new, that he had
never experienced. To be liked by a woman … no, to be liked by that
woman who was out of his reach. Was this what they called love?
Where is she? He looked around the cave, the balcony. Maybe she
was on top of the rock, where she took refuge to be away from him. He
lay down again, wishing that she were near, that he could hear her
puttering around, watch her. He must have fallen asleep, and she was still
not there when he woke. He felt a mild flutter of anxiety. She is fine , he
tried to convince himself, but it did not help. What if something
happened to her? But he would be of no help anyway. So far he had only
been a burden and he sank into a new wave of self-loathing.
He did not remember how long he had been lying there, when he felt
a cool hand on his forehead, and opened his eyes, meeting hers before he
looked away.
"The fever is gone. Here, have another cup of tea. It will numb the
pain," she said and helped him raise himself.
He remembered taking small sips. When he had finished, she said:
"Lie down again. I want to check if any of the wounds are infected."
She uncovered him, and he felt embarrassed being naked. She
checked each scab briefly. "They are healing well." She covered him up
again. "Tomorrow you will be able to get up and spend some time on the
balcony. I will soon bring you some food. I know, you do not feel like
eating, but you need to restore your strength."
He said nothing and did not think that she expected an answer. He
watched her put more wood into the hearth and then blow fire into the
coals. While a pot of water was heating, she prepared spiced patties of
timoru mash. When the water was boiling, she added bark to make bark
tea. He had developed a taste for its tart flavor. Next, she baked the
patties to make flat breads.
He liked to watch her. Her movements were flowing, graceful. There
was no tentativeness. She worked efficiently, no effort wasted. Occasionally, she hummed softly. At one point, she briefly looked at him, and he
felt caught, looking away.
She smiled and said: "It is OK, Atun. I don’t mind being watched."
He blushed that she had read is mind, but loved it that she called him
by name. Rather than pronounce it ‘Atn’, as most people did, she gave
equal weight to each syllable, dropping the pitch for the second, like
when she had called the echo. It sounded melodious. His eyes were
irresistibly drawn back to her.
When the food was ready, she again helped him sit and brought a
wooden platter with a bread, topped with thin slices of fresh fish, she
must have caught and marinaded earlier, and cut green leaves of swamp
spinach, as well as a cup of bark tea. She sat on the floor while he ate.
After a while, she said: "Atun, we must talk."
She waited to get his full attention. He forced himself to meet her
eyes.
"I know you blame yourself for what happened, but it is no use to
dwell on things that you cannot change anymore. Such thoughts only
steal your energy, and to survive on Aros, you need every bit of it. All
you can do is to learn from it. If it was bad, not to fall into the same trap
again. If it was a missed opportunity, to be ready to grab the next one
when it comes along."
She locked eyes with him, as if she tried to read whether he understood. He did not know how to react to these unexpected words. His
whole mind was in turmoil. Then she added with a smile: "And you are
no fun if you are morose."
He wanted to tell her how sorry he was, felt the tears rush into his
eyes, tried to blink them away. He did not want to humiliate himself by
crying in front of her.
She touched his left arm briefly and said: "It is OK to cry. There is no
shame in it." She got up and went back to the kitchen area.
"Yuen-mong, please forgive me," he murmured.
She
never experienced. To be liked by a woman … no, to be liked by that
woman who was out of his reach. Was this what they called love?
Where is she? He looked around the cave, the balcony. Maybe she
was on top of the rock, where she took refuge to be away from him. He
lay down again, wishing that she were near, that he could hear her
puttering around, watch her. He must have fallen asleep, and she was still
not there when he woke. He felt a mild flutter of anxiety. She is fine , he
tried to convince himself, but it did not help. What if something
happened to her? But he would be of no help anyway. So far he had only
been a burden and he sank into a new wave of self-loathing.
He did not remember how long he had been lying there, when he felt
a cool hand on his forehead, and opened his eyes, meeting hers before he
looked away.
"The fever is gone. Here, have another cup of tea. It will numb the
pain," she said and helped him raise himself.
He remembered taking small sips. When he had finished, she said:
"Lie down again. I want to check if any of the wounds are infected."
She uncovered him, and he felt embarrassed being naked. She
checked each scab briefly. "They are healing well." She covered him up
again. "Tomorrow you will be able to get up and spend some time on the
balcony. I will soon bring you some food. I know, you do not feel like
eating, but you need to restore your strength."
He said nothing and did not think that she expected an answer. He
watched her put more wood into the hearth and then blow fire into the
coals. While a pot of water was heating, she prepared spiced patties of
timoru mash. When the water was boiling, she added bark to make bark
tea. He had developed a taste for its tart flavor. Next, she baked the
patties to make flat breads.
He liked to watch her. Her movements were flowing, graceful. There
was no tentativeness. She worked efficiently, no effort wasted. Occasionally, she hummed softly. At one point, she briefly looked at him, and he
felt caught, looking away.
She smiled and said: "It is OK, Atun. I don’t mind being watched."
He blushed that she had read is mind, but loved it that she called him
by name. Rather than pronounce it ‘Atn’, as most people did, she gave
equal weight to each syllable, dropping the pitch for the second, like
when she had called the echo. It sounded melodious. His eyes were
irresistibly drawn back to her.
When the food was ready, she again helped him sit and brought a
wooden platter with a bread, topped with thin slices of fresh fish, she
must have caught and marinaded earlier, and cut green leaves of swamp
spinach, as well as a cup of bark tea. She sat on the floor while he ate.
After a while, she said: "Atun, we must talk."
She waited to get his full attention. He forced himself to meet her
eyes.
"I know you blame yourself for what happened, but it is no use to
dwell on things that you cannot change anymore. Such thoughts only
steal your energy, and to survive on Aros, you need every bit of it. All
you can do is to learn from it. If it was bad, not to fall into the same trap
again. If it was a missed opportunity, to be ready to grab the next one
when it comes along."
She locked eyes with him, as if she tried to read whether he understood. He did not know how to react to these unexpected words. His
whole mind was in turmoil. Then she added with a smile: "And you are
no fun if you are morose."
He wanted to tell her how sorry he was, felt the tears rush into his
eyes, tried to blink them away. He did not want to humiliate himself by
crying in front of her.
She touched his left arm briefly and said: "It is OK to cry. There is no
shame in it." She got up and went back to the kitchen area.
"Yuen-mong, please forgive me," he murmured.
She
Similar Books
