the table, laughter broke and spread like a pathogen in their direction. Elliot had no idea what it was about, but he chucked politely and poured more applesauce into his bowl. He wanted to get up and briefly away from here, take Evajean somewhere private so they could discuss how to get on again with their journey. Nothing of significance was back at the house, so it might just be as easy as asking for help with the truck and then waving goodbye to his rescuers.
He leaned over to Evajean and whispered in her ear. “We should leave,” he said. “I want to go.”
She looked at him, shrugging her shoulders, asking him why. “Because,” he said, not liking this clandestine conversation at a table were so many might hear. “I want to get going. I don’t like it here.”
Now she did respond, whispering back, and Elliot saw they were drawing attention. Several the townsfolk had stopped eating and were watching the two, looking not concerned but slightly more than curious. Elliot hated this and found himself angry at Evajean for forcing him into the situation. Why hadn’t she stayed at the truck? If she’d only stayed at the truck until he woke up, they’d at least be hiking along the road. But then, of course, they’d have found the Nahom sign just like he did and taken the path and they’d be just where they were right now.
“Don’t be silly,” she said and Elliot almost missed it, so caught up in his thoughts. “These people are nice, they’ve been very nice to us, and it’s the least we can do, since they saved your life, to stick around and make them happy. Okay?”
“Okay,” he said, but it wasn’t. He broke from their parlay, resumed eating, and nudged the dog with his foot. Breakfast had to end soon.
Soon turned out to be half an hour, a crawling period of more eating, more empty conversation and loaded smiles. He felt a great sense of pressure on his chest and in his ears, weight from whatever it was about this place that just wasn’t right, and at several points during those thirty minutes he almost stood up and walked away from the table, just to get some air.
Near the end, Evajean put her hand on his knee and squeezed, trying to comfort. But the gesture only make things worse because it was the same as Clarine had done so many times and, like in the cave, he didn’t want to drag her memory into this place. Nahom made him ill.
Finally it was done. The people carried their bowls and utensils to a large bin in a corner of the town square and dump them in, submerging the dishes in soapy water. Children began washing them while the adults, bellies full and ready to go about their day, exchanged concluding pleasantries and broke into groups to begin whatever tasks they had assigned. Now, in the hubbub, Evajean was willing to talk.
“What’s gotten into you?” she said as they walked back to the small house. Elliot carried the dog under his arm, its head in his palm, and the animal yipped pleasantly at a family of squirrels chattering in a nearby tree.
He started to answer but she cut him off. “No. I understand, what happened last night, it’s terrible. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry if I had you worried, being gone and all. But I was only trying to help, to get you help. These people saved you , Elliot. And you’re acting like they’re a bunch of Nazis.”
“Evajean-”
“No,” she said again. “You want to get out of here, I get that. But, Jesus, Elliot, this is the first nice place I’ve been since- since Henry got sick. I still want to find the Hole. It’s not like I want to live here. But why can’t we enjoy it for a day without you having whatever the hell kind of breakdown you had back there?”
Elliot was quiet, embarrassed. How could he make her understand what this place was doing to him without it sounding crazy? They walked without talking the rest of the way to the house. At the front door, though, he turned to her, hand on the knob, and said, “There’s something
He leaned over to Evajean and whispered in her ear. “We should leave,” he said. “I want to go.”
She looked at him, shrugging her shoulders, asking him why. “Because,” he said, not liking this clandestine conversation at a table were so many might hear. “I want to get going. I don’t like it here.”
Now she did respond, whispering back, and Elliot saw they were drawing attention. Several the townsfolk had stopped eating and were watching the two, looking not concerned but slightly more than curious. Elliot hated this and found himself angry at Evajean for forcing him into the situation. Why hadn’t she stayed at the truck? If she’d only stayed at the truck until he woke up, they’d at least be hiking along the road. But then, of course, they’d have found the Nahom sign just like he did and taken the path and they’d be just where they were right now.
“Don’t be silly,” she said and Elliot almost missed it, so caught up in his thoughts. “These people are nice, they’ve been very nice to us, and it’s the least we can do, since they saved your life, to stick around and make them happy. Okay?”
“Okay,” he said, but it wasn’t. He broke from their parlay, resumed eating, and nudged the dog with his foot. Breakfast had to end soon.
Soon turned out to be half an hour, a crawling period of more eating, more empty conversation and loaded smiles. He felt a great sense of pressure on his chest and in his ears, weight from whatever it was about this place that just wasn’t right, and at several points during those thirty minutes he almost stood up and walked away from the table, just to get some air.
Near the end, Evajean put her hand on his knee and squeezed, trying to comfort. But the gesture only make things worse because it was the same as Clarine had done so many times and, like in the cave, he didn’t want to drag her memory into this place. Nahom made him ill.
Finally it was done. The people carried their bowls and utensils to a large bin in a corner of the town square and dump them in, submerging the dishes in soapy water. Children began washing them while the adults, bellies full and ready to go about their day, exchanged concluding pleasantries and broke into groups to begin whatever tasks they had assigned. Now, in the hubbub, Evajean was willing to talk.
“What’s gotten into you?” she said as they walked back to the small house. Elliot carried the dog under his arm, its head in his palm, and the animal yipped pleasantly at a family of squirrels chattering in a nearby tree.
He started to answer but she cut him off. “No. I understand, what happened last night, it’s terrible. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry if I had you worried, being gone and all. But I was only trying to help, to get you help. These people saved you , Elliot. And you’re acting like they’re a bunch of Nazis.”
“Evajean-”
“No,” she said again. “You want to get out of here, I get that. But, Jesus, Elliot, this is the first nice place I’ve been since- since Henry got sick. I still want to find the Hole. It’s not like I want to live here. But why can’t we enjoy it for a day without you having whatever the hell kind of breakdown you had back there?”
Elliot was quiet, embarrassed. How could he make her understand what this place was doing to him without it sounding crazy? They walked without talking the rest of the way to the house. At the front door, though, he turned to her, hand on the knob, and said, “There’s something
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