by T. R. Graves
Jayden's eyes never left mine. "No, man. I have all I need."
If he wasn't trying to antagonize Thorne, I'd have swooned over what he said and the way he looked at me. Because I knew it didn't sit well with Thorne, I rolled my eyes and said, "Then keep it moving. We have people who are desperate to try Rorie's breakfast. She's famous for her fluffy eggs and perfectly shaped biscuits. We can't have anyone holding up the line," I said, grinning toward Jayden and giving him my own wink.
He smiled back and my heart actually leapt.
I could tell by the way Thorne practically threw biscuits on the next few trays that he wasn't happy at all about my affections for Jayden, or Jayden's for me.
After that, I lost sight of my Surrogate Soldier. I was too busy helping to do anything but obey Rorie's every order. She had high expectations of herself and anyone helping her. She didn't revert back to the Thorne-worshiping twin sister until we'd served the last person.
It was then she made a heaping tray of eggs, biscuits, and sausage for her brother. He took his tray and headed toward one of the empty picnic-style benches. She trailed behind him with a giant glass of orange juice. I think he was glad to see the sister he knew and loved had returned.
I made myself a much smaller helping and joined him, sitting across from him. Just as Rorie was turning to go back toward the kitchen—not to get her own breakfast—I said, "Rorie, you've been working hard all morning. Get your breakfast and come sit with us."
I was patting the bench next to me. Surprise and awe flooded Rorie. "You mean it, Carles. I can have breakfast with you?"
"Rorie, as long as I'm here with you, you are welcome to have every meal with me, and I'll help you as much as you'll let me in the kitchen. I think you've seen cooking isn't something I'm good at, but I'm willing to do whatever you want," I said, smiling back at my new friend.
She turned and ran to the line so she could make her own plate. I watched her until it occurred to me there were eyes boring holes into me.
"What? Why do you keep looking at me like that?" I asked.
"I've already told you. No one except me—not even my parents—treats her like she has feelings. I've just never been around anyone like you," he said with the same tenderness he reserved for his sister.
"Well, that just makes me mad. How could anyone not see how special she is? And I don't mean that in a derogatory way. I mean she's the kindest, gentlest, and most extraordinary person I've ever met. Anyone who can't see she exemplifies the type of person we should all be isn't worth my time," I said, picking off a piece of the fluffy biscuit and putting it in my mouth.
"And that is the exact reason I've never found anyone else that I wanted to spend more than a roll in the hay with. Not one of them saw how much she meant to me. Not one of them gave her a second glance. One of them even insisted she not be allowed to go near her. She… she worried Rorie would infect her eggs." Thorne laughed, but it was sardonic and heavy.
"Like I said, Thorne, not worth our time. The thing is… there are other people like me. For whatever reason, you've surrounded yourself with superficial women who can't see past Rorie's exterior. Though, I have to admit even that is as beautifully bright as her soul. She's just a little different than us. That doesn't mean it's a bad thing," I reasoned.
Nodding and eating, Thorne said, "Yeah, I know, but it takes a special person to see what I see. I see it because she's my sister and I love her. You don't have any real reason to notice who she is inside, but you have."
"I'm just going to suggest if you stopped being superficial in your girlfriend search, you might have found dozens of girls who would've accepted Rorie," I chastised before taking a big gulp of juice.
His gaze met mine. "It doesn't matter. We're together now. We've been promised to each other in a way that is legally binding. The only person who can void the contract is Barone, and he'll never do that. He wants us together more than anyone."
Thorne didn't seem at all upset by the mandate or about the fact that Barone would never void the agreement. I, on the other hand, felt anger spread from deep inside me.
"I'm not marrying anyone just because our parents agreed to it when I was still an infant. Surely we've evolved past betrothments and dowries. I'm not marrying anyone who hasn't won my heart," I said, and there was no hiding the anger I felt.
I loved Jayden. I'd die an old maid before I married anyone but him.
Thorne wasn't offended by my tirade. Instead, he grinned and said, "I have every intention of doing just that, Carles."
"That will be hard to do since it belongs to someone else," I spat.
Thorne shrugged and swallowed his last bite of food. "There were people my whole life that told me Rorie wasn't worth my time… that told me I should put her in a school with her peers. I've kept her with me and have taught her everything she knows. She's not just functional. Everything she does is done better than non-Down syndrome people who would try the same feats."
I agreed with him, but I couldn't figure out where he was going with this train of thought.
"What I'm saying is I'm patient. I'm prepared to do whatever I need to do to 'win your heart'. You and I'll be good together. Besides, you've ruined me. I'll never be able to look at another woman who isn't you. It's you or a life of celibacy, and I'm not sure that's possible," Thorne said suggestively.
He laughed the loud belly laugh that turned him into someone as kind and lighthearted as Rorie when he saw my mouth drop open in pure shock.
"Come one, Carles, surely you're not that innocent," Thorne said before my humiliation registered. Dropping his own voice, he whispered, "Oh my God! I wouldn't have said that if I'd have known you never… you know."
I tried to hide my embarrassment. "I'm not even seventeen. What would make you think I'd have done anything with anyone? I'm not a slut," I snapped.
"I-I don't know. I just thought the way you and the Surrogate were when you're together that the two of you had done… a little more than kiss," he explained.
Holy baby Jesus!
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you," I said, gathering my trash and preparing to head toward the kitchen for cleanup duty.
As soon as I stood, Thorne sidled up next to me and grabbed my tray. When I glanced up at him with a plan to tell him I could clean up after myself, he winked and said, "I have to tell you I'm anything but disappointed by that, Carles. Anything but disappointed."
For the millionth time since I'd met him, I rolled my eyes. He put his elbow out for me to hold. I ignored him and shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans and followed him to the kitchen, where we helped Rorie wash the dishes. With more energy than the Energizer Bunny, Rorie was ready to prepare lunch as soon as the last breakfast dish was dried and put away.
Determined to get cleaned up before I embarked upon the first lunchtime chore, I stepped in front of Thorne and said, "I don't suppose you could point me in the direction of the nearest shower. I'm in serious need of one."
"I'll do better than that. I'll take you to the supply tent and then walk you to the shower barn."
"Thanks," I said.
This time when he put his elbow out, I grabbed it. I wasn't sure why. It just felt natural walking with him. Near him.
At the supply tent, I found a pair of jeans in my size and a fitted tee. I turned my back on Thorne while I grabbed an undergarment and shoved them between the folded jeans. Finally, I confiscated a brand new pair of hiking boots.
Right before we left, Thorne grabbed two shower baskets. From my quick glimpse into their contents, I saw a towel, rag, and toothbrush as well as some toothpaste, deodorant, soap, and shampoo.
"Why two?" I asked curiously.
"I've been watching over you for the last four days. If either of us needs a shower, it's me," he said, stacking the clothes he'd picked out on top of the baskets.
As soon as we stepped out of the supply tent, I saw Jayden. He looked clean and refreshed, obviously having just taken his own shower given the wa
ter dripping from the locks of hair hugging his neck.
"Jayden," I sang in delight.
His own grin widened. "Carlie, what are you doing?"
"The same as you. Thorne took me shopping in the supply tent. Now I'm going for a shower," I shared.
Jayden's eyes flashed over to Thorne, who suddenly looked completely bored with Jayden.
"I know where it is. I'm just coming from there," Jayden said.
Thorne stepped closer to me. "I have to get cleaned up anyway. I'll show her."
Jayden, determined to prove he was more alpha than Thorne ever thought of being, slid his hand in mine and intertwined our fingers. With his boldness and his tight squeeze, I smiled.
Before Thorne could do or say anything, Jayden was leading me straight toward a building that did in fact look just like a red barn with giant barn doors. I had no idea what I was going to get myself into, but I knew I wasn't going to have any part of a communal shower.
Is this why the two of them are fighting over who stays with me while I shower?
I knew enough to swear that if the shower situation were unisex and everyone showered in the same area at the same time, I'd bow out of this and wait until everyone was asleep before I came back. It wasn't until we were a few feet from the barn that I realized it had been divided down the middle and there were two entrances. One had a stick figure that had a triangle dress for a body. The other stick figure, obviously a male, had super long arms and legs.
With a final squeeze of my hand, Jayden let go. "I'll wait right here for you," he promised.
Like I had so many times today, Thorne rolled his eyes and without another word, he entered the side of the barn allocated for men while I entered the side for women. I had no idea what the men's showers were like, but the women's side was completely empty. I was glad. I'd put off looking at the snakebite wounds long enough. I needed to see how disfigured my body still was and gauge the sites for potential scarring.
Very carefully, I peeled off my T-shirt. On my neck, I saw two areas—each surrounding a puncture site—that were the yellowish-green of an old bruise. The tiny round holes where the fangs sank in and the snake injected its poison were what could only be described as angry red and covered by scabs.
If I were in any mood to joke about my mangled body, I'd think about how much Tawney would love to create a story from my tragedy. In it, the heroine would be forever linked to reptiles and viewed as one of their own now that she'd lived through their hazing, one that was geared toward killing her or bringing her into their inner circle.
Who am I kidding?
Tawney's story would always be about true love. Her version would be more Princess and the Frog. She'd kiss him. He'd turn into a prince. They'd live happily ever after.
Where's the fun in that story?
Suddenly, my own tendencies kicked in, more scientist and researcher. Rather than getting lost in a story about a man and a woman, I began considering the possibility that I might be—or could easily be—vaccinated against the venom of snakes now that I'd endured so many bites and actually lived.
Where's the harm in assuming something this horrendous actually left me stronger than I was before? And there is actually a good chance my theory could be proven.
With a new mission, one a lot less worried about wounds and scarring, in mind, I stripped my clothes and counted the number of bites. After I realized I'd been bitten no less than fifty times, I was glad I'd been studying them from a scientist's perspective. If I'd remained the typical narcissistic teenage girl that I was deep down while I looked at my bruised and misshapen legs, I'd have cried. I'd have wondered if they would ever again be the slender, muscular legs I'd known and loved my whole life.
With the prick of a tear as it dripped from the corner of my eye, I knew somewhere deep inside, that typical narcissistic teenage girl was seeing what I was seeing. She was wondering if she'd ever again be able to wear shorts or a swimsuit without drawing disgusted stares from onlookers.
Depressed over the knowledge that I was much more shallow than I'd ever thought, I stopped counting. Stopped studying the wounds. Instead, I grabbed soap, shampoo, rag, and towel, and headed into one of the many shower stalls.
It may have been early spring, but the water was still wintery. Icy cold. Way too frigid to bask under the spray for longer than necessary. By the time I got out, I was shivering and my lips were blue. Before I was fully dried off, I snatched the clothes I'd gotten from the supply tent and donned them. Hoping they'd add even more warmth, I put the boots on before brushing my hair.
As soon as I had them laced up, my toes already seemed warmer. Feeling a little better, I grabbed the comb from the basket and dragged it through one section of hair at a time until it was smooth and tangle free. Then I pulled it back into a ponytail and wrapped a band around it.
As soon as I saw the snake hickey on my neck, I reconsidered my hairstyle and almost pulled it down. After I remembered I'd be spending the rest of the day on kitchen duty, I decided the narcissistic teenage girl was going to have to put on her big girl panties and forget about my wounds, was going to have to refuse to be embarrassed by stares, and was going to have to thank the heavens above that she was still alive.
Unfortunately, my resolve to rise above my superficial tendencies was tested the instant I walked out of the shower room and Jayden, the Surrogate I loved, grinned appreciatively toward the cleaned-up version of me… right before he scowled. The bites on my neck hadn't gone unnoticed, and he looked like he wanted to kick some snake ass all over again.
I'd like to join him in that fight.
Chapter 21
Muhammad Must Go to the Mountain
Carlie
I'm not sure what Surrogate Soldier Jayden St. Romaine was supposed to be doing, but he ended up spending the rest of the day in the kitchen with Rorie and me. It seemed Thorne had abandoned his infirmary duties that morning in order to help with breakfast but had to get back to treating the sick, because by the time he'd finished his shower, there were several people looking for him. His only option was to resume his doctoral duties and leave us to help Rorie with hers.
"I'll be in our tent if you need anything," he'd said a half dozen times before he decided I might actually be well enough to be left on my own.
It was as if he thought of me as a fragile being who needed his constant attention. My run-in with the snakes had Thorne treating me exactly the way I'd treated Tawney after I'd found out she was dying. Somehow, I needed him to know I was actually fine. That I wasn't broken. That I was going to make it.
That I'm going to throat punch him if he treats me like I'm anything less than his equal after today.
I was feeling better by the hour. There was no reason to tiptoe around me or pretend as though I had the same death sentence Tawney had. I could run five miles right now if I had to. Now that I was being honest with myself, Tawney hadn't been able to do that for quite some time.
Hindsight really is 20/20.
When I looked back on the last several months, I remembered more days where she slept than trained. I remembered more days where she lay reading rather than taking the long, leisurely walks she loved. Mostly, I remembered the clammy skin she'd blamed on the training that I now knew she wasn't doing.
Tawney's sick. Not me. I won't be treated like I am.
* * *
Lunch and supper were uneventful. I saw more of the Rorie, who took charge of the responsibilities assigned to her by her brother. She adored the ground he walked on and would rather have chopped off both hands than disappoint him or fail at something he went out of his way to get others to agree to allow her to do.
More interesting to me than anything was the way Rorie and Jayden bonded. If she told him to do something, he treated her like she was his general and he was her soldier. Everything about this turn of events, where she was solidly in charge and ordering around two people who followed her every command, proved that, Down syndrome or not, Rorie was a function
al member of our society.
Putting a face to the genocide, I felt more resentment than ever before over the current state of affairs whereby embryos with genetic defects were aborted by the MicroPharm. Rorie should be the poster child against these types of uninformed actions. I just had to believe there were parents who were as willing as Thorne to work with these babies and help them become as functional as Rorie.
Even more than being functional, there were things to be learned from Rorie's simple take on every problem. Rather than worry about the ripple effects of every decision, she focused only on the most basic component of her problem, and she worked only on that problem until she had a resolution. She didn't concern herself with something that might happen hours from now, and while there were certainly instances when decisions needed to be thought through for their long-term implications, I knew not every decision needed that kind of time and attention.
Rorie was nothing short of refreshing, and I understood perfectly why Thorne protected her by keeping her with him. I was sure there were people in the world who would take advantage of the very traits I found most endearing and use them against her.
Against Thorne.
I was snapped from my reverie when Jayden came up behind Rorie, grabbed her shoulders in his hands, and said, "Rorie, why don't you let Carlie and me do the dishes? You're the cook. We're the kitchen labor. You've done your part. Let us do ours."
Rorie looked up at Jayden, and I saw the circles under her eyes that had Jayden putting an end to her day in a way that made it seem like it was the manner all kitchens were run.
She was too tired to argue. She turned and smiled up at Jayden before saying, "Thank you."
I'd noticed throughout the day that the more tired she got, the thicker her words were. Her gratitude as expressed to Jayden was louder than normal and uttered as if her tongue blocked the back of her throat. It was obvious Thorne had coached her on the fine art of perfectly articulating her words, using her mouth and tongue to make the words clear, and the importance of keeping her voice low.
