The Wall (The Woodlands) (23 page)

We collected
Addy on our way down and were directed onto a spinner. When I said goodbye to Apella, I was surprised how it made me feel. I was leaving security. My replacement mother. If I left, I was admitting myself to adulthood. I wasn’t sure I was ready.

I took her hands and squeezed, trying hard not to cry.
“I’ll see you soon,” I said in a voice that was not my own, girlish and unsure of itself.

She put her hand up like she was going to touch my face but then put it back down and took a handful of her shirt
instead. “You’ll be fine, Rosa. And yes, you will see us soon. We are not far away.”

I pressed my hands together and nodded
. “I know.”

I reassured myself that w
e would see them again. Soon.

The spinner hummed and did its
miraculous twirling, revolving and revealing the view. I couldn’t take it in. Exhaustion was getting the better of me. Joseph’s hands and eyes were getting the better of me too. He gave me the look, like I was the only girl in the world, like he could close out everything else going on around us and just see me. He surety, his unwavering belief in us, was unnerving. Because, for me, everything felt tenuous, like at any second it would be snatched away. I believed in our love, but I knew it couldn’t stay this way.

We
arrived back at the Wall. The mid-afternoon shadow pressed down on the houses that lined the stone structure. Addy was talking, her striated lips moving, but I wasn’t really listening. We piled out of the spinner and one of the men, who had only talked in grunts and sighs up until now, spoke. His voice clear and higher pitched than I would have expected. He spoke in short, clipped sentences. “Follow me. It’s not much. It will need some work.”

We followed them past several shingled shack
s until the man turned suddenly and headed up a path. I clasped Joseph’s hand tighter.

On either side were dormant plants
sleeping under a layer of ice, which was starting to melt and pool in places. We climbed up three wooden steps and onto a narrow verandah. It was small. It was wonky. It was
perfect
.

The man
swung open the door and showed us the simple lounge room, a couple of rickety chairs, a simple plumbed bathroom, and woodstove and kitchen in the corner. It had one bedroom with a wooden bed.

“
Sorry there’s no bedroom fer yer baby,” he apologized gruffly, swiping his large hand across the back of his neck.

I laughed. It seemed ridiculous to
apologize for such a thing. On the end of the bed were piles of folded clothes, blankets, and sheets. It was too much.

Set again
st the wall was the capsule I’d made for Hessa. It felt out of place in this homely picture.

In the corner metal glinted. I let go of Joseph
’s hand and walked over, the floorboards creaking under my weight. Kneeling down, I could see it was a pile of woodworking tools. My heart swelled and stayed large in my chest, taking in all this kindness and being at a loss as to what to do about it. My eyes connected with Joseph’s. He was grinning, his hands clasped in front of him like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

The man introduced himself as
Viktor. He shook both our hands roughly and explained that he lived two houses down the road. “Call in if you have any trouble. And err… I have a chipped countertop. I need it repaired. Keep catching my clothes on it.” He looked at me. “Can you look at it for me? No rush. Just when you’re settled.”

“
Ok,” I said, my thoughts tangled, feeling a bit like a wrung, wet towel. I was running out of emotion.

The others said their goodbyes
. Odval reluctantly left Orry in Joseph’s arms. Addy and Cal remained. Joseph hovered over Cal. “Is there anything else?” he said impatiently. I could tell Cal was starting to really irritate him.

“
Um. No. Although…”

“
Yes?” Joseph was leaning over him now.

Cal turned to me
. “Rosa, I have some things that need fixing too. Can I bring them to you tomorrow? I’ll bring food in return.”

I thought about it. It seemed like a bad idea to encourage him but if this is how we were to feed
ourselves, I couldn’t really afford to say no, not yet anyway. I avoided eye contact but accepted. “Yes. Give me a few days and then drop them off.”

Joseph grunted at this and walked away from us.

Cal just stood there staring for a while until Addy gave him a sharp look and snapped, “Goodbye, young man,” not so gently shoving him out the door.

As if startled from a dream
, he staggered backwards and left.

“
How did you know this was the house I would choose? I mean, the tools, the capsule. You knew I would end up here,” I said.

Addy waved me off
. “Ha. You’re not the big mystery you think you are, girl.”

I smiled and stood with my arm
around Joseph’s waist.

Addy turned to us, he
r lips curling. “Look at you two.”

“
What?” I asked suspiciously.

“
It’s just lovely to see a young family again.”

I couldn
’t help but cringe a little. This was harder for me than I liked to admit, this instant family made in a tube, planted out of nowhere, now expected to grow straight, tall, and normal. But how did you grow a normal life from that, when everything was so backwards? I tried to put it out of my mind for now and take in our home.

Our home.
The words were heavy in my head. Instead of happiness, I felt guilt. Why me?

Sometimes
, I felt like I was tethered to the ghosts of my past like a bunch of balloons tied to my wrist. They were always pulling at me, trying to move on, but I couldn’t let them go and they couldn’t let me go. It made me want to keep moving, keep running.

I tried to say something to Addy but I couldn
’t find the right words. I think she sensed it, touching my shoulder gently and saying, “Don’t worry, girl. You’ll get used to it. I’ll be round to check on you from time to time.” She tapped me once and said, “You know you’re safe here.”

I swear
, when people said things like that, it made me feel less safe. It sounds like they’re trying to convince me of something they’re not sure of themselves.

Addy
tottered out, her dark brown skirt swishing like grass shifting in the wind as she shut the door without turning around.

Bang!
The timber door rattled in its frame and we were alone.

I
took in Joseph’s face. He had shaved when we were in quarantine but stubble was already growing back, kissing his chin and softening his strong jaw. His golden hair was weaving itself across his forehead. Such a delicate balance of hair linked together. He gazed down at Orry and then had to flick his head to keep the hair out of his eyes. So much had changed since I met him, swinging his legs atop a concrete pillar, grinning down at me like he didn’t have a care in the world. We were older now—I think we were stronger too. And we had a baby.

I snorted. Thinking of how stupid it was that we had a baby. The most we
’d done was kissed and we had a baby.

He looked at
me, confused by my laughter. “What’s so funny?”

He walked over
and put his hand in my hair, gently tucking it behind my ear. I shivered and forgot what I was laughing about. He leaned down and kissed the corner of my mouth. “We’re home.” I felt him breathe it in, his chest expanding at the words.

Could I stay
here? Could I cut the ties and let the ghosts wind their way up to the sky? I wasn’t sure. But I knew I wanted to be here with him.

Orry started to cry and I settled into the old cane chair lined with furs and a ratty quilt to feed him.

As I fed Orry, Joseph busied himself around the house. I heard him shaking out sheets and making the bed. The snap of the cloth sent shivers down my spine. The air felt charged, nervousness and anticipation drumming out a rhythm in front of my eyes. In my mind, I was imagining doing things I had never done before and it both scared and charmed me with its possibilities.

The truth
was, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do and I probably should have decided that first, instead of waiting to see how I felt as things progressed.

I heard the fridge door open and shut behind me.
“They’ve made us some food,” I heard him mumble uncomfortably.

Pots clanged, drawers were opened and closed. I wondered whether he had really cooked before. It seemed like a lot of noise for reheating food.
For all his strength and confidence, I could tell his nervousness was making him clumsy. This was beyond weird, for both of us. This was the first time we had truly been alone, without a baby between us, the threat of someone waking around the fire, or a doctor or nurse barging in on us.

I wrapped Orry up and put him in the capsule
, resolving to make him a cot first thing tomorrow.

This peacef
ul calm of domestic life was really only an idea; it was an abstract thought that had no place in reality. But I let it fool me. I let myself think about being with Joseph, sleeping with him, and everything that went with it. But it was not that simple. I wish I’d known that.

After a dinner where eyes were shooting spears of desire across the table
, I excused myself to take a shower. I could hear him clattering about, cleaning up. The water was heated by the woodstove so it was lukewarm at best. I undressed and jumped in and out as quickly as possible. Homemade soap that smelled like grass and lanolin made no lather but at least I smelled somewhat clean.

I stared at my face in the mirror. It was a conflicted image. I looked like a child.
A mother. I’m not sure woman was a good description for me yet.

Woman.
Is that what I would be after? It seemed a little too easy for things to click into place just because of that. I shook my hair out and tried to make it look less clumpy. They’d left towels, toothbrushes, soap, but no hairbrush. Running my hands through it, I thought of my mother. The same thick mane of dark brown hair touched silver with age. The seams started to bulge a little around my chest. I missed her. I didn’t want to but I did. She’d skipped into my thoughts more and more lately without permission.

I changed into the pajamas I
’d found on the bed and opened the door.

Joseph was standing there, leaning against a kitchen chair. Head down like he was counting while someone went to hide. He looked up at me and bit his
bottom lip, his eyes bright, and kind of dazzling.

“
Are you tired?” he stuttered.

“
I guess.” I wasn’t. At all.

He walked over to me and took my hand, leading
me to the bedroom, the bed he’d carefully made. But something was dragging me back. Those ghost balloons, those puffs of air, suddenly had so much weight to them I was struggling to keep my feet. I was dragging lead bricks behind me, scratching across the floor.
Wait
, they whispered. I ignored them.

We sat on the bed
. The wood frame creaked gently. The candlelight pooled around both of us, pulling the warmth from the timber out to dance in our eyes. We were bathed in glowing light. He pulled my face towards his own and stared into my eyes. Could he see the terrified girl inside? He turned his head at an angle and smiled sweetly.

“
Are you ok?” he whispered.

I nodded gingerly. I put my hands in his hair and dipped his head
down.
Just kiss him
, I thought.
The feelings will go away. Maybe you can forget about things for a while. Your grief doesn’t have to guide everything you do
.

I pressed my lips to his and we were gone. Kisses were long and then small bursts of short pecks
followed. He kissed my neck; I followed his jawline and worked my way to his ear. His strong arms lifted me up and I swung my leg over and sat in his lap.