Stealing Snow

FOUR

I had started to sketch last night’s dream—the tree and the thing in the water—when magpie appeared in the doorway, fresh from a walk around the grounds. Her orderly, a short Jamaican woman named Cecilia, let her into the visitors lounge without noticing me there. She had probably gone for a smoke break and magpie wasn’t a runner or violent, so she probably thought it wouldn’t matter if she left magpie alone. But magpie did antagonize others, especially me.

Today she was wearing coral pink lipstick (that she probably stole), it didn’t match her olive complexion, but thieves can’t be choosers. The coral was the same shade Elizabeth, the lady at reception wore. How magpie managed to lift it off her was a mystery, especially because I had never seen Elizabeth cross the line between the private and the public quarters. Magpies real name was Ophelia but, we all call her magpie because of her penchant for stealing things. Magpie didn’t just steal physical things, she stole secrets too. Sometimes I thought ‘maybe she has all that junk where her soul was supposed to be’.

“. Not so tough without your firebug”. She taunted

While she was talking, she twisted her shiny black hair around her finger. I knew I shouldn’t let her get to me, but I stop myself sometimes. Okay most of the time, but magpie usually deserved it.

I had seen the look on her face when she had stolen something and was watching the person look for it, all while knowing that it was rattling in her pocket or hidden under her bed. Gleeful, evil, magpie had the same look now when she spoke about bale. Even though she had nothing to do with our separation, she still liked toying with my loss.

“shut it magpie” I snapped, my fingers curled into my palms

‘come on happy, work your magic’ I thought

But the effects of the pill burned away as my anger rose. Magpies expression turned suddenly coy, like she knew something I didn’t.

“well let me know if you need anything, I can get anything anyone wants. Anything.”

I didn’t know where this was going, magpie spoke in riddles sometimes. And depending on my mood, I decided whether or not to play. She pulled out a packet of matches, tossing them from hand to hand. It was clear she was waiting for me to connect the dots. I had always wondered how bale had managed to set fire after fire in the asylum. I had always blamed it on careless orderlies. But magpie was saying that she could and possibly had given as well as taken. The anger I’ve been holding in since I saw my mother had boiled over. I felt it inside me, like icy-hot flames licking their way up my chest, trying to escape. I lunged at her with a scream, fury taking over. I grabbed her hair and yanked as hard as I could, then something weird happened. I expected her to yell or push back, instead she stopped in her tracks. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She fell to the floor and lay completely still.

“very funny, I am not falling for this” I said, looking down at her seemingly lifeless body.

She didn’t move

I knelt beside her and touched her arm, she was cold, her lips were blue, and her eyelashes suddenly looked frosty white.

“hey not funny” I said again

I considered doing mouth to mouth or chest compressions (not that I know how to do either, but I’d seen it on TV). Magpies eyes opened looking at me both pleadingly and accusingly at once. Her eyes shifted from me to the door, the white coat that was supposed to be watching was engrossed in a peoples magazine. I got up and yelled for him.

“it’s magpie…. I” my voice trailed off.

“what did you do” he demanded as he ran over.

I looked at magpie unmoving on the floor. Her eyes fluttered once more before they shut entirely.

*O*