Everything about this place is hard. Even Keegan. Her muscles are tight beneath her tough and weathered skin, her tongue even sharper when she's kissing me than when she speaks. With the heavy manual labour, the long hours with little time for relief, it's no surprise. But I swear I've known softness before. The dirt and grime doesn't bother me so much, the sweat and mud slipping over me like a second skin. It feels natural. But our world is hard and I can't believe I've lived like this my whole life.
Keegan reaches out to me in the night and I don't stop her. But there is no tenderness in what we do together. I try to find a softness in her skin, a warmth in her embrace but it is empty. Meaningless. Afterwards, she moves back to her bunk, three inches from mine and says nothing. I am left there, staring at the bunk above me, my heavy breathing in tandem with the pounding of the generators.
I can't sleep some nights, and can't help but think that this is wrong. I've known softness before, I keep telling myself, I've known light. Light that my memory tells me I have never seen, a lifetime spent beneath the surface. But I don't trust it, because I remember sweet kisses and delicate skin, even though I can never see her face. I remember words whispered in a language I don't understand, and the harsh sun beating down a warmth so different from the steamy heat of the plant. The thing is, I can't decide whether it's a memory or a dream.
It's the little things that make me wonder. The other day I was working by the fire with Keegan, and for a brief moment the light reflected in her eyes. I toppled her to the ground without thinking, and for the life of me I couldn't explain why. Keegan didn't understand, so she backed me up against a wall, into a small, dark alcove. That was her solution to everything. I never tried to stop her though, perhaps hoping that this time, it would work. That I could forget. But all I could hear was her gasps, muffled by the noise of the machinery. In the darkness, I could barely make out the scope of her face. Her head was resting against the wall, and she bites her lip as her eyes close. I kept mine open the entire time. I would think she was beautiful if only she weren't so severe, so hardened.
It was a brief pleasure we shared, almost friendly. A release, a helping hand to a fellow worker. It was the only pleasure we knew in this world. And it happened a lot. I had no doubt Jonah and Thera shared a similar relationship. There was no love down here, just a brief comfort in a bunk, against a wall, behind a boiler.
Love. That word pops into my head sometimes, makes my chest leap a bit. It started right after tor arrived, shouting lunacies. Then again when I met with Jonah and Thera. I remembered it last night with Keegan, when we had finished and my hand accidentally brushed her dark curls. Only this time, the leap became an ache, and I lay awake the entire night, in a pain I didn't understand.
I see Jonah and Thera often, sitting together , working together. They hardly ever speak, although I wouldn't call the silence they share companionable. I wonder what they would ever talk about. Would Jonah try to listen to Thera's latest efficiency lecture, until his eyes glazed over in boredom? Would she perhaps pretend to laugh at his bad jokes, only to amuse herself with his apparent stupidity later on? All I know is I get the feeling I know them, even though we've only ever argued, never actually talked.
Breakfast is my favourite time of the day. I sat with them today, trying to recapture something lost. Keegan saw me, but I am not going to be influenced by her jealousy. I can't explain it, but I feel a companionship with Thera, a connection I don't feel with anyone else. It's not the same with Jonah, with him I can't decide whether to antagonise him or try to be his friend. But with Thera, I feel I understand her. Maybe that's why I gave her my bread, although my empty stomach longed for it. It was a simple gesture, and though she was surprised at first, she gave me a smile I'm certain I remember.
I don't think I've ever been so hungry in my life as I have been in Section 3. I wolf down my food, and I see Jonah watching me with…amusement? I can't quite pick it, but I remember that, too. They both sit there, eating slowly and carefully as I spoon the goop into my mouth as fast as I can. It doesn't have a pleasant taste, or consistency, but somehow I think I've eaten much worse.
If you're friends with those two, you're not mine. It's always extremes with Keegan. All or nothing. There's no room for compromise. I think that's part of the reason I choose them. Thera was easy enough to dissuade, to make friends with. There were no ultimatums with her. Just acceptance. Even Jonah was coming around. His jokes about mining naked were just a cover, I could tell. He believed me.
I didn't feel any regret as I watched Keegan walk away. She'd find someone else, I knew. Keegan wasn't the kind of girl who got attached, and I guess I'm not either. At least not to the hurried passion we shared on meal breaks. But I was attached to Jonah, and Thera, and even Tor. There's something there even though I can't remember it.
All I can think of now is Jonah standing in front of the shimmering puddle in my dreama. Keegan is behind me, warning me not to go, but now I know not to listen. Jonah asks me to follow him, and I step towards the light, hoping to feel softness again.