by Lilly Wilder
She turns around, a smile lingers on her face, as it’s illuminated by the afternoon sun. Trees are stretching high up into the sky, offering a little shade, but for the most part, the sun is watching its own reflection in the lake water, like a parallel universe.
She sits down on the still grassy part and keeps staring at the waters surface, as if she’s waiting for something. It almost feels like I’m imposing on her solitude here, even though she’s the one who came after me.
“You think they’re still here?” she suddenly asks me.
“Who?” I reply with a question, walking over to her and sitting next to her.
“Wawetseka and her lover,” she reminds me.
“Oh, that,” I sigh. What the heck. I’ll just say what I believe. “I like to think they both got reincarnated.”
That word echoed all around us, it got entangled in the wind, which carried it far above our heads and into the clouds. I felt like there has never been a more perfect place to say that word. She turns to me and surprisingly, I don’t see any mocking, but true curiosity.
“Reincarnated?” she repeats the word and another echo resounds, as if Nature itself loved hearing that word which modern man seems to have forgotten.
“Well, they suffered a great tragedy. They were killed simply because they loved each other. If you believe in the Universe being all about balance, then the fair thing would be to have them be born again and find each other again, so they can live out their fairy tale life.”
“That’s so sweet,” she smiles at me. “Tell me more.”
Those words are like music to my ears. I want to ask her all about her, how she’s feeling, if she is in any pain, if she is happy to go back home, but something about the way she gazes into the distance tells me that she’d rather listen than talk. So, I comply.
“Many religions around the world believe in reincarnation and the Indians of North America are no different. Many tribes believed that. There were even people who told others and truly believed it I think, that they had some kind of personal supernatural knowledge about having lived through two generations and that the Great Spirit told him this was his third and final birth. Other tribes for example, believed that the child would always choose its mother. There was no chance there. This happened because some babies were predestined to be reincarnation of former relatives. When a baby was born, old women would take it and they would try to find some physical signs on the baby’s body which could indicate that the baby is a reincarnation of someone else, someone they knew.”
“How did they do that?” she asks me and I smile. She’s listening.
“They would bring the baby to different places or show it things and people. Then, they’d carefully watch the baby’s reaction. The signs were the baby’s unclenched hands and all in all reacting in a favorable way to all these stimuli.”
“That doesn’t sound very scientific,” she says, but there is no mocking in her voice. She is simply asking for more clarification.
“Well, that’s what it means to believe in nature,” I explain, shrugging my shoulders, because there really isn’t a scientific explanation to this. That’s where the problem lies for most people. They like to have something tangible before them if they are to believe. “I mean, you can’t see the wind, but you can feel it, right?”
“I guess you’re right,” she nods, then turns back to the lake again. “Have you ever touched the bottom?”
“Once,” I tell her. “It’s very muddy.” I hear her chuckle. “Do you have lakes where you live?”
“I was born in a small village,” she tells me her story, or at least, the beginning. “There was nothing there. Literally nothing. There’s still nothing.”
“Is that why you wanted to move to the city?”
“Isn’t that the reason everyone wants to move to the city?” she replies with a question, but I’m good at reading between the lines.
“I never thought you were like everyone else,” I say, then bite my tongue. It wasn’t meant to be shared. Oh well.
She turns to me and gives me a puzzling look. Great. Now, I made her feel all self-conscious and I ruined the moment we had together. Great. Just great.
“I didn’t want to escape my village,” she suddenly continues and I sigh with relief. She didn’t take it the wrong way. “I wanted to better myself and then return, to try and make that place better. I still do. I applied for this modeling job not because I thought I’m pretty or because I wanted to be on the cover of magazines. God no. I was hoping that job would help me pay for school.”
“I didn’t know that,” I admit.
“Well, I wasn’t really talking much these last two weeks, was I?” we both chuckle at that. “Now, I feel like I ruined everything.”
“You? But, none of this is your fault. Why would you blame yourself?”
Her lips are moving slowly, they look like juicy red cherries and she occasionally licks them as she speaks, without even noticing. Her bare feet are digging into the grass, smudged with dirt and mud. A single green leaf peeks at me from her hair. She probably picked it up when she was fighting her way through those bushes. I don’t take it out. It looks like it belongs there, like she belongs here. And now, she is this close to leaving.
“If I didn’t apply for that job, I wouldn’t end up in that horrible situation. You see? I put myself in that situation. It’s no one’s fault but mine,” her voice is trembling and she wraps her arms around her raised knees.
I move a little closer to her and I press my fingers on her elbow. My skin is dying for contact with her and this is innocent enough not to frighten her. As I do that, she doesn’t shudder, she doesn’t move away. She allows me to feel her with the tips of my fingers.
“Look at that leaf over there, fluttering in the wind,” I point towards the highest tree as I speak. Then, I take a pebble from the grass and throw it into the lake. “Look at those ringlets in the water. Feel the grass beneath your feet. We’re all part of the Great Spirit. It knows what it’s doing, even if it doesn’t make much sense to you, it will show you the way. It brought you here for a reason. Trust it. Let your intuition recognize that voice.”
I hear her sigh. She doesn’t say anything. We both allow those words to settle in, as the wind ruffles the leaves a little more. A bird flutters away from a nearby bush and we both jump, as I pull my hand away. She quickly glances at me and sees no worry on my face. She smiles.
“I think I’m way jumpier out here in the woods than in the city,” she admits.
“And yet, the worst things still happen in the city,” I remind her. “It’s just a matter of perception.”
“Like, what you see?”
“More like what you hear,” I correct her. “There are always voices around you. The world is never silent. It can be dark; all you have to do is close your eyes. But it can never be silent. And, all you have to do is choose which voices to listen to. That’s in your power.”
“I think your voice is the only thing I’d like to listen to right now,” she whispers softly and leans her head on my shoulder. My heart feels so full, like it’s about to implode and I don’t even try to calm it down.
Chapter 17
I open my eyes early that morning, so early that even without glancing outside the window, I know it’s still dark. I know everyone is still asleep, in their beds, so I stay in mine as well, even though every fiber in my being wants to jump out and start getting ready. There really isn’t much to get ready. I was brought here without any luggage, apart from the clothes I was wearing and those were thrown away, so now, I’ll be returning with just the clothes on my back. It’s just a different set.
I’m lying on my back and staring at the ceiling. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness easily and I can see the outlines of all the objects in the room. I can recognize them instantly. There are no monsters here, lurking from the closet or beneath the bed I’m sleeping on. I know that now. For a long time, I believed
monsters existed only in the minds of very creative writers or story tellers, but I know better now. Monsters are real. They just aren’t as ugly, or they don’t seem as mean. They’re hiding their true faces underneath masks of politeness and smiles, and it’s so easy not to recognize what lies beneath. I’ve made that mistake. I’ve faced monsters in their true form and I almost lost this battle. Out of nowhere, my protectors just surfaced and rescued me. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay them for that. They saved my life.
I feel the cool morning breeze enter the room through the window, which I left open in the middle of the night, as it was too hot. I tighten my hold on the blanket around me, using my own body heat to keep the flow of hot air underneath the blanket going. A bird chirps a little. It sounds like she’s just outside my window. Well, technically it’s not my window. It’s Theron’s. I’m just borrowing it for one more night.
One more night. The realization hits me suddenly. I won’t be sleeping here again. I swallow heavily and it’s hard to do lying down. I wonder if they will remember me. The three. I know I’ll remember them for as long as I live and it won’t be just because they saved my life and cared for me when I was hurt. I know that a lot has happened and I probably shouldn’t trust my emotions right now. I’m too frail. It’s easy to see things which aren’t there. But I feel like there is something between us, between all four of us. Theron looks at me so lovingly. His eyes light up when he sees me. I think he feels for me what I think I feel for him. And, I’ve grown fond of Zarael, too. His quirky comments and knowledge on the most obscure stuff amuses me so much. Both of them are so heartwarming. They’re exactly the kind of guy I’d date. Either of them, really. Finally, there’s Dex. His machismo and pompous nature push me away and some of his comments are so annoying. But I can’t seem to get him out of my head. When I think of Theron and Zarael, there he is, too. It’s always the three of them, always together, never apart.
I know what Vanessa would say. Just go for it. I smile in the darkness, because I can almost hear her voice saying it and then chuckling. We’d both laugh, but we’d both know that she isn’t joking. She’s already had a threesome, with her boyfriend and some girl. Mom would freak out if she knew, but of course, who would tell her? I have no idea what I would be like in the sack. I think everyone likes to believe that it’s simply an innate set of skills you don’t know until you actually do the deed and then, it just comes naturally. You just know what you need to do. Something like kissing. You can’t know if you’re a good kisser, until you have that first kiss. And, mine was a disaster. I was wearing braces, and the guy, Tony Cole, had no idea that you’re not supposed to stick your tongue inside so much. Too much tongue, too much saliva, just very disappointing all together. My second kiss with the second guy was slightly better. Well, it was good enough for Ray Wayans to have me as his girlfriend for a whole month, but when he realized that I was not putting out as quickly as he hoped I would, he put an end to it. Vanessa told me not to be sad, that he was a jerk anyway. I guess I myself knew that, but it always hurts when you’re thrown away like some old rag.
I have no idea when exactly I slipped into sleep again, but when I open my eyes next time, Theron is sitting on the edge of the bed. His eyes are gazing at me lovingly and despite what Vanessa may think, I don’t consider this creepy behavior. He probably just came in, saw me sleeping and was about to wake me up when I opened my eyes.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he whispers, as my blurry vision starts to clarify slowly.
“Morning,” I reply, propping myself on my elbows. “What time is it?”
“Nine,” he tells me. “Dex sent me to wake you up. You need to get ready and come have breakfast.”
“I have nothing to pack,” I reply.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, standing up.
“A little,” I nod.
“We’ve got a real hearty breakfast today. Eggs, bacon, sausage, toast.”
“That’s lunch, not breakfast,” I smile, knowing that such a meal would keep me full all day.
“I could see if we got some porridge oats.”
“No, eggs and some bacon will be perfect,” I assure him.
As I’m still leaning on my elbows, my blanket falls down a little, revealing my bare shoulders. I’m not wearing anything underneath and the thought of him knowing this makes me blush. I glance at the door and see it’s closed. If he kisses me, no one would know. And, if something more happens, well… that would remain between us, too. I can feel myself shaking underneath his gaze, as it travels from my eyes, down to my neck and then to my bare skin. All he needs to do is lower his head. So easy. A deep yearning within me awakens, something I didn’t even know was there. And now, this power is taking over me. I’m burning with desire; I can feel the heat palpitating between my legs. If he touches me there, just once, I ‘m afraid I’ll come undone.
On the surface, I try to be calm. My breathing is slowing, I’m managing to keep it under control. But my desire doesn’t diminish. I want him to make the first move. But, he doesn’t. Instead, he extends his hand and covers my bare shoulders with the blanket, lowering himself only to give me a peck on the forehead.
“Get dressed and come eat. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
With those words, he stands up and slowly leaves the shack, closing the door behind him. I can still feel my heartbeat, every single drum pounding inside my chest, like heavy pressure. The sound isn’t coming in through my ears. No. That steady drum comes from the inside, my mind feels it and I know it will remain a turbulent push until I leave this place forever. After that, it will only get worse. There will be a giant rock put upon my chest and no matter how hard I try sleeping through it, the pounding will remain with me. It won’t be a song. After all, it’s not a song now. I can’t pretend like it’ll become something else over time. There will be no relief from this heavy beating because the reason behind it will be so far away.
I need to focus on something else, so I get up. I get dressed slowly and suddenly; I remember how I was getting ready for that fateful interview three weeks ago. It was only three weeks ago and yet, it seems like a whole lifetime away. I wonder if I knew all this would happen, would I still go through with it? There is no mirror here. I can’t ask myself that. If I don’t hear the question out loud, I can easily pretend like I didn’t hear it. So, I stay silent.
I’m wearing the same checkered shirt and rolled up jeans. I see they’ve gotten torn on my left knee and I smile. It looks cool. Almost like I belong with them. But, the sad reality hits me mercilessly. I don’t belong here. I’m just a passenger they’ve mercifully taken in. I don’t know why I pretended it’s anything other than that. They’re good guys and of course they are expected to do a good deed. I guess I was their good deed of the day.
I look around the room, trying to memorize details. I know I’ll remember the place as a whole, but without details, I risk forgetting it. I look down at the worn-out green carpet. I go over Theron’s bookshelf again. Alice is there. So is Moby Dick. Peter Pan. Even Kafka is with the company. He’s the only person I’ve ever met who owns a book by Kafka. I see a few medicine books there, too. That must be where his medicinal knowledge comes from. I touch the hole in the wooden wall. I take a deep breath, trying to leave an impression on my mind. I smell wet tree trunks, moss, and rain. Trees are full of songs. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to hear them sing when I go back. I take a deep breath and walk out. There is no point in prolonging the inevitable.
I finish my breakfast quickly and answer the few questions I’m asked. Are you happy you’re going back? How do you feel? Are you excited? Despite different words, it’s still the same question, but I keep replying to it over and over again, with a smile on my face. I should be happy, right? I’m going home. Of course, I should be happy. I should feel like Robinson Crusoe after those long 28 years, when he was finally going home.
Shortly after, we all finish with our breakfasts an
d Dex stands up, arranging the plan. I’m not really listening. I glance at him, then Theron, then Zarael. Then back at Dex again. I see only their faces. Theron catches my eye; I quickly look down. Dex is too immersed into his explanations to notice I’m looking his way. Zarael has a meek smile on his face. He looks so unburdened by anything really. I envy that feeling. A few moments later, everyone stands up and I realize that the unofficial meeting is over. We’re all going. It’s happening.
The next hour is a haze. I’m standing in one place in the middle of all the shacks, outside. To my right, I see Theron’s shack. He’s inside. I saw him go in. I glance at the window, but I dare not look down. Thor is buried there. I heard what they were saying. It’s my fault that poor, sweet dog died. I know it, even though they don’t want to say anything in front of me. I’m upset and grateful for this at the same time.
Occasionally, the guys pass me by, asking if I need help with anything. I just shake my head, replying that I’m waiting for them. They just smile and continue with their business. Dex is nowhere to be seen. Zarael is also busy in his shack. I wonder if I should call my mother, but I feel like hearing her voice would release a flood of tears I’m desperately trying to contain. So, I decide against it. I’ll just ask Dex to text her that we’ve started when we do. That will be best.
