Vulnerable (6 page)

            “This place is beautiful, isn’t it?” Millie’s sweet voice just added to the majestic beauty Michael was taking in.

            He looked at her and sighed airily, “Yeah.”

            She giggled, “Wow, I didn’t know you were such a lover of nature.” Michael smiled and looked back at the view with sparkling eyes.

            “Neither did I.”

            “Miss Millie! We’re setting up camp!” said a distant female voice; one of Millie’s auburn fans to be sure.

            “Already?” she shouted back, “But we haven’t even gone over the schedule yet!”

            “Yeah but we’re all just so excited for the hike! Can’t we go over the schedule on our way towards the hike? Please, please, PLEASE!”

            “Ha, all right, all right! Continue with those pegs, Tisa, and be careful! Oh, and remember what I told you! Two strikes and—oh,” she grunted in frustration, “Please help your sister out; she’s tangled in—oh, I’ll come over, haha, hold on.” She turned to face Michael, who was already looking back at her. “I’ll be back,” she said in a smoky face with a stroke from her fingers on his shoulder.
Did that just happen?
He thought to himself in equal shock as his ecstatic delight. Millie looked almost as surprised as he did. She froze after realizing what she just did and twisted her mouth into an awkward smile before turning around and jetting off to help the girls.

            What’s going on in that brain? Michael wasn’t sure if she was hiding her attraction to him or afraid of it. Maybe she wasn’t attracted to him? Maybe she was being nice because she sensed his attraction to her? No, she wouldn’t do that. Michael thought that he shouldn’t be wondering all of these things anyway. Guilt consumed him as his mind flashed back a few years in the past. His hands trembled and clutched to the colors of his collared shirt.

            Luckily, he was saved from further thought.

            “Brother Michael!” Brother Raymond was waddling over to him with the same goofy smile that had been plastered across his face the whole car ride over.

            “Hey there…” he said back, much less enthusiastically.

            “Are you ready to set up these tents?”

            “More than you will ever know,” he replied. He didn’t pick up the sarcasm. (Michael thought that it was probably because he was one of those people that thought of the good in everyone… he always wondered how people like that think, how their minds work).

            “Well, then come on!” He opened his mouth to allow an even bigger smile, which Michael didn’t know was even possible until he saw it happen for himself. He shrugged and helped Brother Raymond get the tent stuff out of his camping bag.

            They spent a good part of two hours trying to get those tents set up correctly, and the whole time Michael couldn’t think of anything but Millie. The way she was that day on the beach; he knew that he was slowly unveiling who she was—who she
really
was— peeling away layer after layer of shell that she was hiding so avidly behind.

            “You guys have been working hard,” Millie’s voice was a ray of light in sound through Michael’s thoughts. She appeared as a symbol of hope and perfection, even though he knew she was far from perfect, which is as much of perfect as anyone can really be. “Take a break,” She smiled and nudged her head towards the picnic tables covered in potato chips, gelatin salad, an array of veggies, and various lunchmeats. “Oh, and Brother Raymond, I changed up the schedule a little bit. I hope you don’t mind. The kids wanted to do the hike tomorrow and just enjoy the outdoors today. And since it will be dark kind of soon, they wanted to wait to roast marshmallows as well. Besides, I hear that this mountain takes hours to hike.”

            “That’s great!” he threw his arms up in jubilancy. Michael couldn’t help but roll his eyes, but he was making a conscious effort to be nice—he had a feeling that Millie didn’t like jerks.

            “Great,” she replied vibrantly. She was twisting her fingers together in some sort of nervous twitch. She looked at Michael and bit her lip, waiting for something. He immediately acted upon it: what would happen if he lost this moment?

            “Um—uh—D-Do you want to go eat? With me?” he rubbed the nape of his neck. He felt beads of sweat trickling down his temples through the stubbles poking through and dotting his face with color.

            “I’d love that,” she replied through almost immobile lips. Her grin looked so plastered on her face at the moment that he couldn’t help but grin too, and he figured that that was the reason why she spoke through it so fluidly without moving a muscle.

            They walked slowly over to the picnic tables; her hands were still twisting, her fingers entwining one with another, his were sweating and linked behind his back. “So are you having a good time?” she asked, again biting her lip and playing with a free strand of hair that came undone by the loose twisted bun now bobbing on her head. Michael was amazed at how perfect she still looked to him. He wondered how she had no men falling on her doorstep for her. Maybe there was more to her than met the eyes of others; Michael always was a good judge of character… then again… he
did
marry Lindsay… but she was ill…

He almost forgot to answer because he was so consumed in the wave of his thoughts.

            “Yeah, I am,” he quickly piped.

            “Me too, but…” she hesitated before softly adding, “I’m glad to be able to spend more time with you now.” Michael felt his face burn white hot. The beads of sweat turned to enormous splats of sweat leaking down his neck like a rusty faucet.

            “Me too,” he replied, his voice shaking. They made it to the table and began eating soft sandwiches. The bread was like a comfy cloud pillowing the room of his mouth as he tasted the sharp taste of cheese and the smoky taste of ham trickle along his tongue. He looked over at Millie; she had bits of sandwich sticking to the corners of her mouth. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself about it.

            “What?” She asked with a mouthful of sandwich.

            “Nothing,” he said with a teasingly alluring smile. She looked at him in a panic, so he decided to let her in on the joke. He pointed at his lips and motioned towards the corners or hers. She reached up and felt the soft bread sticking to her mouth and laughed as well as turned a soft shade of burgundy.

            “It’s okay,” he said, “You’re funny.”

            “Without meaning to be!” She laughed.

            “Well, I like it,” he said. His eyes traced the outline of her face, studying her features. They were both quiet and he was wanting to make things a little less uncomfortable, so he changed the subject a little, “So how long
is
this retreat, anyway?”

            “Just until tomorrow night.”

            “Oh wow.”

            “Yeah,” she shrugged, “I wish that it could be longer but people have busy lives and two days is better than nothing.” Her eyes sparkled of innocence and charity, which is where, Michael realized, her true beauty lied.

            “I always wished I could be someone like you,” he said, still gazing into her eyes, pondering.

            She cocked her head, “What?” she gave a confused snort.

            “You know,” he said, “Selfless.”

            She smiled humbly and looked down. “I’m not selfless,” she said.

            “Yes, you are.”

            She looked up at him.

            “And you have a beautiful soul,” he said. They looked at each other, feeling a surge of some powerful source of adoration. He scooted in closer to her and felt her fingers trailing beneath his. He moved his head towards hers so slowly that he swore his heart beat a hundred times in the mean time. By the time his lips made it inches from hers, he could feel her breath and took in the smell of ham and cheese like he never had before.

            “TIME FOR CAMPFIRE SONGS!” A teenage boy yelled through a megaphone. Michael and Millie both jumped.

            He turned around to see a rather chubby boy with greasy hair that looked like, in Michael’s opinion, the type of kid to eat the poisonous berries in the forest unintentionally, or maybe get into a mess of poison ivy. “It’s not even sunset!” Michael replied.

            “But we’re so excited!” shouted a skipping girl passing by, answering for the megaphone boy.

            Michael looked at Millie and saw a maternal beauty glowing in her face as she smiled at the teenaged kids. She turned to look at him, still grinning, “Come on,” she said, nudging her head towards the kids now making a woodpile for flames, “Let’s help them out.”

·
       
 

            Michael swore they were all sitting on those logs around the fire for hours before actually starting any of the campfire songs, and actually, they were. He literally watched the sun set as they all chatted nonchalantly. Michael enjoyed watching Millie’s face as she talked to the kids. It lit up, uncovered, like he’d never seen anyone’s face light up before—let alone
her
.

            He was enjoying the smoky air next to the most beautiful woman in the world, and matters were only made better once the marshmallows were passed around.

            “Ooh, these are the jumbo ones! I love marshmallows!” Michael shouted as the boy that had the megaphone passed the bag along after taking five for himself.

            “I know,” Millie said slyly, looking at him the same way, “Me too.” She nudged him with her body and they laughed the night away. The songs started soon and that just added to the giddy air they were all breathing in. Good, wholesome air was hard to come by these days.

            The night drew on, but there was always something else to talk about, something else to do at the campfire. Scary stories must have started well after midnight because everyone was dead tired, which only increased their reactions to the stories. Millie listened, eyes wide, snuggling on Michael’s shoulder, clutching his arm at the “scary” parts. Michael felt warmth spread through his chest, and he knew it wasn’t from the fire; it was near his heart—maybe it
was
his heart.

One arm lifted to swirl around Millie’s shoulders, and he held her tightly against him, never wanting to let go. He rested his head on her golden hair that smelled of watermelon and campfire smoke. The moon was smiling down at them all, pouring down its light as a blanket from the deep night sky.  And as Michael sat there in full comfort in the middle of nowhere, he thought,
Life doesn’t get much better than this.

            The giggles and screams of children bounced off the walls like the ancient broken toys strewn across the wooden floorboards. Millie peered out the crack of the matching wooden door of the closet she was masked behind. She could hear the muffled Russian rants of the orphanage teachers screaming at the infants again. Millie held herself, wishing she didn’t remember being one of those babies just a couple years before—why was she one of the only humans in existence that could remember being an infant?

            “Where’s Meellee?” Sister Olga screeched. Millie’s body quaked; she held herself harder, clutching onto her bony elbows as if somehow doing so could save her from Sister Olga’s wrath. “WHERE IS SHEEE?” The voice was closer this time, and to Millie’s dismay, seemed to be right outside the door. Millie only had seconds to think before she saw the drooping eye in the crack of the closet door; the eye that was almost as ancient as the decrepit toys in the orphanage peered at her with the same dead looked that haunted her for as long as she could remember. 

            “Ah, there yew’ ar’,” her face twisted up into an eerie, sinister smile. “Why do yew like t’ hide from me, child?” her voice scraped along the inside of her throat, buzzing through the air. Sister Olga clutched her talons onto the dusty door, whipping it open and yanking Millie’s body out by her malnourished arm. “Answer me when I speak to ye’, ye’ filthy ingrate!” her breath stung the dry corners of Millie’s freshly crying eyes. Sister Olga shook her a few times and repeated herself, but louder and with more vigor, “WHY?”

            “I—,” the little Millie squeaked while being interrupted by a cough, “I don’t know, ma’am…” she trailed her pupils away from the Grim Reaper-esque woman, deathly afraid of meeting her eyes after such a lie.

            Sister Olga clicked her tongue and shook her head disapprovingly, “Now what did I tell you about lying, child?” Her grasp tightened and her fingernails broke Millie’s skin. “Don’t make me hurt ye’, child.” She raised a filthy arm of droopy skin and knobby bone, but before she could smack the usual five or six swipes across Millie’s round face, another woman rushed in the room and halted the occurrence.

            “Stop eet! She is just a child!” Baba yelped, running over to the two that were squatted uncomfortably on the squeaky floorboards.

            Sister Olga made a scoffing noise, “Ye’ think I don’t already know tha’?” She threw Millie onto the floor like a sack of rotten potatoes. Somehow, Baba had an undetectable influence on the other Sisters at the orphanage. Millie liked to think it was because she was the only teacher with a heart. The other kids swapped stories—theories—of why this was. The most popular one that Millie always heard about was that Baba was secretly the orphanage children’s Guardian Angel and was in possession of the other Sisters’ souls; they conspired that Baba would only give their souls back if she caught them being good to the children. Millie was never sure if this was the truth or not, but nothing else seemed to make sense, so why not?

            Millie’s eyes somehow found new tears to cry as she lay scattered on the itchy ground with scrapes now painting her right side. Baba waddled over in her fluffy skirt that made her look even bigger and kinder and knelt next to Millie, scooping up Millie’s face in her wrinkled hands, staring into her eyes with her emerald ovals.

            “Are you all righ’ sweetheart?” she cooed. Millie sniffed and wiped stray snot with the back of her lanky wrist. She smiled and wrapped her tiny arms around Baba. She closed her eyelids so tightly that she saw stars popping all over, but she didn’t care: Baba saved her again. She squeezed herself against Baba’s cushiony bosom and listened to her humming the lullaby that always melted the monsters away.  Life always meant something when Baba was around; it was a safe place to be. Then the humming stopped.

            “Guess what, ma’ dear?” Baba asked in a gentle whisper. Millie rolled her head upwards to look into the emeralds that glimmered above the lines of laughter and love that outlined Baba’s face. “There’s someone here for you.” Millie’s eyebrows raised and her insides twisted in ways she never thought they could. Should she be excited? Should she be nervous?

            Then came in a man.

            He lurked in the shadows and seemed to become one with them. He stepped closer and closer until Millie’s insides seemed caught up in a knot in her throat.

He stopped.

Her looked at her and curled up his crooked mouth into a grin.

“He’s here to adopt you,” Baba said, stroking the back of Millie’s long golden hair. “And he’s from America!” Her voice seemed to fluctuate in the way Millie felt on the inside, but Millie didn’t seem so sure.

“That’s right,” came the man’s itchy voice. He held out a hand. It seemed normal, but Millie still didn’t feel right taking it. She looked at Baba and prayed deeply that she wouldn’t make her go. Baba seemed to hear it; she knew.

“Maybe… she’s not ready yet… come back next year if you’d like her,” her voice sounded polar opposite and extremely firm. It sounded determined and backed with love. Millie was so elated and felt at home again as her insides fell back to where they belonged. But as the man curled his fist and walked away after a brief spout of irritation, Millie knew that he would be coming back and that next time she’d have to leave with him. Only next time, Baba wouldn’t be there to rescue her.

·
       
 

            Millie woke up screaming and tearing at her sheets. Michael had unzipped the tent that she seemed engrossed in and shook her awake, which, at that point, seemed the only thing he was possibly able to do in order to wake her.

            “Millie! Millie! It’s just a nightmare! Wake up!” Michael shouted into her strained face fractions of a moment before she opened her eyes. She panted and breathed in heavy, heaving breaths.

            “What?” She asked in between heaves.

            “It was just a nightmare,” Michael repeated, pulling her in close to him. He stroked the back of her tangled hair and repeated “Just a nightmare” over and over.

            “Just a nightmare…” Millie’s voice resounded in a seemingly distant whisper. “Right…” she added more quietly, almost in silence.

            “What’s wrong, Miss Millie? What’s wrong? What happened?” rang out a girlish voice from the tent’s entrance.

            “Yeah, what’s wrong? What happened?” came an almost identical voice shortly after.

            “Miss Millie—,” Michael began but was interrupted by Millie herself.

            “I just had a nightmare, girls, that’s all.” She nodded her head in swift movements as though to persuade them with the over assurance in her body language.

            “O…kay,” one of the girls replied tentatively; the other just blinked in reticence.

            “Will you two please give Miss Millie and I a moment?” Michael asked in an artificially patient voice (because, really, he was quite annoyed). The two girls left after nodding and mumbling. They looked back before zipping up the tent. Michael could tell that the girls were worried about Miss Millie, and honestly, he was too.

            “Millie,” he asked, “What’s going on?”

            “It’s like I sai—,”

            “Just a nightmare,” Michael finished, “You seem to have nightmares a lot.” He looked at her expectantly, with his eyebrows raised and eyes wide.

            “Are you accusing me of something?” She asked, blandly, acting as though she’d been half asleep.

            “I’m just trying to get to the bottom of the problem,” he replied. “No pressure, though, it’s all good. I just want to make sure you’re all right.” She looked away, which only intrigued Michael more. Her face was perfect to him, despite the puffy red eyes and nose that indicated that she’d clearly been crying. But it was the way the bridge of her nose slid gently like a crescent moon as the tip brushed the corners of her eyes. The shade of blue in her irises was so powerful, he swore he could see them pierce the darkness.

            “I’m really fine, Michael,” she said, looking back at him with a sad smile, “But thanks, it means a lot.” She leaned forward and clasped her hand against his momentarily. “Good night.” He got the hint. After a brief awkward silence, Michael watched her face still studying the air beside her as he zipped up the tent and went back to his.

            The mystery was ominous, and he had a dark feeling about it. He stewed over these types of thoughts, trying to piece together the puzzle of Millie’s actions. Almost bipolar/split personalities, cries her eyes out every night, pretends like nothing happened, disappears, seems to tremble at the thought of intimacy and almost afraid of physical contact… but she just initiated physical contact… she can fake it? The thoughts drifted him off to another unpleasant sleep, but this time on a rocky lump of Earth. What’s Millie hiding?

            The next morning came far too abruptly. Michael felt like he was getting woken up for a military camp from the sound of the trumpet blaring seemingly right next to his tent. His eyes peeled open and he stared at the sun shining through the red tent rooftop. “TIME TO GET UP!” came a voice from a megaphone.
Really?
Michael thought.

            He got out and joined the kids and Millie and Brother Raymond. He saw Brother Raymond’s excited face as he found Michael’s presence. He looked away in a self-conscious twist of emotion. Millie looked pale but, other than completely fine, her hair was knotted into a twisted bun at the top of her head and her face glowed with sunlight. Her eyes met the gaze he’d inflicted upon her. Her smile widened and he swore he saw her wink at him, but it might have just been the fact that he’d just woken up.

            He was too groggy to realize what anyone was saying, but he did catch that they were all to go on a hike because by the time he was awake enough to really listen to what people were saying, he was already walking on a jagged path of stone and dirt inclined up a rather steep mountain side.

            “How are you?” Millie came up next to him, her knotted hair bouncing up and down with her stride.

            “I should be asking you that,” he replied. She looked away, but she was still smiling. “You look so great,” he added without realizing it. He felt himself sweat harder and he knew it wasn’t from the exercise.

            She giggled and bit her lip, “Um… thanks… haha.”

            “I mean, haha, you look great and we’re hiking, but you still look great…”
I sound like an idiot.
She laughed anyway, though.

            “Well… thank you,” she watched the ground and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The rest of the hike was less than ideal—through the rattlesnakes that somehow wriggled their way out of the southern border, the poison ivy incident with the twins (
they’re apparently as identically stupid as well
, Michael thought when they decided to take a short cut through the “KEEP OUT” sign), and the poisonous berries incident, which made all of them but two kids, Millie and Michael actually stayed on the hike—but because of all the incidents that occurred, it lasted a lot longer than intended and Michael was able to have one-on-one time with Millie.

            It was lunchtime when they finally made it to the top of the mountain. They all reached into their backpacks to get out the sack lunches Millie had surprised them with apparently that morning. Michael and Millie sat next to two large, oddly shaped rocks a few meters away from the kids.

            “Thanks for the lunch,” Michael said, studying the sack lunch that consisted of a perfectly sliced ham and cheese sandwich on white bread, a plastic bag full of carrot sticks, a small packet of ranch dressing, and a single green and red swirled apple. “It looks delicious.” He gave her an appreciative glance, which she plainly received.

            “I’ve never been so appreciated before.” Her voice was filled with gratitude but had a hint of sadness lining it. She rubbed her forehead swiftly and looked back at him, “You’re kind,” she said, surprised.