At one in the morning Conchita reluctantly said she had to return to her apartment. "They come looking for me if I stay away too long," she said petulantly. "They like me to get out and about, but only if they're there to look over my shoulder. Not that I blame them. Ferdy would punish them if they disobeyed his commands."
"Who are they, Conchita?" I asked.
"Doctors and nurses. My guardians." She smiled. "But I won't need them now that I have you. And you're so much better looking than those grumpy old men with their needles and stethoscopes."
"Are you making this up?" I frowned.
"I'm a sick person, Capac." She rolled up one of her sleeves and revealed the withered flesh again. "They help… they stop me from killing myself. I've tried a few times. Lots of times. I don't want to die but I get so scared sometimes, I just can't bear to live." She smiled. "But that'll change now that I have a friend like you."
I didn't like it when she talked like that. We'd only known each other a few hours, yet she'd made up her mind I was some kind of Prince Charming. I recalled the promise I'd rashly made. I had been honest when I said I wanted to protect her, but could I keep my word?
"Can I come and visit you again?" she asked.
"Sure," I said.
"Every night? Can I come and sit on your bed, watch movies and play games, laugh and be happy and not have to worry about my looks? You can tell me what's happening in the city. I've been in here so long, sometimes I believe the Earth was built with a pane of glass in front of it. I'll go whenever you're tired or want to be alone, because people get like that sometimes, I know."
"You can come anytime," I told her softly. "I'll get an extra card for you and you can let yourself in whenever you like. How's that?"
"Great!" She rushed out. Stopped and came back slowly. "You're not a dream, are you, Capac? I've known dream people before. Here one day, gone the next. I knew dream people even before I got sick. You're not one of those, are you?"
"I'm not a dream person," I assured her. "I'm real." She grinned, then her face lit up with a new idea. "Walk me home!" she begged.
"What?"
"Escort me to my room and drop me off at the door with a kiss, like they do in the movies. You can even come in and meet my doctors. They can see how nice you are and not nag me about coming to see you in the future."
"Is that a good idea? They might be suspicious of my intentions. A grown man and a young girl, alone in a hotel room…"
She laughed. "I told you I'm fifty-eight. A woman that age can do as she likes."
She led the way to the elevator and pressed the button for the top. A sign lit up over the panel, asking for a code. She pressed five buttons. I thought she was playing games but the light blinked and we rose. I'd never been to the top floor before. I expected Troops but it was the same as any other hall, unguarded, ordinary.
Conchita walked ahead of me. I hesitated, not sure we should be up here, then followed. There might be trouble when we were found, but I was sure we could wriggle out of it. I had contacts.
Conchita moved with confidence, not put off by the glass ceiling and the black sky above. I paused a few times to look down on the city. All I could see were tiny lights like stars reflecting in a dark pond.
We went down two long corridors. I was starting to feel itchy under the collar when she put her hand out, shoved open a door and entered a seemingly random room. I rushed forward to catch her, thinking the game had gone far enough, only to miss, stumble in after her and find myself in a huge room where all the furniture was covered with white sheets and robes. Long curtains obscured the walls and more had been draped across the glass roof to blot out the sky. The entire room was smothered in wraps, just like Conchita.
There were four people present, a man and three women, clad in white. The man stepped forward angrily. "Where have you been?" he snapped. "We were about to call security and you know how awkward we feel when we have to do that." He eyed me suspiciously. "Who's this?"
"My friend," she said loftily, breezing past without a care in the world. His hands tightened and I guessed he would have loved to strangle her if he dared.
"Friend? " he barked. "I wasn't aware you had any friends. Where did-"
She snapped her fingers and he shut up. "That's enough, Mervyn. I'm allowed to have friends, am I not? I thought you'd be delighted."
"Miss Kubekik, of course I'm happy that you-"
"In that case, please apologize to Mr. Raimi."
"Apologize for what?" he exploded.
"For being rude," she growled. There was steel in her voice which I hadn't heard earlier. It sobered the doctor immediately.
"I apologize profusely, Mr. Raimi," he said, bowing to me, no sarcasm.
"In that case I'm off to bed," she said. "I'll see you again tomorrow, Capac?"
"Sure," I smiled. "Good night, Conchita."
"Good night… protector."
Then she was gone.
"One minute," the doctor said stiffly as I tried to sneak out. "You and I have a few things to discuss." He gestured to one of the covered chairs. I sighed and sat. "What happened downstairs?"
"Nothing," I told him honestly.
He snorted. "My charge spends hours away, comes back with a man I've never seen, calmly announces he's her friend and waltzes off to bed as merrily as you please. This from a woman who's hardly spoken for five years. Cut the bullshit and tell me everything."
When I did, he couldn't believe it. "She showed you her arm," he sighed.
"Is that such a big deal?" I frowned.
He laughed curtly. "She hasn't let anybody look at her skin as long as I've been here. When we want to examine her, we have to sedate her. You must be a fakir, Mr. Raimi. What's your secret?"
"I don't have one," I said. "We just clicked. She was lonely, I felt sorry for her and we became friends."
"Just like that!" He shook his head and chuckled wryly.
"Where do we go from here?" I asked. "She wants to visit me every night. I told her she could, but…"
"You don't want her disrupting your life?"
"It's not that. I don't mind her coming. I'm just worried it may not be the best thing. She might be better off with friends her own age."
His eyes narrowed. "Do you know what's wrong with Conchita?" he asked.
"I've read about it. The body grows old before its time and-"
"No, Mr. Raimi," he interrupted. "You are thinking of progeria. This is not the same. There's nothing wrong with Conchita's body. The fault is in her face."
"I don't understand. There's nothing wrong with her face."
"She looks like any other teenager," he agreed, then paused dramatically. "But Miss Kubekik is fifty-eight years old."