Leaf’s housekeeper brings in quails, roasted to the brown of parched grainfields. Leaf stands to kiss her on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Ada.’ She smiles and leaves in silence. Leaf goes back to the paper. Adam struggles with the tiny bones in silence.
‘It’s good to be back,’ Leaf says suddenly, and Adam jumps. ‘I hate leaving home.’
‘What were you promoting?’ Adam asks. He finds Leaf’s schedule dizzying.
‘I wasn’t. I went to see about some stuff with the Foundation.’ Leaf’s foundation helps young men get off the streets. And I had to see Rick again.’
‘Rick, who you’re in love with?’ Adam asks.
‘It’s over,’ Leaf says, gently. ‘Has been for months.’ He puts down the newspaper. ‘I can always feel it coming,’ he says. ‘The end. My fingers start itching.’ He rubs the tips of his fingers and thumb together. ‘It’s like being bitten by mosquitos.’ Leaf gestures towards his rejected plate. ‘What is this? Roasted mice? It’s like chewing on a pincushion.’
‘It’s great,’ Adam says even though he hates it.
Leaf cracks a quail leg, sucking the marrow out.
‘That’s gross,’ Adam says mildly.
Leaf pushes his plate away and lights a cigarette.
Adam coughs.
Leaf shrugs. ‘I can’t stop.’
‘You stop by not doing it,’ Adam says. ‘It’s just action.’
Leaf narrows his eyes and clears his throat. ‘You stop by not doing it,’ he repeats. It’s eerie how accurate the impression is. It’s more than tone – Leaf has captured tiny hesitations and rhythms that Adam never knew he had.
‘It’s just action,’ Leaf says in Adam’s voice. ‘It’s just action.’
‘Stop it,’ Adam says.
‘Why?’
‘I don’t like it.’
‘You don’t like it,’ Leaf says in Adam’s voice, and now he smiles with Adam’s smile – shy, the tiniest bit lopsided, turning up at the right-hand corner. If you stayed around him long enough, Adam thinks, he might steal all of you. You’d look in the mirror one morning and there would be nothing.
‘Why are you doing this?’
‘It’s the itching in my fingers.’ Leaf releases a long stream of smoke through his nostrils. ‘You’ll leave soon too. Everyone does.’
‘Sure, if you make them.’ Adam pushes back his chair and leaves the room.
In the hall firelight flickers, throwing the shadows of antlers giant against the walls. Adam stares at the fire. He takes long, slow breaths, trying to calm his mind and body.
Someone comes down into the hall. Adam keeps his gaze on the fire and doesn’t look. It might be Leaf or it might not, and he can’t face it if it’s not.
A hand touches his shoulder, tentative.
‘The thing is,’ Leaf says, ‘I lash out at the people I like. I grew up poor and then I got rich and I grew up way too fast. I got lazy and spoiled and now I’ve forgotten almost everything that normal people know.’
‘Ok,’ Adam says. ‘Go on.’
‘I’m so afraid that I’m a monster, then I act just like one.’
‘That was almost an apology.’ Adam turns. ‘I can show you now.’
‘Show me what?’
