There was this saying that people used many years ago before the wars—‘curiosity killed the cat’—then the Superiors turned it into one of their warnings. I can’t remember exactly how it went, their words were always so archaic and long-winded, but the local translation of it was ‘curiosity killed the cat, and its family and its neighbors’. In other words, keep your head down and mind your own business.
“Yeah, he seems like a good guy, easy. He always…”
“Stop,” I said, my hand in front of his mouth, “I don’t want to hear any more.”
“Ok, but I think you’ll change your mind. I’ll wait for you to ask next time.” He smiled at me again. He made it so hard for me to be angry with him.
We walked in silence for a while. Past the grocery shops in Ring Four. The pitiful displays of limp vegetables and out of date canned goods were depressing. Their curved walls looking like a reflection in a glass ball. Living in a round environment had proved interesting for the architecture in the shopping district, where the walls of Ring Four and Ring Five were claustrophobically close.
Back at home things were much harder in comparison. With Joseph it was fun and exciting and I found myself racing out the door to meet him. My mother took my happier attitude to mean I had accepted things and was excited about my new life. She tried to spend more time with me but it was painful. The most affection she could summon up was a light pat on the shoulder. She cooked my favorite meals and made me some new clothes. This was her way of caring for me. It just made me feel worse.
I helped her pack up their things. It was a meager amount of possessions, filling only five small boxes. We had to leave most of it behind. I wondered if she was going to take the hideous curtains. Paulo was triumphant. He took every opportunity he could to rub my situation in my face. His wicked face darkened with delight as he talked about the new baby and what he was going to do with my room when I was gone.
I taunted him, “You better watch out, Paulo. If you want to be anywhere near your baby, the room better have good ventilation. You know, to get rid of the cider stink.” That was the nerve I loved to tread on. Paulo always came home smelling like sour apples and vinegar. It permeated his clothes and his hair—a smell that complimented the sourness of his personality. He scrubbed and showered twice a day but it never left him.
Paulo stiffened at my words and I could see his hand digging into his thigh. Just do it, I willed. Hit me. I stood a foot away from him, my face upturned, glaring. I knew it took everything in him not to strike me. I wished he would. He would be out of here so fast. The Superiors took child abuse very seriously. They were the only ones allowed to dish out the violence. What I was trying to do must have occurred to him. He relaxed, an evil smile creeping across his thin lips.
“You’ll be gone soon, so that’s one stink we can clear out of this house before the new owners get here.” He walked towards the kitchen. My mother was standing over a saucepan. He slipped his hands around her waist and she jumped.
She made me sick. She didn’t love him. She loved me but she wouldn’t stand up to him.
I stormed to my room shouting, “Forget about dinner, I’m not hungry,” as I slammed the door. I could still hear him laughing at me.
I threw myself on the bed and waited for morning. Trying not to examine this new feeling I had too closely. The feeling where morning couldn’t come quick enough because then I could see that warm, smiling face again.
Every day our walks became longer. I let Joseph in just a little and he just didn’t stop talking. He would meet me at the gate for Ring Three and we would walk to Ring Five. He prattled on about school and the Superiors, even what he had for breakfast. Anything to fill the silence my tightly shut mouth provided. He always kept a respectful distance, after the last time he tried to touch me. I was glad he did but he didn’t need keep a two-meter radius around me like I was going to infect him or strike him.
“What’s it like at home for you at the moment?” he asked, solemnly.
I shrugged. “Paulo almost hit me last night.”
Josephs green eyes were wide with surprise. “He wouldn’t be that stupid, would he?”
“I wish he would. I tried to get him to but he just stood there, smiling at me, cruel and controlled like always.” I was already plotting new ways to bait Paulo, to draw the anger out of him into action.
He shook his head, his hands balled up in fists. “Don’t say that, Rosa. I can’t stand the idea of…um... he could really hurt you.”
“It’s all right, Joseph, I can take a beating,” I said, nervously un-tucking my shirt. I turned my back to him and lifted the loose cotton up a couple of inches, “See.” I revealed the criss-cross lattice of little straight scars I had accumulated over my schooling. I half-expected him to reach out and touch them. Disappointed when he didn’t, I turned around to see him avoiding my gaze and wincing.
“Don’t worry about me; I can take care of myself,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. I put my fists up to my face, dancing around him, punching the air.
He shook his head, smiled at me, and put his palms up. “Come on then, give me your best shot.”
I lined them up and gave his hands two sharp punches. The impact vibrated back through my thin arms but his hands didn’t move an inch.
“Weak!” he said, challenging me. I punched his hands three more times and then pretended to go for his face. He put his hands up to block me and left his stomach unprotected. I slammed him hard in the guts. “Ouch!” He doubled over and stumbled backwards. I reached out to help him, worried for a second that I had actually hurt him. He grabbed my arm and pulled me down to the ground with him. We were both laughing.
“Sorry,” I said between giggles. I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling warm and breathless. “Didn’t think you’d go down so easy!”
He coughed, holding his stomach and putting his other arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer, my body fitting neatly into the crook of his arm. “Nah, I let you have that one.”
I could feel strength coming from somewhere inside me, a new sense of warmth wrapping me up in ribbons and rags. I also felt a need to be closer that I didn’t trust. I wiggled out of his arms and stood, my hands up to my face again. “Wanna go again?”
His disappointment was clear but he shrugged it off. “Sure,” he groaned as he pulled himself to his feet.
We tousled for a while until I got sick of him dodging me and I sat down again. He sat next to me but left a foot of air between us.
I sighed and leaned back against the concrete wall. Looking straight up, it appeared to almost meld with the sky. Grey into grey, melting into light blue and white.
“What’s it like in the outer rings? I may never get to see them you know,” I asked.
Joseph propped his elbows on his knees and stared down at the ground.
“It’s not very interesting. Sad. Ring Seven is mostly fields, cows, and sheep. Ring Eight is full of old people. I don’t really like going out there. It feels like everyone is just waiting to die.”
“Oh,” I said, wishing I hadn’t asked. “I guess that’s just another way they keep us separated from each other. Those poor people.”
“You shouldn’t talk like that, Rosa, someone will report you.”
I prickled. “Don’t you start. I’ll say what I want.” I was being overly harsh but I hated anyone telling me what to do.
“I’m sorry; I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” He skimmed his hand down my arm, leaving his warmth behind like a delightful burn.
“I’m always in trouble. I’m used to it.”
“I love that it doesn’t bother you. You’re fearless.”
That couldn’t be further from the truth, but I liked that he thought that about me. It made me feel strong. I was very afraid. Afraid of being close to him and equally afraid to not be.
I stood up and started walking again. Just keep moving, I thought.
The decision I had
to make was simple. Leave now or wait a few months and leave then. So why hadn’t I got there yet? Why was it so hard?
I sat in the abandoned factory, my refuge. It used to be a thriving shoe factory, employing over a hundred workers, until they shut it down. Funny now, when I think about it, that this was where everything went wrong for me. This was Paulo’s factory. He became so successful, so quickly, that they took it away. The Superiors ordered him to triple his workload so the shoes could be issued to Police and Guardians. He refused. He had many loyal employees and what the Superiors were asking would mean they would have to work twenty-hour shifts to get it done in time. So maybe he was a good man, once. Of course, his arrogance at thinking he had any control over what happened in his own business was his downfall. They quickly shut it down, dispersed the workers to another town that had a similar factory, and sent him to work at a distillery that made exclusive alcohol for the Superiors.
When I was old enough to make it to Ring Five, I wanted to go there. I wanted to stand in the place that broke him. Revel in his failure. Instead, what I found was a beautiful old building, a castle. It was falling down around the edges but the structure was stunning. The windows were imposing, carved wooden arches. The big double doors were heavy wood with big, ornate, iron hinges. I climbed through a broken window and found riches for a fourteen year old—pieces of colored leather, wooden feet, old sewing machines, and colored buttons. I made myself a small space to sit or sleep, pulling together some large pieces of leather and some fleece lining. It was comfortable and warm. I felt more at peace there than anywhere else. It wasn’t a home but it was the closest thing I had ever experienced.
I said he could come in this time but I was already regretting my decision. My once quiet space was filled with his booming voice. Joseph hadn’t come into the factory before. He had asked but I told him he couldn’t. He didn’t worry about it too much, other than to tease me about what I was doing in there.
“I know, you’ve made a life-sized Joseph doll and you’re trying to figure out how to tell me that you’re choosing him over me!”
“You are ridiculous,” I yelled at him as I closed the door behind me. And he was. He was too happy. He was too trusting. He pried and made statements like he knew me really well. I did like him. But I couldn’t let go of the fact that he was leaving, and I was leaving. It made no sense to be making new friends, or to have any friends at all.
“So two days ‘til the big day.” He sounded nervous, his voice higher and crackly. It was unlike him.
“Don’t worry; I’m sure you will get into Intelligence.”
“Yeah maybe, probably, oh I don’t know. I’m not too worried about that.” He was leaning on the door, his head so close I could feel his warm breath on my face.
He hovered over me, the heat coming off his body invited me to come closer, so I took a step back. “Do you want to come in?” I said, sweeping my arm open like a servant.
“You sure?” he asked. I shot him an eye roll. “Ok, ok, in I go!” he said, stepping through the door and into my private world. I bowed and shut the door behind him.
“So this is it? It’s just dust and old bits of leather.” He winked at me, a flutter in my chest made me feel like I was choking. I gave him a tour, showing him the old sewing machines, the rusty old conveyor belts. He seemed bored but he suffered on until we got to the place where I spent most of my time. We sat down on the seat I had made all those years ago.
“So what are you going to do?” His voice was a loud echo, out of place amongst the dust and stillness.
“I don’t know,” I confessed. All this soul searching and I had come no closer to a solution. Distracted by how close he was sitting, I was startled when he put his arm around me. It reminded me of the first time we met; I sighed and tried not to cry. Despite his annoying behavior, his loud voice, and disarming attitude, I was going to miss him. He was my first and only friend. I put my head on his shoulder.
“It’s ok; I know you’re going to miss me. You don’t have to say it. I know you can’t. I am going to miss you too. More than I want to,” he admitted, words pouring out of his mouth, each one floating down, nestling in my lap, behind my ears. His arms were so warm around me. Right here I felt safe, if only for a second. Who knew what might happen in the next few days? I let myself be in the moment, just this once. I leaned into the warmth and absorbed it. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I pulled my face back and stared at him blankly. I hadn’t realized up until now, but I was expecting something else. My whole body was agitated, buzzing. I was craving more of his touch.
He smiled at me sweetly, but there was a sad edge to it. I looked at his face, studying the line of his brow, the wonky line of his nose. I put my finger to his lip and pulled it down a little, turning my head sideways, squinting. He shook his head and I let go.
“What? What are you looking at?” he said, confused. His normally cool face looked flushed, bothered.
“What happened to your tooth?”
Joseph had a perfect smile, shiny white teeth, straight and lined up in a row, but on the bottom row, just to the side of the middle, one tooth was cracked and grey.
“Oh, nothing really. It was my dad…”
I felt an odd sense of protectiveness. It flaked off my skin, revealing a red-hot anger at the idea that someone would hurt him.
“What? Did he hit you?” My voice sounded shrill. I told myself to take a breath. I was getting too worked up.
“No,” he laughed, “nothing like that. One day we were playing in the backyard. He was getting me to catch a ball. I wasn’t watching what I was doing and I ran straight into the fence. I broke my nose,” he touched it lightly, “here. And I broke my tooth. The nerve is dead inside it.”
I laughed too. The idea of Joseph being uncoordinated enough to run into a fence was hilarious to me. He was so physically capable and athletic. I laughed until I realized how different we were. I mean, I knew we were different in personality and looks, but we also came from such different places. He had parents who loved him, who actually played with him. What a different life that must have been. I felt an overwhelming sadness for what he was going to lose.
It was stupid, but I took his head in my hands impulsively and kissed him. He didn’t move at first, but then he pulled me closer and kissed me back. He held me so tight I felt like I couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t care. If I could have got closer to him, I would have. My body flooded with warmth, liquid gold running from the tips of my toes to the ends of my fingers. His chest pressed up against me, my heart punching through mine. But it only lasted for a moment before he pulled away.
“You don’t want this, Rosa,” he said, sensibly shuffling away from me subtly. I let out a short sigh. I was surprised that he was being the voice of reason here. The roles were reversed.
“I don’t understand, I thought...” I don’t know what I thought. I knew he was right. This was only going to create more heartache for the both us. But a big part of me didn’t care at all. It was too late. That kiss was going to derail me. I felt it changing me from the inside out, causing pain and warmth at the same time.
His blonde hair flopped in his face as he bowed his head and exhaled deeply, like he was sorting through something in his head. He lifted both his hands in exasperation, pulling his hair back and looking at me with searching eyes. I bit my lip and held my breath. I knew I wasn’t going to like what he said.
“I think you should stay. Spend some time with your mother. Talk to your stepfather. It’s painful, I know, but it’s good to have a family. It’s good to have people in your life that care about you.”
“You care about me. That can be enough,” I said, sounding like a spoiled child.
“I’ll be gone soon; I don’t want you to be alone.” His anguish was clear but his words made no sense. Whatever he did, whatever I chose to do, we would both be alone. Be apart. That was certain.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He turned and walke
d away, crashing into things in his haste to escape me. I stood there like an idiot waiting for him to turn around, for him to change his mind. But he never did. He walked out, closing the door behind him.
Kissing Joseph was by far the stupidest thing I had ever done. Worse than gluing the teacher’s butt to her chair. Stupider than putting laxatives in the teacher’s lounge coffee machine. I just wish that I could have stopped myself from taking it too far. But I never could. I resolved to talk to him the next day. He was right. Being friends was best. I could hold the memory of a friend in my heart without it tearing in two.
It was a naive thought that things could so simply go back to the way they were.
The next day I went to the gate, same as always. I waited, but Joseph never showed.
He was gone.
I went back to the factory hoping he would be there, which was ridiculous, but in the back of my mind a little spark kept flashing. He kissed me back, even if it was only for a second, he definitely kissed me back.
I sat there waiting all day, feeling frantic. Disliking myself more and more. I didn’t want to feel this way.
I started to get angry, imagining somehow Joseph had tricked me into feeling like this. It wasn’t like me and I tried to pull it out of me like a choked-on strand of spaghetti. I went to bed thinking—I’ll find him. I’ll yell at him. I’ll push him into the gate and tell him exactly what I think of him.
I don’t know what I was expecting. I waited at the gate the next morning, fuming, but he was a no show again.
I went straight home and slammed the papers on the kitchen table in front my mother, disturbing her pile of mending.
“I want to go now. Today.”
She was rattled, skittish, big brown eyes blinking repeatedly like she didn’t believe what she was hearing. Bobbing her head as if she could shake the news out of her brain like loose wax. I didn’t realize she was so certain I would stay. I didn’t realize it mattered to her one way or the other.
The Woodlands Page 5
