Chapter
5
It
was public knowledge at the school. Roger, Gary and Sarah's Dad was
getting posted to London, and they would be leaving at the end of the
semester. Etienne was in the Physics lab, lining up pins to
demonstrate the refractive index of glass. He had muffed his first
pass, and while he re-tested his experiment, the rest of his class
had migrated to the homeroom, to read comic books and get a head
start on homework.
He
was surprised by a light touch at his arm. Sarah had entered so
silently that he had not even heard her. She spoke no word, but
handed him a note. He opened it to read:
P.O.
Box 993
London,
England
“I've
never said anything before, because I was afraid you wouldn't like me
back,” Sarah said breathlessly, her face pink with embarrassment.
“Will you write me?”
She
spoke no more, but stood on one foot, her eyes silently entreating
him to love her. Etienne was not the kind of youth to manipulate
others, and he was much affected by her simple plea. He went from
clueless to puppy love in a moment, and he earnestly returned her
gaze. “I promise,” he said.
She
left in innocent transports. She had never been disappointed in
love, and so, if Etienne said he would write, the universe affirmed
it. She could not doubt it for a moment. Her secret joy was
complete.
Neither
of them could anticipate the reverses to love the fates might have in
store. It was the address for secret communications to the Embassy.
Sarah reasoned straightforwardly that she intended her letters to
Etienne to be secret, and since this was the secret address, that was
the correct address to use.
It
was not six weeks later that Etienne's first missive arrived. He
dutifully wrote about his frog dissection, and the price of petrol,
and closed with his best “Yours Truly.” Sarah was devastated.
How could he not tell her of poetry class, and his puppy, and how
could he possibly close without “Love, Etienne?”
At
that age, love must conquer all. She sat down immediately and
answered with her best improvement. Not two weeks more had flown,
before his answer returned, dutifully signed “Love, Etienne,” but
this time no personal information; he more or less reviewed the movie
“Love Story.”
All
this was innocent enough, but these communications could not long
endure without drawing the inspection of the diplomatic personnel.
Soon, Agent Echo was steaming open these envelopes, and subjecting
them to prying eyes, the star crossed minors all unsuspecting.
Nor
would this passive interference long survive, before the arrogance of
command led Agent Echo to take a hand in them. Soon, he was
answering Etienne with all the art that a man of letters, and
schooled in the ways of the world, could muster, while simultaneously
assassinating Sarah's tender affections, sacrificing her microcosm of
joy on the cruel altar of malignant mischief.
First
crushed, then scorned, Sarah was gently goaded not to simple
indifference, but a consuming fire of miniature hatred.
Karma
was dealing Etienne a debt of woe that equal remuneration could never
erase.
