Code Name Hélène

by Ariel Lawhon

The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.

This is how people are brainwashed, I think. This is how they follow a monster. Everyone around me is mesmerized, their eyes glazed over, their breathing slow and rhythmic.

“He said that when a woman is speaking to you, you must listen to what she says with her eyes. And your eyes, Noncee, say that you are attracted to me. That is the difference between this dance and your last.”

I am a devoted fan of the male species. They are brave, brilliant, offer endless entertainment, are good for moving heavy objects, and make the act of procreation a great deal more enjoyable. I’d hate to see a world in which they did not exist. But sometimes they can be spectacular idiots.

“You use profanity as a weapon. A way to be disarming. To charm or sometimes offend, depending on your audience. It’s how you demand parity and respect with your male coworkers. But you already have my respect.

The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed. —ERNEST HEMINGWAY

It is the weak-minded man’s retort. A thing he says when thwarted by a woman. An excuse. A bit of intellectual poverty.

Rage is an odd thing, not so different from grief in the way it catches you unaware and then explodes in your chest. It crashes against you like a wave and all I can think in this moment is that we are sitting here, watching this happen. Doing nothing.

Love is a choice. It is the active choosing of good for another person. But like? It is a gift and it cannot be forced.

That’s the hard part, not taking your misery out on your colleagues. In truth, the plum brandy does little to keep us warm, but it helps with morale.

“Monsieur Carlier has long since realized that worry does him no good. It will not stop his wife from leaving, nor will it guarantee her safe return.”

“It’s not our job to fight to the death. Fight, yes. But fight to live another day.

There are fifteen adequate insults he could lob at her. But that’s what she wants. Marceline thrives on reaction. He drowns her in apathy instead.

“The opposite, in fact. I think you’d die trying to protect us. I’m just giving you one less reason to martyr yourself.”

You who suffer because you love, love still more. To die of love, is to live by it. —VICTOR HUGO, LES MISÉRABLES

Sometimes, being right isn’t as satisfying as I would like it to be.

He’s gained weight and the whites of his eyes are no longer yellow. His ribs aren’t showing. The bruises are gone. But something is different. It can’t be seen or even named, but no one can endure what he did and not come out changed on the other side.

I couldn’t clamp my knees together harder if I was trying to prevent a pregnancy.