The Wall

I was shaking so hard I had to hold out my hand and steady myself on the doorframe. I felt like the whole building was shaking under my will, leering and shuddering, bits of the wall peeling off and littering the ground.

“I’m sorry. I… I can’t,” I managed to stammer. This was such a bad idea.

I thought I’d been handling it well up until then. That I could magically say ‘I’m fine,’ and it would be so. That focusing on something else would make me ok. No. I had to make a painfully conscious decision to be ok. That I would not let it change me. And I had to know that maybe it would change me anyway. For that reason, I could never lay eyes on Cal again.

I walked backwards out of the door and stumbled down the hallway, uncoordinatedly. Matthew caught up with me and grabbed my shoulders to slow me down before I fell over. I turned to face him, ready to yell at him, say something clever and sarcastic, but all that came out of my mouth was a tortured slip of a cry. I slumped down on the ground and hugged my knees. I let Matthew hold me and I poured out every last tear I had. I watched them fall and splash onto the rubber toes of his sneakers as I buried my head in his chest and soaked his shirt. And whether it was possible to make such a decision, I was determined right then that those were the last tears I would shed over this situation.

“I hate you,” I said, my lips squashed against one of his shirt buttons.

“That’s ok,” he replied. “Addy told me to let you hate me.”

I thought, If that’s true, then stop making it so hard to do so.

When I returned to my room, Joseph had come looking for me. He was sitting in one of the metal chairs, all his bravado and cheek succumbing to nervousness. I’d taken my time getting ready, splashing water over my face and dressing slowly, selecting jeans, a low-cut shirt, and a jacket. All they had were sneakers and that was fine with me. If there were a Survivor uniform, it was those canvas sneakers. I ran my finger across my chest, pressing my charm between my thumb and forefinger, feeling a strange reassurance in the dull metal.

I still felt wobbly, and I wasn’t sure I was up to whatever Joseph had pla

Joseph stood clumsily when I entered. The chair came with him, clinging to his extra wideness with a pack on. When it clattered to the floor, he blushed uncharacteristically and the nurse rolled her eyes at both of us.

I’d tried my best to cover my hair and dress nicely. I’d tried my best not to think about the night I’d dressed for our date the first time. The date that never happened.

“Wow!” he said.

I carefully checked my hat. Was it not covering the bald patch well enough?

“You look beautiful,” Joseph said.

“I bet,” I said, “next you’ll say being half-bald suits me.”

He chuckled. “There isn’t much that doesn’t suit you, darling.”

Darling. Black scratches hung in the air like a claw had torn through time. I hunched my shoulders, feeling the memories trying to push their way into my head.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone belying his surety.

“I’m fine,” I said, changing the subject. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. Now close your eyes. Deshi’s waiting outside so you can say goodbye to Orry.”

“No way!”

“Please?”

I closed my eyes, frowning with my arms folded across my chest. “How am I supposed to walk like this? I’ll walk into a wall.”

His strong arms scooped me up and pulled me close to his chest. “Never expected you to walk,” he said.

I relaxed. Even if this was all there was, it was plenty.

Joseph kicked open the doors and stepped quickly outside before they shut on him. The temperature dropped as soon as we were outside. The air was cool but the sun was out and it warmed my skin. I had lost track of time in the soundless, temperature-controlled hospital room. Was it afternoon? I could hear people moving and talking around us, footsteps on the asphalt, the metallic hum of the spi

“I’ll just take him back to your house and wait for you there,” Deshi said.

Joseph thanked him and we continued on. I felt ridiculous but he made me promise to keep my eyes closed.

It was a curious feeling, heightening my other senses. I could eavesdrop on other conversations around me. I heard someone talking about mobilization of Woodland forces but then we moved out of earshot. I tried to follow the words but all I caught was ‘… weeks… late snow’.

Joseph started talking and I got lost in the vibration of his voice in his chest and his warm breath, which smelled like fresh bread and toothpaste, on my face.

He talked about plans, how spring was coming. He asked me what I was going to do with the garden. It was an odd conversation, too normal. I wasn’t sure we got to have normal. Vegetable gardens and furniture-making seemed further away from me now. It was something I had craved but now I focused on the present. Anything else was not manageable.

I sensed we were heading downhill.

He stopped suddenly and I thought we were at our destination but then he changed direction and kept walking.

It started to cool slightly, and the light against my eyelids was softer. Joseph’s footfalls were softer too, hitting dirt now instead of asphalt. I could smell damp, sodden earth and pine. And fire. I smiled, the plan coming together in my mind.

“We’re here. You can open your eyes,” Joseph said. He wasn’t out of breath in the slightest. His tone even, his breath steady. How did he manage it? I marveled at his strength.

I opened my eyes to a circle of pine trees.

Joseph leaned down and pressed his forehead to mine. “I hope this is all right. I wanted to bring you back, show you…” His voice was a rumble; it shook my chest, my heart, delightfully, like the words were in me.

I cut him off, “It’s perfect, thank you.” The light was filtering through the pine needles, creating sharp, crisscross shadows on the forest floor. The woods looked more like I remembered. The snow had indeed receded. There were a few icy patches but spring was slowly a

Joseph lowered me to my feet gently but never took his hand off me. And unfortunately, I needed steadying. My head was still sore and my arm made everything awkward. I knelt down and held my palms to the small fire. It radiated warmth that seemed to reach out and engulf us both. I was glowing.

We sat together and I nudged him with my shoulder. Memories flooded through me and around me, some flying like open-mouthed ghosts swirling in a circle and some living in me, breathing with my every breath. He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me even closer. I looked up and watched the fire dance in his beautiful eyes. The trees leaned in to hear us, to hide us from the outside. We were part of this landscape.

“Rosa, I love you.” His earnest expression broke my heart but in a good way.

I nodded. My eyes wet. Love. The words were easy. What I felt was beyond that, and I didn’t know how to say so.

“Do you think we’ll make it?” I said casually.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his eyes wide. “I think we have some challenges ahead of us. The Woodland soldiers are coming, but I think the Survivors have a plan. I don’t think we will be caught out like we were at the mounds.”

That’s not what I meant, but his words were heavy. I’d been so caught up in my own problems, I’d forgotten about the threats looming over the whole community. There were big issues we needed to face. The Woodland threat was like an infiltrative disease. It was creeping its deadly shadow slowly across the landscape and soon it would reach us. I imagined dark, pointed fingers impaling the fleeing people. Did they really understand what they were up against?