by Ella Hansing
first time that I no longer cared. I didn’t care who might be watching us through open windows or from behind cracked doors. I knew this must be finished today – that delaying the inevitable would only lead to further humiliation. I knew Phaena and he would recover, but only if they would leave.
Raising my hand I pointed to the scratch marks on my face – faded, though still visible. With my other hand I reached out to push him from our door, hard enough so that he stepped backwards onto the road – dazed. I would disturb their house no further nor engage with Hesba any longer – I knew this now for sure. Though I could feel myself begin to stiffen – almost beyond movement, I managed to raise my gaze high enough to look at him one last time. I was more to blame in this business than any other, so it was right I should be the one to end it. Stunned, his young eyes searched mine back and forth. I knew he wouldn’t leave unless every board in the bridge between us was broken. Rallying what little strength I had left, I yanked myself away, resting my hand on the door latch.
Before anything further could be spoken, Phaena swooped in on us like a hawk from the sky – dark eyes glistening with fury, claws outstretched to snag its prey. Grasping her brother’s arm she jerked him from our house equally as sudden as I’d withdrawn from him, nostrils flaring. In that moment, Phaena became the reflection I’d so desperately avoided for so long, confirming all of what I now insisted – that I was unlovable – the mistaken target of Aeros’ affection, of Hesba or anyone else’s affection. Towing Aeros away in a flurry of skirts, her young face scowled back in unforgiving exasperation at me – his own expression now closed and unreadable.
Blindly I pushed my way inside, slamming the door shut behind me – turning to lean against it. In vain I tried to quiet my swelling thoughts, closing my eyes and forcing myself to breathe slower – though nothing could relieve my unhinged mind now. I felt like a wild horse newly roped, with animated, frenzied and unpredictable movements. One mistake on the trainer’s part and I would kick everyone to pieces – snap the ropes thrown round my neck and break down the barriers built up around me.
In opening my eyes, the first thing they were met with was my mother’s gaze. She stood languidly in the door to the kitchen, arms folded across her chest as she studied me. Though her face seemed calm, I could see the glint of animosity sparking in the quiet depths of her stare. Like a tree tapping into a stream by way of its deep roots, she had a way of gleaning energy from her resentment, like she did from the worship of her lovers. Any challenge to her will while in such a state only swelled her appetite for supremacy. Her dark eyebrows rose along with her hand as it moved to comb back her hair from her forehead.
“Let me guess,” she murmured, angling her gaze, “Hesba is after you again?” She shrugged her broad shoulders, laughing faintly. “Maybe if she grew her nails out like mine her reach could stretch farther?” She paused, her face twisting before asking, “What does she mean – sending for you by way of her children? You were right to send them away, Ishtah. She is trying to make a fool out of me through you. Doesn’t she think I can care for my own daughter? She has a lot of nerve to come hunt you out when you’ve no need of her.” Casting out her long skirt around her feet, she tilted her head back so that she looked like a black crow, cocking its head. “Women jealous of my appeal always seek to teach me a lesson one way or another. But I am like a tower. I see everything for miles on end. The howl of the wind against my walls has never bothered me.”
Helpless, I could only stare back at the absurdity of her words. Fumbling, my hand reached to grasp my scarf hanging on the wall beside the front door. I felt as if I were being swallowed whole by hatred – not for her, to my surprise, but for myself. I could feel my body lifting, as if caught in a wave, as if I were losing grip on my surroundings – my feet rising from the ground as a mad torrent carried me. The image of Aeros, standing before me for a second time, gift in hand, drew tears at last from my eyes. Snatching my scarf I pushed past my mother to the back of the house, vision blurring as I unleashed myself into the alley – her confused voice calling after me, following me up the path a long ways before dying out amid the ringing in my ears.
I now knew, with my feet tripping over one another as I raced up the alley in search of escape, that it was possible to break my own heart. I’d always thought the breaking of one’s heart was something another person subjected one to, but now I understood it was possible to be wholly responsible for it on one’s own. From the way my mother had always pined after various lovers moved on, or laughed behind the backs of less appealing, more devoted ones, I’d always been inclined to believe my happiness would rest in the hands of someone else. Now I saw, with happiness having been just in my reach, laid gently in my hands even, that I’d cast it to the ground on my own – with help from no one, shattering it.
In alarm I checked the walls on either side of me, for a moment imagining they began to move closer in on me. Now, more than ever I felt certain the city was trying to suffocate me – trying to bury me alive in bricks and mortar, in merchants and workers, in women whispering stories to one another, in prostitutes flashing bare legs and breasts, in staring passers and yelling children. I knew my paranoia would only begin to increase as my exhaustion overcame me – head swimming as I tried to straighten my walk. With my sole desire now being to find sanctuary, I dropped my head low and cut blindly through the eastern gate, making my way quickly off the main road and out into the open, barren scape beyond – my scarf fluttering madly in the wind as I picked my way to lower ground.
Once alone, I again became careless with my walk, soon gashing my toe and then later my heel as I ventured across rocky terrain, headed toward my destination of solace – my pool of water waiting for me in motionless pause. When I reached it at last, I knelt – crawling to my familiar spot to wrap my arms around my legs. Pulling my scarf overhead, I arranged it so that my eyes could see only the blinding surface of the water.
As time melted, the sun engulfed me in its warmth, quieting the throb of my heart and numbing the agony of my mind. At long I wondered if any of the gods were looking down at me – wondered whether or not they were laughing. Closing my eyes I pled with no one for the sun to set, giving me a chance to drift off into the nothingness of sleep. From experience I knew that as long as it was day, my thoughts would continue to torment me – replaying visions and wild exchanges unendingly. Fretful, I lay my head on the side of a smooth rock – skin tingling at the sensation of its heat. Even if I could somehow rest, I knew I should be trying to figure out what my mother and I could do for ourselves instead. I knew it fell on me alone to conjure up how we might somehow change our interwoven fates. It was possible for me to say it aloud now – with a vulnerability I’d formerly denied myself, since young, that I wanted to find an end to my mother’s prostitution. I wanted a way out – more than I feared hunger or humiliation even. With one slow breath, my body at last succumbed to exhaustion – my fragile mind conceding it had reached its limit for the time being. There would be no sound thinking or clever ideas that day – my only option left being to somehow rest.
In closing my eyes, I was filled strangely with a sense of hope – hope that a solution to our predicament might present itself somewhere in my dreams, hope that I would wake from sleep with the answer in hand – like a scepter, returning home the next day to at once watch our lives unfold anew. If only I would fall asleep the answer would come to me, then the next time I saw Aeros in the streets it would be on very different terms. Instead of looking ever to the right or left, my eyes would meet his – we would stand on equal footing. If only I would fall asleep.
7. Two Necklaces
Considering I slept on a bed of rocks, with scarce any covering other than my scarf, I woke much later than could be expected – the sun fully raised overhead by the time I my eyelids cracked open. Overnight my body had become rigid enough from the cold air and from lying on uneven ground that when I stirred I could hardly feel my limbs. I was so numb I hadn’t even notic
ed a steady trail of ants marching across my legs. Flustered, I sat up at once to sweep the tiny insects off me, scooting higher until I sat upright on the rock I’d used as a headrest – mind dizzy from rising so sudden.
Now more alert, I could sense the sun branding itself into my uncovered brow – melting my face like wax. Retrieving my scarf from the ground I wrapped it loosely around my head, grimly taking into account how tan I must have grown, since the sun had come up nearly three hours ago by my estimation. It was unlike me to sleep so late and so deep. It was as if my body had known its inability to cope with the severity of being awake. Gaze venturing out beyond the pool, I now saw the day had fully sprung around me – loose cattle already roaming the rocky terrain, the distant call of herdsmen filling my ears, the air growing increasingly hot.
Sorrow embedded itself deep in my chest as I rose, realizing I’d come up with no solution to our impoverished predicament in my sleep – being unable to recall even what I’d dreamt of. Instead, my mind picked up in the same place it had left off the other day – with
