by E. L. Giles
It takes me a whole second, maybe more, to process what he said. He was coming back?
“But, I was there…I thought you were waiting for me to leave before you came back?”
He frowns. “And this is why you decided to mess with a bear?” he asks, his voice strained.
In this moment, I can’t explain how stupid I feel. Intensely stupid. How could I have been that dumb? Is it possible I had it all wrong from the very beginning? Is that the only thing I got wrong then?
Josh crouches beside me and leans his head closer. “Is that...” His voice cracks. “Is that the only reason you were leaving?”
“I thought you were upset and wanted me to leave,” I say. “I mean, we waited a whole week for you. I freaked out.” I begin to fill with anger I didn’t even know I had in me.
“Sorry about that,” he replies, looking at his feet. “But I wasn’t upset and never wished you would leave. Why did you think so?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you left at the exact moment you were forced to reveal yourself to me,” I say. “Isn’t it a coincidence, the timing and your behavior? It all just—whatever. Never mind. If it had been me, I would have been upset. But I guess it’s me, and once again I’ve messed it all up. That’s probably why O’Hare is leaving too.”
“It had nothing to do with that, not really. I...wait...” His cheeks turn red. “O’Hare is leaving? When? Where? Dolores let him go?”
Damn. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but he would have realized it once he got back home anyway. “I don’t know. I caught him last night. I thought he was you. He was going to leave this morning. He asked me not to say anything, so I didn’t,” I explain.
“You did right,” he says. “He hasn’t stopped whining that he should have finished what he started.”
“And that’s why he came back without you?” I ask.
“After a couple of hours, it started getting annoying, and I wasn’t in the mood for that. I prefer Alastair’s company,” he says. “He doesn’t talk much.”
“And what mood were you in then?” I try. I guess that knowing he spent this week mourning, as I had, eases the still-boiling rage I have inside of me a little.
Josh shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter now, don’t you think?”
I play around with that thought, but yes, it matters. But Josh looks…I don’t know. He looks despondent, or apprehensive, and that instantly halts my anger. I won’t force him further on the matter.
“Where is Alastair?” I ask.
“Not here,” Josh says after a moment. He’s acting weird, like he’s hiding something, but I don’t know what, and I won’t make any assumptions. I think I’ve messed up enough when it comes to that.
My eyes move down, catching sight of his back. “You fly!” I exclaim.
Josh jerks, frowning. “And you’re not—” he starts, shocked at first, but then a wide smile interrupts his words as he studies me. Then, just as quickly, the smile fades into a pout as he says unenthusiastically, waving a wing over his head, “Well, I got these.”
Dolores warned me that this is a subject Josh doesn’t like, and I see in his face that he’s uneasy. But why is that? I’m not sure I dare ask right now. I lock my eyes on his wings though. I can’t resist. They’re too unreal, too awesome to ignore, and the only thing I can think is, One day you will like them. I mean, what other person on earth has wings? It’s extraordinary, and they’ve haunted so many of my nights. I want a better look at them. I want to touch them, and I don’t think to ask before acting. I stretch out an arm toward the closest wing.
He backs away a few inches, terror in his eyes. I wonder if it hurts for them to be touched. But then he calms, relaxes, and moves back.
I bring my hand back, and Josh nods in a way that makes me wonder if his head hurts. Then he slowly brings one wing closer to my face, the tip of a feather brushing against my cheek. It’s like electricity races through my skin. I move a shaky hand closer to the wing until my fingers touch it.
“How I’d like to have wings,” I murmur, contemplating them while tracing my fingers along the velvet-soft line of gray-and-black feathers. If I had wings, they could have brought me far from Kamcala, and I could have discovered the world—discovered Josh—much sooner.
Josh snorts. “Trust me, you don’t.”
“Why?”
Josh looks away from me and lowers his head to stare at his feet. “Other than being a threat to everyone around me, they don’t serve me much. I’d prefer to have never been born with them.”
“But they saved you from Kamcala, and you saved me with them,” I say. “And thank you for that by the way.”
I guess he hadn’t yet considered the positive aspects of his wings. He appears to be more at ease now, and I dare to venture farther along the line of the wing. Josh may not like them very much, but I do.
I’m nearing its base when I notice I’ve skimmed over his skin. My whole body shivers at the contact; rough and hot like burning coal. Heat radiates from it with an intensity I momentarily fear would burn me. The contrast with my shivers is astounding, and I feel feverish.
This heat sets my cheeks on fire, and the thought of sinking into his arms and feeling their warmth surround me rushes through my head with thoughts I instantly push away. What is going on with me? It must be the scorching sun that makes me feel giddy.
Josh folds his wing back, and I let my hand drop to my side. I would have liked this moment to last longer.
I hear a faint rustling, and a moment later, Josh hands me a long feather. It’s all gray but a shade paler than the ones I’d touched with black tips. I hold it and can’t contain my smile, thinking back to Anna, when she gave me the little square-folded cloth. I press the feather against my chest. It’s like I feel her, and I feel Josh too. It’s weird to think of them both, but at the same time, it’s comforting to feel them that close to me.
“Think you can walk now?” Josh asks after a moment.
“I think so.” I touch my ankle and shake my head, to be sure the world has really stopped spinning.
Josh gets up first and helps me to my feet effortlessly, his strong arms lifting me as if I weigh no more than the feather he gave me.
“We’re walking? Why don’t we fly?” I ask.
“Sure. Grow yourself a pair of wings and take us back home. Deal?” He says sarcastically.
“What?” I frown. “It’s that hard?”
“Well, given the time I need to recover, I’d say yes.”
“Oh. Let’s walk then,” I say with a bit of disappointment. I would have liked to see the skyline again.
We enter the underbrush, and Josh takes the lead, opening the brush and shoving the branches out of my way. The heat now is stifling and weighs on me, making me want to sleep on one of the patches of grass along the path. How comfy they look, but if I stop, I’m sure I won’t get back up before tomorrow.
Josh turns to the left and gestures for me to follow him. I do so without question, and I hear a stream in the distance as we go down this narrow path. It’s faint at first, but as we get closer, the sound becomes stronger and stronger, until it’s a roar in my ears and all I can hear. There’s a steep slope that Josh helps me climb down, and once we arrive at its base, the river is there, right at our feet. It’s probably the same river that runs through Kamcala, the one we drove alongside on our way to the Retirement Center.
Its flow is calm, waves crashing lazily on the rocks scattered across its bed. I sit by a large, flat rock and stare at the water breaking at my feet. I want to jump in, but I don’t know how to swim. Plus, I’m clothed. I can’t casually pull off my clothes and bathe here, right? I’m not really sure. Josh seems to have found the easiest solution and decides to get in the water with his pants on. I stare at him, I can’t detach my eyes from him. He’s naked from his waist up as he gets into the water. I can’t help but gaze intently at him. The lines of his chest that cut across his skin. His muscled stomach that spreads down beyond
the waistband of his pants. His broad, sculpted shoulders, his toned and veined arms that end with rough, square hands and long, powerful fingers. I battle with this restraint that makes my heart race with the fear of being caught with a man. But as I pass over it, feelings I can’t explain rush through my body, prickling and burning over my skin and knotting my stomach. It’s fire and not blood that runs through my veins. For a moment, I must close my eyes to calm my racing heart from thumping in my temples. Is it curiosity, interest, or something else I feel? How am I supposed to know what this is all about after having been spared these feelings my entire life?
Josh crouches in the water, soaks his head, and then starts swimming. It looks like second-nature to him. I wonder if one day I’ll be able to do the same. The thought of swimming bare-chested instantly makes me blush with embarrassment. Josh is so well built, and I’m so…not like Anna.
“You’re not going to bathe?” he shouts from the water, several yards from me.
I shake my head. Josh doesn’t insist. Instead, he gets out of the water, picks up his bag, and comes over to me. I guess it’s time to leave. I hope we’ll come back to this place, though, so I can learn to swim. I will learn to swim.
I will.
This morning I left with the intention of never returning, and now I’m heading back to the very place I so badly wanted to call home, planning things for the future. Life is strange, but sometimes it’s good too.
Chapter Seventeen
“Is this some kind of shortcut?” I ask Josh.
It’s the third time we’ve turned from the main route onto a new path full of similar-looking trees and bushes. I wonder how anyone could find their way here.
I try to adjust my pace to match Josh’s, but it’s difficult. His legs are much longer than mine, and one step of his is two of mine. But I somehow keep a steady pace and manage not to slow us down too much. Dolores must be freaking out by now. I’m not sure I want to go home after all, especially if she’s going to scowl at me the way she does at O’Hare. She’s far fiercer than she appears.
We get to a tricky part where we must climb a soft but heavily brambled slope; there’s not much for us to grab onto. Josh leads the climb, helping me on the way to the top. When my feet land on flat ground, Josh turns around, drawing a finger to his mouth, telling me to remain quiet. I stare at him, puzzled. He then gently taps one ear with the tip of his finger.
I perk my ears, but what does he want me to listen to? Birds? Squirrels? The faint sound of flowing water coming from the river we left? These are the usual sounds of the forest, nothing exceptional.
But slowly, I notice something else under the chanting of the birds and the rustling leaves. It’s subtle as if it comes from the depths of the woods. And as the sound grows louder, the birds stop singing one by one. I strain my ears.
Long and plaintive notes break the silence in a sorrowful sequence that gives me goosebumps. It’s beautiful, with its slow rhythm that instantly demands quiet. The sound I hear is piercing, but not in a disruptive way. It’s like a pure voice, unaltered, clean. Perfect. I don’t even notice as tears wet my cheeks, flowing down uncontrollably, driven by the music.
“Alastair?” I murmur.
Josh smiles, then nods. “I knew you’d like it,” he says.
I crane my neck but can’t see anything other than the trees and the thick foliage.
“Can’t we get closer?” I ask.
Josh shakes his head. “If we do, he will stop playing.”
“Why?”
Josh shrugs. “That’s how he is.”
“Maybe we can get closer without making noise, can’t we?”
Josh smirks. “Trust me, here is the safest spot so he’ll keep playing—even if he knows we’re here. And trust me, he knows.”
I resign myself to keep listening from a distance. We rarely had the pleasure of hearing music in Kamcala, besides music class in school and the anthem that played during executions. Unfortunately, playing music was out of the question as my talent was nil. In fact, anything related to art was out of reach for me. I was better at treating sick people and wounds I guess, which is somewhat ironic when I think about it.
The music stops on a long, vibrating note, and instantly, the forest comes back to life again with the sounds of birds, squirrels, and crickets on the wind.
Josh’s smile fades, and he says, “Let’s get home before Dolores comes to gets us.” He stretches out a hand to me, and it’s evident by the way he looks and the sound of his voice that he’s not in any hurry to get home.
“And Alastair? Will he come back with us?”
“No,” he says, “he will come back on another trail.”
I take his hand, and we start down the slope. His hand feels rough around mine, rugged and solid. He helps me avoid the branches and obstacles, and once we land on flat ground, we instantly head to the trail we left before we deviated. We keep our hands tightly locked together. I don’t know why, but I feel it would be strange to release them. They fit together so well.
I spend most of the walk in a lightheaded state of calm and peacefulness, not noticing what’s going on around me. I feel this new energy wrapping my head in something warm and sweet. When I stumble on a rock or a root, it temporarily drags me out of my daydreams, and when I do, I jump as if I’m still trapped in Kamcala, terror gripping my stomach. I can’t help but glance worriedly around me, as if guards will jump out of the bushes and arrest us for what they would call “public indecency and sexual behavior.” I can almost feel the whip snapping on my back, and I shiver.
“You all right?” asks Josh, worry in his voice as he momentarily releases my hand. I instantly clutch it back in mine.
“Yeah, it’s nothing,” I say, and we step into the front yard of the house. Dolores stands by the window, arms folded as she watches us climb the stairs. I instantly feel my mouth go dry, and I can’t swallow anymore, a different kind of terror choking me now. There is only one way to describe Dolores right now: furious.
“Where the hell were you both?” Dolores yells as we step through the doorway.
We stop, and my heart races as we release each other’s hands. Tears wet my eyes, and I try to hold them back. I think Dolores catches a glimpse of our hands and then my eyes because her demeanor changes entirely. There’s still some anger left, but she has relaxed, and her mood has softened slightly.
“I was freaking out. O’Hare left, and then you disappeared,” she says, addressing me directly. “And you, Josh, a whole week for fuck’s sake.”
I blink, startled, at the profanity. That would have granted her a date with the whip in Kamcala.
“Why did you let him go?” Exclaims Josh, and then he waves his own question away. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll bring him back right now.”
“No!” shouts Dolores, clenching a hand on Josh’s arm. “We can’t hold him here forever. If he wants to leave, then good for him.”
“And what if he tells about us?”
“He won’t,” says Dolores as she steps closer to him, a finger pressed against his chest. “You, Josh, never leave like that again. Never. Got it?”
Josh mumbles something in the affirmative.
“You better,” she says, giving both of us a stern look.
I won’t defy her and try to leave again. In fact, I don’t plan to leave ever again.
Dolores turns to me. She eyes me for a second, and I’m sure she’s going to reprimand me. But then her attention moves to my forehead, and she reaches a hand to the improvised bandage of yarrow Josh put there. She lifts it up and inspects it more thoroughly.
“How’d that happen?” she asks, turning around and heading to the counter. She picks up a clean cloth and soaks it in water before bringing it back to me.
“I—I stumbled and knocked my head on a rock,” I say, which is somewhat close to the truth.
I decide that telling her about the bear isn’t the greatest idea. I see Josh’s nod of approval from the corner of my eye.
Without warning, Dolores pulls me to her, wraps her arms around me beneath my shoulder blades, and squeezes me tightly, cutting off my breath. I didn’t expect such a show of affection, and I didn’t have time to prepare myself for it. I mean, what should I do now? I’m a bit lost because I feel her body shaking under me. Is she crying? I decide to do what I think is the right thing and wrap my arms around her too.
It’s a strange feeling surrounding me right now. I embrace this woman who cares for both Josh and me. I stand in this house that feels like home. I stand beside the handsome boy who never left my thoughts. The boy who I thought wanted me to leave. The boy with whom I walked back here hand in hand with. It all feels strange, but in a good way.
I feel like I’m looking at everything with new eyes, unaltered, and unfiltered by worry, grief, or terror. I see things I’ve never seen before, smell scents I’ve never noticed before. Every little detail I ignored, or simply wasn’t aware of, now shows itself to me.
Like this tall bookcase rising in the corner of the little room before me. It wasn’t there this whole time, was it? And the books that fill it, where did they come from? I turn toward the bookcase, focused on it, and ignore everything else around me. I’m attracted to it like a magnet to a piece of metal. I cross the room until I stand before this tall wooden bookcase. Dust lifts off the shelves as I run my fingers over them. How old is it? How old could it be?
I run my fingers along the scratches that are scattered across the wood. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It smells like wood, like Marcus’s office did. I see his bookshelf standing in the corner. I visualize the hardwood flooring and his oversized desk. It smells exactly the same, but it doesn’t feel the same. Now I can associate this smell with home and not the threat of the Retirement Center.
