The prospect struck me numb.
Thais’ arms crossed loosely over her chest, lending defiance to her posture.
“I’m not your prisoner anymore,” she went on. “What would you do if I chose to stay here?”
I could no longer look at her; indecision, and even a blooming fit of panic at the idea of her staying, rendered me momentarily speechless.
Finally, I raised my head.
“Is that really what you want?” I offered derisively. “Do you want me to just leave you here with these people—who you’ve known less than twenty-four hours—and let you fend for yourself? Do you trust them—people you just said can’t defend themselves—more than you trust me to keep you safe?” Just having to force myself to ask her these questions infuriated me—after all I had done to get her out of that city…after all I still had yet to do, and was prepared to die doing…What the fuck?
(I lowered my eyes, feeling the bite of shame. Atticus had saved my life…) “No,” she finally answered. “I don’t want you to just leave me here, Atticus. I want you to stay here with me—Where else can you go? Other than Shreveport, which is so far away that, I admit, seems impossible to get to. I’ve laid awake at night the past several nights thinking about how long and treacherous and risky that journey will be. I have nightmares about it, even when I’m awake.” She paused, holding my tortured gaze to her determined one. “It’s a long way—I think we should take advantage of whatever we’re given and deal with the consequences when we have to. Think about it—it seems the risk and consequences are even greater trying to make it to Shreveport, than staying here.”
I turned away from her, adjusted the backpacks on my shoulder, grimacing with the painful effort. I gazed out across the shadow-painted field toward the house; the windows were lit with oil lamp and candlelight, casting a warm glow from an otherwise pitch-black structure silhouetted against the backdrop of trees. A dark figure darted across the front porch—it was Trick, the dog.
“Give me time to think about it,” I finally said.
Her face lit up.
“For now, go back into the house and delight them with more of your poetry and singing.”
Thais blushed.
“You heard me in there?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I did.”
I cut across the field toward the barn and left her standing there.
THAIS
Emily and David agreed to let us stay on their farm. “As long as ya want to,” Emily had said when I talked to her about it. Though I told them that nothing was set in stone and that Atticus had not yet decided.
“But what about you?” Emily asked. “If your brother ‘cides not to stay, will ya leave with ‘im?”
The question stunned me.
“Yes,” I answered after the stun wore off. “If he leaves, I’ll leave with him.”
Before Atticus left me in the field, I thought I had made up my mind. I was determined to make a life here, whether Atticus would join me or not. I resolved to believe that staying put was the most sensible option. But the second Emily asked the burning question, my tongue went numb in my mouth.
Right then I knew, with no doubt anymore, that I wanted to go wherever Atticus went. And it was not only because I knew he could protect me, it was not only that Atticus could take me someplace safer no matter the distance or the roadblocks put in our path—it was so much more than that. It frightened me as much as it filled me with need. The need to understand why the thought of Atticus being out there alone in the world, broke my heart. The need to understand why the thought of him being by my side, put it back together.
An hour had come and gone and Atticus still had not come back from the barn. But I was not worried. I had hope that his decision would be to stay, and I refused to let the possibility he would not, turn a wonderful night filled with laughter and joy, into one filled with hopelessness.
And finally, the sound of Atticus’ boots moved up the steps of the front porch, and my heart beat erratically behind my ribs like a frantic bird locked in a cage.
ATTICUS
I stood in the doorway; five pairs of eyes were on me: some with anticipation, one with indifference, one with incessant lust, and one with a simple smile that might not’vte mean much to anyone else, but to me, it meant everything.
“So, what’d I miss?” I asked, choosing not to announce my decision yet—I hadn’t made one.
Emily smiled from her spot on the sofa next to Shannon and Rachel. “We were jus’ enjoyin’ Thais’ stories—quite the talented sister ya got ‘ere!”
David nodded from his recliner.
“S’like havin’ TV again, only better,” he said.
“She was ‘bout to recite one of her own poems,” Emily said.
I looked to Thais; she stood in the center of the room, still wearing a dirty gray dress that hung to her thighs; her hair had been pulled into a sloppy bun at the top of her head. I thought she could roll in mud and not bathe for weeks and it wouldn’t lessen my attraction to her. Because there was one, I knew, and although it was still unexplored, it was strong enough I knew I could never leave her here, or anywhere, without me. She was my charge. She was my last chance at redemption. She was…mine, I decided. My what exactly I didn’t know. My responsibility? My friend? My something else entirely? It didn’t matter what—she was mine.
“Let’s hear it, then,” I said, my mouth turning up at the corners.
Thais’ face, splashed with freckles, reddened, and she lowered her eyes with the shy grace of a child; her hands were folded down in front of her.
“Oh, come on,” I pressed, teasing her. “Got me all curious now.”
“You’ve never heard any of it?” Shannon spoke up suspiciously. “Bein’ her brother? Surely you—”
“Oh no, I have,” I cut in, hoping to fix my error. “It’s just…”—I glanced at Thais again, who met my eyes secretly —“…it’s just been a while. There’s not been much opportunity for poetry and stories since we’ve been on the road.”
Rachel—apparently having forgiven me for earlier—sprang from the sofa and came over to me, slipped her arm around me and led me to the empty cushion between her and her mother. I sat down without argument, ignoring the bitter taste the girl left in my mouth, and gave only Thais my attention.
Thais stood in front of everyone. Breathlessly, she looked beyond her small audience as if looking into an endless ocean from a mountaintop; her smiling face became something more evocative, profound, and it alone stirred my heart.
Her hands came up and she pressed her palms tenderly against her breasts. The room became quiet; not even the sound of my breath, or the thrumming of my heart, or the blood rushing through my veins, was I able to catch with my ears. The words came forth from her lips with such beauty and passion and precision:
I sleep.
I dream of fires in the frozen lake;
I see your shadow, but by then it’s too late; I watch the fog swallow the city gate.
I breathe.
I catch my breath in the frigid air;