The Wall (The Woodlands) (26 page)

“
Cal!” I yelled sharply.

Maybe I should have ignored him, let him go, but I was furious. I didn
’t like being watched. And I wondered if this was the first time. He hunched his shoulders and turned around. Face pink, he looked at me guiltily. “Were you spying on me?” I could feel my face getting hot.

“
I… I’m sorry. I forgot something,” he stammered, lying.

I thought
about it for a millisecond then I walked right up to him, probably closer than was necessary, and said through gritted teeth, “Yes, I think you did. Come get your drawers. I’m not working for you anymore.”

The apology ran from his face like melting candlewax, revealing
pure anger. Anger and humiliation. He stormed into the house, picking up the drawers, dropping them several times as he went, and stormed out again. I should have left it there, but I didn’t. I held open the door and as he passed me, I muttered, “I know you broke them on purpose.”

He turn
ed to face me, his body shaking. He shrugged. It was exaggerated, like he would dislocate his shoulders with the abrupt force of it. He sighed and stared at me, his eyes blinking away tears. He looked like he wanted to say something but he couldn’t get the words out. Then he clattered away, throwing the drawers under a tree, and hopping on a passing spinner.

I was relieved. I could have handled it better but I also could have handled it worse.
Hopefully, he would get over it and move on. Whatever his fixation on me was, it was over.

I returned inside and
put the kettle on the hearth, warming my hands around it as the water boiled. There was always comfort in these everyday things. The kettle whistled and I made some tea. The people here had technologies, but chose to live simply, hence the wood stove, the candlelight. I loved the contradiction of it, the choice of it.

I watched the steam wind
its way up to the ceiling, feeling a pull in my chest. I tried not to look back but occasionally, without meaning to, my brain tunneled that way against my will. Sometimes I felt myself standing under the trees, sparks of fire twirling into the night sky. Clara could always see things I couldn’t see. I wondered what she would make of this. I think she would have told me to be a bit kinder to Cal.

The sky was darkening. I closed the shutters and went outside
to grab some wood. Joseph would be home soon with Orry. Mrs. ‘what’s her face’ would be coming over with dinner. I couldn’t remember her name, Mrs. Squishy something, or maybe I just thought that because her face was all puffy. I laughed.

I worked until
Joseph returned. My hands were rough and dusty.

We ate our dinner, watching each other over the flicker of the candlelight.
Avoiding the subject. The one that never came to any end because I couldn’t decide what I wanted to do.

Orry was fast asleep in the c
ot I’d made, snoring and rumbling in the corner of the modest living room.

I knew I was being unfair. And part of me didn
’t even know why I was behaving this way. But I still felt that backwards feeling.

We went to bed early. It was still light, although darkening fast.
Lying next to him, I was scared to open my mouth but also scared not to. After what had happened that first night, something needed to be said.

He spoke before I could
. “I’m sorry about that night.” Ever since we’d almost slept together, things had been awkward between us. We had avoided the subject for way too long.

“
No, I’m sorry,” I said.

Ugh! This
was impossible. This was not us. It was too uncomfortable, too polite.

We both laughed. His hand grazed my bare leg and I shivered.
“You cold?” I nodded, even though I wasn’t. He pulled me closer to his body, so warm, almost too warm. I sighed. It shouldn’t be this hard. He put his lips to my bare shoulder, slipping my shirt down and kissing my collarbone. My head was in a gold mist. I blew it away.

Concentrate.

“Do you ever get the feeling that some of this is a bit wrong?” I asked. Staring into his beautiful eyes, wanting to dive into them and forget sense.

He raised his
eyebrows, that recognizable combination of amusement and worry. “What do you mean?”

“
Well, we live together, we have a child, it’s like we’re married, but we’ve never even, well, you know…” I was making a mess of this. “It’s a bit back to front.”

He smiled
, his eyes wandering over my face towards my neck. “Well, that’s easily fixed,” he said with a chuckle, pulling me on top of him and kissing me passionately.
Don’t get lost
, I told myself.

I extricated myself
and rolled off his chest to lie facing him again. “No, I don’t think it’s that simple. I want to go back. Back to the start. Slow it down.”

He looked shattered by the idea but he nodded.
“Well, what do you want to do? Am I supposed to court you?” When he said it like that, it sounded stupid.

“
Um, no. Well, sort of. Oh, I don’t know. Just forget it.” I leaned in to kiss him but he pulled back before my lips connected.

Amused, he said,
“No, if you want this, it’s fine with me, but I think there should be some ground rules.” Oh great!

I thought about courting in Pau. It was about as romantic as cold porridge.
Usually, the man announced his intentions to the woman. She said yes or no and they were married in a few weeks to months. I’d never seen anyone holding hands or kissing. Every time Paulo went near my mother in a romantic way, one, I nearly threw up and two, she usually jumped out of her skin like his touch gave her an electric shock, but not the pleasant kind.

In Pau,
I think there was love around but it was a thin kind of love. Guarded. Everything that goes with love, marriage, and children was so very tainted. How could you give your whole if you knew it was going to be taken away from you? I couldn’t imagine Joseph and me ‘courting’ in the traditional sense.

He was distractedly swirling his fingers in loose strands of my hair when I said,
“Ok, what kind of rules?” as I eyed him suspiciously. His face lit up with mischief, dark shadows grazing his face in the dying light behind us. It irritated me. He wasn’t taking me very seriously.

“
You tell me if some of these things are acceptable.” I nodded. “Can I do this?” He leaned in and kissed me lightly on the mouth.

“
Yes.”

“
What about this?” He traced the curve of my neck with his fingertips out to my shoulders.

I shivered and bit my lip.
“Yes.” Then he brought his fingers across my chest and started towards my breasts. I shook my head. He stopped.

“
Maybe I should write this down.” He grinned.

“
It’s not a game,” I said, trying to sound serious but even I couldn’t suppress a smirk.

“
All right, all right. We’ll start slow, and no ‘you know’ until you say you’re ready,” he said, the matter of fact ‘doctorness’ coming out in his speech. His eyes lifted under his brow, unsure. “But you will be ready, one day, right?”

My body was ready, r
eady right then, but I was trying to listen to my head this time. “Right,” I said. “Just not yet.”

He pulled me into a tight embrace.
“This ok?” he said. I giggled.

“
Stop it. Now you’re just being annoying!”

I fell asleep in his arms. I think we had it sorted.
Maybe.

I always thought strength came from within
you, that it started there and ended there. It was of your own making.

I was wrong.

Strength is a gift placed inside you, built up by the people who love you. Fortified by the people who hate or threaten you. These are the things I will teach my son.

Joseph left late that morning. We couldn
’t bear to get out of bed, the cold chipping away at our toes, the quilt a refuge. He was enjoying stretching the terms of our new arrangement, finding different places on my body to touch, just to get a reaction. Strong fingers left a blush of warmth wherever they wandered. He finally peeled himself away and said he would be home late but that I should dress nice, whatever that meant. He was going to take me out somewhere. I couldn’t imagine where. There wasn’t much to choose from.

“
What about Orry?” I said

“
I’ll arrange everything. Just be ready by eight.”

“
Ok,” I said sulkily. I really didn’t like surprises.

He kissed me lightly on the cheek
, which left me wanting, and left. I watched him walk away, his thumping strides almost rocking the earth. He walked like a giant. I was still not quite used to the fact that he would be home. Home was alien. Home created flourishes of color, popping up through the cracks in the floorboards and the neat stone path, like sprouting spring flowers. He waved behind him without turning around, his scarred arm covered by a thick coat. I felt a pang of guilt for not telling him about Cal. I would do it tonight. One serious conversation at a time was probably best.

I had
a lot of work to do that day; it had piled up from my procrastinating yesterday. Chair legs and sled parts taunted me from the corner. A pile of sawdust I should have swept up and taken out was migrating back to where it had started, like a tiny sandstorm moving tiny dunes. It was also my turn to look after Orry.

The day went by uneventfully. I worked har
d trying to finish everything so the evening would be free. Orry was fussing. When he was like this, it was a pointless guessing game to work out was wrong. Teething, hungry, tired, sick? So I just tried to distract him. I laid him down on the floor like I used to with Hessa. He stared at me with his weird eyes, my eyes, and I explained what I was doing, holding up tools and describing their various uses. Looking at his chubby pale arms and swash of blond curls, I wondered if he would be smart like Joseph. Tracking his darting eyes and hearing his frustrated grizzle, I knew he would be more like me—crazy and likely to get in trouble.

At about
six o’clock, I cleaned up and started getting ready. I swept up the sawdust again and left it in the corner. I changed into clothes they’d given me when we first arrived here. I tried on a skirt and tights but quickly wriggled out of them, selecting black pants and a long-sleeved shirt. I did my hair, remembering that day when Clara had done it and the way Joseph reacted. I blushed. He wasn’t even here and I blushed. I pulled two small sections of my hair back and left the rest down.