by Gabi Moore
“Eya,” she replied quickly.
They were speaking Nyanja. Without me. He nodded and with one powerful movement of his thigh muscles, was standing upright and tall again. He looked at me, his hands still red and dusty. He was taller than I remembered. Not that I had been remembering him.
“They want to grow maize here, so fish will work” he said to me, slowly as though I was some kind of idiot.
“Ok …maize. Right. But will fish work with anything else we’ll want to grow?”
They both looked at me now.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know …like herbs maybe?”
Mama Tembi and Vik exchanged glances.
“Herbs? What’s …?”
Vik shrugged. He didn’t know the Nyanja word for herbs. They both carried on with a quick back-and-forth, all in a language I didn’t understand, which was, if you ask me, a little inconsiderate of them. In any case, they wouldn’t have to do any of this disgusting fish nonsense if they had just properly organized for the right fertilizer from day one. Maybe Dylan was right. Maybe they really were different from us. I shook the thought from my mind. I shouldn’t be so judgmental. No matter who you are, you can always learn, right?
Mama Tembi cast her gaze over the dry plot one last time, narrowed her eyes and exhaled loudly. She wiped her hands on her apron and then shook Vik’s hand. She had to get back to the café, but she would start asking around for fish scraps and bones. Then she left. And I was alone. With him.
It was another baffling bit of bad manners, I hate to say, just to leave me unchaperoned like that, but I was beginning to think that people in this part of the world simply didn’t have a very developed sense of morality. That wasn’t their fault.
The plot was a good few acres wide, flat, and completely barren except for a few skeleton twigs and plants that were still desperately clinging to the rocks in the ground. It had taken me a good twenty minutes to trudge all the way out here, in the heat.
“Not quite what you were expecting, huh?” he asked me, with mocking eyes. In fairness, I was scowling at the sun, and the bad smell, and not the fact that this awful little patch of land was somehow meant to transform into food within a matter of six months.
“Not quite” I said, and turned to follow Mama Tembi. I had no idea what I was meant to do with myself for the rest of the afternoon, but standing in a field talking to …him probably wasn’t a good use of my time.
“You’re not so convinced about using fish as fertilizer?”
He seemed to be enjoying my discomfort. But I wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of seeing me disappointed.
“No, no I’m sure you know what you’re talking about. Our cat died one year and my dad planted it at the foot of the lemon tree in our garden. Best lemons we ever had,” I said, surveying the land myself, pretending like I knew what the hell I was looking at.
He smiled at me. He was standing too close. Making too much eye contact. I couldn’t tell if he was being friendly with me or just contemptuous. He was …odd. His skin was too dark and his eyes too light. He couldn’t be older than 25, but he seemed so much more mature, with the way his skin was so tanned, and the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners. He had wrapped a faded sarong around his hips and knotted it in the front. Was there even anything under there? Besides the obvious, I mean.
“I’m sure they were,” he said, and his eyes twinkled like we had just conspired in something illegal together. I squirmed away from his gaze. I didn’t like how familiar he was being.
“Anyway! I should head back to my room,” I said.
He laughed out loud. My face burned. What an ass.
“What? What’s wrong with that?” I said.
“You’re afraid of me,” he said, grinning. His teeth were so white. He looked like a Calvin Klein model, although one that had perhaps been left to his own devices in a remote forest for a little too long. Surely the fuzz that grew just below your navel officially counted as pubic hair? What an ass.
I blushed. This wasn’t new to me. I knew how it went. Everyone has a laugh at the little Christian girl’s expense, because what does she know, right?
“Afraid of you?” I said. I looked him up and down dramatically, making as though it was the first time I had properly looked at him, and hadn’t already pieced his body together in my mind a million times every night since I landed here. “No, afraid is not the right word…”
His grin didn’t fade.
“Then what’s the right word?”
His body was so hard. I guess manual labor will do that to you. Poor guy.
“The right word is…” I made as though I was thinking hard. He had such an immensely arrogant look on his face, I could have just slapped him right there.
“Disappointed” I said finally, a little more roughness in my voice than was perhaps strictly necessary.
The grin lost a little of its sparkle.
“Disappointed?” he said. I hated how he seemed to have no idea of the proper rules of conversation. He didn’t jump in to respond or defend himself. He just repeated the word, held it there in his own mouth. Went silent and thought a bit. If he thought I was going to flirt with him, he had another thing coming.
“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any offense, it’s just that you …”
“I’m not offended,” he said quickly. I kind of wished he were. I frowned and continued.
“It’s just that …well, since we’re being so candid with each other, I’m wondering what someone like you is doing …you know, here.”
The grin popped back onto his face.
“Someone like me?” he said.
Darn it, it was like having a conversation with a 2-year-old.
“Well, I don’t mean any offense, but, I don’t know how to say this but, well…”
He watched my face keenly, as though he was waiting for the punchline of a joke.
“Well, I mean, this is as far away from the world as you can get …I’m curious, what happened in your life to bring you here?”
It was bold. But if I were ever going to save any souls and put any notches on my bible, I’d have to be forthright.
“What happened?” he asked again. I was getting tired of him answering questions with questions.
“Yes, come on, you know what I mean …like, are you a fugitive running from the law or something? Clearly you weren’t born here…”
“I was born here.”
“I see. Ok, I apologize then. Just forget I said anything, jeez.”
“No, you asked the question. And I get to ask you the same thing. What awful thing happened to you in your life that you decided to come here, so, so far away from everything…?”
He had that mocking smile again. This was irritating. Clearly he would never be receptive to hearing the holy word of God.
“Me? Why would something awful have happened to me? I’m here because I want to help. I’ve been so fortunate, you know, and I just wanted to…”
I don’t know how, but he was somehow closer. I couldn’t tell if I had broken into a sweat from standing out in this blazing field or whether being so damn close to him was to blame. I realized with horror that I could smell him. Or maybe that my skin could sense him – that I could feel his body heat on mine. In any case he was too much. His body was too much. Too close. Too big. Too intense. It reminded me of visiting my uncle’s stables as child, opening the barn doors and being hit all at once by the incredible musk of the warm stallions in there, the hard, unclothed bodies, the heat of their flesh.
“And when I get back, me and my fiancé are going to get married!” I blurted, and took a step back.
Something deep and sinister formed in his eyes.
“Fiancé? Oh, you poor girl…” he said quietly.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, no offense or anything, but since we’re being so candid with each other…”
I wanted to punch him. But the thought of even touching him revolted me. We eyed
each other. Far off in the distance, some cicadas whined in the trees. The horizon shimmered in the heat. I was in a strange country, wearing wilted clothing and standing alone in a barren field with some hooligan.
“They told me you’d be like this,” I said.
“Who told you? Be like what?”
“They said you’re a difficult person. There are rumors, you know, about you.”
“Good.”
“No, not good. Bad rumors. I think you like all of this, actually, playing at being such a bad guy?”
He grinned, but this time his smile had a vicious edge to it.
“Oh, I’m not playing.”
His milky blue eyes were glued to mine now. I swallowed hard. I couldn’t lose my nerve. I took in a deep breath and tried to remember my mission. Forget about his crotch and his eyes and those ripples on his abs, Penny, and remember: remember his soul. Remember that you’re an emissary of the Lord, and you have a mission…
“You know what I think? I think you’re a big softy who likes pushing people away. But I won’t let you push me away. Wherever we come from, whatever our challenges in life, we’re all God’s children. For what it’s worth, I don’t believe the rumors at all…”
“You should.”
He turned his head to the side, his gaze still in mine. He wasn’t joking anymore. I just wanted to go home. I laughed nervously and then turned to go. But he followed.
“You know what I think? I think you actually like doing this, playing at being the good girl all the time.”
I spun around and glared at him.
“But I am good…”
“Don’t worry, I won’t give up on you yet,” he said and winked at me, a crooked smile on his lips. Despite myself, I giggled. He was cocky, I’d give him that.
“Oh, well jeez, how very generous of you Vik…” I started, and before I knew it I had playfully slapped his arm. I don’t know why. Or how. It just happened. My skin, on his.
He stared down at the place where I had touched him.
His face went serious and he changed his tone.
“If you’re not convinced about the fish fertilizer, I can show you my own garden. All natural. I only farm with what the earth provides. You should come and visit me and I’ll show you how it’s done.”
I suddenly felt like a foolish little girl. The smile fell from my face.
“Yes, um, of course. I need to learn how to do that,” I sputtered. “For the plot” I added, a little too nervously.
“Good. I like you Penny. You’re principled. I can appreciate that.”
I struggled for words.
“Well thank you, that’s very sweet of…”
“Good. Let’s go.”
“Go?”
“Yeah, my cabin’s this way.”
Chapter 8 - Viktor
She was right about one thing: I did enjoy playing the “bad guy”.
I led her into the forest, in silence, and I felt like the big bad wolf again, luring little red riding hood to her certain death. The thing is, here’s how I’m not a bad guy: she wanted it. There’s no mistaking it, when a girl wants it. Her wanting it sits on her skin like a perfume. It’s on her lips. It lingers in the way she speaks her words. Sometimes, she hasn’t even admitted it to herself yet, but her body knows before she does, and it betrays her at every turn.
And now this little thing, this little lamb called “Penelope” had landed in my life, a literal babe in the woods, if you like, and I can swear to any God that’s listening: she wanted it. That’s why she lingered a little with me instead of leaving with Mama Tembi, even though that would have been the natural thing to do. That’s why she giggled. And slapped my arm. And stared at me, eyes big as saucepans, just begging for me to tell her what to do next. And it’s also why she was obediently following me now, into the darker, rougher foliage that marked the end of the natural village, and the start of my own little domain.
Living alone in the wild like this makes you sharp. Women, on the other hand, make you crazy.
I could already feel her getting under my skin, could already feel my mind flit back to her again and again. I’d fuck her, of course. No question. But for my own sake, I was hoping it would be soon. Independent sort that I am, I couldn’t allow a woman, no matter how cute, to take up too much space in my mind. There were other important things going on in there. Dark things. It was no place for a woman. Or a girl, as it were.
I turned back and saw her tapping away on her fucking cellphone. Christ.
“The reception is actually really good here! How crazy is that?” she squealed from a few paces behind me. Her voice sounded out of place in the forest.
“Yeah, crazy,” I mumbled. When I turned again she had a quivering little frown on her face, then shoved the phone back into her pocket.
“Everything OK?”
She flickered a big, fake smile at me.
“Of course!”
We walked on. Her shoes weren’t holding up. They never do. When we arrived, her face scrunched up so quickly I swear I could hear it. She walked cautiously round the cabin, confirming that it really was as small as it seemed, and popped round the other side, an ugly look of concern plastered all over her face. I was going to enjoy watching those judgmental little eyes roll back in her head when I finally screwed her.
My eyes slipped over her form. She was hot, although didn’t know it. She carried herself like she was still 14, but her hips were surprisingly full, and her thighs looked stronger than I would have guessed. Turns out that she was only a waif from the waist up. Now that she was in a little skirt, and trainers, her body seemed a little more robust.
As she poked around at the exterior of my humble abode, I waltzed over to the mango tree, unwound a thin strap of leather that was knotted there, and whirled it around my wrist.
“Do you want to see my garden?” I asked. She nodded, and so I gestured for her to follow me a brief way off through a thicket and to my own growing project. My personal Eden, pristine, like it might have been before God created humans and messed everything up. I watched her pick through the plants and wind her way through the furrows. Her shoes were getting so dirty. For some reason, this made me smile.
“Wait …is this…?” she had a large leaf in her tiny hands and was examining it closely.
“Marijuana” I said.
She immediately dropped it from her hands.
“But …isn’t it illegal?” She looked over her shoulder. This, too, made me smile.
“Well, just look at it. It’s a plant. Its roots are in the ground, and its leaves are up here, in the sun. It’s growing. Doesn’t seem like it cares whether someone thinks it’s illegal or not, does it?”
She laughed.
“But you’re the one growing it!” she said. Her thighs were so pale. So milky.
“Nah, it’s growing by itself. I’m just here, helping it along.”
“Well, I’m sure nobody could possibly object to that!” she said, and laughed sarcastically.
She looked so pretty when she laughed.
“Do you want a mango?” I said.
“Sure, I didn’t think you could fit a fridge in that tiny hut of yours!”
She spied the mango tree behind me and then blushed deeply.
“Ohhhhh I’m such an idiot. You meant …ok, I get it. It’s just that we don’t have those at home. Mangos just growing in the wild like that, you know?” she smiled.
I smiled in return. She was different, at least, in this way. To laugh at your mistakes? Let’s just say it’s not something I saw often.
“What does your boyfriend think about you coming here, and for so long without him?”
She stopped smiling.
“He’s fine with it” she said, convincing nobody.
“He’s fine with it?”
“He understands I need to explore the world a little, on my own, before…”
The giant saucepan eyes were on me again. When she wasn’t forcing herself to smile, she
actually had a very curious kind of beauty to her. A brittle beauty.
“Before what…?” I asked.
“Before we get married, obviously.”
“You can’t explore anything once you’re married?” I said.
“No, obviously you can, it’s just that, once you’re a wife, your priorities change, you know?”
“Well, what are your priorities now?”
She caught me looking down at her bare, creamy thighs. The skin at the very top was nearing translucent, and she was close enough for me to make out a few faint blue thread veins there. Like she was made of porcelain. It was oddly beautiful. She exhaled loudly and then looked off to the distance.
“I don’t know, to be honest. I want to be useful. That’s all. I want to find out what God’s plan is for me, and then to follow that, with all my heart. I want to reduce the suffering in the world, even if only a little…” she said and then looked at me with soft eyes, as though already apologizing for having said too much. It was a raw moment. One that I wasn’t quite prepared for.
She smiled all at once and broke the tension.
“What do I know? I’m just a dumb missionary girl, right? But it’s important, to just go along with God’s will, even if you don’t understand it…”
“Wait, even if you don’t understand it?”
“Of course. I’m trying to just open up, and to surrender, to his will for me.”
“Surrender. That’s an interesting word choice” I said, hoping to make her blush. She didn’t.
Without thinking, I leapt behind her and clasped at both her wrists, then in a few split seconds I had unwound the thin leather strip from my arm to hers, and whipped it round once, twice, then three times to bind her, pulling tight to capture both her hands behind her back. She pulled back a little but stared at me, speechless, her mouth hanging open.
I yanked the tail of the leather strip down and forced her arms and shoulders back, and her pretty breasts up. She froze. Though she said nothing, I could feel her thinking. I had her firmly in my grasp: she was going nowhere.
“Are …are you going to kill me?” she stammered at last, as I stood behind her, pinning her so hard that the strip cut into the skin on her wrists.
