Bella stared down at the coffin, feeling a gut-deep, roiling ache. Never had she known this kind of empty sorrow. Not even when Erik had been gone for so long. But she could not seem to feel it on the outside. The pain escaped through tears rolling from her eyes, but her face was nearly stoic. Her body was stiff and defensive. Even having Erik with an arm around her and one hand smoothing softly on her shoulder, she could not seem to give into the wails that wanted to encompass her.
On the inside, she was in agony.
On the outside, she was numb.
Erik seemed to completely understand her. His hand moved from her shoulder and up to her covered hair. That morning she had decided to wear the beautiful black dicklo he'd given her upon his return, even though it had brilliantly colored flowers on it. With tender persistence, he drew her head to his shoulder, turning her partially away from the other mourners.
Gypsies did not mourn quietly and with dignity. They wailed, threw dirt, clawed at their faces and clothes. It had to do with some belief or other that Bella had never completely understood. But she knew they were likely taking notes of her stoicism in the center of the cacophony. They would not understand that she had felt so much turmoil for so long that the depth of this grief had simply short-circuited some deep part of her heart.
"It's all right." Erik murmured to her. He stroked her head lightly, putting his other arm around her carefully, without crushing the two flowers in his hand. In a few moments, they would each toss the blossoms onto the coffin in the dirt. Bella was not entirely sure she could do that without leaping down into the hole in the ground, curling up into a ball, and just refusing to move. She loathed this coming to an end. "It's all right, ma belle."
Erik had been a true Godsend the last nineteen days of Tsifia's life. No one had expected her to last so long, but the old woman had proven to be a tigress when it came to fighting for her life. She'd lain virtually comatose for the last week and a half, barely stirring enough to sip at broth or tea trickled into her mouth. At least her pain had seemed to have gone away. Erik had always made certain the woman was clean and warm and as comfortable as possible. He had sat up late at night with her, even though he performed all day long, so that Bella could concentrate on her grandmother rather than work babysitting the children of the tribe. He'd forced Bella to lie down and rest when she was too exhausted to recognize it. He'd put food into her hands and even fed her pieces of bread with his own fingers when she was too preoccupied to bother caring for herself. He had quite literally forced different tribe members to come and sit with Tsifia so that Bella could go into the woods to take care of her body's other needs, with him as a safely distant escort.
He forced no company from her. He just sat nearby and waited to be asked for help unless he knew she would drop otherwise. He'd offered words of support, and reassured her when he found the church and coffin-maker that would allow a burial of a gypsy woman. He'd counted money within her notice so that she was fully aware how much everything would cost and that they had more than enough in case someone wanted to try and fleece them for more later.
Now the worst part of his job was over. He'd gotten her through the actual death of her grandmother. All that was left was to help her really feel again … if she ever could.
The funeral came to a close, and Erik helped Bella step forward to pick up a clump of dirt and toss it into the grave with the flower. When she leaned forward to do so, he held tight to her waist as if knowing what she secretly desired. Then he tossed in his own blossom and dug into one pocket to bring out a fistful of small denomination coins. They made strange noises on the lid of the coffin and the dirt. Muffled tinkling clunks of some sort she couldn't remember having ever heard before. She stood there staring down into the grave for long moments as the rest of the tribe followed her lead and tossed coins dirt and flowers into it.
Erik never let go of her the whole time. One hand stayed around her waist, while the other took her hand and held it up to his chest as if trying to make her feel his heartbeat against her knuckles. She was only dimly aware of the continued weeping of her kin. She was much more aware of the yawning pit beneath her. The feel of Erik's hand in hers. The sound of his breathing behind her ear. Everything else was just … so very distant.
Eventually Erik pulled her back and steered them after the others, walking slowly and cautiously along a smooth dirt path. He behaved as if expecting her knees to buckle at any moment. She wondered why, pausing to concentrate on her own body. Had she stopped breathing? Was that why?
No … she was taking slow and deep breaths...
Then she became aware of the bone-deep trembling overtaking her from crown to toe.
"Just a few steps." Erik encouraged. "I've already hired a wagon. You don't have to walk back to the camp. Just a few more steps, and you can rest."
Bella wanted to object and insist that she wasn't weak. That she was perfectly capable of walking just like all the hysterical mourners around them. But she was exhausted. Physically … mentally … She looked forward to sitting down and closing her eyes. Shutting out the people around her and ignoring the judgmental glances of everyone else.
She let Erik lead her to the hired wagon and climbed up, clutching so tightly to his hand the entire time that her knuckles were white. No doubt she was hurting him, but she couldn't seem to loosen her hold and he didn't complain.
He put up with so much from her. She would never be able to show her appreciation for how much he'd recently been there for her. In part, because she was terrified he wouldn't be later on down the road. Every morning she woke up wondering if he would still be there or if he would have run off again. But every day he was there. When she woke up, when she went to sleep, when she looked across the encampment... he was always there now. Hovering nearby enough to help. Offering her a soothing discussion or touch. Sometimes, even a song...
The ride back to the camp took a long time, since they moved slowly with the other mourners. But it gave her a lot of time to think as tears oozed down her face. Again, Erik gently pulled her head to his shoulder, stroking her hair as he controlled the reigns with his free hand.
"Rest, ma belle." he soothed. "Soon we'll be back at the tent, and you can sleep if you wish. You can finally sleep."
True. She could sleep. There would be no moans of pain or distress to waken her. No fear jerking her into consciousness that brought on a terror her grandmother had died while she was resting. She could truly slip into blissful oblivion for a time.
Except...
She lifted her head a little abruptly.
"We can't..." she realized heavily.
"What?" Erik was confused.
"We can't rest in the tsera. Bunica's things … we can't let them stay. Her tsera … everything. It has to burn!"
There was a long moment of suffocating quiet as Erik thought about her words. He already knew this wasteful tradition and superstition. Bella and others had told him before her grandmothers' death. Apparently, he'd been hoping no one would press the issue.
"We can do it tomorrow." he offered. "You need to get a good and restful nights' sleep first-"
"-No!" Arabella insisted. "Today, Erik! Just as soon as we get back to camp! We can burn it all after getting our things out, and then get away from this place!"
Erik cleared his throat and murmured to the driver of the wagon to pull to the side of the road and please stop. The driver was less than pleased with this development, but worked his way through the trudging gypsies in order to obey. Then he climbed down and walked away only a few feet to give them a bit of privacy.
Her husband turned, taking her shoulders so they were able to mostly face one another.
"You don't want to leave your people." he stated gently. "You refused to come with me three years ago. There's no reason we have to make this decision right now."
"Yes, there is!" Bella insisted. A strange panic seemed to be welling up inside of her. "I stayed for her, Erik! Not for myself! I stayed with my grandmother, and now she's gone!"
The real tears came then. Loud and hard and painful. Bella began moaning insensibly with the force of the unexpected wave of grief, covering her mouth with one hand to stifle the noises as Erik drew her tightly across his lap and into his arms. He rocked her like a child, petting her hair and making soft hushing noises of comfort. He did not tell her once to stop or be quiet. Did not even tell her it would be all right.
What he did say was a million times more important. Something she held onto like a drowning woman would cling to a piece of driftwood.
"I'm here, ma belle. I'm here."
While he held and rocked her, the driver returned to the wagon and began moving them along the thin dirt road again. He would undoubtedly leave them long before they reached the campground. Yet he made sure to move quite slow, and didn't seem to be inconvenienced by her caterwauling.
She was hiccuping from the force of her sobs by the time she was ready to calm down, and Erik asked a nearby member of their tribe who'd fallen behind the others if she had a dicklo or handkerchief. Apparently she did, for a moment later he was gently swabbing at Arabella's tear and snot-covered face with a dry and scratchy square of cloth.
"Better?" he asked when her face was mostly dry – or, at least, free of disgusting mucus.
Bella nodded, and he sighed in clear relief.
"Good. I can't stand seeing you in pain like that. Honestly you … rather scared the devil out of me."
A slightly hysterical giggle escaped her mouth, triggering another bout of sobbing. But this jag was very brief, and nowhere near as loud or ugly. Erik gave her a smile with his twisted lips beneath the mask he currently wore – and appropriately black piece of thick leathery cloth.
"We can talk about leaving after the fire." he offered. "We can even burn the cot. Without a tent to put it in, there's no point in keeping it for now. Soon enough I can afford that wagon, anyways."
"Can you?" Bella asked uncertainly, her heart falling in guilt. "You've spent so much on today!"
"I have … acquired enough." he offered in Romany so that the gaje, who was again bringing the wagon to a halt, could not understand. "Don't worry about it, Bella. All I need is a week or two of good performances."
"You mean good crowds." she grumbled as he helped her back to the ground. "There are none of those around here."
"If you can handle living under the stars until we find them, I can as well."
Bella squeezed his hand again, but this time stopped when she felt his entire arm stiffen in what seemed to be pain.
"Sorry..." she sighed.
"Bella." Erik offered his own exasperated sigh. "You are grieving. I have handled far worse pain than holding the hand of the woman I love."
She stared up at him gratefully.
"Regret coming back yet?" she challenged, trying for some levity. Erik barked out a small laugh that he quickly smothered, and put his arm around her one more time.
"Never." he reassured. "Now, just rest for another few moments. We'll take care of everything when we get back to the camp. Then we can worry about whether or not we go our own way. Just know I love you, and I'm here. And I understand. I'm going to miss her, too."
Arabella began to cry again, but this time much more gently and quietly. She leaned against him with her eyes closed, simply letting the tears fall without any sound. Erik kept his arm comfortingly around her until they arrived back at camp, and then for long after as the tribe around them continued their own particular grieving rituals.
Once the sun began setting, Erik suggested they set the fire that would grant them all the freedom they deserved.
She was almost numb again by then, having spent the hours watching those around her and realizing how detached she felt from the community. As good as they had been to her over the past few short years, she still didn't feel close to any of them. To her, the heart of the tribe had been Tsifia – who was gone. It did not feel as if she had a place there. She never really had. She had simply been useful.
Slowly she turned to look up at Erik. He'd been standing there silently since making his suggestion, watching her closely but not pressing for her choice.
"Yes." she agreed with a nod, and a sad little smile. Hesitantly she reached out, and Erik instantly enclosed her fingers in his own. "We need to get some things out … Not much. Just … some things."
"Of course." Erik agreed. "We can't take much, anyway. We only have the horses. But it's better than carrying things on our own backs, yes?"
He gently tugged at her arm and they walked together, one last time, into the tsera.