Tori and Tris - Chapter Six - Taking the win
On Friday, I wait anxiously for Tris. My unasked question was answered before she had closed the door. Her unabashed pleasure and unbounded pride radiated from her person like a lighthouse had been lit behind her rib cage. I opened my arms and she fell into them, holding me as tightly as I held her. We stood there clinging to each other for many long moments - it was hard to know who was the happier although I was more than willing to withdraw my claim. As we dragged our bodies away, I noticed tears in Tris' eyes, her mouth attempted to form words, "I want to thank you, Tori -" I smiled, shook my head gently putting my index finger to her lips.
I move to the kitchen, in the back of a rarely used cupboard, I have accrued an impressive stash of liquor, I retrieve a rare bottle of alcoholic apple cider, I am sure Tris will like. I am not given to celebrating bloodshed - make no mistake, violence serves a purpose and I am prepared to embrace it as a well considered strategy. I raise the bottle and say "Tonight, we celebrate!" I empty some ice cubes into unmatching glasses and pour the sparkly pale liquid slowly over the uniform clear blocks. I watch as they react to the effervescence and warmth from the alcohol, the cubes hiss and sizzle, and jostle for position within the glasses.
I push the vessel into Tris' hand and raise my own "To you! Congratulations." Tris grins broadly, clinks my glass and sips the liquid suspiciously. "It's delicious" she drags her knuckles back and forth underneath her nostrils in a quick motion, where, I correctly guess, the effervescence had tickled her nose. The look on her face at this moment would become as dear to me as any memory I would ever prize and I sigh in deep satisfaction. She sniffed at the glass and sipped again, as though she was drinking something quite precious. And some would argue that she was.
"Now tell me about it, I want every detail," we kick off our shoes and sit side by side on the floor against the foot of my bed. I normally only smoke on the weekends but my excitement has made me rather impulsive, I reach under the mattress for one of the many packets I have stashed, not only about the room, but at the tattoo parlour as well. Tris looks shocked, "I didn't know you smoked cigarettes," she knows immediately that her Abnegation is showing, I know she would like to take back her words if she could, but I remember her guarded upbringing, I nudge her in the ribs and laugh, hoping she can laugh at herself, she can.
She watched me smoking, captivated by the process, and re-lived her fight with Peter. She had been nervous, her friends had cheered and encouraged her, her legs shook as she climbed up onto the mats and he had taunted her. She told me she felt like crying right up until the moment he invited her to, suggesting he would take it easy on her if she did. She laughed again as she told me that in that moment she realised that could not have squeezed out a tear for her life, after he said that. I laughed with her, enjoying every moment of her success.
She was quiet for a couple of minutes, and then looked at me, before she said, "Four cornered me right before the fight and told me Peter's tell." She was watching my reaction which I tried to mask, I must have shown too little surprise because she was immediately suspicious. She continued watching and speaking, "He told me to watch, that Peter always steps before he punches." I nod slowly, "And does he?" "Yes," she looked down thoughtfully at her glass, swirling the ice cubes around slowly. "Tori, why are you training me?"
I felt the intensity of her look and realised that although I may be able to put her off today, I would not be able to put her off indefinitely, and I have no such desire. I considered my answer, spending my time wastefully by draining my glass and topping up both glasses, I sipped and puffed on my fag. Tris waited and watched like she was trying to interpret a mime. I was not adverse to her knowing the truth, but I felt that the information I had to impart required careful scaffolding. Too much information would burden her unnecessarily and could also endanger her, I sigh and introduce Tris to my younger brother George.
My heart ached to remember him - a beautiful, clever, cheeky boy who died for too young and far too violently. I will never forgive myself. I described George indulgently, talked about our family, my parents, our childhood, our close relationship as we grew up. I told Tris of my defection from Erudite and when it was his turn, Georgie followed me to Dauntless, I related our joy to be back together again. Like us, Georgie had hovered hopelessly under the red line for the first two phases of training. I drew a sharp breath as I arrived at the crux of the story, the point of no return. Once the next part of the story was known to Tris - it can never be unknown. There would be consequences and I would be unable to anticipate them all.
I drank and smoked, Tris listened and watched and I pressed on before my confidence deserted me completely. I explained how in the third phase of training George began to experience unexplained success, that he moved from below the red line to above, and shot up the leaderboard. His success threatened others in his cohort and raised suspicions from some in the Dauntless Leadership Group. I urgently schooled him to moderate his success and pleaded with him to stop bragging about his success, but having escaped the shameful humiliation of life below the red line he had felt giddy and became arrogant.
Tris was a good listener, she was also clever, "George was divergent?" she asked quietly. I nodded, pressing on, trying to be on the other side of this terrible story as quickly as possible. "They found him dead," I choked out the words unevenly, "at the bottom of the chasm before initiation was even over." Tris gasped, her hand flew to her mouth and then covered mine gently but firmly, "Oh Tori, I am so sorry." I was unable to contain the sort of strangled cry and the tears spilled out of my eyes unrestrained. I indulged my upset for several minutes, and then I suddenly remembered that I had just pulled the pin on a grenade and left it precariously at Tris's feet.
I sniffed several times, wiped my eyes on the back of my hands. Still holding Tris' hand, I turned to face her, I searched my mind for something of comfort to say but came up empty. We looked at each other. Two bereft souls in need of comfort and wanting to comfort the other. I wanted to lean forward and kiss her, to replace the pain and fear I am sure she is processing at this moment with a tender love and passion. But that would never do, for so many, many reasons. I pushed the thought aside, and empty the last contents of the bottle equally into our glasses.
Tris was the first to break the silence, "So you are training me so I don't end up at the bottom of the chasm, too." I shiver, shocked by the harsh articulation, it conveys a particularly vivid image. I don't respond immediately, chiding myself on relaying the story in such a way that she could have drawn such a conclusion. But I realise that Tris' mind is so sharp that she could hardly have failed to draw such an interpretation, regardless of any way the message may have been delivered. "Well, there is that too, of course," Her head snaps up, "There is more?" she gapes. "There is much, much more Tris, but it can not be relayed to you in one night. I need you to trust me, Tris, please?" She looks down at our joined hands and nods in resignation.