“I’m sorry,” I admitted, drawing the apology out of my mouth like a heavy bucket from a well. It was difficult, but I didn’t want him leaving without trying to work this out. In truth, I wanted to convince him not to go.
His surprise was hurtful and obvious. “Wow, ok, I thought it would take a little longer than that,” he laughed, that familiar smile returning to his face.
I moved closer, pressing my fingers to his chest. “I’m just a mess. The hormones make me crazy. I think, as we get closer to the leech…I mean, the baby being born, the more I worry about how things will change,” I confessed, heart jumping. I was wracked with uncertainty, feeling stupid to have put myself in this situation in the first place.
Joseph put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “I’m scared too, Rosa. Don’t you get it? I don’t want to lose you. I don’t know what will happen when the baby comes. I’m not sure how I will feel, or how you will feel.” His eyes left mine and he looked past me. “Sometimes I worry this was a mistake.” I went cold, sharp shivers shooting through me.
I hated how desperate I sounded when I said, “It’s not. Whatever happens later, I will always be glad that I had this, no matter how painful the rest might be. Don’t give up on me yet, Joseph. You know, you can’t always predict what I might do,” I said, smiling sadly.
“Oh, I know that!” he laughed as his arms slipped from my shoulders to my waist and he pulled me to his chest.
“So, it’s not a mistake?” I asked, looking up into his eyes.
“Oh, it definitely is!” he said, grinning, “But I don’t care.”
I wanted to say, then don’t go, but I knew it wouldn’t change his mind. He wasn’t as stubborn as me, but he was pretty close. I thought of going with him but I would only make them take longer. Instead, we climbed the hill that rose from behind our little cabin to watch the sunset. Joseph had to push me up the hill, but it was worth it to get to the top. We could see the mounds of grassy hills; rocky patches sliding into creeks and wooded forests. It felt like we were the only humans that had been here in hundreds of years. We probably were.
The sky was cloudy, which made for a more spectacular sunset. Colors of purple pierced bright oranges and deep dark reds the color of blood. We sat in the wet grass and watched the sun slip below the hills. I leaned into his chest, his warm arms wrapped around my shoulders, his shirt, uncharacteristically, buttoned at the wrist. His legs sprawled on either side of me and I felt cocooned, safe in my space between his chest and his worn, dirt-caked boots. I sighed at the state of them. All that walking. We had both come so far.
I placed a hand on his knee and he shifted slightly. “Don’t go,” I said, feeling tears welling. Panic and hope mixed together. I was annoyed that I said it. I didn’t want to be this person. This pathetic wreck, so tied to him. I was angry too. He opened me up, and now he was leaving, again. I felt like I would stay open until he returned, a throbbing wound bound together loosely by dirty string. I could have been happy before, but he changed what happiness meant.
“Rosa, don’t worry. I won’t be gone long. It’ll only be a couple of days. It will give you a chance to miss me,” he said, but his cheek was unconvincing.
I closed my mouth. Anything I said would only sound like begging, and it wouldn’t make any difference anyway. I was full of misgivings about this trip and I knew the next few days would be unbearable.
We stayed there for hours, talking and laughing. He held my hand and I kissed his fingers one by one. He nuzzled his now scruffy face in my hair and caressed my neck. We were determined to enjoy this last night together. Somewhere, the panic lifted and I floated away on a cloud of happiness and tiredness.
I only had a slight awareness I was moving, my head fuzzy from sleep. He lowered me into my bed, now propped up off the floor by fur and dried grass. It was warm and comfortable. I sunk into it, awaiting the extra warmth of his body beside my own, the comforting sound of his slow, even breathing. But all I could hear was a faint clattering. I opened my eyes drowsily to see him stuffing things into his backpack. I opened my mouth but he beat me to it, whispering, “The sooner I leave, the sooner I will be back.”
“No,” I begged, finding my voice. I pulled myself up, fighting sleep. “Please. At least leave in the morning.” My voice stripped down, withering and pathetic.
“All right,” he sighed, placing his pack against the wall. He climbed into the bag with me and I snuggled into his chest. I wished I could hide his pack or find some other way to stop him or delay his leaving. I fell asleep, concocting ideas of how I would convince him to stay in the morning.
When I opened my eyes to the beginning of morning, Joseph and Careen were gone.
There are so many things I didn’t understand. Needs and wants I didn’t even know I had. Not until it was too late.
The next two days were absolute agony. When I realized he’d left, I was furious, throwing things around in a fit of anger. When I calmed down, I found a scrawled note on a scrap of wood.
‘Sorry I left without saying goodbye. Knew you would make me stay. Back soon. I love you. Joseph.’
I threw it out the window, the scrap slicing through the air like a saw blade. Feeling tethered to it like it was my last shred of hope, I ran outside and retrieved it. I held it close to my heart while the others watched, feeling like an idiot, but having no other tangible thing to hold onto. I was so worried. There were so many dangerous things out there. I thought about the wolves, the yellow-eyed animals. I shuddered. It was terrifying to think of him being attacked again.
I turned my focus on Hessa and finishing shutters for the window. Distraction was the key. The fireplace was finished and drying. I laid Hessa next to me as I used the axe to plane down planks of wood ready to attach to each other for window shutters. He watched me with his perfect blue eyes, squinting as the sun grabbed around my shadow. He held his hands in front of his face, mesmerized by them one second and sucking on them the next. I handed him his doll and let him suck on that. Sometimes it was like his mother was staring back at me. It calmed me. I felt her invisible arm link with mine. I played with his tiny feet, tickled his toes, and watched his delighted face when I held them up for him to see, like they were not his own. He made me laugh and brought me out of my miserable state, for a little while.
Towards the end of the day, the sky darkened. Hessa’s face was shrouded in shadows. I worked on, until the first splashes of water hit his little face.
I pulled myself up slowly and brought Hessa out of the rain. This would be a good test for our cabin. The clay had been drying for about a week. I hoped it was enough time. I pick Hessa up and walked towards the dark wood shelter, the need for a door very evident as rain cascaded down the gap, creating a curtain of water to pass through. The others filtered in from the forest with various handfuls of nuts and fruit, tumbling them into a blanket by the fireplace. I laid Hessa on my bed and made a fire. The sudden chill in the air was hurting my lungs. It had changed so quickly.
I thought of Joseph and Careen and prayed they’d found shelter somewhere.
I struggled to light the fire. Damp wood, damp matches. I blew on it, trying to persuade a flame. Slowly sparks crept up around the timber. But once I had it going, the room filled with smoke; dark grey smoke, pushing forward and pouring out the windows. Hessa was coughing. Our eyes were stinging. The chimney must have been blocked, or had collapsed outside. I smothered the fire, then, using the water that was pouring from where the door should be, I completely extinguished it.