Chapter 13

Bruno followed his father out into the field. His heart thumped with anticipation.

"Now Bruno," his father began, "I'm not going to start today. I just want to show you the terrain. Then, I'm going to take you out to the town, so you can re-assimilate."

"Re-assimilate?"

His father glanced at him and said, "Get used to living in society again."

Bruno looked down at his feet. He wasn't ready. Society wasn't ready. He remembered his reflection on his plate, the way people stared at the train station, and his heart sank with the knowledge that he'd never really seem human again.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and his eyes met his father's.

"Bruno," his father said, "you can do this. You always wanted to be an explorer. This is a part of exploration."

Bruno nodded. "I guess."

"Now, look around you." Bruno looked around, confused as to his father's meaning. "Listen closely," his father said quietly. Bruno listened, but heard nothing.

"I don't hear anything."

Bruno's father smiled and said, "In time, you will."

Bruno nodded and said, "I sure hope so."

His father gave him a shrewd look, then briskly stated, "We're leaving in ten minutes, so go inside and get ready. And," as an afterthought," you need some new clothes."

Bruno rolled his eyes and went inside.

----------------------------------------------------

Bruno, Maria, and Ralf made their way through the crowd quickly. This was due to Bruno's startling gauntness. Bruno's unease grew as people dart aside on the street to avoid walking past him. Bruno's father, however, appeared not to notice.

The first shop they went into was a clothing store. Bruno felt himself growing slightly nauseated as Maria held up bright colored ties. He watched as his father and Maria bickered gently over what size shirt he was.

"Maria," his father said exasperatedly, "I know what I'm doing. I've been doing this for years."

"But the sleeves are so wrong! Ralf, we can't have him wear this."

Ralf rolled his eyes. "I'm buying it. We can have a tailor mend it for him."

Maria pursed her lips and said, "Fine."

Bruno left the store laden with bags. Maria and Ralf, worrying about his strength, insisted on carrying them. Bruno let them, reluctantly. He didn't like being pitied or helped. He often wondered if he even deserved it. After all, when his friend needed his help most, he deserted him.

When thoughts like these came to him, Bruno found himself walking faster, with more intent. It gave him an anxiety he couldn't place. As if there was something he needed to do, some forgotten task that lay deep in the clutter of his thoughts.

"Bruno!"

Bruno jumped at the sound of his name. He turned sharply, almost tripping a tiny child who was walking past.

Maria waved and signaled for him to go to her.

"Oh, Bruno," she said smiling, "Look. Isn't this the prettiest little bookstore you'll ever see?"

Bruno did not answer; he was mesmerized by the angel stacking books on shelves.

"Bruno?"

Still, he remained entranced by the medley of color in her hair, the way her delicate fingers wrapped around the spines of the hardcovers she was placing on shelves.

"What are you looking at? Bruno?" Maria shook his arm. Then, when he pointed, she grinned. "Oh."

Bruno swallowed. She was beautiful. Such a pretty picture. Until the boy handing her books helped her down. It was a simple gesture, but nonetheless, he felt his heart grow heavy with bitterness. She was beautiful, a nymph, a goddess; he, nothing more than a gaunt ghost floating aimlessly on the street, just another passerby.

When he told this to Maria, she shook her head and said, "Nonsense. Go in and talk to her."

Bruno shook his head, and just as he started to respond, his father walked over.

"Hey, Bruno, I just – what's the matter?" His father looked from Maria to Bruno. Maria began to tell him, but Bruno cut her off.

"Nothing. Just wondering if we should start heading back. You know, it's getting late."

"Yes," his father said slowly, exchanging glances with Maria. "Yes it is. Let's head back."

Bruno followed behind Maria and Ralf as they went on their way. He nodded in response to their comments, seemingly interested, but in his mind, the girl at the bookstore swam in his mind, her hair shining and glimmering more than ever, and her hands soft and sweet on her books.

Phaedra. I'll call her Phaedra.