The awkward silence that followed lasted for the better part of half an hour before the pair were squabbling again. It began as Mickey sighed, reaching for the radio. His other arm rested on his thigh, fingers playing with the steering wheel, as he flicked the music on. Letha sneered at him.

“Do you mind?” she demanded angrily, folding her arms across her chest.

The song drowned out her words, and Mickey glanced over at her. “What did you say?”

Grinding her teeth, she jammed her palm into the volume dial, silencing the car once more. “I said; Do. You. Mind?”

“The music?” Mickey shook his head, “Geez, Letha. You really don’t like anything do you?”

“Not the music,” the girl snapped, glaring at his profile, “Your driving.”

He chuckled, glancing at Letha out of the corner of his eye. “What? Worried I’m going to kill us?”

Letha smiled a sickly sweet smile, and turned away from him. “Not ‘us’.”

Fixing his gaze back on the road, Mickey snorted, reaching for the radio again. A motorbike sped past, swerving between the cars at dangerous angles, the driver’s knee scraping the ground. Bobbing his head to the music, Mickey jerked his head at the bike.

“Who do you reckon he’s running from?”

Letha muttered something inaudible beneath the song, and Mickey frowned at her. “what?”

She said something else, louder and longer this time, and he reached for the volume.

“…not that I care, you ignorant moron!” Letha finished in a screech, causing Mickey to lean aside with a grimace.

“No need to yell,” he scolded, though Letha’s expression seemed to disagree, “And all I caught of that was ‘don’t care’ and ‘ignorant moron’.”

“Then you got the gist,” she sneered.

Shaking his head, Mickey looked for the motorbike again, but it had disappeared. Shrugging, he made to turn on the music again, but Letha spoke and he paused.

“How much longer?”

Pulling up at a red light, Mickey squirmed in his seat, wriggling around to look at her. Letha was still in jeans and her white shirt, but most of her unruly hair had escaped the tie and now cascaded down her shoulders. Her arms were folded across her chest, her legs folded so she was angled away from him, and her knee was jiggling impatiently. Mickey was sure, had he been able to see her face, that Letha would have been pouting.

Growing impatient as he didn’t reply, Letha swung her head, glare in place, and scowled at him. “Well?”

Mickey grinned. “About 15 minutes.”

A car beeped in the background, and Letha turned away again. “It’ll take longer if we wait for two greens at every traffic lights.”

He jerked his eyes back to the road, slamming his foot to the accelerator and pulling out just as the light turned orange. A furious car behind him braked again, honking madly and Mickey bit his lip. “Oops.”

As they slipped off the highway, drawing into the outskirts of a town, Mickey smiled suddenly. “Let’s play 20 questions.”

“No.” Letha snapped, “There you go; my first answer.”

“See now,” Mickey drawled, “That’s perfect. My first question was ‘do you hate me’. Your turn.”

“Cinnamon.”

He frowned. “It was your turn to ask a question, so you didn’t actually need to tell me your favourite Spice Girl.”

“Irritating, evil, complaining bastard,” Letha said, her head whipping to give him a nasty smile. “Can you think of a question for that?”

“Hmmm…” Mickey pretended to think, “Well, it sounds like you’re describing someone you love.” He scratched his chin. “Five words to describe your father?”

“It was only 4 words,” she murmured, turning away again.

“I heard the silent ‘wrathful’ that was thrown in the middle.”

The car fell into silence once more, and Mickey sucked his teeth. After a moment, he sighed and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Ok, one more question and I’ll be quiet.”

Letha didn’t respond, but as Mickey felt her eyes on him, he met them. She was appraising him, somewhat angry, somewhat curious, and for a moment, they paused like that. Eventually, Mickey had to jerk his head back to road, and Letha ground her teeth together.

“If you ask a question, you’ll be quiet,” she agreed, “But I get a question in return.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Taking a deep breath, Mickey raked a hand through his hair, turning into the side street.

“I don’t know what to ask…” he muttered.

“Not my problem, Sherlock.”

Mickey snorted, shaking his head, but his lips were already forming a question. “What happened to your mother?”

A pair of brown eyes focussed on his profile, not giving away anything. Letha watched him for a moment before turning away, leaning forward to prop her chin up on her arm. Not wanting to push her, Mickey gave her time, checking street signs as they passed them to ensure they were on the right road.

“When I was 8 years old,” she said suddenly, still not looking back at him, “I walked home from school one Friday afternoon. I can’t remember why, but I had a cut lip and the tip of my tongue kept playing with it. I think I’d been suspended for fighting, but it’s a blur now. I opened the front door of this house we were renting… it was a ramshackle run down thing with two windows boarded up and I remember Hadrian and I shared a room.” She shook her head, taking a deep breath.

“I opened the front door and called out to Mum but she didn’t reply. Wrath and the sins were at work, so I was surprised that she wasn’t waiting for me. Hadrian was too young for school and when I walked in, he was usually running up to give me a hug. But that day he didn’t. I called out, but no one answered me.”

She settled back in her seat, head resting on her shoulder, and Mickey had the distinct impression she wasn’t talking to him anymore.

“I dumped my school bag in my room and found Hadrian in his cot. He was awake, sitting silently in the corner, and shivering. I remember it was so cold in there, too cold even for winter. I picked him up and tucked him into my bed. There was a creak, a groan, so I left my room. I don’t remember being scared; when you grew up how I did ghost stories are hardly frightening. I called out to Mum again but there was no reply. Her door was ajar at the end of the hallway so I went to it. The longest walk of my life. I pushed it open and found her there, hanging from the ceiling.”

Mickey flinched, casting her a worried glance, but Letha’s face was serene.

“She had killed herself, abandoned Hadrian and me, and all she’d left us was a note; I’m so sorry.” Letha shook her head, a flicker of disgust darting across her face before she went neutral again. “So I untied the rope and laid her out on her bed. She looked peaceful and I remember… I remember I envied her. Still do, I guess. I considered copying her, slipping my head through the noose and ending it all, but then Hadrian teetered into the room and grabbed my leg. He didn’t notice Mum so I picked him up and told him to say goodbye to her. He was confused, but he trusted me and did. I grabbed the rope and the note and closed the door behind me.”

Story finished, Letha’s eyes flashed to Mickey before she was glaring out the side window again. He tried to relax his grip on the steering wheel, but found he couldn’t. Taking a deep breath, he smiled softly.

“Thank you for telling me that, for trusting me with it.”

Letha shook her head at him. “We had a deal. That’s all.”

Nodding, Mickey focused back on the road. Water spattered across the windshield as it began to rain and he flicked the wipers on.

“I’m very glad you didn’t kill yourself,” he murmured, half to himself, half hoping she heard. There was no response as he pulled over, coming to a gentle stop. He pulled the hand break and sighed, leaning back in his chair. “We’re here.”

He pointed to a small brick building on the corner. A set of glass double doors opened to the street with a worn sign hanging above the door announcing the place to be Lezzetli. There was a menu fixed to the wall on one side and the two windows, either side of the door, were misted over. Mickey waited for Letha to comment, to condemn, to contemn, but she said nothing. He was a little disappointed.

“Well,” he said, smiling half-heartedly, “Let’s go in. I don’t think its raining too heavily at the moment.”

As he spoke, the clouds released a wet onslaught and he smiled sheepishly. “Spoke too soon.”

Letha still said nothing, staring out the window without apparent reaction.

Mickey sighed. “Come on.”

He clambered out of the car, closing the door quickly and scurrying around the car. As he left, Letha took a deep, shaky breath, fisting her hands. “Sometimes,” she said quietly as Mickey reached the door of Lezzetli and gestured for her to follow, “I’m very glad I didn’t kill myself too.”

She slipped out of the car, darting over the footpath without looking at him. Her jaw dropped as she staggered into the shop and pushed her drenched hair out of her face. The shop was a restaurant, but not the kind Letha had ever seen before. Low tables were situated around the room, less than a metre off the ground, with pillows scattered against the edges. Thick drapes clung to the windows and the dusty chandelier dangling from the ceiling let off a soft glow. A family was gathered around a table to their right and two little boys stared at Letha and Mickey curiously.

"What the hell is this?" Letha demanded a little too loudly. Mickey winced and tried to shush as she opened her mouth again but another voice cut them both off.

"Who's making a fuss in my shop?"

A blob of purple and black hustled into the room, weaving between the low tables. The figure kicked a pillow, scuttling back to put it in place and pat the young boy on the neighbouring seat on the head. His confused look followed the blob as it hurried quickly towards Letha.

It paused to demand in an angry tone, "are you here to eat?"

Leaning away slightly, Letha noted that the blob was in fact a young woman, not more than a few years older than herself. Her shirt was baggy and purple met at either side by black: a long back skirt and a black head scarf. She fisted her hands on her hips and scowled at Letha.

"Well?"

With a grimace, Mickey turned to Mickey. "Couldn't you have dragged me somewhere a little more hospitable?"

Dark angry eyes followed her gaze and instantly lightened when they met Mickey’s. With a squeal, the girl clapped her hands and grinned broadly at him.

"Michael!" She sans, offering a hand to him. "It's been too long."

Taking her hand warmly, Mickey gave it a friendly squeeze, reflecting her ecstatic, if slightly psychotic, grin. “It really has Min.”

“Your fault of course,” the woman, Min, chuckled.

“These things usually are.” He shook his head, “You truly haven’t changed a bit, Min.”

Letha dragged her eyes from where their hands had hung to look the other girl over again. Her smile made her look younger, and she was still babbling cheerfully. Her shirt was tapered at the waist, with beading along the hem, but it didn’t strike Letha as more or less pretty as anything else she’d ever seen. The woman did look warm though.

Letha shivered.

“oh, darling,” Min cried suddenly, “Throwing her arms around Letha for a soggy embrace, “You look frozen. Come further in. I’ve a heater running against this wall.”

Her hand caught Letha’s elbow and she hauled the startled teenager to the side, twirling back to face her after a few steps. “You know what? I’ll grab you some warm tea and then we can all sit down and have a nice chat.” Spinning again, Min zipped back through the shop, disappearing through a door at the end of the room.

Letha whirled on Mickey.

“What the Hell is going on?” she hissed, whacking him across the shoulder with the back of her hand.

“Ow,” he whined, clasping his arm. “What are you complaining about now?”

“Firstly, you drag me here, to some kitsch little excuse for…I’m not sure what exactly. Then, a woman who starts screaming at me for no reason suddenly recognises you and tries to kill me.”

Mickey cocked his head. “She hugged you.”

“Same difference!”

“Look, Letha,” he shook his head, spraying water around the room, “Min is a Muslim so she can’t hug me, she’s a naturally happy person so she can hug you and I happen to think this restaurant of hers is lovely.” He nodded his head with finality, folding his arms across his chest.

The girl just glared at him. “You’re not forcing me to spend the whole afternoon here, are you?”

“No,” Mickey said slowly.

“What?” Letha demanded, raising a brow at him. He hesitated further, brow furrowed.

“To be honest,” he admitted, “I’m a little relieved that you’re not running around the place screaming ‘terrorist’ in fear.”

She bristled. “I do not scream anything in fear.”

“And no one screams terrorist without me!” Min commented cheerfully as she reappeared, nearly skipping in pleasure. “The tea will just be a few minutes.”

Min looked very pointedly between Mickey and Letha as her friend grinned at her. He got the message after a few awkward moments.

“oh, sorry. This is Letha, Min. We go to school together.”

The woman looked her up and down. The girl wasn’t smiling, but she was soaking wet so it was understandable. She met the glance with a stubborn frown, raising her chin, but Min was unperturbed.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Letha.”

The girl nodded stiffly and Min’s smile grew.

Mickey licked his lips nervously. “I just realised I left my gift for you in the car, Min,” he said, “Will you two be ok while I go grab it?”

He suddenly had two very different gazes fixed on him and nowhere to look.

“Of course we will,” Min said, waving him towards the door when he hesitated.

Mickey smiled as her, before bravely meeting Letha’s expression. She was obviously furious, but he thought he could detect a hint of fear. “Letha?”

The competitive half of letha nodded before the rest of her could vote. She turned away from him deliberately, cringing at Min in her best attempt at a smile.

“Who needs you?” she asked under her breath.