Bucky slashed the vines around his land with so much force he knocked down a young tree with them. He did not care which vines he slashed. He needed to simply fight something. With his one arm, he swung his panga through the dense growth until he cleared an area twice the size of his hut.
Sweat rolled down his forehead and he thought again how much he preferred the heat to the cold.
He took his hoe and began to weed in between his rows of cassava, maize, beans, and millet. When he finished, he looked sadly at his work, wishing he could find some more weeds.
He left his tools behind and walked straight into the bush, wandering aimlessly down human and animal paths, and into the untrodden grasslands. He walked until he finally felt tired and then he plopped onto the ground in a pile of overcast man.
The sun traversed the shallow sky until it sank into the acacia trees. He heard footsteps and turned to see Bella walking towards him, pale violet dress clinging to her ankles, the slightest glimmer shining off one spot she didn't manage to lotion well enough. He covered his eyes with his arm.
"What are you doing out here?" she asked. She sat on the dry, dusty earth besides him.
"Watching the moon," he answered, refusing to uncover his face.
"Right. You've been watching the moon all day."
"Yep."
"You are moping. Why?"
"Am not."
"Are too," she said and stuck her tongue out at him. It would have been more effective if he was looking at her.
He gave a laugh that lacked heart. "Did you need me for something?"
"Nah. I just watched you take out a good chunk of forest a while ago and wanted to know what was troubling you. I mean, I'm all for having more land farmed on the homestead, but your project didn't seem to be fueled by agricultural aspiration."
He peeked at her from under his arm. "Well, you are wrong. I am always fueled by agricultural aspiration."
She sat next to him in silence before she finally took his hand off his forehead and placed it in her own in her lap, intertwining her fingers with his.
"What's wrong?"
"T'Challa asked me my intentions for you," Bucky finally said.
"I see. And that made you angry enough to chop down a tree with a machete?"
"Yes…no…I mean, I don't know. Ok, I just don't know," he said, pulling his hand out of hers and facing the other direction.
"You're not exactly building my self-esteem here," she said. Bucky groused and grumbled before his words poured out like a broken dam.
"Bella, what can I give you? I am a hundred year old man with one arm working as a subsistence farmer in a mud hut. And you can't even eat the food I grow. I have nothing, am nothing, will be nothing. My hands are so soaked in blood, I can't even find my fingerprints. And you, you are…" he trailed off, motioning towards her with his hands. "Malaika wa vita…a warrior angel, a divine goddess…"
"Nah. I am just a girl who lives right beside you in the next hut," she said, nestling into his side and draping his arm around her shoulder. "And I am hoping you will still be next to me when I turn a hundred, using your one arm to keep me warm at night," she said.
Bucky leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes again.
"Bella, I could break again at any time and then you'd be even worse off than before…."
"It's a good thing I can take you down, then. You can't kill anyone if I'm holding you down."
"I'm sorry, doll. I'm making a mess of this. I need to get my mind sorted. It's all mixed up right now and that's lousy, but it's where I'm at. I just need to go," Bucky said. He stood and ran as fast as he could into the savannah.