The Wall

“No, I’m sorry,” I said.

Ugh! This was impossible. This was not us. It was too uncomfortable, too polite.

We both laughed. His hand grazed my bare leg and I shivered. “You cold?” I nodded, even though I wasn’t. He pulled me closer to his body, so warm, almost too warm. I sighed. It shouldn’t be this hard. He put his lips to my bare shoulder, slipping my shirt down and kissing my collarbone. My head was in a gold mist. I blew it away.

Concentrate.

“Do you ever get the feeling that some of this is a bit wrong?” I asked. Staring into his beautiful eyes, wanting to dive into them and forget sense.

He raised his eyebrows, that recognizable combination of amusement and worry. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we live together, we have a child, it’s like we’re married, but we’ve never even, well, you know…” I was making a mess of this. “It’s a bit back to front.”

He smiled, his eyes wandering over my face towards my neck. “Well, that’s easily fixed,” he said with a chuckle, pulling me on top of him and kissing me passionately. Don’t get lost, I told myself.

I extricated myself and rolled off his chest to lie facing him again. “No, I don’t think it’s that simple. I want to go back. Back to the start. Slow it down.”

He looked shattered by the idea but he nodded. “Well, what do you want to do? Am I supposed to court you?” When he said it like that, it sounded stupid.

“Um, no. Well, sort of. Oh, I don’t know. Just forget it.” I leaned in to kiss him but he pulled back before my lips co

Amused, he said, “No, if you want this, it’s fine with me, but I think there should be some ground rules.” Oh great!

I thought about courting in Pau. It was about as romantic as cold porridge. Usually, the man a

In Pau, I think there was love around but it was a thin kind of love. Guarded. Everything that goes with love, marriage, and children was so very tainted. How could you give your whole if you knew it was going to be taken away from you? I couldn’t imagine Joseph and me ‘courting’ in the traditional sense.

He was distractedly swirling his fingers in loose strands of my hair when I said, “Ok, what kind of rules?” as I eyed him suspiciously. His face lit up with mischief, dark shadows grazing his face in the dying light behind us. It irritated me. He wasn’t taking me very seriously.

“You tell me if some of these things are acceptable.” I nodded. “Can I do this?” He leaned in and kissed me lightly on the mouth.

“Yes.”

“What about this?” He traced the curve of my neck with his fingertips out to my shoulders.

I shivered and bit my lip. “Yes.” Then he brought his fingers across my chest and started towards my breasts. I shook my head. He stopped.

“Maybe I should write this down.” He gri

“It’s not a game,” I said, trying to sound serious but even I couldn’t suppress a smirk.

“All right, all right. We’ll start slow, and no ‘you know’ until you say you’re ready,” he said, the matter of fact ‘doctorness’ coming out in his speech. His eyes lifted under his brow, unsure. “But you will be ready, one day, right?”

My body was ready, ready right then, but I was trying to listen to my head this time. “Right,” I said. “Just not yet.”

He pulled me into a tight embrace. “This ok?” he said. I giggled.

“Stop it. Now you’re just being a

I fell asleep in his arms. I think we had it sorted. Maybe.

I always thought strength came from within you, that it started there and ended there. It was of your own making.

I was wrong.

Strength is a gift placed inside you, built up by the people who love you. Fortified by the people who hate or threaten you. These are the things I will teach my son.

Joseph left late that morning. We couldn’t bear to get out of bed, the cold chipping away at our toes, the quilt a refuge. He was enjoying stretching the terms of our new arrangement, finding different places on my body to touch, just to get a reaction. Strong fingers left a blush of warmth wherever they wandered. He finally peeled himself away and said he would be home late but that I should dress nice, whatever that meant. He was going to take me out somewhere. I couldn’t imagine where. There wasn’t much to choose from.

“What about Orry?” I said

“I’ll arrange everything. Just be ready by eight.”

“Ok,” I said sulkily. I really didn’t like surprises.

He kissed me lightly on the cheek, which left me wanting, and left. I watched him walk away, his thumping strides almost rocking the earth. He walked like a giant. I was still not quite used to the fact that he would be home. Home was alien. Home created flourishes of color, popping up through the cracks in the floorboards and the neat stone path, like sprouting spring flowers. He waved behind him without turning around, his scarred arm covered by a thick coat. I felt a pang of guilt for not telling him about Cal. I would do it tonight. One serious conversation at a time was probably best.

I had a lot of work to do that day; it had piled up from my procrastinating yesterday. Chair legs and sled parts taunted me from the corner. A pile of sawdust I should have swept up and taken out was migrating back to where it had started, like a tiny sandstorm moving tiny dunes. It was also my turn to look after Orry.

The day went by uneventfully. I worked hard trying to finish everything so the evening would be free. Orry was fussing. When he was like this, it was a pointless guessing game to work out was wrong. Teething, hungry, tired, sick? So I just tried to distract him. I laid him down on the floor like I used to with Hessa. He stared at me with his weird eyes, my eyes, and I explained what I was doing, holding up tools and describing their various uses. Looking at his chubby pale arms and swash of blond curls, I wondered if he would be smart like Joseph. Tracking his darting eyes and hearing his frustrated grizzle, I knew he would be more like me—crazy and likely to get in trouble.

At about six o’clock, I cleaned up and started getting ready. I swept up the sawdust again and left it in the corner. I changed into clothes they’d given me when we first arrived here. I tried on a skirt and tights but quickly wriggled out of them, selecting black pants and a long-sleeved shirt. I did my hair, remembering that day when Clara had done it and the way Joseph reacted. I blushed. He wasn’t even here and I blushed. I pulled two small sections of my hair back and left the rest down.

It hurt less to think of her but I’m not sure the ache would ever go away. It lingered atop the pile of things I missed—my mother, the woods, Rash, and the boys. My grief wrapped around me like an ever-tightening bandage, holding my insides in but also stopping things from escaping.

I gazed down at the palette of makeup sitting squarely in my palm with great trepidation. I tried to apply it via the directions on the back of the plastic case. When I finished, I had to admit I looked awful. My eyes were over-emphasized and my cheeks too pink. I scrubbed it off. I looked… well, I looked nervous.

I started to get irritated at Joseph, wondering why he had to make a big deal out of this. I could imagine him laughing to himself at the idea of me ru