5.12.18 edit

Giver18

The Shadow slept for nearly two straight days, which left me alone with my thoughts and eavesdropping out the window. Letters he had written to his son, Joshua, who lived in Paris, were neatly stacked and awaiting to be sent via post. There were four of them, all of which I had seen him write over the last two weeks. Sometimes when he sat writing, he would look up at me, smile thoughtfully, and continue furiously jotting down his thoughts.

I wondered if he would mention what I had done in his next letter to his son, how I was a foolish and angry boy who did not apologize for his actions.

Hunched over, I watched children played in the street, tossing what looked like a pear back and forth as they laughed and chased one another. I hated them for their freedom but still longed to join their games. There would never be a moment for me to participate in such frivolous behavior. I'd gone from birth to early adulthood, my childhood suspended in darkness. There were no birthdays celebrated, no friends or companions, and not a single moment where I felt any sense of belonging.

Until the Shadow had found me.

With each hour that passed, I loved and hated him, my emotions dictated by my hormones. He'd given me a decent life in a matter of weeks and I reveled in his presence. Or, at least I had.

Now I didn't know what to do or what to say. Each second I felt pulled in a different direction, my body and mind separated. At one moment I was terrified of the woman I'd met in the hallway, the next I considered searching for her to hand over the rest of my money. I felt as though if I saw her again I would beg her to take me into the room, shut the door, and at the very least explain to me what sort of pleasures I could experience. I still wasn't sure if I wanted her to touch me. I still felt as though she had invaded something deeply personal and private, touched me in a way that she should not have, and yet I had let her. I agonized over the situation, blinked my eyes and thought of my father using me in a different manner. The thought made me shiver.

Anxious, I paced the room until it was past three in the morning. The floor creaked each time I walked over the rug, and it surprised me when my uncle didn't stir. All the better, I thought, as I crept from the room and stole down the stairs.

To my relief there was no one in sight. The empty tavern and bar area smelled like old sweat, stale beer, and something much worse. My shoes stuck to the floorboards when I walked across the room. I scurried into the night, rounded the corner, and toward the stable. I found Moon in the very back, separated from the other animals. It angered me—yet another escalation of hormones—that my animal was forced into seclusion from the others. In retaliation, I found a half-empty bucket of bruised apples and ate around the soft spots before feeding them to her. The entire bucket would have gone to her had a cat not arched it back and screamed at me for trespassing through her stable.

I sat in Moon's tiny stall and cupped my chin in my hands while Moon nibbled the top of my head gently with her lips before she nudged me so hard I fell to the side. Perhaps her actions were meant as playful, but I found myself annoyed. I never wanted to see The Shadow again. He'd robbed me of something, but I didn't know what. It was his fault. I would never know what I lacked, and I was convinced that all of life's opportunities had now passed me by.

And then I panicked. What would I do if he didn't wake? Where would I go if I didn't have him to show me which road to take, which direction to walk? The only path I knew lay behind me—and led back to my parents' door. Their home was a bridge to the asylum.

"Go to sleep," I told the donkey as I ran out of the stable and returned to our room. I flung the door open, fell to my knees, and placed my ear to his chest.

With a sharp exhale he woke and placed his hands atop my head. "You're sweaty."

"I ran."

He was silent a moment. "To return before I woke, sneaky child? Where did you go?"

His lack of trust angered me and I sat up. "To see if you were still alive."

"Alive indeed," he muttered as he turned onto his side and rubbed his eyes.

My anger flared. "I will return to the stable then if you want nothing to do with me."

The stern expression on his face turned to remorse. "You have your father's temper."

Nothing could have wounded my heart faster than those words. Head bowed, I slunk away and returned to the corner of the room I had taken as my own. There I drew my knees to my chest and closed my eyes in misery. My heart was broken, the pain I felt in my chest ripped through my insides. He was angered and I wished he would take it out on me, remove the barrier that lay between us. Hit me, I wanted to tell him, release your hatred…and then, for God's sake, speak to me as you have done in the past. I lived and breathed for his attention. I would die without him.

Tears threatened and I held my breath. Pain filled me on every level, both physical and emotional.

"How is your four-legged companion?" The Shadow asked softly as he sat up.

Stubbornly I turned my head away and stared at a hole in the wall. It had been chewed up by vermin, which I had heard scuttling through the inn late in the night. If only they would appear for a moment and befriend me. I would have gladly accepted a beady-eyed rodent as a friend rather than be forced to contend with silence.

"It is a family trait to hold a grudge tightly to one's chest and not let anyone pry it away. If nothing else, your father has taught you stubbornness quite well."

His words threatened to destroy me. It wasn't my father I wished to imitate. It was The Shadow's actions, his words, his ideas I wanted as my own. Each time he spoke of my father I felt fire scorch my insides. I no longer loved my father and mother. As with everything else in my heart, they were fleeting ideas I could not nail down and commit to either love or hate. They were everywhere and nowhere. I was nowhere. Why was this happening?

"Did you have any idea there was a man behind her door, waiting for the two of you to be alone the other night?" he questioned so casually he could have been asking me about what I wanted for breakfast. "He slipped out the moment he saw me, cowardly bastard. I suspect they would have roughed you up a bit merely to scare the hell out of you and take what meager coins you had in your pocket."

Without thinking I looked at him. I was certain he knew my answer the moment our eyes met. I had known nothing, nothing at all.

"You're quite fortunate I decided to see you before I ordered supper. They could have taken much more than your coins." He eyed me with a smugness that stoked my anger.

"Such as a ring?" My mouth twisted as I spoke and I clenched my fists, half-expecting him to strike me across the face as the woman had done. I swore my face still stung from the back of her hand against my cheek. It had been a while since anyone had physically struck me that it came as somewhat of a surprise.

The Shadow's expression never faltered and he never stood. He looked at me for a long time, his expression unreadable. I reached up to touch my mask out of instinct, but I doubted that was what he truly looked at as he studied me. I found myself both relieved and disappointed when he didn't slap me across the face. Perhaps he didn't trust me, but he reaffirmed that I could trust him. More than meals or a room for the night, I needed to regain faith in someone and I knew it would not start with myself.

"A ring is replaced easily enough," he said at last. "However, unless you are Jesus Christ, don't expect anyone to raise you from the dead."

His tone made me shudder, and once again my mood changed. Rather than being combative I turned placid, more child than man. Undoubtedly he was correct and the man behind the door would have done irreversible damage. Perhaps not so much physical, but emotionally I could not have coped with being cornered and robbed.

Yet I wouldn't apologize. Not then, not ever. My uncle evidently understood that this gap between us would never fully close. A better, more mature man than I was, he stepped around it, found a path my heart and mind could not.

"The innkeeper said there is a quartet entertaining the guests at night during supper. I think our souls need music, don't you?"

I nodded and forced a smile until I convinced myself I had to at least try to be less miserable.

"If you would be so kind, wake me in an hour. We'll take a walk before the sun is up and fill our lungs with fresh air. We need a fresh start, my son."

A cleansing, I thought. I needed to be purged, balanced as I was before we had stepped foot in this terrible little town and rat-infested inn. Then we could be friends again, uncle and nephew, teacher and student. I felt relief he had called me his son instead of boy. One single word had patched a hole I thought would only grow wider.

I lay for a while, waited until I heard my uncle start to snore, and released the tears which had threatened for some time. I didn't know what to do with myself. I wished the growing part of me, the combative part of me, would go away. Arms wrapped around my chest, I curled into a tight ball and pretended I was an infant being held in my mother's arms. Eyes closed, I longed to be a child in a loving home for only a day, to know what it felt like for my mother to run her finger's through my hair and kiss my forehead.

If I dreamed I didn't remember it. I woke hours later to a bright blue sky filled with stark white clouds. My eyes strained to find dragons and dogs slowly passing the window, but all I saw was distorted, meaningless shapes.

It saddened me to think I had lost against myself. The child I longed to be for only one more day was gone. The road ahead felt much heavier, much darker than the view displayed from the window.

I closed my eyes again.

Nothing changed.