The Shattered Genesis

by T. Rudacille

  ***

  I could not be sure that what occurred the following morning was just a dream. I assumed that it must have been the ideas of the hidden-away little girl who did exist somewhere inside of me. She was projecting her idealistic view of how a fight should resolve into my dreams.

  I felt James’s lips moving slowly up my arm to my neck and then to my cheek.

  “I’m sorry.” He whispered in my ear.

  And then, profoundly shocking both the cynical shrew and that wide-eyed, empty-headed little girl inside of me, he whispered:

  “I love you.”

  It was a dream. I awoke with the familiar longing to fall back into the sea of sleep where those poignant moments occurred. If there was one feeling that I loathed profoundly, it was awaking from the soothing alternate universe that existed only in sleep to find a harsh, hostile reality gnashing its teeth at me. I had been experiencing that literal wake-up call for much of my life. It never lost its potent, pitiless edge.

  “You look tired.” Alice informed me gently when I exited my room for my first day of work. She was attempting to make nice with me by displaying concern for my well-being. I was in no mood to hold a grudge. I nodded in response.

  “Are you alright?”

  “I am peachy, dear.” I lied effortlessly, “All is right with the world now that we are here.”

  “It is amazing, isn’t it?” She beamed brightly and began to pull her long, blonde hair into a messy bun on top of her head. “I really feel like we’re going to be okay from here on out. It will be easy to forget that there’s a fight going on.”

  “Indeed.” My insides soured upon hearing such blind optimism spoken out loud so freely. Was I spewing that same nonsense the night before? Was that what had angered James? Alice’s belief that all was perfectly well could be forgiven, for she had never displayed my same intelligent distrust. I had pulled the wool over my eyes, however briefly. James’s final words would not be excused until he had apologized properly. But I admitted bitterly that he was right in all the other things he had said.

  “Where’s James?”

  “He joined security detail. They need some muscle, I suppose.”

  “Quinn got that job, too!” Alice was clearly enthused by the common link between us. Both of our men were out fighting for our continued survival. We were bonded together by the sisterhood of brave women left behind by braver men. I suppressed a gag and several very self-righteous thoughts.

  “Did he offer you that job?” I asked her, and my mind cleared of all intelligence when she spoke again.

  “No. He said that you, Penny, and Violet would be working in the kitchen, and that I would be put there. Why? Did he offer that job to you?”

  “He did. I should have taken it. I do not know how I am going to fare doing something that requires no adrenaline or fangs.”

  “I know, right?” Alice said, and I rolled my eyes, “After what we’ve been through these past couple of days, it’s going to be weird not to be constantly looking over our shoulders, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed. Alice,” I looked at her, prepared to shock myself by asking such a candid question of an intellectual inferior, “You and Quinn were experiencing some difficulties in your relationship before. Though his reasoning behind his anger was flawed and he knew that, he did not let it go.”

  “Yeah, he’s really stubborn. He always has been. He always thinks he’s right, even when he’s being ridiculous, like he was with that fight we had. It drives me crazy sometimes.”

  “So, how did it resolve? How did you settle the matter?”

  Alice gaped at me for a moment, stunned that I was actually posing a question to her. In asking for a solution to mine and James’s problem, I was admitting that she knew something I did not. I expected her to stick her tongue out at me, gloat for the duration of our walk down to the kitchen, and then tell everyone she met about my moment of cerebral weakness.

  Instead, she reached out, placed her hand on my arm, and rubbed it comfortingly. I cringed for a moment but then realized that her consolation was needed, however slightly.

  “You’re so weird.” She told me with a small smile. “Every time someone touches you, you cringe.”

  “Yes. I have been told by several practitioners of the voodoo science that is psychoanalysis that I have trust issues. Could you answer my question?”

  “Well, we just had to let it run its course, I guess. I had to wait for him to actually let me talk before I could apologize for whatever part I played in it.”

  “So, you had to admit fault even though it was not…”

  “No, I didn’t say that I admitted fault. I apologized for not talking about it sooner. I apologized for the misunderstanding. The rest of the apologies had to come from him because he was in the wrong. I know that you’re probably going to say that you’re not at fault, but between you and James, in complete honesty, who is wronger?”

  “The correct term is 'more wrong' but...” I muttered, and she frowned jokingly at me, “Never mind. I am not going to be biased, as I have slept on it for a night and am seeing it clearly now. I should have said things differently. I should have acknowledged that perhaps I was being slightly hypocritical. I should have agreed with him because I do actually agree. But what he said to me would have been very hurtful if I had feelings that could be hurt…”

  I saw her roll her eyes and smile slightly. I chose to ignore that. She chose not to call me on the ridiculous suggestion that I had no feelings.

  “We were both angry. I think, in a way, we are testing one another. We are trying to see how deeply our devotion runs. I could be wrong, I suppose.”

  “I don’t think so. But just know, from an outsider's perspective, that he really cares about you. I didn't think so before, but after watching you two these past couple of days, I can see that. I know that you two haven’t been together for very long…” She trailed off, and I realized that she had posed a question to me.

  “Well, it has only been since I found him in the woods that we have been dating officially. But there was always a spark, a flirtation, if you will, from the moment I began to trust him. I cannot say I felt that way from the moment we met, because that is a long story.”

  “Well, I’d love to hear it sometime. But just keep that in mind. It hasn’t been long, but his feelings for you run deep. It sounds really cheesy, but I can see it in the way he looks at you. And just so you know,” Alice beamed, “You look at him the same way.”

  When she walked into the kitchen ahead of me, I smiled to myself. I knew she was right about that. For the first time, I acknowledged that my feelings for James had progressed far more quickly than I ever could have imagined. Those were not the hopeful, blindly sanguine feelings present at the early stages in relationships. It was not ‘puppy love’, as it was called. It was, quite simply, love.

  It was a new breed of love, though. It was a perfect mixture of joyful lightness and dark recklessness. It was a love that could burn brilliantly or scorch painfully. It was far more enhanced than anything we could have experienced on Earth.

  It was yet another complexity of Pangaean evolution.