Текст книги "The Wall"

Автор книги: Lauren Nicolle Taylor

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“No babies?” I guessed.

“No babies,” he confirmed.

Odval stepped forward, cradling Orry like he was the sun. Beams of light touched her face and made her seem younger.

“Most of us came from places where the bombsites were much closer, so sadly the damage was already done before we even arrived here.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, touching her hand.

She just tipped her chin and gazed at Orry.

Joseph slid his arms around my waist and pressed his lips to my neck. The cold air burned away and my heart cartwheeled like it was trying to escape my chest.

“Where to now?” he whispered

“I want to go home,” I said, angling my chin towards the Wall.

We collected Addy on our way down and were directed onto a spinner. When I said goodbye to Apella, I was surprised how it made me feel. I was leaving security. My replacement mother. If I left, I was admitting myself to adulthood. I wasn’t sure I was ready.

I took her hands and squeezed, trying hard not to cry. “I’ll see you soon,” I said in a voice that was not my own, girlish and unsure of itself.

She put her hand up like she was going to touch my face but then put it back down and took a handful of her shirt instead. “You’ll be fine, Rosa. And yes, you will see us soon. We are not far away.”

I pressed my hands together and nodded. “I know.”

I reassured myself that we would see them again. Soon.

The spinner hummed and did its miraculous twirling, revolving and revealing the view. I couldn’t take it in. Exhaustion was getting the better of me. Joseph’s hands and eyes were getting the better of me too. He gave me the look, like I was the only girl in the world, like he could close out everything else going on around us and just see me. He surety, his unwavering belief in us, was unnerving. Because, for me, everything felt tenuous, like at any second it would be snatched away. I believed in our love, but I knew it couldn’t stay this way.

We arrived back at the Wall. The mid-afternoon shadow pressed down on the houses that lined the stone structure. Addy was talking, her striated lips moving, but I wasn’t really listening. We piled out of the spinner and one of the men, who had only talked in grunts and sighs up until now, spoke. His voice clear and higher pitched than I would have expected. He spoke in short, clipped sentences. “Follow me. It’s not much. It will need some work.”

We followed them past several shingled shacks until the man turned suddenly and headed up a path. I clasped Joseph’s hand tighter.

On either side were dormant plants sleeping under a layer of ice, which was starting to melt and pool in places. We climbed up three wooden steps and onto a narrow verandah. It was small. It was wonky. It was perfect.

The man swung open the door and showed us the simple lounge room, a couple of rickety chairs, a simple plumbed bathroom, and woodstove and kitchen in the corner. It had one bedroom with a wooden bed.

“Sorry there’s no bedroom fer yer baby,” he apologized gruffly, swiping his large hand across the back of his neck.

I laughed. It seemed ridiculous to apologize for such a thing. On the end of the bed were piles of folded clothes, blankets, and sheets. It was too much.

Set against the wall was the capsule I’d made for Hessa. It felt out of place in this homely picture.

In the corner metal glinted. I let go of Joseph’s hand and walked over, the floorboards creaking under my weight. Kneeling down, I could see it was a pile of woodworking tools. My heart swelled and stayed large in my chest, taking in all this kindness and being at a loss as to what to do about it. My eyes connected with Joseph’s. He was grinning, his hands clasped in front of him like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

The man introduced himself as Viktor. He shook both our hands roughly and explained that he lived two houses down the road. “Call in if you have any trouble. And err… I have a chipped countertop. I need it repaired. Keep catching my clothes on it.” He looked at me. “Can you look at it for me? No rush. Just when you’re settled.”

“Ok,” I said, my thoughts tangled, feeling a bit like a wrung, wet towel. I was running out of emotion.

The others said their goodbyes. Odval reluctantly left Orry in Joseph’s arms. Addy and Cal remained. Joseph hovered over Cal. “Is there anything else?” he said impatiently. I could tell Cal was starting to really irritate him.

“Um. No. Although…”

“Yes?” Joseph was leaning over him now.

Cal turned to me. “Rosa, I have some things that need fixing too. Can I bring them to you tomorrow? I’ll bring food in return.”

I thought about it. It seemed like a bad idea to encourage him but if this is how we were to feed ourselves, I couldn’t really afford to say no, not yet anyway. I avoided eye contact but accepted. “Yes. Give me a few days and then drop them off.”

Joseph grunted at this and walked away from us.

Cal just stood there staring for a while until Addy gave him a sharp look and snapped, “Goodbye, young man,” not so gently shoving him out the door.

As if startled from a dream, he staggered backwards and left.

“How did you know this was the house I would choose? I mean, the tools, the capsule. You knew I would end up here,” I said.

Addy waved me off. “Ha. You’re not the big mystery you think you are, girl.”

I smiled and stood with my arm around Joseph’s waist.

Addy turned to us, her lips curling. “Look at you two.”

“What?” I asked suspiciously.

“It’s just lovely to see a young family again.”

I couldn’t help but cringe a little. This was harder for me than I liked to admit, this instant family made in a tube, planted out of nowhere, now expected to grow straight, tall, and normal. But how did you grow a normal life from that, when everything was so backwards? I tried to put it out of my mind for now and take in our home.

Our home. The words were heavy in my head. Instead of happiness, I felt guilt. Why me?

Sometimes, I felt like I was tethered to the ghosts of my past like a bunch of balloons tied to my wrist. They were always pulling at me, trying to move on, but I couldn’t let them go and they couldn’t let me go. It made me want to keep moving, keep running.

I tried to say something to Addy but I couldn’t find the right words. I think she sensed it, touching my shoulder gently and saying, “Don’t worry, girl. You’ll get used to it. I’ll be round to check on you from time to time.” She tapped me once and said, “You know you’re safe here.”

I swear, when people said things like that, it made me feel less safe. It sounds like they’re trying to convince me of something they’re not sure of themselves.

Addy tottered out, her dark brown skirt swishing like grass shifting in the wind as she shut the door without turning around.

Bang! The timber door rattled in its frame and we were alone.

I took in Joseph’s face. He had shaved when we were in quarantine but stubble was already growing back, kissing his chin and softening his strong jaw. His golden hair was weaving itself across his forehead. Such a delicate balance of hair linked together. He gazed down at Orry and then had to flick his head to keep the hair out of his eyes. So much had changed since I met him, swinging his legs atop a concrete pillar, grinning down at me like he didn’t have a care in the world. We were older now—I think we were stronger too. And we had a baby.

I snorted. Thinking of how stupid it was that we had a baby. The most we’d done was kissed and we had a baby.

He looked at me, confused by my laughter. “What’s so funny?”

He walked over and put his hand in my hair, gently tucking it behind my ear. I shivered and forgot what I was laughing about. He leaned down and kissed the corner of my mouth. “We’re home.” I felt him breathe it in, his chest expanding at the words.

Could I stay here? Could I cut the ties and let the ghosts wind their way up to the sky? I wasn’t sure. But I knew I wanted to be here with him.

Orry started to cry and I settled into the old cane chair lined with furs and a ratty quilt to feed him.

As I fed Orry, Joseph busied himself around the house. I heard him shaking out sheets and making the bed. The snap of the cloth sent shivers down my spine. The air felt charged, nervousness and anticipation drumming out a rhythm in front of my eyes. In my mind, I was imagining doing things I had never done before and it both scared and charmed me with its possibilities.

The truth was, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do and I probably should have decided that first, instead of waiting to see how I felt as things progressed.

I heard the fridge door open and shut behind me. “They’ve made us some food,” I heard him mumble uncomfortably.

Pots clanged, drawers were opened and closed. I wondered whether he had really cooked before. It seemed like a lot of noise for reheating food. For all his strength and confidence, I could tell his nervousness was making him clumsy. This was beyond weird, for both of us. This was the first time we had truly been alone, without a baby between us, the threat of someone waking around the fire, or a doctor or nurse barging in on us.

I wrapped Orry up and put him in the capsule, resolving to make him a cot first thing tomorrow.

This peaceful calm of domestic life was really only an idea; it was an abstract thought that had no place in reality. But I let it fool me. I let myself think about being with Joseph, sleeping with him, and everything that went with it. But it was not that simple. I wish I’d known that.

After a dinner where eyes were shooting spears of desire across the table, I excused myself to take a shower. I could hear him clattering about, cleaning up. The water was heated by the woodstove so it was lukewarm at best. I undressed and jumped in and out as quickly as possible. Homemade soap that smelled like grass and lanolin made no lather but at least I smelled somewhat clean.

I stared at my face in the mirror. It was a conflicted image. I looked like a child. A mother. I’m not sure woman was a good description for me yet.

Woman. Is that what I would be after? It seemed a little too easy for things to click into place just because of that. I shook my hair out and tried to make it look less clumpy. They’d left towels, toothbrushes, soap, but no hairbrush. Running my hands through it, I thought of my mother. The same thick mane of dark brown hair touched silver with age. The seams started to bulge a little around my chest. I missed her. I didn’t want to but I did. She’d skipped into my thoughts more and more lately without permission.

I changed into the pajamas I’d found on the bed and opened the door.

Joseph was standing there, leaning against a kitchen chair. Head down like he was counting while someone went to hide. He looked up at me and bit his bottom lip, his eyes bright, and kind of dazzling.

“Are you tired?” he stuttered.

“I guess.” I wasn’t. At all.

He walked over to me and took my hand, leading me to the bedroom, the bed he’d carefully made. But something was dragging me back. Those ghost balloons, those puffs of air, suddenly had so much weight to them I was struggling to keep my feet. I was dragging lead bricks behind me, scratching across the floor. Wait, they whispered. I ignored them.

We sat on the bed. The wood frame creaked gently. The candlelight pooled around both of us, pulling the warmth from the timber out to dance in our eyes. We were bathed in glowing light. He pulled my face towards his own and stared into my eyes. Could he see the terrified girl inside? He turned his head at an angle and smiled sweetly.

“Are you ok?” he whispered.

I nodded gingerly. I put my hands in his hair and dipped his head down. Just kiss him, I thought. The feelings will go away. Maybe you can forget about things for a while. Your grief doesn’t have to guide everything you do.

I pressed my lips to his and we were gone. Kisses were long and then small bursts of short pecks followed. He kissed my neck; I followed his jawline and worked my way to his ear. His strong arms lifted me up and I swung my leg over and sat in his lap.

Back arched, I leaned down and hastily unbuttoned his shirt. It was all very fast. Rushed. Yes, it was rushed. He slid his hands under my shirt and pulled it over my head. It floated to the ground. Then he stopped. He took my body in. The way he looked at me… I didn’t feel shy or exposed. His face was calm, although his breathing was fast. I could barely look at his chest; it was a little too much, too beautiful. How could someone look that good? I just watched his eyes roaming over my body, the gaze touching me with warmth.

He put his hands on my shoulders and let them glide slowly down my arms.

“I love you,” he said, face flushed pink, his eyes golden, shining brighter than before.

I realized something, or at least I was starting to. “I love you too,” I whispered and then I paused. “Damn it! I really love you.”

I covered myself with my arms and jumped off his lap. I wasn’t enough for him just yet. There were some things missing that I had to find before I would be ready for this.

He looked so confused and completely dashed. His brows pulled back. He swiped his forehead with his hand and tried to catch my eyes. “You love me, damn it?” he said. “What does that mean?”

I didn’t really know what to say. I knew I was hurting him. That he probably felt rejected. I grabbed my shirt and shrugged into it, feeling awful. Like I had slapped him, even if I knew, somehow it was best for both of us.

“I’m sorry,” I said, insufficiently. “I’m not sure what to say. Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

I kissed him, wholly, intensely, feeling the fire of molten gold washing over us both. I wrapped that feeling up, let it cool, and hung it like a chain around my neck. The feeling was not gone, just postponed.

I could feel his restlessness; I knew he wanted to press me for answers. But he knew me. He knew he would have to wait.

We curled up under the covers. He reached out his hand and placed it on my hip, then lifted it tentatively. “Can I?”

“Of course.”

I flipped over and snuggled into the crook of his arm, laying my head across his bare chest, exhaling slowly. It would be easier if I could just let it all go, but I couldn’t. And I knew the truth of the matter was—if I loved him, there was no rush. It deserved more than we were giving it.

As I let sleep grab me with its wispy, white fingers, my mind wandered to my friends, friends I sorely missed. Rash would have been able to make light of this. And as I pictured him, his dark eyebrows raised, absolute mischief in his eyes, I knew he wasn’t a ghost, and maybe that’s why I couldn’t let him go. I didn’t know what happened to him.

Clara. Clara was gone. And I carried her memory around with me, holding it close to my chest, stitching it in there. She would have offered some consolation, some wisdom, to make me see the sense of my decision.

I cursed their absence. Then I cursed my selfishness, my undeserving luck at being the one who survived, who got away.

I turned my head and started to weep. A pathetic, self-pitying noise that I was ashamed emanated from my lips.

Joseph’s hand cupped the tip of my shoulder. “Rosa,” he whispered tentatively, “was it something I did?” His words were so sincere, so full of worry. Was I always to be a source of worry for him? How could I tell him, in this moment, that I missed Rash?

I couldn’t.

He pulled my body back towards his chest. It curled away from him, curled around a feeling I couldn’t quite name, but that was tied up with missing, aching, unfinished business and somewhere in there, anger.

The last thing I remember thinking before sleep finally engulfed me was, Mother, I curse you.

You didn ’t prepare me for anything. I am lost and you probably don’t even care if I’m alive or dead. You taught me nothing about what it would be like, how it would feel to give yourself to a man. To trust him entirely. How could you teach me anything about love? You chose so poorly and I have been paying for that choice my whole life.

I wish you had chosen me.

I forgot where we were. I let the cozy, timber home envelope me and make me feel safe. I let the people in. Let them help me. They made me believe in something that wasn’t real. I forgot that with the green, the plushness, and shiny plant life that pushed up and surrounded us, with the nourishment it provided came—the fur, the claws, the teeth.

This was not our place. W e were borrowers. No longer were we the dominant species. Our time had passed.

We were small in number and frame.

We were supposed to run.

C limb.

Cower

I forgot.

Joseph and I danced around each other the next couple of days. Neither of us willing to bring it up, until it went too long without being addressed and we started to just ignore it. We looked after Orry, explored the surrounding forests, cooked, and cleaned.

I began constructing a cot for Orry, which calmed me down immeasurably. I walked up to the patch of woods that sprung up just past the final row of houses. I shook down the bendy saplings, chipping my numb fingertips with tiny icicles. These trees had bad timing, much like myself. They’d seeded in the wrong season. They’d popped up just before snow had started to fall and would never survive winter. Their bendy trunks made the perfect frame for the rocking cot I wanted to make.

I cut them down and hauled them back to the house, dragging up filthy ice as I went. Quite often a neighbor would see me and offer assistance. Everyone was so friendly it made me feel a bit ill. I tried to be nice, said thank you, offered them help in return. But it all felt like pressure. I just hoped I would get there eventually.

Joseph seemed unused to idleness and after a few days, he was aching to do something. He took a spinner down to Deshi and a few hours later he came back with a job offer. He was going to work in the hospital, study under Matthew and become a real doctor.

“You sure you can handle all that blood and guts?” I teased.

“I handle you on a daily basis. Can’t be worse than that!” he said. Quickly pulling it back and saying, “Sorry. I mean, I was just joking.”

I rolled my eyes. Things were too polite between us.

I was gathering clients of my own. After I’d finished my cot, curious eyes poked through windows. Then hands rapped on my door. Once they saw what I could do, I was asked to build things, fix things, and come up with designs. This I could do.

Careen even came and swapped game for company. She ate with us sometimes. She seemed to have very little cooking skills despite her affinity for carving meat. I taught her the basics. It was nice feeling… like I had something to give, to offer.

One night after we had shared dinner, we decided to stoke the fire and sit up for a while. I’d started to trust Careen a little more with Orry and she held him close, touching the tip of his nose and showing him her big teeth. He reached up and clasped her pledge necklace, twisting it in his fingers. We still hadn’t been asked about that and I wasn’t going to volunteer.

Joseph’s eyelids were fluttering; I could tell he was close to sleep. He had been at the hospital a lot. He was avoiding me.

Careen watched me, her eyes twitching a bit.

“What’s the matter with you? You having a stroke?” I whispered

She blushed, her usual confident demeanor awkward.

“No,” she said. “It’s just, I wanted to say something. You don’t make it very easy.”

“What?” I was worried she was going to profess her love for Joseph.

“I met someone,” she whispered. It was her treasured secret. I had the cruel thought that maybe she had invented it in her head, but held my tongue.

“That’s… nice. Who?”

“Oh, he’s a hunter. He’s a bit older but then everyone is. He’s great! I’ll bring him up to meet you both.” I bobbed my head along as she chattered on about him. I was happy for her. Maybe he was deaf! My ears were filling with suds and water noises as I started to feel myself drifting off too.

Then we heard it.

It was a sudden and terrifying roar, a hollowing sound that seemed to be louder and wider than any one creature could make. But it wasn’t the worst noise to hear; I could have heard that noise a million times over the noise that followed.

It was the scream of the worst suffering known. Like someone had reached inside this man, pulled out his spine, and was rattling it for fun. And for all I know, that’s precisely what was happening.

Careen stood up and handed me Orry, gracefully running to the rifle she had left against the wall.

“Tigers,” she muttered to herself.

“What? You can’t go out there,” I said, shocked at how readily she jumped at the chance to put herself in danger. She’d certainly changed from the girl who’d left Joseph for dead.

Joseph snapped out of light sleep and strode to the door. I caught his arm and felt him stiffen.

“What are you doing?” I screeched.

“Someone’s hurt; I have to try to help.”