by Beth Goobie
From her seat in the back row, August gave her an enthusiastic double thumbs up. Kara looked expectant, openly curious. Julie’s gaze was narrowed and predatory; beside her, Ken sat stonefaced, and David slumped in his seat next to Harvir, looking as if he was cultivating an ulcer. And then there were all the others who’d invested in this story, pondering and hoping it along – Harvir with his soul stones; Paul, who no longer kicked dogs; Jeremy, who’d tried to touch the horror; Rhonda, with her “I can!” and Sheng with her lawyer’s mind, asking, “Why doesn’t she leave?” Maddy didn’t have answers for all of their questions – she figured she’d probably missed most of the loose threads. In the end, all she had was herself, what she could bring to this story. That was going to have to be enough.
“The high priestess from the capital city stood looking at Farang,” she began. “Farang of Faraway, who was kneeling before her, dressed in rags. Farang looked like a beggar, a nothing. But she was more than that – a lot more. Because the allura leaf poison had taught her to read minds, so she could hear what the high priestess was thinking. And in the high priestess’s mind, Farang saw that if she went to the king’s palace, she’d be fed more poison in her food, like the first high priestess did to her here. Only it’d be worse. There’d be a lot more poison. Sure, she’d have beautiful clothes and a nice place to live, but she’d have horrible suffering too. On top of that, she’d die in one year, because the king got a new pain eater every year. But of course they weren’t telling her that. So the deal they were offering her was really just lies. The king and the high priestess and all their friends were liars. And anyway – how can you trust someone who wants you to suffer?
“So Farang said, ‘Let me think it over tonight. I’ll tell you tomorrow.’ The high priestess said okay, and everyone went to bed. But Farang didn’t sleep like the others. She snuck into the temple and the old high priestess’s office, and stole the basket of soul stones. Then she went around the village and left the soul stones with the people they belonged to. In the morning, each villager woke to find their soul stone right beside them. There was great rejoicing. It was like after a very long hot summer, when everyone thinks and dreams about rain, and then finally a beautiful gentle rain comes – everything you long for falling through the air, down onto your skin and heart.
“The people all had their souls back. And so did Farang. That morning, she placed her soul stone on top of her secret altar and danced around it, singing. The whole altar was built in a beautiful shape that just waited for that soul stone, and the stone fit it perfectly. When Farang put her soul stone on top of her altar, she felt like she had everything she needed. I can! she thought. I can!
“She left the altar and walked into the village. The people stood with the high priestess from the city. Everyone waited for Farang. They didn’t smile or cheer when they saw her. No one said thank you for the soul stones. They’d been taught to hate her for so long, it was a bad habit now. But they felt confused. For the first time, they were really thinking about Farang, their pain eater.
“Farang stood before them. She said, ‘I’ve decided. I won’t go to the city to be the king’s pain eater. And I won’t be the pain eater here anymore, either. I’ve given you back your souls, and now I’m giving you back your pain. Because souls and pain go together. Sure, there’s happiness, too. But if you’re alive, you’re going to feel pain. Zombies don’t feel pain. Bumps on a log don’t feel it, either. But if you’re truly alive, you do. You can’t give your pain away, not really. What’s yours is yours – that’s just the way it is.
“‘I’m not saying pain isn’t hard.’” Here Maddy paused, thinking about Kara’s brother Frank. This had been the most difficult part to write, and it was equally difficult to say it aloud now. She didn’t look at Kara. “‘Pain can be so scary, it can almost kill you,’” she said, her voice trembling. “‘Sometimes it even can kill. But still, hurting someone else won’t take away your hurt. It just adds more hurt to the world.’”
Maddy was crying now. The words she’d written out so carefully the night before blurred and ran together on the page. Closing her eyes, she continued to speak, reciting as best she could from memory. Because memory was on her side now; it was with her. “‘We have to figure out a different way,’” she said. “‘Because I’m not eating your pain anymore. And I’m not eating my silence anymore, either. Silence is a poison, and it’s not a good poison. I’m sick of it and I’m spitting it out, all of it. D’you know none of you have ever talked to me? You don’t know anything about me. So you don’t know I taught myself to spin and weave. I know how to make weapons and hunt, and I keep a small garden where I grow my own food. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you.
“‘So fuck you and everything you wanted to do to me. What would you have done if this happened to you – if it happened to you just because you were there? I have a right to live, just like you do. I have a right to be happy like you, to have friends and hope. I can and I will! I am not going to be silent and secret and full of your hate anymore. No wonder you hate me – when you look at me, you see everything you did to me or thought about me. It’s not me you hate, it’s yourself. That’s a problem you have to fix.’
“Then Farang turned and left the village. She didn’t go far. She went a ways into the woods and began building a hut for herself. No, she didn’t leave. She knew now there was no Beautiful Land anywhere else. Here was where she decided to stay. So that means the next part of the story is up to the villagers. Because the villagers are as big a part of this story as Farang. So far in this story, we’ve all been criticizing Farang – every move she makes, every breath she takes. But she isn’t alone – she lives in a village full of people.
“What about the villagers and their choices? Every day, they make choices about Farang – not to help her, not to stick up for her…just to make her life worse and worse and worse. Is that because they lost their souls? Well, now they’ve got them back. What does that do for them? Do they smarten up, or do they kill Farang like they’re supposed to in three months? Do they let Farang live, but leave her alone and without friends? This is a story about all of us – how we are together. It’s so important, how we are together…”
Maddy’s voice trailed off and she stood, eyes closed and alone in the great silence that followed her last words. It wasn’t an exciting ending, she knew that. No blood-drooling zombies stumbled out of the forest. No kulumulu stones changed color. No one shapeshifted. The story basically ended where it had begun, except for the soul stones, which had been reclaimed. But who cared about soul stones in this day and age? Who cared about truth, and what really happened, especially if knowing the truth brought pain?
The silence stretched out, heartbeat after heartbeat – taut, excruciating. And then, finally, came the first sound: a slow, deliberate clapping. Startled, Maddy opened her eyes to see Harvir leaning back in his desk, his dark gaze steady on her as his hands came together, unhurried, almost leisurely, announcing his approval. A second later, from across the room, Kara joined in, followed by August, and Paul and Jeremy and Theresa. Ms. Mousumi got to her feet with a broad smile on her face, then Rhonda began to applaud, and Nikki. Not everyone followed suit – Ken continued to sit stonefaced, as did Julie and her retinue. David, too, remained motionless, staring at his desktop. Elliot gazed out the classroom windows; Sheng played with a pen.
Still, the heartbeat clapping continued on, and Maddy realized she would never forget the gift of it. If it didn’t include everyone, it was enough. She had her soul back. Whatever was coming, whatever she was going to have to face, like Farang of Faraway, she knew she was now strong enough to walk toward it.
Acknowledgments
The author gratefully acknowledges editor Stephanie Fysh’s stellar contributions to the text, particularly in the area of the Internet and cell phone usage. Thanks also to Sargeant Dean Liebrecht of the Saskatoon Police Force, for his information concerning th
e filing of a sexual assault complaint. A third big thanks to Katherine Fellehner, grade nine student and the pride of Biggar, Saskatchewan, for the use of her gorgeous photograph on the cover. Thank you too to Fletcher Bumphrey and Doreen Chapman for their comments regarding plot and cover, and to Logan Sanderson for being such a source of inspiration. And, finally, a warm smile for Second Story Press – they are simply a privilege to work with.
About the Author
Beth Goobie grew up in Guelph, Ontario. Beth moved to Winnipeg to attend university, became a youth residential treatment worker, and studied creative writing at the University of Alberta. She is the award-winning author of more than twenty books, mainly for young adults, including Born Ugly, The Throne, and the CLA award-winning Before Wings. Her first adult novel was The First Principles of Dreaming. Beth makes her home in Saskatoon.
Copyright
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Goobie, Beth, 1959-, author
The pain eater / by Beth Goobie.
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-77260-020-9 (paperback).--
ISBN 978-1-77260-021-6 (epub)
I. Title.
PS8563.O8326P35 2016 jC813'.54 C2016-903529-8
C2016-903530-1
Copyright © 2016 by Beth Goobie
Edited by Stephanie Fysh
Cover photo by Katherine Fellehner
Design by Melissa Kaita
First published in the USA in 2017
Printed and bound in Canada
Second Story Press gratefully acknowledges the support of the
Ontario Arts Council and the Canada Council for the Arts for our
publishing program. We acknowledge the financial support of the
Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund.
Published by
Second Story Press
20 Maud Street, Suite 401
Toronto, ON M5V 2M5
www.secondstorypress.ca
