore. Last night, when he tried to kiss me, I pushed him away.
I couldn’t do it.
I want to go back to normal, but I know I can’t.
I wish I could sleep, but I can’t do that either.
Sometimes I wish I were dead. Not always, but sometimes. I don’t even know what to do anymore.
And I’m trying not to hurt you
‘Cause you might not be that bad
But it takes a lot to make me go this mad
I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know what to do.
I hate it.
But I can’t let this rest.
I can’t.
And then suddenly, in a heartbeat, my feet stop mid-step. I really can’t deal with it anymore.
And in a matter of minutes, I’m wrapped in a cloak in a corner of The Three Broomsticks, drinking a firewhiskey and trying to think of something else, anything else.
But I can’t. I can’t do that either. I can’t do anything, I’m useless, floundering in the unknown, and I hate myself for it.
In my tangled thoughts, this is one thing I can think of.
I’m so close to her right now, she must be here, she lives near here.
And am I close to him? Is he there too?
Something, I don’t know what, snaps. Snaps like a twig, like a brittle bone, like a weak will.
Oh Miriam
That’s such a pretty name
And I’ll keep saying it
Until you die
I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m standing in front of her doorway. Part of me has a plan, but the other part of me doesn’t know what it is.
Unlocking the door is so easy. Alohomora does it, like the girl thinks that nobody would ever come into her house at night. Like she’s totally safe, somebody as sweet and perfect as her.
Miriam
You know you done me wrong
I’m gonna smile when
I take your life.
Her face is pure, innocent. She’s fallen asleep on the sofa.
Lucius isn’t there.
But I don’t care.
Can I do it?
Of course I can. I can’t do much right now, but I can do this.
Maybe I’ll let myself die, too. I don’t know. But I’m damn well going to take her with me, she’s the one that fucked up my whole life.
And then I stop thinking.
I aim my wand at her chest, take a deep breath, and whisper the words. Those two, simple words.
They were right.
You really do have to mean it.
And I sure as hell did.