Root (25 page)

“
Yeah well, join the club. I used to
daydream all the time during services. Back when I used to go, that
is.”

She sat down directly across from me,
fidgeting with the pillows and fussing her bangs until her left eye
was well-obscured by a solid wedge of hair. She looked over at me,
a grave expression adding years to her looks.

“
We need to talk,” she
said.

Something about her tone made my stomach go a
little queasy. “Okay,” I said.

“
About your back slide.”

“
My … what?”

“
I want to know why you have such a
hard time with the Reaper. Where does it come from, this death
wish, with such a power? What happened?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just the same
old, same old.”

“
Not ‘same old.’ Don’t give me that.
Something is different this time.”

I sighed. “Well, I had a long day. I was
tired. Things were getting weirder and scarier … by the minute. I
just didn’t want to face it anymore. I thought with a good night’s
rest I would—”

“
Specifics please. What
happened?”

So I told her about all Cleveland and Uncle Ed
and the drug runners.

“
You were a busy boy,” she said.
“But I see no reason for you to give up everything.”

“
Like I said … I was tired. I
couldn’t bear the thought of putting up with more of this crap. I
wasn’t looking forward to the next day at all. Not at all. I just
wanted everything to go away.”

“
Everything? Including Root? Me? Do
you ever consider this?”

“
Yeah, but … this place wasn’t even
real to me. I couldn’t depend on it. It was fantasy.”

“
Fantasy?” she said, her voice
rising. “Am I, really? Touch me. Am I not a real person? Is my
heart not real? Then why does it beat … like yours? Listen. Here.”
She touched a finger to her chest.

“
Dreams can seem pretty real
sometimes,” I said. “On the other hand, if I could find you … meet
you … on the other side…”

“
Forget other side. I am right here.
Right now.”

Something snapped in my head. I lost all
restraint.

“
I missed you, Karla. When I went
back, I couldn’t stop thinking … about you.”

Her face went blank and slack.

“
Sorry. I didn’t mean
to—”

She scootched forward and folded her arms
around me, melting into me as if I were her security
blanket.

Her action took me by surprise. It sounds odd,
but I had never been hugged like that. I’d had plenty of air hugs,
shoulder pats and nanosecond bumps, but this was way
different.

I didn’t resist but was too startled and
uptight to reciprocate. I felt discombobulated, as if my fibers
were unraveling.

“
Listen,” she said, still clinging
to me, her words muffled because her face was pushed against my
shoulder. “What happen to you in the tunnel today will never happen
again. I will show you how to keep strong in Root.
Okay?”

She lifted her head. “Okay?”

“
I’m listening,” I said, my hands
holding her loosely, hovering about a millimeter above her
flesh.

“
These feelings inside you that call
Root, they are like storms. When Root comes, it comes like a wave
from far away. In Florida, do you ever go surfing?”

“
Yeah. But I suck.”

“
Well, this feeling that brings Root
to you, it is like a storm that brings waves. You need to feel the
wave coming so it does not crash over your head like today. When
you lose control and give up complete, you come here weak and the
Reapers they can take you.”

“
But … if you want to stay a long
time in Root and stay strong, you cannot let the wave wash right
past you. You need to ride this wave. Otherwise, your time here
will be short.”

“
This is not simple. But all of us
you see in the ‘Burg, we learn how. Luther, of course, is a Master.
He stays here almost all the time. Me, I am okay. Better than
Astrid or Xiao Ke. They only stay, like you, for short
times.”

She looked up at me.

“
It is good you learn this skill,
no? When life is so bad, Root is a better place to be. I think you
agree, no? Otherwise … there is the Reaper.”

Some of what she said sank in, but I was
mostly thinking about those fingers kneading my back, that delicate
chin digging into my shoulder.

“
Surfing, huh?”

“
It should be no problem for someone
like you, no? Me, I am not so special, but I learn it. My weaving,
it came slow, compared to you. It takes me almost one year. At
first, I was like you, a rescue, from the pod, from the tunnel. I
was meant for the Reaping. So many visits, maybe ten, before I can
do the things you can do already. Bern and Lille had to teach
me.”

“
Huh,” I said. “I wouldn’t have
thought, I mean. Look at you now. Look at this place you
made.”

“
So I am saying, be careful. We
don’t want to lose you. You are special.”

“
I wish you guys you stop saying
that. I ain’t special. Not one bit.”

“
Of course you say this. If you felt
good about yourself, you would not be here.”

I held up my hand and looked it over front and
back.

“
Don’t worry you are not fading. You
are still here. But maybe … you are thinking of leaving? Do I bore
you?” She started to pull away but I held onto her.

“
No, wait! I’m not bored. I’m just
scared. I don’t want this to end. I’m not ready to go back to that
… life thing. Seems like whenever I start to get comfortable here,
I fade away.”

“
Were you not listening? I told you.
It is all about the surfing. You ride the wave as long as you can.
But when it is done, there is nothing you can do. You must
go.”

“
I’m … still not sure what you mean
by a wave. Times I come here, I don’t feel anything. I mean … I’m
numb. Things start shutting down. I lose my appetite. I don’t even
want to look at the TV.”

“
You baccalà. This numbness.
That
is
the wave.
That is it.”

“
But how do you ride it?”

“
Savor it. Enjoy it like some tasty
food you do not want to finish. Like sex you don’t want to stop too
soon.”

“
Can you … make … a wave come?
Whenever you want it? Can you call one?”

“
Ah … but this is another level of
skill, and it depends on the storm inside you. You need a storm to
make waves. But storms are dangerous, if you do not know yet how to
surf.”

“
Whenever I go back, it always feels
like I’ll never find my way back here. It feels like it’s
over.”

“
That is good. If life is good,
enjoy it. Root is only for the desperate.”

“
But I want to be here … with
you.”

“
You are welcome. But … I cannot
guarantee I will always be here for you. My life has many storms.
Many more than you, it seems. And sometimes the storms get very
strong, and the waves too big to ride … even for me.”

“
What? Are you saying you might get
Reaped? No way.”

“
It is possible.”

“
Karla!”

“
I am just saying.”

“
If I go …
when
I go … promise me you won’t die
… you won’t off yourself before I see you again.”

She shrugged. “It is not something I
expect.”

“
Promise me!”

She leaned back and looked me in the eye, her
one eye veiled in that perpetual curtain of hair.

“
I can’t. Maybe someday the wave
will be too much and I will let it fall on my head. For now … I am
okay. But I can’t promise. I can’t predict the future.”

I reached my hand up and brushed the bangs out
of her face. I wanted to see both of her eyes for a
change.

“
No!” she shrieked, and yanked
herself out of our embrace. “Don’t touch!”

She threw her hands up to cover her face, but
not before I glimpsed a complex of jagged scars running from the
corner of her eye, up her brow and across her temples—a meshwork of
keloidal ridges, like a crumpled swastika run through with a
lightning bolt.

“
Whoa, Karla. What the heck happened
to you?”

She lowered her eyes and pulled her bangs back
down to cover her scars. “So you see? How ugly I am?”

“
No, you’re not ugly. You’re just …
hurt. How did that happen?”

“
My father. He gets mad. He hits me
with the whiskey. The glass, it breaks. And he doesn’t want for
take me to clinic. For problemi. Troubles. He would get. Oh! I am
losing my English.”

“
That’s horrible! I’m sorry you had
to go through all of that.”

She hung her head. “It is not the worst of it.
There are worse things he has done. But these scars I cannot hide
as well. After he does this, things are better for a time. He does
not touch me. He is ashamed. So, it is good. It is the price I pay
… for some peace.”

“
But Lille can fix that for you,
right? She can mend flesh, no? You’re in Root, for Christ Sakes.
Why keep it scarred? Even on the other side, there are things they
can do.”

She looked up at me, her chin firm, a cold
fire blazing in her one visible eye. “This is me,” she said. “This
is who I am. Why I should change? If you don’t like my look, why do
you move my hair?”

“
I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done
that. I was just curious. I wanted to see your eyes.”

And her face became a storm all unto its own,
her features racked with chaos, precipitation flooding down her
cheeks.

“
I’m sorry.” I took her hand and
squeezed it. “Forgive me?” She tensed her fingers almost
imperceptibly. Her sobs calmed. She wiped her face on my
sleeve.

“
What if … what if I came and found
you?”

“
Find? What is to find? I am
here.”

“
On the other side, I mean. What if
I came to see you?”

She released my hand and pushed me away. “No.
That is not possible. Do not even think of this.”

“
Why not?”

“
My … circumstance. My father. It is
not possible. It will ruin everything. It will … destroy …
everything if you came to me.”

I chuckled nervously. “How so? I mean, if
living with your dad is such a drag, then run away. I could meet up
with you. We could go somewhere … together.”

“
You don’t understand. It is not so
easy. On the other side … I am not like this. I am not like you see
here. I am not … me.”

“
What? I don’t get it.”

“
Just forget about finding me,
please. Leave things be. I have worked hard to make these things …
my surfing … sustainable. Please. Just forget. If you come, you
will destroy everything.”

“
I hate this never knowing for sure
if I’m ever coming back here … if I’m ever gonna see you again.
It’d be a heck of a lot easier if … on the other side … if we
could—”

“
Forget it!” she shrieked. “Please,
just forget. Please.”

“
Okay! Calm down. It’s okay. It’s …
forgotten.”

“
Promise?”

“
Yeah,” I said. “Whatever.” I stared
up at the dove, my determination unabated, but I would have to keep
that part to myself.

“
James, you must understand. My
lives in Root and on the other side are separate. It is how I
persist. The only way I can exist.”

“
But … why come here at all, if we
can make the other side better? I might be able to help you if you
gave me a chance.”

She shook her head. “It is impossible. Some
damage cannot be undone.”

A tingly feeling started to spread through my
extremities, and not the good kind. “Oh crap. It’s
happening.”

Karla took my hand and examined it, spreading
my fingers, turning my palm. Translucent blotches had appeared in
my skin, like oil soaking into paper. “It is true. Your storm, it
is passing.”

“
What if I don’t want it to
pass?”

“
Silly James.” She placed my hand
against her sternum and gave me a feeble smile. “You cannot control
the weather.”

Chapter 23: The
Pits

I awoke fully clothed and panting, my face
pressed against a cold puddle of drool. Both pillows were strewn on
the floor beside the tangled top sheet and quilt. The instant I
realized I was in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania, a flood of deep
despair washed over me.

Nothing against Beaver Falls. I’m sure it’s a
lovely place. But the mellifluous tones of Karla’s voice still
resonated in my head. I could still feel the press of her cheek
against my shoulder, smell the soft lanolin musk of her hair. I
wanted to be back in Root with her.

My own stink rose up to smother any traces of
Karla. I sat up on the edge of the bed and struggled to adjust my
eyes to the light.