True to Song's word, her mother serves a mean roast duck. Zuko is grumpy as we are lead by Song into her home. When we enter, we remove our shoes, standing in our socked feet. There is an awkward moment when Iroh's bad smelling feet overwhelm the area, but it quickly passes.
Song takes us into her home, dropping us off at a dining room where the main set of doors are open to the wild. It is the beginning of spring, and the breeze takes away Iroh's stinky feet, rolls over us with the fragrance of blooming flowers.
For a moment, I forget where I am. I close my eyes, spread my arms a little, and take in the warmth of the air. It is my element. Well, it used to be. It warms, it cools, it gives us life. It is the bearer of words of anger, and love, and hatred, and remorse. It is the lifeline to us.
Zuko coughs and nudges me in the side, having noticed my basking.
"Sorry. There's nothing like the first signs of spring," I say, smiling over at Song and her mother. We have been introduced. "Your home is quite lovely, letting in the natural aroma of the flowers."
"Why, thank you," Song's mother says. "I grow and tend them myself. It helps to take over my thoughts, my worries."
I nod. I want to comment on her attire, that her hanbok is beautifully made, but a glare from Zuko cuts my mouth shut. They lead us to the table, where Zuko, Iroh, and I all take seats on cushions in front of a red wood table.
"Since you mistook the white jade for a form of tea, I take it you are a tea connoisseur," Song's mother begins.
Iroh beams, and Zuko continues to look annoyed. He cannot take the moments as they come. We may be fugitives, but we have the earth, the air, this dinner. I give him a similar nudge to the one he gave me earlier, and he softens his face somewhat.
"Oh, yes. I am quite the tea master, if I do say so myself. Ginseng and jasmine are both favorites of mine."
"Would you like to help prepare the tea for dinner?" Song offers, smiling.
These people are so kind, and I am reminded of instances, a lifetime ago, in which I was given similar hospitality. The meals, the stories, the beds, I was given in exchange for fruits, blessings, and stories. My heart hurts, and I have to look away from everyone. I am closest to the door, and I take a moment to recapture the feeling of the wind, that I am here, that I am alive, that I am living while others cannot.
Iroh leaves, following Song's mother, but Song lingers, noticing my sudden melancholy. "Amrita, are you okay?"
I start a little, releasing both Zuko and Song are staring at me. "I apologize. I was just. . ." - it takes me a moment to find my words, a coverup for the death I have missed - "I was thinking about the generosity we have all been given while on the road. The kindness that is in everyone's hearts and souls, even when you are unable to reciprocate that kindness."
"It is sometimes very easy to forget that there is kindness out there, that the bad times do not outweigh the good. It is. . .difficult to be a refugee," Song says.
Underneath the table, I feel Zuko's hand squeeze my thigh, but I smile at Song and look back out the door. "Your mother has a beautiful garden," I say. "After dinner, do you mind if I take a walk through it?"
"Oh, it would be no trouble. I can give you the tour, if you'd like? She has many medicinal herbs and flowers planted."
"No, but thank you. It sometimes helps to be alone. Plus, I am also familiar with a lot of medicinal plants. I appreciate the offer."
Before any conversation can continue, Iroh returns to the table, setting out cups for everyone and placing the tea kettle on a warmer. "It is still steeping, but should be ready by the time Ha-eun returns with the duck!" Iroh is excited, probably for the tea and a good meal.
Small talk continues in the silence after Iroh returns, but it isn't long until he is pouring everyone a cup. Song's mother, Ha-eun, returns carrying the duck. The side dishes, such as rice and vegetables, have already been set out by Song. Ha-eun sets down the duck and sits herself next to Song.
"My daughter tells me you're refugees. We were once refugees ourselves," Ha-eun says. She is passing out bowls of noodles, warm and steaming. We eat as the conversation takes a turn toward the war, toward the worst conversation that could be happening here, in the Earth Kingdom, with two Fire Nation rulers and an Air Nomad that shouldn't be alive.
"When I was a little girl, the Fire Nation raided our farming village," Song starts, sadness laced throughout her words. "All the men were taken away. That was the last time I saw my father."
Zuko's eyes grow wide, and there is something like guilt within them. Since he squeezed my thigh in support earlier and I know where his mind is leading, I do the same for him. He looks over at me, a smile somewhere in his eyes, having replaced the guilt.
"I haven't seen my father in years," Zuko says. He is trying to be empathetic, I think, in his own way. However, it does not turn out the way he would like.
Song bows her head. "Oh, is he fighting in the war?"
Iroh slurps his bowl of noodles, too focused on food than the evil within his family. However, Zuko is lost in thought. He is silent for a period of time before he says, "Yeah." But his eyes are so sad. I wish I could take away all the pain of his past, but that isn't something I, or anyone, can do.
We are silent for a long time, only broken by the slurping of noodles and the idle conversation of before. After dinner, we go our own ways. Iroh helps Song's mother clean up, Zuko meditates on the porch, Song disappears off into the maze of rooms, and I take up the offer to meander through the garden in silence.
There are a lot of lanterns throughout the garden, illuminating the way. I wonder if Ha-eun often does what I am doing-walking through the garden, letting my worries seep into the soil, into the healing properties of the flowers and herbs, giving these negative thoughts a better life through the beauty of flowers, of healing.
A moon peach tree is in the beginning stages of budding. It is spring, so a lot of flowers and trees are starting to bloom, to show their beauty within them. I take a moment, touching the petals on one that is moving through the chill of early spring. It is beautiful, and I resist the urge to take it from the tree to show Zuko the beauty that is out here.
I start to make my way back to the house, wrapping toward the front, looking for where I saw Zuko earlier. However, I hear a conversation and stop at the corner, listening in.
From my vantage point, I can see Song bringing up her hand to touch Zuko's scar. However, he grabs her by the wrist without looking at her. I close my eyes, remembering Zuko pressing his hand against my face in the same movement that his father did to him. When Zuko did it, there was no flame, no heat, no anger or resentment. Just a deep need for understanding.
I hear Song's quiet voice, saying, "It's okay. They've hurt me too." She pulls up her pant leg, and there is flame wrapping around her leg. I cannot see Zuko's face, but I imagine he is shocked. He has been sheltered for his whole life; I doubt he knows the extent of the horrors of the Fire Nation. Granted, neither do I.
Song rolls her pant leg back down, stands, and leaves the opposite way that she entered. Zuko doesn't move, just sits there deep in thought. After a moment, Zuko calls out to me, saying, "I know you're there. Come out."
I start, surprised that my presence was known to him. For how long, I am uncertain. I make my way to him quietly, though I am on the ground floor of the house, while he looks at me from the porch. We are eye level, and I can tell he knows I heard the majority of the conversation.
I do not lie, but I don't say anything to him either.
"It was a good dinner. It was the first duck I've ever had, and I bet it will be the best I've ever had," I say, trying to break the tension between us. Zuko does not look angry at me, but I cannot read the expression on his face. I should not be here, after he came to the realization of what the Fire Nation does to Earth Kingdom citizens. The brutality. The hurt.
"Did you want to see what the white dragon bush that Iroh was looking for earlier? They have some." Surprisingly, Zuko joins me in silence. We walk into the garden, all sounds from within the house - Iroh's chuckling, dishes being washed - drown away into the background. I grab Zuko by the upper arm, dragging him forward. He is shocked at my movements, but does not pull away.
In the dark lighting, far away from many other plants, stands the white dragon bush that Iroh was searching so hard for earlier. "Maybe, don't tell him that this is here, because he won't ever leave." I'm trying to lighten the mood, but Zuko offers no smile or chuckle at my comment. Something is bothering him, yet I do not know how to broach the conversation.
"The white dragon bush seed is highly coveted, as it is said to be so delicious, it is heartbreaking. I wonder if Iroh has ever actually had it, or just heard rumors about its exquisite taste. I had it once, long ago, in a village quite like this one." I'm rambling as I bend down and cup the leaves in my hand. The white streaks stick out in the dark, and there are some other stalks that are beginning to bud. It is beautiful, spring in motion, right in front of me.
"It was delicious, and I can understand how heartbreaking it can be. I've never given my heart out, so I can't be heartbroken. Not yet, at least."
I look up at Zuko, and he is staring intently at me and not at the flower. After a long silence, in which are eyes are locked, Zuko says, "I never knew the severity of the Fire Nation's role in the Earth Kingdom."
I want to laugh. I want to scream. Instead, I say, "Zuko, they killed an entire nation of people just because they were afraid of the damage one kid could do. Because they knew what they were doing was wrong." I stand, and Zuko flinches. I've said the wrong thing. He turns to walk away, but I grab both his hands in mine.
"But that doesn't mean what you are is wrong, or evil. Sure, you are the byproduct of your parents, but so is Iroh. Iroh could be evil, he could be wrong, but he isn't. It's the choices he makes to become the way he is. A silly, wise old man who loves tea to the point of death." I take a deep breath. "We are the product of our choices. We are shaped by what we see and how we understand the world. It is not your fault Song was burned. Do you understand that?"
He nods, but he does not say anything. We stand like that, together, me holding his hands, for quite some time. After some time, Iroh's voice breaks into our individual thoughts, calling us to leave. I drop Zuko's hands, but I squeeze him once more, on the shoulder.
I hope part of what I said got through to him. Because I am trying to help. I am trying to show him that it isn't his fault that what happened to Song or me happened. However, it is entirely up to him how to handle this information, that the Fire Nation is evil and hurtful. I cannot push him to make the right choices, but I can show him his options.
I follow Zuko into the brightness of the house, a small smile on my face.