It took two hours to get to the point where Apella said she could push. Clara was beyond exhausted, but the reminder that she would soon see her child sustained her right to the end. We lifted her tiny body to a squatting position, Joseph and I holding her up by her arms. It felt like holding nothing. She was air and light. Apella told her that on the next contraction she had to push. I don’t know where she found the strength, but she took a breath and let out an almighty scream. Joseph cried out that he could see the head. I closed my eyes. I couldn’t look.
Clara held herself in that position, waiting for the next assault of pain to tell her to push the baby’s body out. She did this quietly—eyes squeezed tightly shut, body and face tense. Her usually dark skin looked pale, ghostly in the firelight. And then there was a baby in Apella’s arms. A screaming creature, covered in blood and muck. Clara held out her hands eagerly and Apella placed the child across her chest. A boy.
Joseph was grinning at me. “You’re an aunt!” he said. I felt my own mouth creeping up at the corners, smiling too. It was over. Thank God it was over. I looked at him. I wondered if he found that as terrifying as I did, or whether he was looking forward to the birth of his own child. I leaned into Clara’s face and whispered, “I’m glad it’s a boy.” I was thankful there was not going to be a Rosa the Second running around.
She didn’t respond, too engrossed in the baby boy clinging to her chest.
Apella was busy cutting the cord with instruments she pulled from her mysterious pack. So that’s what was in there, medical supplies. Joseph had walked over to Deshi and Alexei, all smiles, relieved. The baby screamed again. Clara was still. The poor girl must have been so tired. Her eyes were closed lightly, her arms haphazardly flopped across her body. I motioned to Alexei; he came staggering over like he’d just been in labor. “Can you take the baby? We should let her get some rest,” I said. He took the child, wrapping him up tightly, just his springy, black hair poking out the top of the blanket. Clara didn’t move. I swept the hair back from her face, her cold face. It left a smear of blood like a brand across her forehead.
No.
I looked to Apella. She took Clara’s limp hand in her own, her fingers on her wrist, searching for a pulse. She shook her head minutely. She checked again, putting her head to Clara’s chest, tears forming and spilling down her cheeks. I stood. Joseph took broad steps towards me and I slipped, feeling cold liquid soaking into my clothes.
No, no, no.
The panic was rising. My mouth felt dry, bile rising in my throat. I slid off the ledge and pushed Apella out of the way. I grabbed both of Clara’s arms and pulled her towards me. “Wake up!” I yelled. Knowing she wouldn’t, knowing she couldn’t open her beautiful brown eyes and smile at me. The light was out. She slumped forward and fell to the side, limp like a ragdoll. Blood. There was so much blood.
Somewhere inside of me, something snapped. It shattered and splintered, sending slithers of debris coursing through my veins, grating and fraying the sides. I held onto the metal bar of the railway line, like it was the only thing stopping me from sinking into the ground. The sun was rising, light penetrating the darkness, showing the devastation the night had hidden from our eyes.
It was over.
She was gone.
My beautiful sister.
I crumpled like a piece of paper in a flame, disintegrating to dust.
I don’t know how long I stayed there. I heard muffled voices—people moving around me, sharp rocks clunking dully together.
Strong arms tried to pull me up from where I squatted, head between my knees, clinging to the rail. A baby cried. Someone punched the wall. I stayed there still.
The light was touching my hands, bare-knuckle white. My body tensed. Someone was talking to me, but it was like I was underwater. His voice warbled and I couldn’t make sense of it.
I was teetering on the edge of a precipice, wind in my hair, staring down into blackness. With all my courage, all my energy, I made the choice. I let go and I let myself fall, endlessly falling, cold air pulling my hair up over my head.
One finger at a time, detached. Tick, tick, tick. Heavy cloth shrouded me.
He picked me up in a blanket and walked outside. Silent. It was bright. I closed my eyes and focused on his footfalls on the solid earth. Thump, thump, thump. I felt us descending. I opened my eyes and it was cooler, darker.
He lay me down gently, kissing me on the forehead. I felt numb with no senses, like there was a barrier between me and the outside world. He rolled my shirt up and pulled it over my head. The cotton stuck to my skin. Carefully, he used his hands to peel it away from my stomach and chest, push, pry, rip. A faint copper scent stung my nose. He stood me up, removed my boots and trousers, dunking everything in the shallow pond he had brought us to. I sat there. Blank. Cold. Watching the water change from clear to pink and then clear again as it washed away. Washed her away.
He soaked a cloth in water, and begun carefully wiping the rust-colored blood from my body. I didn’t care anymore. I let him touch me, lifting my arms, turning my head, pulling my hair back and cleaning my neck. He did it all slowly and deliberately. There was no charge in his touch. This was a kindness to one who was broken.
When he was done, he wrapped me in the blanket and propped me up against a tree trunk like a wooden puppet. I watched, disconnected, as he soaked my clothes and rinsed them until the water ran clear.
He gathered me up, in only my underclothes and a blanket, and slung my wet uniform over his shoulder, taking me back into the sunlight.
The world was grey. The color washed away, dripping down the sides of the trees like it was soaking back into the earth. I moved through the world but not in it.
We kept walking, leaving it all behind.
We walked through the darkness for miles. When the light started to show at the end, I took up my initial position, clinging to the rails. I didn’t want the light on me. It burned my eyes. Coward, coward, coward, the light screamed, balancing a slant over my face. You couldn’t save her.
From then on, he carried me as much as his strength would allow and, after his arms trembled under my weight, he held my hand and led me like a child. I followed him. I let him carry me. The fight in me was gone.
He talked as he walked but I didn’t listen. I couldn’t hear him from behind the wall. Occasionally a baby’s cries would punch through, but only for a second before it closed over, enveloping me in buffered sounds.
I wanted to speak but the words were buried. With her. If I could have cried or talked about it, maybe I would have healed faster. But nothing came.
I kept expecting her arm to link in mine, to hear her voice telling me to snap out of it. She believed things would work out. She was wrong.
I walked, ate, and slept, but that was all. My eyes focused on something far away. Just over the hill, just behind a tree, never on what was in front of me, or who was walking beside me.
At night I slept by the fire, my body warm but shaking uncontrollably. Closing my eyes brought on nightmares soaked in blood. He lay with me, holding my arms down to stop me from hurting myself. He spoke but all I could hear was calming whispers. No words.