The Woodlands

“Oh no!” I exclaimed as I pulled the baby towards me and held him close, his too warm face pressed into my neck. I recalled my dream, feeding the fire that I had made in the tu

“That’s it! I’m sorry, Rosa, but it’s too dangerous. I could put up with the screaming and the nightmares but you could hurt him. You can’t sleep with him anymore,” Deshi said, telling me off like a child.

“I’m sorry, it’s the dreams. I can’t control it. He needs me,” I pleaded, lying selfishly. I knew the truth was—I needed him. It was no use anyway. Deshi put Hessa before everything else. As he should. As I should. I knew I couldn’t put the child in danger. Deshi tucked the beautiful baby in with him, muttering to himself about me being easier to handle when I was a zombie. Hessa cried for a second but Deshi patted his head and soon they were both asleep. Apella and Alexei waited until they knew Hessa was safe then went back to sleep, exhausted from all the walking.

Joseph had returned to his sleeping bag; he lay with his arms folded behind his head. His eyelids fluttered as sleep found him. His strong arms looked so appealing to me. I wanted to curl up next to him and lay my head on his muscled chest but I stopped myself. It was only inviting more pain, confusing an already extremely confusing situation.

I climbed back in my bag, knowing sleep would not come easy to me that night. Missing that warm, precious baby lying with me, I felt lost. I watched the fire, the way the orange light curled and consumed. Without fail, it found a way to devour its fuel. I closed my eyes and the flames licked up the wall of the blackened tu

I picked up a stick and traced shapes in the ground. Concentric circles, things we left behind. How long would I feel this way? If I let go of the pain, was I forgetting her? When I looked at Hessa’s face, when he grabbed my hand, I felt a joy I had never felt before. Then immediately, guilt would follow, knowing that I could see these moments in his life and Clara could not.

I thought about when I first met her. Those beautiful dolls painted on the wall. Her giggly exterior hiding such wisdom. I pulled a knife out of the pack. My eyes fell upon Joseph’s resting face again. They wandered over his body, taking in the things I could not when he was awake. His fair skin was looking darker from the sun, tiny freckles forming over the bridge of his nose. And of course, he was smiling, even in his sleep.

“You know, if you’re going to kill me, you should just get it over with,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows, his voice low, trying not to wake the others. I jumped, startled, and dropped the knife.

“I wasn’t, I mean, oh you know I wasn’t.” I was so embarrassed that he’d seen me staring at him.

“You so beautiful when you blush,” he said, staring into the fire. Watching him now, it was clear. He was no longer the boy I met in Pau. He was sure of himself, strong. I wished I had that confidence.

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” I said, throwing the stick in the fire, watching it wrap its orange and yellow flames around the thin arm of wood and draw it into the heat.

Joseph sat up and pulled himself out of the bag. He made his way over and sat down with a thud. He gently nudged me with his shoulder. “Why?” I found it surprising that he didn’t know the answer to that question.

I picked up a stumpy piece of wood and retrieved the knife from the edge of the fire. Brushing the dirt off the blade, I began working my way into the bark. Carefully stripping away the outer layers, the dark grey skin peeled away easily.

“It just makes it harder to...” I wasn’t sure what to say next so I let the words fall away to silence.

“To resist me,” he said jokingly, raising his eyebrows.

I carefully dug the knife in at an angle, slicing away at the bone-colored flesh, removing small pieces and flicking them into the fire. “Well, yes, I suppose.” My nervousness at this conversation was showing, my legs rattling uncontrollably. I wanted to be calm. Cooler.

“Oh,” he said, half-laughing, half-sighing. “Why do you have to?” he asked genuinely.

I whittled the wood further, using the thin edge of the knife to smooth out the shape. Adding sharper angles, refining and defining the shape I was trying to bring forth from the timber.

“Because I know what you want and I’m not sure I can give it to you. Whatever I feel, it doesn’t matter. I’m carrying your child and you want that child. I just don’t know if I want it. If I could even tolerate it,” I blurted out in one breath. I had hoped I could say it better, but it was too late to take it back.

“Rosa, you are so frustrating.” He was angry—I knew he would be. “I know you have been through hell and I know you don’t know whether you can love this baby.” I wasn’t expecting that. He took my hand in his. “We have months before we have to face that problem. I’m not going to force you to make a choice. Just tell me...” He stuttered over the last part, trying to choose his words carefully. “How do you, I mean, um, do you love me?” He removed his hand from mine and clasped his own two hands together tightly, awaiting my reply.

There it was. I could have lied. Perhaps I should have, but he was looking at me so intensely, his beautiful eyes searching mine. Begging me for an answer. “You know I do,” I whispered, feeling the blood run to my face. Feeling the gravity of my words anchoring me.

His laugh boomed out across the forest. Our traveling companions stirred in their sleep, but thankfully they did not wake. I was shocked—what was so fu

“Why are you laughing at me?” I said, glaring at him, unconsciously waving the knife in his face.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t believe you would think that, somehow, I would know that you loved me. You are always pushing me away.” I suppose that was true, but I had always thought he knew why I was doing that, that my feelings were obvious. I was trying to protect him. Then I remembered that day, when Clara told me that I’d hurt him. That he thought I was in love with Rash, which was ridiculous. Perhaps it was obvious, only to her, how much I cared for him. I held my heart, feeling pain creeping in.

Joseph’s face flickered with concern. “You ok?” he asked.

I nodded. “It’s just...Clara,” I whispered. He nodded in agreement. Sometimes the pain was physically crippling. I wondered if he was scared I would regress to that shadow state again. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t

“So what do we do?” he said as he pressed his cheek to mine. I leaned into it, feeling liquid gold rising. Like the sun, I had no power to stop it. What could we do?

I used the point of the knife to create swirls, working the curves into the wood, linking each curl together in a flowing pattern. “I’m open to suggestions.” I shrugged in a failed attempt to look unaffected. It wasn’t working. Nothing would work now. I had said the words. My heart was beating so fast at the realization that I couldn’t stand the idea of him walking away from me now. If he said we had to stop, I would fall to pieces. But if I chose him now, what would happen in two months?

“Well, if we love each other then we should be together.”

“You say it like it’s so simple.”

“It is.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. There was the future to consider, but I had resolved not to think about it. We didn’t know what would happen next. If I died tomorrow, I knew I would regret not saying yes to him tonight. Was it simple? I carved the dent of a chin into my piece of wood, scraping the neck down. It needed to be thi