The Saulie Bird

by Eliza Quancy

  Some nights, Saul drinks beer. He went down the mountain last week and I was so happy. I thought he would be gone for days. He would have to be gone for days. It’s a long way down the mountain but he was gone for only two nights. How did he manage that? And he came back with beer. Filled the big rucksack with beer and brought it back after just two nights. The ripping started as soon as he got back.

  I am careful and I watch because I want to survive. I am going to survive. I lie on my mat and listen to him drinking next door. I hear him taking the bottle top off and throwing it into the bin. A dull metallic ding. Not like a text coming in on the phone. That’s a ping. This is a ding. The length of ripping depends on how much he drinks. If it’s a lot, he rips for longer. But afterwards, he goes to lie down next door and sleeps. If it’s not much, the ripping is quicker and then he gets up and goes. Paces around the house. I will have to learn how much beer is enough to make him sleep. That will be the time.

  I’m keeping count of my body cycles. It’s nearly time for my blood and it comes. I am grateful for it. Saul leaves me alone for three days. Then it’s worse, but I have the three days and three nights free of him. I bleed a lot of the time from the ripping but my monthly blood is different and Saul knows it, too. He starts to count as well and he knows when it’s coming. He checks. Then he goes down the mountain and I have three days alone. And three nights. The tv is still there and sometimes Saul asks if I want to watch it with him but I shake my head and stay alone in my room. He doesn’t insist. When he’s gone to the city, I switch it on and look at the world. It’s still there. Everybody still the same. Their lives are going on as normal. Nobody knows that I’m shackled in the mountains. But I will be free of him. I will do it. One day, I will be free.

  The best time is the day after he comes back. That’s when he relaxes and drinks a lot. After my next blood, I’ll do it. That will be the time, so I wait. The pumpkins are growing and the kaukau. Getting big and fat ready for eating. Sometimes Saul brings coconuts from the city and sago, but I prefer the vegetables and fruits that grow up here. I cook green leaves. Layla taught me that our bodies need green leaves. Layla taught me nearly everything I know. Google taught me the rest but there’s no teacher now. No Layla. No google.

  In the early days, my ankles bled and got infected. Saul put disinfectant on them and wrapped torn sheets around my legs. But then he put the shackles back on top of the bandages. Eventually, my ankles healed and hardened. I can cope with the shackles now but my legs ache from walking like this. They never stop hurting. I will hide the knife under the mat while Saul’s away. He checks the kitchen drawer but he’s looking to see if I’ve kept it clean. He doesn’t count the knives.

  Things go according to plan. Saul waits for my blood, then he goes down the mountain. I put the knife under the mat. The small knife. I daren’t hide one of the large knives. It would show. He would miss it. Saul comes back and starts to drink. All as usual. The second day, he drinks a lot so I go to lie down and I listen to the bottle tops dinging into the bin. One and wait. Not long then it’s two and wait. Three and wait. Four. I keep listening. It can get to seven but it should be at least six. It needs to be six. I hear him get up. He’s coming early. I’ll have to make a decision whether to risk it tonight or whether to wait. I think I’ll wait. Four is not enough to make him sleep. I know.

  He comes. Rips me apart. He’s ‘driving them out.’ Afterwards, he speaks.

  ‘Sit up, Aulani,’ he says. ‘Sit up.’

  His voice is quiet and soft. What’s coming now?

  ‘Hold out your hands.’

  I watch while Saul reaches under the mat and takes out my knife. Holds it up and waves it about. I’ve sharpened it. He almost smiles but not quite and then slowly and carefully pressing deep, he cuts both my palms so there is now a cross in each hand. The old cut from the beginning. And the new one. I try to send my soul out of my body but the pain won’t let me. The pain is big and I scream. Saul slaps my face and laughs, walks away.

  I look at my hands. I’ve failed but he didn’t kill me. I’ll never be able to use a knife on him now, but the pain in my hands grows my hatred so big that I know I’ll find another way. It will be me or him. Next time, one of us will die.

  Time passes. My hands begin to heal and I wait for my blood but it doesn’t come. Have I counted properly? I’m sure I have. I always count. I look forward to the time when Saul will be gone from me. My three days of heaven. That’s what it feels like when he’s gone. I don’t mind the shackles or the cleaning or anything. Just that he’s gone makes me happy. But the blood doesn’t come and Saul knows. He counts, too and checks me day after day. No blood. He knows what has happened. He has left a part of himself inside me. A new life and sometimes I love it and want it. Hormones, Layla told me. Mothers love their babies because of hormones. Is that all? I asked and she would look at me and smile. But sometimes I hate this new child because he’s half Saul and I don’t care about the part that is half me. (So the hormones don’t always work, do they?)

  Saul increases my food. Gives me more fish. He says nothing but he wants this child. My work remains the same but he doesn’t go down the mountain. He rips me every day and ‘drives them out’. That doesn’t change. Surely, he will have to go down sometime. He will need beer. And food. The kind of food we can’t grow. He will have to sell the new wooden animals and the new table he has made. He will have to go.

  I am right. Saul does go and now I sit in the garden and think. It’s hard to think when he’s here because I have to watch what he’s doing and take care so that I’m not beaten. Now he’s gone. I can sit and think. There must be a way. I start to weed. It’s a mindless task that’s good for thinking. My garden is like the house. It has to be. Clean. No weeds. Perfect. And even with Saul gone, I do the circle. It’s become a habit. I don’t know why it has to be done but I’ve started to believe that it’s important. One day, I’ll understand. Slowly, I start to make a plan.

  6

  One day of Saul in the city is already gone. The time is going and all the time I’m sick. Not just in the morning. Layla told me about this. She said the sickness comes just in the morning in the first three months, but no, it’s all the time. My stomach is flat. No outward sign of this child but he’s there. Or she is.

  When Saul comes back, I’m ready. Once again, I wait for the second day and lie on the mat and listen. Ding that’s one. Then the second. Three. And I wait. Maybe he’s stopped and today will not be the day. Four. Five. Silence. I hope that he doesn’t stop drinking now because five is too soon. Ding. That’s six. It should be enough. Seven. I wait and he comes.

  Rips me apart, drives them out and gets up and goes. Soon he is snoring. I force myself to wait some more. If I fail this time, I will die. The child and me. It’s crazy but some of the time I love this child. Most of the time, not always. Concentrate, Aulani. Steady, I tell myself. I’m going to try. I get up with as little noise as possible but I can’t be completely quiet. You can hear me when I move because of the shackles, but his snoring is louder than the sound of my feet. I pause and wait between every step. I am heading for the living room. That’s where Saul sleeps. His mat is rolled out on the floor.

  In the doorway, I stop and look at him. He is huge and beautiful. Even I can see how lovely he is. His skin shines. His muscles are firm and ripple when he moves. His hair is like hard black wool. Tiny curls so close together you can’t see them. Like a springy mat. When I was little, I used to sit on his knee and try and twist my fingers into the curls but I couldn’t. I tried with a pencil and he liked it when I played with his hair.

  I move towards the table one step at a time. I shuffle. One step and pause. Stop and wait. Listen. Another step. I shuffle. Pause. Wait and listen. I’m hurrying too much. Impatient. It’s a long way to the table and I’m breathing hard. I get there. Reach down to pull the tablecloth to one side and it’s there. I see it. The big stone that I’ve brought inside. It wasn’t easy. I bend and pull it out
. Slowly. One small move. It makes a noise. Stop. Wait and listen. Suddenly the snoring stops and my heart beats so loudly, I’m surprised that it doesn’t wake him up. I’m surprised that I don’t explode. I wait. The snoring starts again. And stops. And starts. Continues.

  I bend down and pick up the stone. It’s heavy but I’ve practised and I’m strong. I look again at his beauty and raise the stone as high as I can and then I let it go and watch it fall.

  Saul cries out. Opens his eyes and looks at me. Moves.

  It’s got to be done again. I lift the stone once more. Higher than last time and I drop it. Right on target. Crack. His head.

  Saul moans and reaches for my legs but I’ve moved. One last time. My arms are breaking. My legs are aching but I’m not sick. Not now. One last time. Throw this time. It drops and I fall after it.

  He’s still. I roll off him and move away.

  Now for the second stone. I brought two. It’s not over yet. The small rock is there under the table. Small, jagged, hard. Perfect. I reach for it. Pick it up and raise my arm and I look at him but my arm falls, sinks back down and I put the rock back. Can’t do it. Time to stop.

  The key. I must look for the key. My ankles are breaking, hurting worse than usual. I look down at my feet. The key is the only way to get my shackles off. It’s round his neck on a piece of plaited string. That’s where it always is. I bend down and push my finger under the string and pull. It comes away but there is no key. It must have dropped off somewhere. Don’t panic I tell myself. Go slow, but I can’t. I need the key and I see it. It’s embedded in his flesh. I stop and try to breathe. My body is not mine, it’s shaking and gulping. Legs hurt but the rest of me is numb. I watch myself shaking and hear my breath pulling, in and out, in and out, but I’m not here. Not in my body. I’ve got to come back. Got to finish this thing.

  Just a glint of silver sticking out of the wound on his chest. I reach for it and get it but it’s wet with blood and it slips through my fingers. I’m shaking. Try again. This time I get it and pull, but it won’t come out. I’ll have to hold it with something. His shirt. I pull at his shirt but it won’t reach to put around the key. It’s stuck. Mostly the shirt is underneath him. Slow down. Think. I turn back to the table and pull at the tablecloth. Hold one end and carefully grip the end of the key with it and pull. Yes, it’s out. I’ve got it.

  Such a small thing. A little key. Looks like nothing much. I clutch it with one hand and hold on to the table with the other. Like a life raft in a storm but no storm. Just me and the table and Saul on the floor. Something howls outside and I jump, let go of the table but the hand with the key stays closed. As I sink to the floor, I’ve still got it. It’s there in my hand. There is a lock on each shackle, so I go for the right one because it’s easier to reach. Try to push the key into the small hole in the lock but my hand is shaking so badly, it won’t go in. Breathe. Slow down and breathe. Try again. Nearly got it. Don’t rush. Nearly there, Aulani. I keep on talking to myself, giving myself instructions.

  This time I hold the key carefully and push it slowly into the lock. The first part goes in but then it stops. It won’t go all the way in. I take the key out and look at it. It’s bent. That’s why it won’t go in. The smaller stone, the rock, is next to me and I pick it up and hit the key with it several times but no luck. I’ll have to go down the mountain in shackles. I’ll keep the key and try again but until it can be straightened, it won’t go into the lock. Did I bend it? Was it when I dropped the stone? I don’t think so, but why do I even ask myself these questions? I giggle. I’m losing control of my mind. I reach for the table leg and pull myself up again. Shackles still on. I’ll have to manage.

  I’ve prepared. I have my bilum ready but not much in it. I can’t carry much. In any case, the laptop is gone and that’s what was heaviest last time. Haven’t seen it for ages. I think Saul sold it. He never used one and didn’t like seeing Layla and me with it, watching movies, googling things, laughing. It made him feel stupid she said. Better not use it when Saul’s around. Now the laptop is gone. (But she was right. It’s a bad thing to make people feel stupid. Funny to be thinking about that now.)

  I’ve prepared. The broom is ready and I get it and swipe at the top shelf. My phone is on charge. Always on charge but it hasn’t rung for months. Not since before my blood stopped. I swipe and I miss. Try again. Miss. Don’t get desperate. Slow down, Aulani. He’s dead so there’s time. Once again, I swipe, and my phone flies off the shelf and falls on to Saul. He groans.

  Not dead.

  I’ve got to do it again. I’ve got to. I reach for the stone but can’t lift it. How did I manage before? Can’t raise it off the ground. I pick up the little rock instead. It will have to do and I smash it hard onto his legs. His face is already broken. I lean over him and hammer hard at his legs. Hard as I can and I fall with the rock. Fall on top of him. I roll off and reach again for the rock. I smash and I smash and I hear the bones break. And stop.

  My phone is between his arm and his body and I reach to get it. I hold my hand in front of his mouth. No breath. All gone.

  It’s dark so I can’t go yet and I’m still in shackles. There are snakes. But I must go. Can’t stay here. First of all, I ring Layla. Oh Layla, where are you? I need you. Please, Layla, answer me. I ring and ring but nothing. I text. Nothing. And again. Nothing. Slowly I move. Out of the house, down the steps, along the path and I step out of the circle. Shuffle one step. Then another. I’ve got water and pumpkin, some kaukau like last time. So long ago. The light is still on in the house. Kerosene lamp still burning. In front of me, pitch black.

  I turn back. Will have to wait until morning. I will go and sit beside him and check that he is dead. I shuffle back and step into the circle. Pick up the broom and half-heartedly jab at the earth. Slowly I shuffle towards the house. Towards the light. I’m leaving the darkness behind me. But the light in the house hides a greater darkness. Up the steps. Can hardly move my legs. I shuffle inside. Stand and look. He’s on the floor. Of course he’s on the floor.

  I can’t bury him, but I would like to. I can’t move him, but I get a sheet and cover him over. It’s the least I can do. This time I sit on the stool that he made - the one with the birds - and I look at the shape of him under the sheet. I didn’t want to kill him but I had to. I am sorry for everything. For all that we have done to each other, the good and the bad. Sorry that we ever crossed paths. He has shackled me and torn me apart but maybe I was his to break because once he rescued me and I think of that.

  I fetch water and drink. I sit and I look. The broken body lies there.

  Torturer.

  I feel relief. Emotion all drained out. Nothing left. I am not guilty of this man’s death. It is he who is guilty. Or destiny. And so my thoughts run on and on, round and round. There is no end. There are no answers.

  I get up and shuffle into the bathroom to wash my hands. For the last time, I go to lie on the mat next door and I sleep.

  7

  The birdsong wakes me up. Always loud. Blue sky. Sunshine. As usual. Nothing else as usual.

  My arms ache and I remember the stone and the killing. That is the first thing, then I look at my phone and pick it up. It works but Layla doesn’t answer. I text. Can’t say much in a text.

  ‘Saul dead. Help me. Auli.’

  I shall need the charger before I go. I’ll have to find a way to climb up and unplug it. Even in my bedroom, I can smell the body. It’s not Saul. He’s gone. It’s just his body. But no, according to Layla he’s still here. His spirit won’t leave the house until the third day after death. That’s what she taught me about what happens when a person dies. It was one of the life lessons. I shall have to leave the house open and break the circle. So that Saul’s spirit can leave.

  It’s time I went. The sickness is back and the spasms of retching keep coming. I force myself to eat a piece of kaukau and it helps. I drink. I try three times to get the key into the hole so I can unlock the shackle but it’s the sa
me as last night. It won’t work. Then I have a brainwave. Try the other one, the one on my left ankle. Push in slowly. Click. A miracle. Turn. A miracle. I take it off. Only one shackle and it’s time to leave.

  I’m so pleased that I keep trying to walk normally and keep falling over. My legs won’t walk like they used to do. The muscles will only let me do tiny steps just like when the shackles were on. I think my brain has learned just how far my leg can move without making me fall over and the message has stuck. I keep trying to move my leg further and wider and I fall down again and again, but I don’t care. I can stretch my legs. They are mine. My body is mine with no-one to break me. I am alone and I start to sing. Then I remember that I am a killer and I stop and think about it. And there is a child coming.

  The child is there whether I like it or not. In another life lesson, Layla taught me that you can get rid of a child in the womb if you are quick. But you need help and I haven’t got any so the child will have to stay and I shall have to be strong. I stand as straight as I can and I open my mouth and croak out loud. An old song that Layla taught me. I go around the house and check that all the louvres are wide open. Then I go to get the charger. Somehow I manage to climb up and unplug it, but it takes ages.

  I walk outside and stand still on the verandah. Sit down for a minute on the little bench and breathe deep. I can’t stay here. I’ve got to go so I prop the house door open with the stone that we keep in the corner next to the bench. Slowly and carefully, I shuffle down the steps and along the path. I put down my bilum and I go all the way round the circle and take care to break it all the way round. Then I pick up my bilum and I go. Don’t look back.

  ***

  All day I have been walking (if you can call my peculiar movement walking) and the light is changing. I am slow and I hear the crickets start to chirp. Night is coming. I am feeling sick and I think of the child. Saul’s child. What will Layla think of that? I get out my phone and check it again. Same as before. No message. I text again.