Yes. Like we agreed. Theyre ready for you. Remember what you planned to say.
Are they looking at me? If theyre looking at me Ill feel a little nervous.
They dont mind, so you shouldnt either. Its part of the process; you get to speak and they listen to you.
I might not want to.
You cant refuse, Michael, not now. That would be cruel.
Are they watching me?
Dont worry, she said, Its ok. This is your moment.
She took his hand and squeezed it and his fingers wrapped tightly around hers for a moment. Then she took her hand away and, alone in the darkness, he focused on the words he had to say.
Im sorry, he began, but his voice caught in his throat and he had to cough and then start again, his voice louder now. I mean, Im sorry. Im saying sorry. For the things Ive done.
He turned in her direction, Is that alright?
Dont forget to say the whole thing, she whispered, close to his ear.
I wrote it all down, he said, But I lost the note. Its all going too fast.
He asked, Melissa?
Yes?
Can you take off the hood? Its dark. Can you just make it a little bit lighter please?
You know Im not allowed, she said. Just try and say what youre supposed to say.
Alright, he said. I will.
He faced the armoured glass, behind which the audience sat, and continued, She wounded me, which was why I did it, but I, and he glanced down reflexively to where the note had been when he learned his speech, but all he saw was darkness, I know that I, I, he faltered, and began to shake.
Melissa? he pleaded, his voice, already muffled, was so quiet the microphone barely picked it up.
From behind the glass came murmurs, the audience were growing restless, a voice hissing, Get on with it!
Melissa?
We have to get this over, Michael, she told him, her voice harsh now, preparing for a worst-case scenario that involved an unfinished speech, a syringe and a particular vein in his Velcro fastened forearm.
But hed already given up, already folded, the tension receding, his fists uncurling. Just do it, he said to her, his voice resigned, I cant say this stuff.
You must say it, Michael, she told him. Its part of the deal.
Ha! was all he said. A muffled laugh. Ha!
She took hold of his wrist with one hand, nails digging cruelly into his flesh, syringe in the other pointing upwards, expelling air bubbles, squirting fluid.
Are we going to row again, Melissa? he asked, are we going to argue and fight?
No, she said, listening to the scrapes of chairs as the audience began to leave the room, the disappointed swish of curtains closing, and glanced at their reflection in the mirrored glass.