Death's Life

by B Latif

  Daniel was also participating, while Paulo stood silently by and Alex twirled around the dance floor.

  “Hi, Rose! You’re here?” Daniel gasped, surprised to see her.

  “Hello,” Rose greeted reluctantly, without shaking the hand he proffered. Daniel didn’t mind and took it back.

  “I’ve to talk to dad right now,” Henry excused himself and Rose, “I’ll see you later, Daniel.”

  “Okay.”

  Mr. Cavills was talking to the President of Sweden whom he had invited, along with two important ministers and his wife.

  “Dad?” Henry waited for him to notice him, but when he didn’t, Henry called him.

  He turned to face his son.

  “This is Rose,” Henry told him confidently.

  “Ah, the girl you were waiting for?” Mr. Cavills seemed friendly. All the people there were charmed by her beauty.

  He held out a glass of champagne to Rose. She didn’t know what it was, but accepted it anyway, exchanging a look with Henry.

  “Are you enjoying the party, dear?” Mr. Cavills asked sweetly.

  Rose nodded, took a sip and grimaced. The taste was weird, she almost puked, but controlled herself. Henry took the glass from her hand quickly.

  “She is feeling unwell today,” he covered up and took a sip from her glass.

  The trouble had already begun but nobody noticed it.

  “So… Miss Rose, where do you live? I’ve never seen you with Henry before,” his father asked.

  “I live in my home.”

  Mr. Cavills and the others chuckled, thinking it was a jest, “A good sense of humor, I see!”

  She stared at him but didn’t corroborate her answer.

  “And with whom do you live?”

  “With Mama and roses,” she was being candid. Henry’s jaw clenched, sensing what a blunder he had made.

  “Aha, your father?”

  “No father.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I never had a father. It’s just me and Mama.”

  There was silence. Henry tried to take charge and said immediately, “Like I said, she is feeling…”

  Mr. Cavills cast his admonishing eyes at Henry for a second, which was enough to quiet him.

  “Miss Rose,” he continued the investigation, “What’s your mother’s name?”

  Rose frowned, for a second it seemed she had no answer, “No, her name is Mama.”

  It was getting worse with every question.

  “And your father’s name?”

  “I said I don’t have a father,” Rose seemed fed up now. One of the men in the circle laughed slowly and said in an undertone, “What do you mean? Your mother is somewhat like the Virgin Mary?”

  Rose was puzzled, she exchanged a look with Henry, but he was already looking down. He couldn’t help her, she had to defend herself.

  She answered, even if she didn’t know it’s meaning, “Yes.”

  Mr. Cavills gasped. She looked like an utter sociopath in the human world.

  “Maybe she was adopted…”

  And many whispers. The only person who was silent among them was Henry. Rose was extremely confused, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

  “How old is your mother?” Mr. Cavills asked.

  “Twenty-six,” Rose said, thinking hard.

  “And how old are you?”

  “Twenty.”

  More murmurs and whispers. All must have thought she was mad. There was no further inquisition, but Henry was talking now. He was arguing with his father in Portuguese and Rose couldn’t understand. She stared at them.

  Then Henry grabbed her elbow and began to lead her away. The meeting had been a disaster and Henry seemed angry.

  Entering the room, he released her and locked the door. turning around fiercely, he almost yelled, “You ruined everything!”

  Her mouth was dry, she was panting, and her eyes were welling up, still she stayed silent.

  “Rose. This is not possible. Why did you say that? Are you mental?”

  She still didn’t answer, watching Henry pace and sweep his fingers through his hair. It was possible, wasn’t it? She had it all and lived the life no one else did.

  He didn’t calm down.

  “You know what? Nobody is born without a father. Not a single soul.”

  Rose dropped in the chair and Henry stomped toward her like a police officer.

  “And everybody has a name!”

  It was advantageous that the music was still playing or everybody else would have heard him.

  Two slivery streaks dewed her rosy cheeks. She didn’t dare look at him.

  “And your mother can’t be twenty-six, alright? It means she was six years old when you were born.” he said through gritted teeth.

  “But it’s true.” Rose whimpered.

  Henry knelt and looked in her eyes. Inhaling a deep breath, he closed his eyes and opened them again, trying to calm himself.

  Deep inside, he knew she wasn’t a liar.

  “Tell me the truth,” he said gently, placing his hands on his knees and uncurling his fists.

  “The truth is,” she looked in his eyes, “I don’t have a father. My mother has no name and she has been twenty-six ever since I can remember.”

  The frown deepened on his face, his fingers curled into fists again and he said in a serious tone, “It’s time to meet your mother.”

  I hid myself.

  Chapter 13

  Henry and Rose were back in the forest and I was experiencing one of the weakest human emotions: fear.

  Fearful of the questions that had made Rose silent since the ball. Questions that were lurking in her mind, making her reticent as she had never been before. A wealth of questions that weren’t allowing any other words to cross her lips.

  Henry was back in his usual attire, knee-length, brown leather boots, black jeans, navy blue shirt unbuttoned from the top, the bow and quiver on his shoulder.

  He was walking behind Rose as they scrambled through the thorny bushes I had set in the way to the castle. Rose was back but not mentally. She wasn’t the same as she used to be.

  For the first time, both were silent, and their silence was growing uncomfortable for me.

  I wanted her to talk, but I couldn’t read her emotional state. They walked at a turtle’s pace because of the difficult terrain and because it was getting darker with every step.

  Darker and deeper.

  They entered the land of the dead. The graveyard was dark, ghost quiet and so Henry couldn’t see that they were passing through a graveyard. He couldn’t see that there were graves on both sides of the aisle-like path.

  I was there, in the graveyard, a shadow in the spooky mist.

  Rose’s eyes were on the path as she was used to it, but Henry was wide awake. Even a person like Henry could get the shudders in that cold environment, what humans call a ‘death-like place.’

  He was looking around, staring into the dark as if he could spot something… me.

  “I’ve never been to this part of the forest before,” he whispered, as if any sound would wake the dead.

  Rose, lost in a trance, interpreted it after a moment, “Huh?”

  As she looked up to see him, her eyes went to my silhouette and I hid again. She didn’t stop walking, unable to decide if she had seen something.

  “What?” Henry looked at her.

  She walked to the edge of the path and narrowed her eyes, “There… is something…”

  Drawing his arrow and setting it in the bow, Henry walked to her and glowered into the darkness, ready to shoot anytime.

  Even the sound of their breathing stopped.

  Dauntlessly, he stepped in the part I had forbidden Rose to go. The graveyard. He walked in carefully and soundlessly, still prepared to shoot, without looking where his steps were leading him. Rose stayed in her place.

  After a long pause, and he was sure nothing dangerous was around, Henry finally looked where he was, piercing the
thick fog, which made him lower his bow unintentionally.

  His eyes went on the endless stones. Kneeling, he cleaned one with his hand.

  As soon as he looked at the carving in the stone, a frown appeared on his face. He quickly turned to the next one, cleared the dust and after that, he checked three more.

  Finally, he let out his breath that he was holding when Rose called him, “Henry?”

  He stood up and looked around. The tall, dead trees were hardly visible in the moonlight, their branches reaching out as if trying to grab him.

  As he walked back, the dead leaves crunched beneath his boots, and the webs tangled his legs.

  Rose was there, waiting for him. Standing face to face, he asked, “Aren’t you scared?”

  “Of what?”

  Henry didn’t reply at first, then he held her wrist and moved. She didn’t. He looked back at her, “Come on.”

  Rose refused, “Mama has forbidden me to go there.”

  Henry frowned, annoyed, “Do you have any idea what these are?”

  Their disturbance in the silence was like a ray of sun peaking from the black clouds.

  “Rocks.”

  This time, Henry didn’t ask her anything. He held her wrist, pulled her toward the gravestones, not caring that she was forbidden to go there.

  He stopped and pointed at the stones, “These,” he looked at her sternly, “are graves.”

  Rose didn’t know the meaning of the word. She gulped, staring at him.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Henry let out his breath, which came out as a puffy cloud. He had to elucidate. He held out his bow and arrow, pointing at Rose, ready to shoot.

  Rose stared at him in horror.

  “If I shoot, this arrow will pierce your heart, and just like that toucan, you’ll die. Then I’ll dig a hole in the ground, put you inside, and bury you. It’ll be called a grave. Your grave.”

  They stared at each other.

  Rose was breathing fast now as his story had scared her. Henry lowered his weapon as he looked around at the thousands of graves.

  “These are…” she couldn’t complete her sentence.

  “Yes,” Henry said, “They have dead humans in them.”

  She was horror struck.

  “Mama didn’t tell me,” it was a whisper to herself and nothing after that.

  The rest of the journey was in silence. Henry had a tight grip on his bow, alert. Rose was in a trance, completely lost. No wonder with what was going on in her mind.

  As the castle became visible, Henry stopped in his tracks. With his neck twisted to one side, he stared up at it, perhaps wondering who build it.

  Rose never looked back at him until she heard his incredulous voice, “You live here?”

  She turned around, watching his shocked face, “Yes.”

  The castle itself seemed haunted. There was some force illuminating it, but still, the darkness was overwhelming. As a gust of wind snaked through the branches, some of the leaves danced down towards them.

  Rose walked in with Henry following.

  Roses.

  The wind carried their aroma to him, and he looked around. It seemed that he was in a rose garden. Who expected roses in such a haunted place?

  “What’s with the roses?” he asked, standing still again. Even the roses seemed spooky in the dead castle. Some deadly beauty.

  Rose didn’t bother to reply, she kept walking and Henry, sensing she wouldn’t answer, followed her.

  Ignoring him completely, Rose began to call aloud, “Mama! Mama!”

  The echoes lasted in the castle for a couple of seconds but there was no answer. Rose licked her lips, letting them glow in the faint light and looked at Henry.

  “She isn’t home.”

  Biting the inside of his cheek, he meditated, “I can wait.”

  Rose nodded. She wasn’t like before.

  ***

  After the first ray of light trespassed the castle through the window, Rose rolled over on her side. She hadn’t slept all night. She couldn’t.

  Henry’s eyes were closed and the bow still in a tight grip.

  Rose sighed.

  Her mother hadn’t come home.

  Perhaps she thought I was off to work or maybe I didn’t know about her arrival. She didn’t know when Henry had fallen asleep, but they hadn’t talked. Even if they spoke in whispers, it was like waking the dead from the graveyard and welcoming danger.

  Rose was only used to hearing my voice in the castle at night.

  The dawn and early morning chirping woke Henry. He blinked, recognizing the place. When his eyes fell on Rose, sitting against the wall, staring at him, he sat upright immediately.

  “You okay?” he asked abruptly.

  It seemed Rose minded his questions, she seemed unhappy about it, “It’s my home. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

  “I mean…” Henry cleared his throat, “your mother sounds… unnatural. And you live in such a haunted place.”

  Rose was even more offended and frowned.

  “This is my mother you’re talking about.”

  “Of course! But you see… the way you talk about your mother… and this place… Rose, there is something…”

  “Leave.”

  Henry stared at her, “What?”

  Hurt by his comments, her eyes were welling up, she clutched the gown she was wearing, “Go away!”

  “But…”

  “Leave!” Tears were forming drops on her lashes and she was upset, “Leave me alone!”

  He didn’t waste time. He felt insulted and got up, leaving in a rage, never looking back.

  Rose sat still for a moment, then she buried her fingers in her hair and breathed heavily in confusion and frustration. Hiding her face behind her knees, she wept.

  ***

  Henry didn’t come back. I did.

  And what a mistake it was.

  I came back after three days of patience, a thing humans lack. But it feels so good to have something back after years, or days or even minutes.

  I had prepared a speech on the question I knew she would ask me first. “Who is my father?”

  I couldn’t practice it in front of the mirror like humans do when they lack the confidence to say the words they want to say.

  It is strange that the word ‘confidence’ seems so unfamiliar to me. I don’t know what it is, it seems I’ll never know what it is.

  Why?

  I wanted to, but my reflection… I can never see myself in the mirror. Hence, I practiced it, pacing among the weeds. How many times?

  Six, ten, twenty, fifty… I lost count.

  I don’t know if she cried or not because I never went to see her again.

  Why?

  A lack of confidence, I suppose.

  I walked through my home, the graveyard and reached her home, the castle. I halted the moment my eyes fell on her. She was sitting by the stone wall and my soulless steps woke her from her thoughts.

  She looked at me with eyes that hadn’t tasted sleep for three nights. I knew it, I could sense it.

  “Rose, I need to…”

  “Hey, Mama,” she got up, curling her lips, which seemed like a forced smile, “I’m back.”

  As she got up, I stared at her. There was no sarcasm, no scorn or question in her tone, and this bothered me.

  I didn’t reply.

  As she moved forward and gave me a hug, I couldn’t even hug her back.

  “How are you?”

  Her first question made me forget my speech that I had prepared for her assumed first question.

  Holding my hands, she smiled again, “What happened? Why are you staring at me like this?”

  Something told me to act like a human and pretend to know nothing.

  “Maybe,” I swallowed, “It’s because I haven’t seen you since you left home.”

  She chuckled, “Who left home? I’m back and you are here!”

  Every word her tongue was delivering, sounded as if it
was saying the same thing to me: don’t pretend that you don’t know anything.

  “Yeah.”

  “So, let’s have a nice lunch first.” She said as she went inside the castle.

  First? Did it mean there was second thing too?

  Rose never spoke during lunch and I also kept my mouth shut. The first long silence between us was making me uncomfortable.

  A part of me wanted her to ask me all the questions written on her face. A part of me didn’t.

  Maybe she was trying to find some appropriate question to begin with.

  Would she hate me?

  Or would she love me even more?

  That night, everything was silent, even the forest. The owls never hooted as she fell asleep.

  ***

  The sky was beautiful as the sunrays filled it with colors.

  There was something wrong with Rose. As I stared at the morning sky, I knew it at once. Rose was also beautiful but now she had no color.

  I couldn’t face her anymore. Leaving a rose by her, I left.

  It was afternoon when I returned with shame visible on my face. We didn’t talk again, neither looked at each other.

  At night, as she lay down to sleep and stared at the cosmos, I dared and asked her.

  “Rose… I need to…”

  “You didn’t ask me,” her unblinking eyes were still on the stars. I stared at her in disbelief. Rather than asking me, she was telling me to ask her questions?

  Extraordinary.

  And the Lord knows what she was talking about.

  Locking her fingers together on her chest, she sighed when I didn’t reply. She continued, “You didn’t ask me how the world was.”

  I had never thought about it. I had forgotten that she had seen the world for the first time. I cleared my throat to avoid squealing the answer, “Yes. Of course. How was the world?”

  Rose frowned at the stars, “Interesting.”

  OBSERVATION No. 26

  The most difficult business for humans is to mind their own business.

  I stayed silent as silence is the best answer sometimes.