The Wall

“What?”

“Oh nothing,” he said, looking at the ceiling. I stared at him until he answered. “It’s just—I should fall into a coma more often.”

I sighed and stared up at the ceiling. At least this hadn’t changed.

“So do you know what happened to you?” I asked, realizing that he may not know where we were or who these people were.

He nodded. “That man, Matt, filled me in, briefly.” Then his eyes squinted at me and he pulled his mouth to the side. “Is it true you tried to poke my eyes out?”

I was a little embarrassed. I gri

His expression went somewhat serious but he couldn’t control his happiness any more than I could.  “I do have more questions I’d like to ask. How’s Apella and Alexei, Hessa and…?” A baby crying interrupted. He stilled, looking from me to the half-open door and back again.

I’d been dreading this. “Just a minute,” I said as I jumped from his bed to the floor, feeling his eyes on me as I walked.

I took my time, feeling flushed and nervous. I had to remind myself that he knew me. He knew how I’d felt about the baby. I couldn’t change my behavior or act a certain way. Anyway, it wouldn’t fool him. I changed the baby’s nappy mindlessly, probably putting it on backwards for all I knew. When I was done, I slung him over my shoulder. He liked to be up and looking around when he was awake. I waded slowly back to our room, pushing through my insecurities like I was moving through jelly.

The door was slightly ajar and I slipped inside.

Joseph’s eyes were wide and soft. I knew he was trying not to assess the situation and I tried hard not to get my back up about it. As soon as I stopped, Orlando started crying again, throwing his head about on my shoulder, looking for something to eat. I sat on my bed and swung him around, lifting up my shirt. Joseph was watching, quietly, intently, his chin resting on the heel of his hand.

This felt wrong. I couldn’t help but feel that sense of backwardness. He’d never seen me naked. It seemed unfair to me that this was the first time he would see my breasts. I paused.

“Can you, um, not look?” I whispered, self-consciously.

He blushed. “Oh, sorry,” he muttered and stared at his hands. So patient. It was so quiet. All I could hear was his deep breathing.

“You can talk to me, though,” I said, my voice sounding a bit shrill.

I heard him grunt or laugh, I wasn’t sure. “How has it been for you and the baby?” The words seemed hard to get out. Was he afraid of what I might say? I thought I should be honest, but maybe not too honest.

“It was hard at first,” unbearably so, “but we’re doing ok now.” I looked down at the beautiful boy and smiled. Yes, we were doing ok.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help you.” He sounded so regretful. He always jumped to blaming himself for things, things that were out of his control.

“Don’t do that,” I snapped “This is not your fault. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I should have listened to Apella, not made us stop and build that damn cabin.” It hurt just thinking about it, bits of me fretting around the edges. Apella. I needed to find her, thank her… forgive her.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Rosa. This was no one’s fault,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.

I scowled, though he couldn’t see me, he was still staring at his hands. I finished with the feeding and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. “Look up.”

Joseph’s head rose tentatively. I took the two steps to his bed and handed him our son. He inhaled deeply and I could see his hands were shaking, “He’s beautiful,” he whispered as he lightly touched the baby’s forehead, swirling his fingers through his light curls.

“You would say that—he looks just like you!” I scoffed.

Joseph rolled his eyes, tracing his son’s brow with his large finger. Orlando opened his eyes and Joseph smiled broadly. “Ha! Hardly. Oh, you poor boy. You have your mother’s eyes.” He shook with laughter, his gown slipping down to reveal a zipper-like wound in the middle of his chest. He touched two fingers to the wound and winced. “Oh, ouch, it hurts to laugh.”

“Good,” I said with a smirk.

He slowed his breathing and stared at me while I stared at the wound on his chest. It moved as he spoke, “Rosa, he’s perfect. Well done.”

I thought, don’t thank me. Thank the scientists—who concocted him in a lab. But I bit my tongue. “What’s his name?”

I flinched a little, and then tried to cover it up by smiling, but my mouth felt strained. The memory of Cal pushing himself on me was too fresh and unpleasant. It didn’t mix well with how I was feeling right now. “Orlando.”

Joseph screwed up his face. “Orlando? I guess it’s better than Leech. What does it mean?”

I closed my eyes, the light shining through them making my vision pink. “Gold…”

There was silence. Maybe he understood, maybe he didn’t. How I felt was probably different for him. But when I opened my eyes, he just gazed at me for as long as I could bear before I turned away. I think he understood. He held out his spare hand and clasped my own. He was here. We stayed like that for the longest time. Neither of us willing to move or disco

Eventually, I left Joseph with the baby and excused myself to shower. The truth was I needed some time to myself to decompress, sort through my feelings. I needed to work out where I fit in this instant family. It was very hard to shake the wrong feeling. The backwards feeling.

I was also suddenly aware of my appearance. I undid my untidy half-up and ran my fingers through my very knotty, rat-nest hair. I’d barely looked in a mirror since we arrived here and I suspected I looked like a wild girl that had just stepped out of the forest, dirt, leaves, and all.

But I was happy—thrilled even. The rest was going to take time to sort through, bit by bit. I was a crumbling wall. People kept taking bricks from the bottom and stacking them on the top, leaving the whole structure wobbling and unsound. It stretched to the sky but was unlikely to ever reach it. I just had to hold onto to the fact that Joseph was awake. That fact alone filled me to the brim.

I took a towel from a stack by the door and entered the women’s bathroom. It was empty but I locked the stall and undressed in there. Hot water was such a luxury. I could have stood under the stream forever. I stared at my feet and let the water drum a steady beat over my back.

Two women came in, talking seriously.

“You know, he used all of it. If anyone else gets hurt, there won’t be anything we can do until we get home,” a high-pitched, whiny voice complained.

“Don’t start. He did what he had to do. He was just following the Pledge. That’s what we all have to do.”

“I suppose. But the girl—I don’t think she’ll go along with it. She seems, well, young. Young and stubborn.”

Stalls closed and they stopped talking. I let the shower continue to run until I heard toilets flush, sending sporadic spurts of hot and cold water over me, making me hop up and down, trying not to scream. The bathroom door closed. It didn’t sound too good. I had been so caught up in my own tragedies I had lost sight of all the questions I should have been asking.

I held my trust in a locked box, deep inside myself, obstacles and booby traps safeguarding it. I’d never given it to these people but I’d forgotten to remind them of that. The woman was right; I was unlikely to ‘go along’ with anything.

I finished up and dressed. There was always an abundance of clean clothes to choose from, but I found the process difficult. I was used to grey-green and green-grey. Here there was every color and every cut. I chose a red, button-up shirt and a pair of jeans. My white sneakers were high cut and fit nicely around the cuff of my pants. My reflection showed a girl of bizarre proportions, my hair was ridiculous. Untended, it had morphed into a giant, dark mane that fell nearly to my waist. I needed to ask for some scissors.