As I let sleep grab me with its wispy, white fingers, my mind wandered to my friends, friends I sorely missed. Rash would have been able to make light of this. And as I pictured him, his dark eyebrows raised, absolute mischief in his eyes, I knew he wasn’t a ghost, and maybe that’s why I couldn’t let him go. I didn’t know what happened to him.
Clara. Clara was gone. And I carried her memory around with me, holding it close to my chest, stitching it in there. She would have offered some consolation, some wisdom, to make me see the sense of my decision.
I cursed their absence. Then I cursed my selfishness, my undeserving luck at being the one who survived, who got away.
I turned my head and started to weep. A pathetic, self-pitying noise that I was ashamed emanated from my lips.
Joseph’s hand cupped the tip of my shoulder. “Rosa,” he whispered tentatively, “was it something I did?” His words were so sincere, so full of worry. Was I always to be a source of worry for him? How could I tell him, in this moment, that I missed Rash?
I couldn’t.
He pulled my body back towards his chest. It curled away from him, curled around a feeling I couldn’t quite name, but that was tied up with missing, aching, unfinished business and somewhere in there, anger.
The last thing I remember thinking before sleep finally engulfed me was, Mother, I curse you.
You didn ’t prepare me for anything. I am lost and you probably don’t even care if I’m alive or dead. You taught me nothing about what it would be like, how it would feel to give yourself to a man. To trust him entirely. How could you teach me anything about love? You chose so poorly and I have been paying for that choice my whole life.
I wish you had chosen me.
I forgot where we were. I let the cozy, timber home envelope me and make me feel safe. I let the people in. Let them help me. They made me believe in something that wasn’t real. I forgot that with the green, the plushness, and shiny plant life that pushed up and surrounded us, with the nourishment it provided came—the fur, the claws, the teeth.
This was not our place. W e were borrowers. No longer were we the dominant species. Our time had passed.
We were small in number and frame.
We were supposed to run.
C limb.
Cower
I forgot.
Joseph and I danced around each other the next couple of days. Neither of us willing to bring it up, until it went too long without being addressed and we started to just ignore it. We looked after Orry, explored the surrounding forests, cooked, and cleaned.
I began constructing a cot for Orry, which calmed me down immeasurably. I walked up to the patch of woods that sprung up just past the final row of houses. I shook down the bendy saplings, chipping my numb fingertips with tiny icicles. These trees had bad timing, much like myself. They’d seeded in the wrong season. They’d popped up just before snow had started to fall and would never survive winter. Their bendy trunks made the perfect frame for the rocking cot I wanted to make.
I cut them down and hauled them back to the house, dragging up filthy ice as I went. Quite often a neighbor would see me and offer assistance. Everyone was so friendly it made me feel a bit ill. I tried to be nice, said thank you, offered them help in return. But it all felt like pressure. I just hoped I would get there eventually.
Joseph seemed unused to idleness and after a few days, he was aching to do something. He took a spinner down to Deshi and a few hours later he came back with a job offer. He was going to work in the hospital, study under Matthew and become a real doctor.
“You sure you can handle all that blood and guts?” I teased.
“I handle you on a daily basis. Can’t be worse than that!” he said. Quickly pulling it back and saying, “Sorry. I mean, I was just joking.”
I rolled my eyes. Things were too polite between us.
I was gathering clients of my own. After I’d finished my cot, curious eyes poked through windows. Then hands rapped on my door. Once they saw what I could do, I was asked to build things, fix things, and come up with designs. This I could do.
Careen even came and swapped game for company. She ate with us sometimes. She seemed to have very little cooking skills despite her affinity for carving meat. I taught her the basics. It was nice feeling… like I had something to give, to offer.
One night after we had shared dinner, we decided to stoke the fire and sit up for a while. I’d started to trust Careen a little more with Orry and she held him close, touching the tip of his nose and showing him her big teeth. He reached up and clasped her pledge necklace, twisting it in his fingers. We still hadn’t been asked about that and I wasn’t going to volunteer.
Joseph’s eyelids were fluttering; I could tell he was close to sleep. He had been at the hospital a lot. He was avoiding me.
Careen watched me, her eyes twitching a bit.
“What’s the matter with you? You having a stroke?” I whispered
She blushed, her usual confident demeanor awkward.
“No,” she said. “It’s just, I wanted to say something. You don’t make it very easy.”
“What?” I was worried she was going to profess her love for Joseph.
“I met someone,” she whispered. It was her treasured secret. I had the cruel thought that maybe she had invented it in her head, but held my tongue.
“That’s… nice. Who?”
“Oh, he’s a hunter. He’s a bit older but then everyone is. He’s great! I’ll bring him up to meet you both.” I bobbed my head along as she chattered on about him. I was happy for her. Maybe he was deaf! My ears were filling with suds and water noises as I started to feel myself drifting off too.
Then we heard it.
It was a sudden and terrifying roar, a hollowing sound that seemed to be louder and wider than any one creature could make. But it wasn’t the worst noise to hear; I could have heard that noise a million times over the noise that followed.
It was the scream of the worst suffering known. Like someone had reached inside this man, pulled out his spine, and was rattling it for fun. And for all I know, that’s precisely what was happening.
Careen stood up and handed me Orry, gracefully running to the rifle she had left against the wall.
“Tigers,” she muttered to herself.
“What? You can’t go out there,” I said, shocked at how readily she jumped at the chance to put herself in danger. She’d certainly changed from the girl who’d left Joseph for dead.
Joseph snapped out of light sleep and strode to the door. I caught his arm and felt him stiffen.
“What are you doing?” I screeched.
“Someone’s hurt; I have to try to help.”
“What?” I didn’t know exactly what a tiger was but by the roar and the scream that followed, I knew it must be dangerous. Careen was gripping her rifle hard, turning her knuckles white. I looked at them both, pleading with my eyes. “Please. You can’t go out there, neither of you can.”
Joseph glanced at me briefly. He relaxed his tense shoulders, bringing them down in a jerky movement like he was trying to convince himself not to be angry. If he was going to explain, or try to make me feel better, he decided against it.