baby.”
“No,” I say. “She’s making a—” And right then Naava opens her mouthlike a fish and mouths no, and I stop in the middle of what I’m saying. I understand, so I change the subject. I say, “I can make jars for the baby. If something bad happens to them in the fire, well, I can make another one.” Mama knows this. I’m a hard worker. I can make all sorts of things—clay balls for Abel’s slingshot, weights for the fishnets, spindle whorls for Naava’s spinning, and bowls and jars for Aya’s cooking. I get clay down by the river and add a little water to it and work it until it’s smooth. I roll it into snakes and start with a circle for the bottom. Then I wind and wind, in and out, to make curvy shapes. I splash a pebble in water and rub it over the sides, round and round, until the jar is slickery smooth. Always I remember to ask Aya’s permission to use her fire, because otherwise she gets angry and slaps my hands. Aya was nice to me this morning, though. She gave me an extra fig cake with her good arm, and said, “You stay away from the men at that place, you hear? You listen to me. I’m looking out for you.” And I think, Why does Cain like the men who hurt Aya?
Right then, when I’m bragging how good my jars are, one of them cracks open in the fire. Thank the stars and the moon, it’s only Naava’s, not Aya’s—I made Aya a special water jug, fat and round like Turtle, because Mama said Aya had learned her limits yesterday, like she was sorry Aya had to do that, and I felt bad for Aya. Aya won’t say anything about it to anyone, not even if someone asks her a question. She has a wrapping on her arm because it got twisted out of place. Abel fixed it for her. He’s a kind brother. He and Jacan brought back some sand grouse and their eggs so Aya could cook them up for everyone.
I heard Abel talking secrets to Mama this morning. Mama put her hands over her mouth real fast and sucked in her breath, like this, whoosh. She said, “Did they … ?” Abel shook his head no, like Goat does when it rains and she has to get all the water off, and Mama went to Aya and hugged her and told her that she’d fix the morning repast for her, her little bird.
Jacan came to where I was washing Turtle and told me all about Aya yelling at the bad men from the city. They beat her black and blue, but Elohim saved the day by shouting out to Abel and Jacan that she was getting hurt. Jacan says that Abel doesn’t want me to take care of babies in the city, but Mama won’t listen.
Abel says Mama is doubtful of Elohim too, after meeting the ladies. I ask Jacan what doubtful means. He shrugs his shoulders and says Abel gets purple-mad about it, up there in the hills with his sheep and goats. It doesn’t help that Cain goes away to visit the city almost every day. Jacan says Abel calls Cain’s stories outrageous.
Maybe that’s what Abel was shouting at Cain for, right before breakfast. I couldn’t hear a word they were saying, but they are always at each other’s throat lately. Mama notices it but doesn’t say anything. Too many times, either Cain or Abel shouts at her, “This is none of your affair!” so now she stays away with all her might, and Father can’t hear them when he’s far off. So it’s fight fight fight, all the time.
Mama cooked up the grouse and eggs, since Aya was feeling bad, but we all ended up feeling bad because Abel passed the bread to Cain the wrong way. Cain stood up and threw the bowl on the ground. The bowl broke and the bread got smashed all over the dirt. Mama went to pick up the pieces and put them aside. Everybody stopped eating.
Cain yelled at Abel, “How dare you laugh at me? You think you have all the answers, but how do you know that what they’re doing is not the right way?” Cain looked at Father and said, “You’ve even said yourself that you don’t know if there are other gods besides Elohim,” and Father nodded.
Mama sat down again. The veins in
“No,” I say. “She’s making a—” And right then Naava opens her mouthlike a fish and mouths no, and I stop in the middle of what I’m saying. I understand, so I change the subject. I say, “I can make jars for the baby. If something bad happens to them in the fire, well, I can make another one.” Mama knows this. I’m a hard worker. I can make all sorts of things—clay balls for Abel’s slingshot, weights for the fishnets, spindle whorls for Naava’s spinning, and bowls and jars for Aya’s cooking. I get clay down by the river and add a little water to it and work it until it’s smooth. I roll it into snakes and start with a circle for the bottom. Then I wind and wind, in and out, to make curvy shapes. I splash a pebble in water and rub it over the sides, round and round, until the jar is slickery smooth. Always I remember to ask Aya’s permission to use her fire, because otherwise she gets angry and slaps my hands. Aya was nice to me this morning, though. She gave me an extra fig cake with her good arm, and said, “You stay away from the men at that place, you hear? You listen to me. I’m looking out for you.” And I think, Why does Cain like the men who hurt Aya?
Right then, when I’m bragging how good my jars are, one of them cracks open in the fire. Thank the stars and the moon, it’s only Naava’s, not Aya’s—I made Aya a special water jug, fat and round like Turtle, because Mama said Aya had learned her limits yesterday, like she was sorry Aya had to do that, and I felt bad for Aya. Aya won’t say anything about it to anyone, not even if someone asks her a question. She has a wrapping on her arm because it got twisted out of place. Abel fixed it for her. He’s a kind brother. He and Jacan brought back some sand grouse and their eggs so Aya could cook them up for everyone.
I heard Abel talking secrets to Mama this morning. Mama put her hands over her mouth real fast and sucked in her breath, like this, whoosh. She said, “Did they … ?” Abel shook his head no, like Goat does when it rains and she has to get all the water off, and Mama went to Aya and hugged her and told her that she’d fix the morning repast for her, her little bird.
Jacan came to where I was washing Turtle and told me all about Aya yelling at the bad men from the city. They beat her black and blue, but Elohim saved the day by shouting out to Abel and Jacan that she was getting hurt. Jacan says that Abel doesn’t want me to take care of babies in the city, but Mama won’t listen.
Abel says Mama is doubtful of Elohim too, after meeting the ladies. I ask Jacan what doubtful means. He shrugs his shoulders and says Abel gets purple-mad about it, up there in the hills with his sheep and goats. It doesn’t help that Cain goes away to visit the city almost every day. Jacan says Abel calls Cain’s stories outrageous.
Maybe that’s what Abel was shouting at Cain for, right before breakfast. I couldn’t hear a word they were saying, but they are always at each other’s throat lately. Mama notices it but doesn’t say anything. Too many times, either Cain or Abel shouts at her, “This is none of your affair!” so now she stays away with all her might, and Father can’t hear them when he’s far off. So it’s fight fight fight, all the time.
Mama cooked up the grouse and eggs, since Aya was feeling bad, but we all ended up feeling bad because Abel passed the bread to Cain the wrong way. Cain stood up and threw the bowl on the ground. The bowl broke and the bread got smashed all over the dirt. Mama went to pick up the pieces and put them aside. Everybody stopped eating.
Cain yelled at Abel, “How dare you laugh at me? You think you have all the answers, but how do you know that what they’re doing is not the right way?” Cain looked at Father and said, “You’ve even said yourself that you don’t know if there are other gods besides Elohim,” and Father nodded.
Mama sat down again. The veins in
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