by Jes Drew
“We’ll all meet back here at noon to decide where to go for lunch,” I add.
Grandmother nods. “Very well then. Chase, Mary-Ann, with me.”
My cousins follow Grandmother outside.
Christopher turns to me. “Are you ready for a relaxing afternoon?”
“Oh, I’ve been ready- all summer, really.”
~~~
“What strange streets these are,” Oto says as we walk down a cobblestone road.
“They’re a lot nicer than the dirt paths you had in your village, right?” I ask.
Oto scrutinizes the street. “I don’t know…”
Ata passes us. She’s been even more quiet than usual since this morning and now she seems to be deep in thought.
“Not to change the subject or anything,” Joseph says, frowning after her. “Though, it is extremely boring. Anyway, who will be the two people who escort me to the party?”
“Not Grandmother or my cousins,” I say quickly, glad to just throw this charade of a relaxing afternoon out the window.
Everyone nods.
“But I will go.”
“Now, I don’t think you should go either,” Christopher says. “Oto and I should be the other two.”
Oto nods.
Pigs just flew, but I don’t let that distract me. “This is for my family. I need to go.”
“No, you need to stay with your un-captured family,” Christopher counters.
“But I’m the leader.”
“You can lead us from safety.”
“But all good leaders go with their men.”
“The male leaders go with their men. Women leaders with their women- it's the only way they can follow their troops into both restrooms and locker rooms.”
Something burns deep in my gut. Anger. “So is that what this is all about? Now is not the time for chivalry.”
“Of course it is. It's always the time for chivalry.”
I roll my eyes and cross my arms. “Well, the Masters will be less likely to recognize me than Oto.”
“We’ll be wearing disguises.”
“Somehow I doubt that disguises will keep Rudolf Masters from recognizing Oto. He obviously hates Oto’s guts.”
Christopher crosses his arms. “He hates our guts too.”
“But not as much.”
Oto wavers his hand in the air. “She has a point there.”
Christopher glares at him. “Whose team are you on?”
Ata screams suddenly.
I turn just in time to see her collapse.
We all hurry to her. “What is it?” Joseph demands, looking around for whoever might have hurt her.
“Nothing,” she answers, despite being on the ground. “My foot just got stuck in between two cobblestones.”
I cringe.
Ata does too as she eases her foot out from between the two cobblestones. Joseph and Christopher both reach to help her, but she ignores them both and pushes herself up. The moment she plants her hurt foot on the ground, though, she stumbles.
Joseph catches her. “Whoa girl. I think you might have sprained your ankle.”
“I’m fine,” she insists through clenched teeth as she pulls away. Then she takes another step and nearly collapses.
“No, you’re not,” Joseph counters, steadying her.
“He’s right,” I agree. “I’ve twisted my ankle and I’ve sprained my ankle. You’ve definitely sprained your ankle.”
“Let’s get you back to the hotel,” Christopher says.
“You don’t have to do that,” Ata insists. “You continue with your outing.”
“Not without you,” Oto counters. He takes one of Ata’s arms.
Joseph takes her other arm and they both help her back down the road. Christopher and I follow.
I sigh. One restful afternoon. Is that too much to ask? I can’t take all this stress! I can’t.
I want to scream, but I can’t. I want to cry, but I can’t.
I can’t.
I can’t.
My breaths become raspy and I put all my effort to keeping my face emotionless.
I can’t let them see my weakness. I can’t. I’m their leader.
We get to the hotel and make it to the girls’ room. There, the boys lay Ata on her bed and check her ankle.
“How bad is it?” Ata asks bravely.
“A bit swollen,” Joseph answers. “It could be worse. Still, you won’t be able to put your full weight on it for a while.”
A sprained ankle. Even worse than my twisted ankle from a few weeks ago.
But how hard it will be to be on the run and unable to run.
Ata nods, resigned.
While everyone's attentions are on Ata, I sneak out of the room and walk down the hallway to the public restrooms at the end of the hallway. Then I enter the single stall ladies’ room and shut the door.
Staring down my reflection in the mirror, waves of despair wash over me.
There will never be any rest for me. I’m going to travel the world for eternity, always looking over my shoulders. I’ll never be with my family again. I’ll never be safe again.
No, that’s not true. We’ll run out of money eventually, or we’ll be caught. Probably both.
Stop it! That’s not helping.
My reflection flushes red with restrained tears. Because, while it isn’t helping, it’s true.
The dam breaks and I sink to the ground and I hug my legs to my torso, tears finally flowing freely down my face.
Someone knocks on the bathroom door. “Emily?” Christopher calls.
I ignore him.
It can’t be true. God has a plan for me- a plan for my good, even if it doesn’t seem like it. I just need to have hope. I just need to persevere. It'll all work out in the end...
But that’s all I’ve been doing- and look at me now; I’m sobbing on a bathroom floor. It was inevitable. Getting caught is inevitable.
Christopher knocks again. “Emily, are you all right in there?”
“Stop it!” I yell. “Stop it!” But I’m not yelling at Christopher. I’m not sure what I’m yelling at. I don’t think I want to know. “Go away! Leave me alone!”
The desperation- for that must be its name- doesn’t listen, however. The horrible images keep flashing through my head: both memories and knowledge of the inevitable.
“Stop it,” I whisper, but it doesn’t listen, so I change tactics. I begin to rock back and forth and pray. “Help me. Help me. Please help me.”
Over and over. Every part of me pleads, “Help me. Help me. Please help me.”
The door swings open and Christopher stands in the doorway. He takes one glance at me before stepping in and shutting the door behind him. Then he sits down next to me, right there, on the bathroom floor.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp, in full blown hysterics now. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m-”
“It’s okay,” Christopher answers calmly, glances around for my attacker.
But my attacker isn't physical. “No it’s not. Nothing’s okay. Nothing’s-”
“Yes, it is. It just seems like it’s not. In reality, everything’s under control.”
“In what reality?”I vainly trying to wipe away my tears.
He gently closes the door behind him. “God’s reality. And soon, it will be your reality.”
I stare up at him. “How soon?”
“I don’t know the answer to that.” He kneels down beside me. “None of us do. We just need to keep persevering. Even if things don't work out in this life, they will in the next one if you love God. Guaranteed.”
“But I don’t have the strength anymore,” I whisper.
Christopher uses both his thumbs to wipe away my persistent tears. “You don’t have to. God will give it to you. He'll always give you what you truly need.”
“Oh.” Somehow, that calms me down. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s touching my face. “I-I wasn’t yelling at you earlier.”
“I know... And I d
on’t think you were asking for my help earlier.”
I shake my head. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. That’s how it’s supposed to be anyway. But I’ll still be here for you.”
“No matter what?”
“No matter what.”
I throw my arms around him and he cautiously hugs me back. And so we sit on a bathroom floor embracing each other. I don't know if I have ever felt more warm and secure.
For about five seconds before the doubts come back. “I guess this means I’m not going to the party with Joseph,” I say into his shoulder. A new onslaught of tears threatens to erupt, so I suck in my breath. Then I start hiccuping.
This just isn't my day.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with that,” Christopher says gently, beginning to rub his hand up and down my back, sending delicious tingles across my spine. “We all have moments of weakness.”
“So I can still go?”
Christopher pulls back enough to look me in the eyes. He studies me for a moment before finally nodding. “Yes.”
I blink. “Do I have your word?”
“Yes.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. Relief. What a wonderful feeling.
Christopher gets up and then helps me up. But I notice a strain in his face as he does so.
Frowning, I glance down at his arm. “Is it your wound? Is it acting up?”
“I'm fine,” he mutters, turning away.
I grab his shoulder. “Christopher, take off your shirt.”
He pauses and glances back at me. And I know he sees the seriousness in his eyes, because his good arm moves to pull up his shirt.
And I see the dirty bandage over the wound that looks like it has been reopened at least twice since the last bandaging.
Breath hisses through my teeth. “Oh, Christopher. Why haven't you been taking care of yourself?”
“There was no time-”
I glare at him. “We could make time.” I open the sink cabinet and pull out a first-aid kit I'm relieved to find.
“That anti-bacterial stuff isn't going to help against this,” Christopher warns.
Or is he just trying to cling to an excuse? I've never once seen Christopher less than brave before. I guess he really is human. “It's better than nothing.”
“This will work better.”
I turn to see him holding up the bottle of alcohol.
For a moment, I just stare at it. So it is real.
“You're going to need scissors to cut off the bandage,” Christopher adds.
Nodding, I wipe away any moisture remaining on my face and take my pocket knife out of my satchel. Then I stare at the bandage.
“Lean against my shoulder if it will help you see better,” Christopher says.
I do, and try not to think about the fact that I'm leaning against a shirtless man. Then I reach out and carefully snip at the bandage, begging God not to let me cut him.
Then the bandage is free from the rest of it. But while the back flaps back, the part that's over his wound remains stubbornly where it is.
“This is the part where it's going to hurt,” Christopher says, calmly putting the cork from the alcohol bottle into his mouth.
Now I'm scared. Shaking hands grab hold of the bandage. Then I gently tug at it.
It doesn't move very much, and Christopher winces. Then he places his hand on mine and tugs hard.
Then the rest of the bandage is off and Christopher is sliding silently down the wall.
And I'm staring at the raw scab that is bleeding at the edges, my heart breaking at the pain before me.
Christopher reaches up for the alcohol bottle.
“No,” I whisper, taking it into my own grasp. “I'll do it.”
Trying to avoid how scared I am of hurting him more, I turn it over and pour it onto his scab.
Christopher clenches his fists so hard, his knuckles turn white. Then I quickly right the alcohol and grab the bandage before kneeling down beside him.
He spits the cap out of his mouth and leans against the wall. “Well, that was only as bad as I imagined it would be, at least.”
I purse my lips and begin wrapping the bandage around him tightly. Then his hands envelop mine again and help me tie it together securely.
“Guess I need help same as everyone else,” he says, and I see a spark of mirth in his eyes despite the sheen of sweat on his forehead.
Mustering a weak smile, I slide back shakily and stare at Christopher as he leans back. Then I lean back on the wall beside him.
For a moment, we're both silent as we catch our breath.
Then words break our silence. To my surprise, I find that they're my own. “Christopher, did you call me your treasure the other night?”
Maybe his breathing quickens slightly at my words, but if so, it's only for a second and then all is normal. “Of course I did, ma crevette.”
Then he sits up and begins to push himself up and grabs his shirt.
I push myself up and help him pull it on. “You need to rest-”
“I'm fine,” he assures, tugging his shirt the rest of the way down. “We need to check on the others.” He moves to the door and glances back. “You're coming with me, right?”
I nod. He could've asked me to turn myself into the Masters and I would’ve done it.
I would do anything for Christopher.
I love him.
~~~
As we wait for Grandmother and my cousins, I keep glancing over to Christopher. If he feels any pain now, he's hiding it well. He's back to his old self.
And me. Well, I don't think I'll ever be the same again.
He saw me at my worst, yet he wasn’t disgusted. He didn’t run. Instead, he joined me on the bathroom floor (it sort of reminds me of something else, but I can’t quite put a finger on it).
And I love him for it.
In fact, I love him for a lot of things.
A mental list of things I love about Christopher:
(1) Not abandoning me on that cruise ship;
(2) Not letting me drown;
(3) Every twilight conversation we ever had;
(4) Always being there;
(5) Always knowing what to do;
(6) Always doing what’s right;
And just to be thorough:
(7) His great hair;
(8) His British accent;
I smile to myself and turn the phrase over and over in my head. I love Christopher. What a delicious secret.
But, of course, these sorts of things never stay secret for long? What will he do when he finds out? Will he love me back? Or will he keep me at arm’s length?
I sigh. Only time will tell. Until then, I must keep hoping; keep persevering.
~~~
I stare at my phone. You gotta be kidding me.
Yet no matter how many times I blink and rub my eyes, the answer remains the same. Ma crevette means 'my shrimp.'
Okay, now he's being purposely cryptic.
I glance up at Christopher, who is sitting across the room.
Just as Joseph comes into the hotel room with our pizzas. “Okay, before we eat this world's closest attempt at heaven in its native country, I think t’s time that we decided officially who will escort me to the party already, I think.”
“Not me, obviously,” Ata says, glancing away.
Joseph sighs and nods.
“And Grandmother, you have to stay with the children,” I add.
Grandmother nods.
Chase crosses his arms. “We’re not just children, you know. We should get a chance to go to.”
“Yeah,” Mary-Ann agrees.
“But somebody has to take care of Grandmother,” I point out.
My cousins look unconvinced.
“Since I’m your grandmother, you have to do as I say,” Grandmother says. “And I say you stay with me.”
Chase groans before glaring at me.
I shrug. “She is your grandmother.”
“And O
to should stay with Ata,” Christopher adds. “Emily’s right- you would be most recognizable of all of us.”
Oto blinks, startled. “But-”
“As the leader, I really should be one of the people going,” I point out.
“And I’m Joseph’s best friend,” Christopher adds.
Oto frowns at Christopher. “I thought we had an understanding, Chris.”
He considers this for a moment before nodding. “You know, maybe I should stay with the others. They’ll be needing someone to protect them.”
“I thought that was my job,” Chase mutters.
“Everything’s decided then,” Christopher announces. “Now, does anyone want pepperoni?”
~~~
As we climb onto the plane, I focus on breathing. Seriously, I was just on a plane, and it was fine.
We take our seats. Like last time, Grandmother, Mary-Ann, and I are sitting in the middle row. However, everyone else has different seating arrangements: Ata and Joseph sit in the row in front of me and Christopher, Oto, and Chase sit in the row behind me. Oto obviously doesn’t want to be on the less populated row again.
Like last time, Grandmother frets until the plane takes off. Then she promptly falls asleep. So does Mary-Ann.
With nothing left to do, I lean forward to view the various images that Joseph is showing Ata on his laptop.
“This is the Statue of Liberty,” Joseph says. “And this is a picture of New York City at night.”
“It’s beautiful,” Ata breaths.
Joseph nods, not taking his eyes from Ata.
Then he glares back at me. “Do you mind? You’re kind of in my light.”
I decide not to point out that he has a backlight; I can tell when I’m not welcome.
Leaning back in my seat, I close my eyes; however, sleep eludes me. What a surprise.
“So why are you really letting Emily escort Joseph?” Oto whispers behind me.
My ears perk up.
“I already told you,” Christopher whispers back, “because she’d be less recognizable than you would be.”
“You and I both know that’s not the full story.”
My stomach clenches. Will Christopher tell Oto my embarrassing break-down? Bad enough one person had to witness it, but for others to know about it...
