The labor wasn’t hard but consumed my concentration enough to keep me from noticing the passage of time. After Mother dove into the water for her afternoon reprieve, I abandoned the nets and fetched the food I had saved for Tor. I placed what was left into a bowl and draped a cloth over it to keep from spilling as I walked.
My brisk pace lightened my mood as I headed toward the cliff wall. I walked in a steady stride, my feet accustomed to the shifting terrain of the beach.
When I arrived, Tor wasn’t there. I waited, hoping to see him in the shadows. Trees moved in the breeze, playing tricks on my eyes and making my heart tremble. Why should I assume he would be here today?
I had hoped that after our talk he would be there, and felt stupid for thinking he looked forward to meeting up again as much as I did. Why would I mean anything to him other than an annoyance? He had, after all, stolen my papers and yelled at me. Still, he lived alone; I was positive he did. His hair, his scrapes and scars—no way did he live in a city or town like other Erdlanders. Not looking like that.
I was alone, too. Maybe I just wanted a friend more than he did.
I set the bowl on one of the higher rocks near the cliff, in case he would come later. Despondent and annoyed by his absence, I waited a few seconds longer, hoping he would appear. In the end, all I wanted was to see him again, to push the black hair off of his face and gaze into the blue eyes that followed me in my dreams.
At last, I turned back toward home. I walked slowly, unfamiliar with the feeling inside me. During my childhood, my mother went away and I was left behind, scared and alone. Now I was used to being lonesome, and the ache within me wasn’t fear. What was different? I’d been made no promises, had no reason to expect he’d return, but instead of indifference, anger burned within me, and a tightness enclosed my heart.
I pulled my dress over my head and walked into the water, wanting to be surrounded by something, held close, before the tears scratching at the back of my throat could break free. I wasn’t hurt, I wasn’t mad; there was no reason to cry.
But Tor wasn’t there, and I felt like I would break in two.
5
My mother woke early. The sun hadn’t risen yet and she moved about in the darkness, getting ready for the day.
~Mother? Do you need help?~ I offered, sitting up in my hammock.
~No, I’m fine. The bags you packed last night are perfect.~ She came closer so I could see her in the dim morning light. The nets were wrapped in the mesh bag attached to her back, leaving her arms and legs free to swim.
~Good.~ I yawned, not ready to be up yet.
~Go back to sleep. I’ll be home tomorrow.~ She turned and strode into the darkness toward the light shining on the ocean’s surface. My mother didn’t look back; she never did.
I fell back to sleep with ease, dreaming of warm hands and a deep voice that always told me to go away. All I wanted to do was get closer. The sun rose overhead, demanding my attention. I had never been able to sleep during the day. The sky invigorated me, so open and bright. It called me to sing and run.
After getting up, I dressed and began making breakfast. I set some grains to soak with desalinated water before heading outside to grab a basket. Mother could breathe in seawater, but drinking it still made her ill. The Sualwets had developed an additive for saltwater, which bound to the salt molecules and rendered them harmless.
Down the shoreline, far enough away to not bother my mother, was the pen where I kept chickens. We had nine of them now and always had enough eggs. Sometimes we could even spare one for its meat.
I hadn’t been out to their thatched enclosure in a while and knew they’d be excited to see me. The stupid flightless birds had become attached to me even though I stole their eggs and killed their brethren. Taking a small basket, I left my home and stopped in shock as I looked out at the shore.
Sitting back on his knees was Tor, looking out at the water. He had gathered and tied his tangled hair in a large knot behind his head, leaving a clear view of his silhouette. My chest constricted. I couldn’t breathe as my eyes traced the outline of his face. His brow was low, his eyes hidden from my view. My hands clutched the basket. Why is he here?
“Tor?”
He turned his head at the sound of my voice, blue eyes searching mine.
“Sera. Here.” Speaking in Erdlander, Tor reached for a bowl sitting next to him and stood up. He held it out but I didn’t look. My eyes remained locked on the man before me. Now that the hair was pulled back from his face, I saw the strong line of his jaw and high cheekbones.
“Here,” he repeated stepping toward me.
“Thank you.” I responded in his language while crossing the sand toward him. After shaking my head, I looked away from him. “I’ll... I guess, I’ll put this away. Um, wait here?”
“Yes,” he said in his monosyllabic way.
I rushed back into my home, wanting to get back before he disappeared. He had the bowl. The food was gone. He must have gone to the cliff wall after all. I was embarrassed for having been angry with him and felt stupid for caring so much. Now that I had proof he’d wanted to see me, caring seemed so silly. It was easy not to care when I had what I wanted. The longing had made me act the fool.
I placed the bowl on the ground next to the fire. I could wash it later. With the basket in hand, I rushed back to where Tor waited. He stood, watching the water. What did he see when he looked out? Did he see just another prison wall the way I did?
“Wait,” Tor said when I approached. His eyes were friendly but his stance intimidated me.
My mother was tall, but now, standing with him in the bright morning sun, I felt small. After a moment he turned his attention back to the water. His face had short hair on it—not much, just around his jaw and over his lips. I stared, taking in the scrapes and bruises on his cheeks and forehead, curious if his wide mouth would ever smile.
Tired of waiting, I asked, “What?”
“What?” He arched an eyebrow and looked down at me.
“You said wait. I’m waiting.”
“No.” One corner of his mouth lifted as he searched for the right words. “You say wait. I wait. You here. I not wait.”
“Oh!” I laughed. “You were just telling me you waited?”
“Yes.” The rest of his mouth gave in and lifted into a smile. Reserved, but still a smile. “Now go.”
“What?”
“I wait, now I go.” His eyebrows came together in concentration. His speech was clearer and he seemed less frustrated than when we talked the other day.
“You can stay,” I offered, not wanting him to leave so soon. He was actually talking and had come to find me. Instead of me going to the cliff, he had sought me. That he had come here and waited for me made my pulse speed up. I didn’t want him to go.
“Mother.” Tor pointed out to sea.
“She’s away. She won’t come back for a while. You don’t have to go.”
He nodded. “Huh.”
“I don’t know what that means. Is that a word?”
“No.”
“Does it mean something?” I pressed.
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me what?”
“I... it mean, what need,” He explained by crossing his arms over his chest. His shirt was dirty and torn at the shoulder and hung off him loosely. His gaze remained locked on the tide as it encroached on the shore, bringing the sea closer.
“I don’t understand.”
“Huh,” he huffed.
“Sorry.”
“No. I... I tell you. It mean all things. No word things.” He struggled to put the words together, but he was talking and his voice was less stilted.
“Things you don’t have words for?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, are there a lot of things you don’t have words for?”
“Yes. Now more words. You tell words.” He unfolded his arms and gestured to me, stepping closer.
“You’re learning from talking to me
?”
He nodded.
“That’s how I learned. I could read the Erdlander books and understand, but I never spoke it, and then one day when I was about nine, my mother found a melodisk of a book being read. It was amazing. All of a sudden, all of the words I’d read had sounds and it was like—”
“Stop,” Tor interrupted.
“Stop what?” I asked, startled.
“Too much words. Too fast!”
“Sorry.” I looked down at my feet, embarrassed.
“No sorry. Talk... more slow.” He leaned down to catch my eyes. “Please.”
“Okay, I’ll try.” I finally had someone to talk to and I was making a fool of myself. It reminded me of that fairytale Mother used to tell me about how the dolphin sang so fast all anyone could hear was a high scream. Now all the dolphin can do is squeak, never to sing again.
“Sera make?” Tor gestured toward the basket I clutched in my hands.
“Yes, I made it. I was going to go get eggs. Are you hungry?”
“Eggs?” Tor turned his body, scanning the beach, looking for something to attach the word to.
“The birds are in a pen. Come on, I’ll show you where they are and then we can make something to eat.”
“Sera make?”
“Yes, I’ll make you breakfast.” I stepped away from him, toward the path leading to the chicken pen. “They’re stupid birds. I caught them one at a time, and now the free ones will peck at the fence to get in with the others. Sometimes I can just scoop them up and put them inside, without having to chase them with a net.”
Sparse undergrowth lined the edges of the sandy path. The trees nearest the water were tall and thin—easy to maneuver around, unlike the dense foliage of the forest. This was where I came when I wanted time alone, away from Mother’s constant presence. I spent hours inventing friends and games in my mind.
“Birds?” Tor asked as we walked. His gait was long, and his body moved with lithe grace across the changing terrain of sand and dirt.
“You know, they fly.” I stopped walking and pointed to the sky. “That’s a gull. They eat the fish we catch, but there are a lot of different ones.”
“Birds take.”
“Right, they take our food. Sometimes they are food. Do you hunt? You must, I mean, otherwise you couldn’t eat.”
Tor shrugged nonchalantly; we had surpassed his vocabulary for now. We rounded the growth of trees, which separated the chicken pen from the path. The noisy birds were clucking, excited to have me visit. Little did they know I was only here to steal their eggs.
“Fly out?” Tor asked, inspecting the pen I had built.
“No, the chickens can’t fly, so they can’t get out.”
“Good,” he announced, patting the fence and stepping back. If he was complimenting the construction or just glad his food wouldn’t escape, I wasn’t sure. Knowing he liked something I had done filled me with joy. Mother, content to live on fish eggs and plants, never noticed these kinds of things. She ate when I cooked but never understood why I spent so much time at it instead of just eating what I needed to survive.
Opening the gate, I stepped into the pen with my basket. “Shoo, shoo, shoo,” I cooed to the birds as I walked through, passing out grains from the basket. They flocked around me, hopping in the air for whatever treat I, their benevolent enslaver, had brought. While they were occupied with eating, I passed through the flock to the lean-to holding their nests.
Over the fence, I asked, “Do you want to come in?”
“No... birds not good.” Tor’s face scrunched in disgust.
I laughed, earning a scowl. “They won’t hurt you.”
“No. Birds... ‘huh,’” he said, gesturing futilely with his hands.
“It’s okay. If you’re afraid of the birds, I’ll do it by myself.”
“No! Not!” he insisted, still looking for the words.
It wasn’t nice of me to tease, but his reaction was funny and I was so nervous around him that just saying something set me as ease. I didn’t know the man standing outside the boundaries of the coop. He frightened and excited me, but more than anything, I longed to see him smile again.
I dropped the basket near the hutch and picked out the warm eggs while ignoring him as best I could. Still, the burn of his gaze ate at my skin. I carefully gathered ten eggs into my basket, before looking up. Tor was not there. The touch of his gaze had been a creation of the mind, the shadow of a sensation I’d never experienced.
“Sera.”
I looked behind me in time to see him jump over the enclosure wall. He landed in the middle of the chickens, scattering them.
“What are you...?” I squealed as a group of frightened birds hid behind me, seeking safety from the man invading their home.
“Not fear.”
“Okay, you aren’t afraid of the birds. You didn’t have to scare them half to death, though.”
“Birds not good.” He picked up one of the chickens nearest him with a large hand, holding it around the middle in an unceremonious grip. Walking toward me he turned the bird in his hand until its backside pointed at me. He gestured to its rump and said again “Not good. Not... clean.”
The appearance of Tor—covered in scars and scabbed-over scratches, towering over me with intensity, holding a small bird and pointing at its rear end—was simply the funniest thing I’d ever seen. When I burst into laughter, Tor growled and dropped the bird to the ground. I couldn’t catch my breath, and tears came to my eyes.
“Tor!” I squealed and had to bend over. I laughed harder than I had in years.
He waited, an annoyed grimace on his face, while I attempted to get ahold of myself. But, every time I glanced up at him, I started again. The more aggravated he got, the more my amusement grew. After a few minutes, he gave up on me and picked up the basket, walking through the oblivious chickens toward the gate.
“Come on,” I gasped, straightening so I could follow him. “That was funny.”
“Huh,” was all he said, not bothering to look back at me.
“You can’t be mad,” I insisted, hurrying to his side.
He opened the gate, careful not to let any of the offending birds out before looking at me.
“Not mad.” Despite his reassuring words he still wouldn’t look at me. A hard set to his jaw.
We walked side by side in silence, away from the chicken enclosure and back to the beach. When we reached the cave entrance, Tor stopped and handed me the basket. For a moment, I thought he was leaving, that he really was mad. The idea of being without him made my throat close.
“Tor...,” I began. Nervous flutters passed through my body, my breath catching.
He nodded to the basket without looking at me. “Sera make food.”
“Are you going to leave?” I had to know. There was nothing for me to lose. If he left, I returned to my sun-filled prison. What harm lay in asking?
“Huh?” This time his eyes met mine, his dirt-streaked brow furrowed in confusion.
“Are you going to go?”
“No. Why ask?” His soft voice danced against my ears, his confusion replaced with concern. “You... you want I go?”
“No! I just... I thought you were mad.”
“Told you, not mad.”
“I know, but you got quieter than before—if that’s possible—and... I was worried.”
“You worry. No worry. I not go.”
“Okay....”
I turned away, taking a shaky breath as I tried to reorient my life to include another person.
“Sera... Sera laugh.”
Glancing behind me I saw the color rise to Tor’s face as he confessed the reason for his silence. “You were embarrassed?”
“Huh.”
“Tor, I... I’m sorry. I didn’t laugh at you. It was just funny.”
“Huh.”
“Think about it.” I set the basket in the sand and stepped closer. “You were standing there, holding a chicken, pointing to its...”
“And the poor chicken! It was squawking and trying to get away from you! You probably have a whole new set of scratches on you.”
His grin grew as he inspected his hands. Lifting his head, his eyes shone with mirth. “Not hurt.”
“Oh, good. I was worried. Those chickens can be vicious.” I laughed, enjoying talking to him. I relaxed, knowing he would stay. His ability to communicate got better so fast it amazed me. To hear his voice, his laugh, I found it hard to believe this was the same creature I had encountered on the cliffs the day he stole my papers. I stood next to him, teasing as if we were friends, laughing like we were children. A stranger with colored eyes made me feel more normal than I had in my entire life.
“Vicious?”
“Mean,” I explained.
“Yes. Mean, dirty, bad birds,” he mock-scolded, squinting and pointing at me.
“I’m glad you aren’t going,” I confessed before ducking my head and turning away. “I’ll make the eggs.”
Tor returned to his vigil of the sea as I picked up the basket and stepped behind the taut cloth posing as a wall. For a moment I just stood, my hands shaking, my heart pounding with the excitement of the day. I wanted to rush back out to him, forget breakfast, and revel in the possibilities. Smiling hurt my cheeks and confused my skin. I had been happy before I met him, but perhaps I had only known happiness up to a point. I couldn’t identify the void within me until something filled it and showed me the piece that had been missing all along.
I went through the steps of preparing spiced eggs and peppers by habit. All the while, I kept stealing nervous glances in his direction. How did I get here? The point of living was insignificant. I was just sixteen; my birthday had passed without comment or celebration. My entire existence had been spent in hiding. A war raged around me while I hid in my utopian cove where the world could not harm me. I never did anything wrong—there was nothing to do. A lifetime of nothing spanned behind me and stretched before me. Stories from books and melodisks told of adventures and loves. Each one engraved in my soul like a promise.
Two Moons of Sera Page 3
