Laska
"It was one thing to make a mistake; it was another thing to keep making it. I knew what happened when you let yourself get close to someone, when you started to believe they loved you: you'd be disappointed. Depend on someone, and you might as well admit you're going to be crushed, because when you really needed them, they wouldn't be there. Either that, or you'd confide in them and you added to their problems. All you ever really had was yourself, and that sort of sucked if you were less than reliable."
(jodi picoult- h.w.c.)
The trees whispered strange words to me as the echoes of Chris' angry stomping drifted farther and farther away. My cheeks were wet with sorrow and the amount of regret going through me at this moment was almost unbearable.
I shook my head, and allowed a laugh to escape my lips; the one thing I was amazing at was fucking things up.
After everything he'd trusted me with, I threw it away for a handful of berries when I wasn't even that hungry?
"Don' take it for gran'ed, baby," the young girls mother mumbled, her long fingers weaving and pulling at the half-made quadrille spread out in her lap; next months outfit, "this life? 'S a luxury, yeah. Don' get no betta' than this, hunny."
I contemplated going the other way he'd gone; taking a walk, getting lost, doing whatever. But I figured that wouldn't make things better. Just as I was standing up to find another way to camp, a crash came from where Chris had disappeared and I thought that, well, maybe it was an animal and I should keep going but what if it was Chris.
Moving in a quick jog, I followed his footsteps until I came to a clearing. At first, I didn't see anything. My eyes were bleary with tears, and the trees looked like shadows-- but then there he was, on his back with a stick roughly shoved into his side; the side that was finally almost healed.
"Fuck," my lips moved, my feet moved, the world moved; everything was moving except for Chris, and his eyes were closed and there was blood and, fuck, this was my fault, "Chris? Chris, oh my god, I'm so sorry."
He didn't do anything; the only way I knew he was still with me was the heavy rising and falling of his chest.
"-'m fine," he slurred, his face scrunched up in pain, "..'m fine." His hair clung to his forehead with sweat, and I pushed it out of his eyes before he, suddenly, reached and grabbed my arm; his grip was weak, "No stitches," he was mumbling, and I didn't know if he knew it, but silent tears crept down his cheeks, "No stitches," and after that, he didn't say anything. His grip went limp, and I didn't even stay long enough to make sure he'd landed safely or anything before I took off in the direction of the camp for help.
************
Eddie carried him back, with a drooling Ezzie-- I didn't know if she even realized she'd been staring at the silent mortar.
I'd been sitting in our little hut for quite awhile, placing rusty cans on top of each other and getting pointlessly annoyed when they fell or moved out of place. I was extremely relieved when Ezra wobbled in, looking tired and, well, pregnant. I climbed off of the surface I'd been sitting on, and threw my arms around her, "Is he okay? Is he fine?"
"I stitched him up," the small girl answered with a grin, though she didn't seem very happy to me-- maybe she wasn't currently in the worst mood, but something was weighing her down. Or bothering her. I couldn't tell.
I frowned at her, remembering the words he'd uttered before he fell to the forest floor, "But I thought-"
She cut me off with a stern, "I know. But what else was I supposed to do? He isn't going to like it, but if he was stupid enough to let himself get hurt like that, he has to face up to the consequences."
Well, she was right. I just didn't want her to be. He'd be even more upset, maybe even with me, when he found out they'd stitched him up. I cast my eyes to my feet, and mumble, "As long as he's fine."
"He's with Eddie, resting. You can go see him, just don't bother him too much."
My head snapped up at that, my lips spreading into a grin and my arms going around her small frame. After half a second, I took off out the door, navigating my way to his cot, which is where they had him resting.
The human-sized building was in front of me within minutes, and someone inside was talking. I stepped forward steadily, straining to hear the words leaking from the front door.
"-diot. First you come here making the shots, destroying the land I've come so used to; now you're laying helpless on a mat because of a damn stick," the voice paused and took a breath; they sounded guilty, sad, concerned. I thought Eddie was with Chris, but the voice was too loud and stern to be him; the only man here was that weird Tarzan guy, "to think I was actually starting to warm up to you."
I slid to the ground to wait it out, since I didn't want to be in there with anyone but Chris.
But I think I'd fallen asleep, because by the time the voices stopped, the sun was barely creating light and I wasn't outside on the ground anymore.
Instead, I was on the floor of a cot; not mine. Voices whispered, and the images I'd seen when I was sleeping floated into my mind.
Clips of me prancing through a field with the wind blowing and my mom chasing behind me with a smile fluttered into my mind.
That night, I dreamt of paradises that I'd never be able to see again. I dreamt of soft words, lullabies and the smell of sweet wood burning under out roof in the fireplace. I dreamt of my brother being born after twelve hours of painful labor.
I dreamt of my mothers screaming when no doctor came to our door and I had to help deliver my sibling. I dreamt of the color of my mothers eyes two years later when she was dying of the Dengue Fever.
I dreamt of Chris and my mom and all the screams that I heard when the plane was crashing and people burning, and-
"You awake?" somebody asked, their words startling me.
I sat up and pulled at my hair, then wiped away imaginary things from my face and offered a pretend yawn and said, "Yep. How'd I get in here?"
"Guess Carlisle carried you in," Eddie shrugged at me, his black curls hiding his eyes. "Did you come to talk to Chris last night?"
I shake my head, then stop and nod once, "Yeah, but I guess someone had beat me to it. So I just laid down."
"On the ground?" Eddie frowned at me, "Why didn't you just go back to Ezzie and wait until today?"
"Actually, I don't know," I laugh, "that would've been a better idea, though."
He nods, as if that were obvious (and it was), then nods his head over to the boy who looked half-conscious on the bed.
I leap up, and rush to his side-- with bad breath and nappy hair. One eye was cracked open, and he looked almost okay. Except, he wasn't, and that was my fault.
"Laska," he mumbled, his eye brows furrowing slightly, "I told you no stitches."
I laugh, though it wasn't a joke, and touch his cheek, "I thought you were a goner."
"Yeah, I-" he paused, and clenched his fist for a few seconds, as if waiting for something to pass, "-I don't give up easy."
"Look," I glanced behind me, and Eddie was gone-- I hadn't heard him leave, but I was glad he did, "I'm really sorry, okay? I really shouldn't have gone out there. It was stupid. I'm sorry-" that I lied to you and now you've got another hole in your side. "I won't do it again. I've gotta stop fucking things up."
I didn't know if he was convinced-- I actually wouldn't be surprised if he doubted me. But I wanted him to, because it was the truth.
"Isn't it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day, with no mistakes in it yet?"
(l.m.m.)
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