Мариам Петросян - The Gray House

But he couldn't quite put his usual bluster in it.

“In that case I will thank you to refrain from more empty threats in the future.”

Sheriff slumped sullenly on the windowsill. He looked like an irritated gargoyle that's put on weight. Looking at him, Ralph even felt a twinge of compassion. He thought that if now Godmother were to tell Sheriff to get off the window and sit down on a chair properly, he would most likely capitulate.

Luckily Godmother was above petty gloating. It was obvious to everyone that Sheriff had been comprehensively defeated and his humiliation was to serve as a warning for anyone foolish enough to contemplate insubordination.

Godmother was now circling around Ralph.

“Let's move on with the voting,” Shark prompted.

They moved on with the voting.

When Godmother's suggestion secured a majority, Shark applauded briefly (Homer decided to join in but stumbled when he saw that no one else did) and then requested for the second suggestion to be revealed.

“I am trembling with anticipation,” he announced, rubbing his hands together.

“Look at him trembling,” Raptor muttered under his breath but perfectly audibly to Ralph. “I wonder how many times you two have rehearsed this.”

“Yes, the second part of the plan.” Godmother looked squarely at Ralph. “I propose that we remove from the House some or all persons whom we, after careful consideration, deem dangerous. Persons who are psychologically unstable, behaviorally maladjusted, and at the same time capable of influencing the rest of the student body.”

Ralph leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. There it was. Now it was his turn to protest and be cut down to size. Godmother was in for an unpleasant surprise.

“Ah!” Darling perked up slightly. “That's interesting. So who are they, these dangerous, influential crazies? I am looking forward to the naming of names.”

Raptor, on the other hand, darkened.

“I vote no!” he said, jumping up. “This will only provoke them. We’ll get exactly what we're trying to avoid, only earlier.”

“I vote yes,” Homer said. “A very reasonable and timely action.”

“I have a question.” Sheep dutifully raised her hand, like a student in class. “Are you planning to include girls on that list?”

“Certainly if you can think of a specific candidate,” Godmother said, fighting back a smile. “We would be happy to consider her.”

“God forbid,” Sheep squeaked. “I would never!”

“So we're talking about boys, mostly?” Darling pressed on.

“Yes. The so-called Leaders.”

Raptor grabbed his head.

“I suggest we discuss Sphinx, from the Fourth,” Darling said. “Popular, influential, and clearly a disgusting character. A real pervert, if you ask me.”

“There are no unstable persons in my group,” Homer pronounced proudly. “I ask for the First to be excluded from this conversation.”

“Well ...” Shark tried to make it look like he was weighing a decision. “This is against the rules, you understand. But the First really is an exemplary group. I am open to making an exception. So ordered. As for Sphinx ...”

“He is not one of the Leaders,” Godmother prompted softly. “So he is not the object of the present discussion.”

“Precisely,” Shark rushed to agree. “He is far from the most influential figure, let's not waste our time. Denied.”

Darling went into a pout.

“We are not debating the actual candidates yet, but the proposal itself,” Godmother said to her by way of consolation. “Two of us for it, one against ...”

“Emphatically against,” Raptor put in.

“Two abstained,” Godmother went on without so much as a glance at Sheep and Sheriff. “And one more is ...”

There was a pause.

“Against,” Ralph said.

Godmother nodded, satisfied, as if this was exactly what she had expected him to do. She then made another pause and when he failed to make use of it, continued.

“Two ayes, two nays, two abstentions. I am, naturally, voting yes, and our esteemed principal ...”

She turned to Shark, and that's when Ralph decided he'd had enough. He was tired of looking at Godmother, tired of listening to her, and disinclined to perform the rest of the lines she'd written for him in this play.

“Excuse me,” he said, getting up. “I still have some important things to do.”

Shark's expression promised a coming storm.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he said. “What things could be more important than this meeting?”

“What things?” Ralph stopped at the door. “Oh, you know, of an urgent and unavoidable nature. Compose a resignation letter, type it up in duplicate. Pack, tidy up around the office a little. It's amazing the way the dust just seems to stick to it. Return the linens to the laundry and some books to the library.”

“Oh god!” Raptor gasped. “Just what we needed ...”

“Wait a minute!” Shark said. “I'm not signing that.”

“don't.” Ralph shrugged. “Honestly, I don't care if your signature is on it or not.”

“Aren't you the least interested in the results of the discussion?” Godmother said in a surprised voice. “In finding out who we are going to choose? Are you concerned about the welfare of your charges at all? Your childish behavior seems to suggest otherwise.”

Ralph smiled.

“I am reasonably sure that it will be my charges you are about to single out, and this is exactly why I am refusing to participate in this charade. As a counselor I am responsible for every single person in my groups. When someone pushes me aside and starts running their lives for them, the only thing that's left for me is to say good-bye. I'm done here.”

Godmother grimaced.

“How easily you abandon your post. And how quick you are in forcing your responsibilities on others. It amazes me, frankly.”

“You just won't believe”—Ralph glanced briefly at Shark, frozen in place—“the extent to which it amazes myself.”

He tidied the office, took a shower, and packed his black duffel bag. Used the old typewriter to type the resignation letter, signed it, and left it on the desk. Then, to his own surprise, he realized he was whistling a tune. So, is this really it? I am leaving forever? Just like that? Now that Shark and Godmother had revealed their plan, there was in this a justice of a sort. He wasn't allowed to say his farewells properly to this place, to let the departure sink in, just as they wouldn't be. Feeling ridiculously light and empty, he went out without even bothering to lock up. There wasn't anything left in the office worth worrying about.

Ralph nodded to the on-duty Log (who undoubtedly took notice of the bag), crossed the hallway, and went up to the third floor.

The staff canteen was open until eight. It was cozy and quiet here, especially in the evenings. Round tables, on each one a wicker basket with bread, a massive wooden napkin holder, and an amusing salt-and-pepper set shaped like mice. Flower-patterned curtains. A neatly handwritten menu to the side of the serving window.

Ralph got two slices of meat pie and a tea, and went to sit at the corner table.

He was eating and looking at the photograph on the wall, under glass in an elaborately decorated frame. There were six of them in the canteen, all six utterly bewildering. Street shots. No people, no dogs, and none of the buildings caught in them could be considered of any interest. It was a mystery why these featureless images had to be printed in this large format, framed, and hung on the wall. Certainly not for aesthetic reasons.

Ralph studied the one closest to him and thought that, after he left, both it and the rest of them would forever remain an enigma, because without him no one would remember that these had been made by Flyers. They were of the Outsides. Flyers had photographed it haphazardly. The important thing had been to simply capture it. They returned to the House with their trophies, enlarged and printed them, framed them, and put them up in the windowless Horror Chamber on the first floor. The Chamber had existed specifically to cause discomfort. The children of the House liked scary stuff. There were other items in the horror storage, but the photographs of the Outsides were the undisputed highlight of the collection.