by J. K. Holt
“The thing you have to understand,” Fish said, interrupting her silent meditation, “is that I loved him.”
Tess cocked her head, confused. “You loved Dray? Past tense?”
Fish shook his head, his eyes still fixed inward. “Of course I love Dray. He’s my oldest friend. I didn’t mean him.”
“Oh.” Tess tried to push the shock from her voice as a large piece slammed into place for her- she didn’t want it be interpreted as judgment. “You mean… Loren? You loved Loren.”
Fish sighed, a scowl pulling down the edge of his mouth. “You don’t know what it’s like here, being me. I mean, half the time I feel like an oddity. A freak. I’ve had to hide who I am for as long as I’ve been aware of it. I haven’t lived at home since I was fifteen. The day I left was the day I told my dad what I was. This has been my life.”
A heavy weight settled on top of Tess’s chest as he spoke. She took his hand and squeezed it.
“I’m lucky in other ways, though,” Fish said, clearing his throat and running his free hand over his knee. “And I enjoy my life. It’s enough, most of the time. Enough that I can ignore that other part. Pretend it doesn’t matter. Pretend that I don’t need that kind of love to be happy. I’ve said that to myself enough times that I actually started to believe it.”
His voice trembled. “So you can understand that Loren took me by surprise. I didn’t-wasn’t- expecting it. In so many ways, it felt unreal. Though, in the end I guess it was. I know he used us, all of us, but more than that, he used me. He played me for a fool. He betrayed everyone, but me- well, he broke my heart.”
“I’m so sorry, Fish,” Tess whispered.
“He never called me that,” Fish replied. “He always called me Edric. I’d always hated that name, but when he used it…”
An enormous breaker crashed on the beach, the water rushing up to just above the sand beneath them. Tess felt the water leech into her pants, stinging and uncomfortable. She clenched her teeth against the cold, though Fish didn’t seem to notice.
“Anyways, all I’ve been thinking since then was, was any of it real? So much of it felt real, to me. But I’m not sure how it could have been, given what he’s done… and that’s why you’re wrong about the Reeds, see. I’m the one who vouched for Loren. And then when I ended up being wrong, they didn’t blame me. Dray didn’t look at me different for a moment. So when you ask why I’m so loyal to him, understand it’s not blind. He’s earned that from me.”
Embarrassment at her assumption crept up Tess’s neck, and she felt the blush sting her cheeks. “I do understand now. I’m sorry for thinking otherwise.”
“And now, he’s just wasting away. Dying, and I’m responsible. I’m the one who hit him that day. And I should have stopped Ashe from kicking at him, but I was so angry. I’m still so angry. What he’s done… to Russ, to you… and, please don’t think I’m a monster, please, but I’m also just so…”
A sound, barely human, escaped Fish’s lips, and Tess understood his meaning. She pulled an arm up and around his waist. She considered her words, wanting to be a comfort. “It’s okay to be sad, too. You can’t just turn off love, even when people hurt you. I don’t blame you for still having some feeling for him, even with what he’s done.”
Fish sat, miserable. “Rosie does. She won’t look at me straight since Russ. She’s so mad at Loren, she wants to finish the job, even if it means losing any information he might have. And she looks at me, and she knows. She sees that I struggle. And she hates me for it. It’s enough to drive me crazy.”
Tess pictured Rosie, fury in her eyes, and knew what it felt like to have that energy directed towards her. “Rosie’s complicated. And she’s just lost Russ. She’ll come around. Besides, I don’t think she’s really mad at you. Not truly. You’re just an easy target.”
Fish laughed, humorless. “I’ve always been that. But at least before, I felt like I was part of the humor. ‘Let’s all laugh at Fish.’ But I was there laughing too. Now…”
There were no words to ease the pain for him. Instead, they sat and watched the swells, and let the ocean drown the sound of Fish’s quiet sobs. Above, the gulls cried out, lazily riding the wind. In the midst of it, Tess was struck by the deep beauty of it all, a thought that pulled itself away as soon as she dwelled on it. Some semblance of it stuck to her, though, and clung to her, easing the burden of holding Fish’s grief.
She hadn’t noticed that he had pulled himself together until he spoke next. “So, now you understand why Dray sent you to me. That being said… how can I help?”
Tess hated to ask this of Fish, his wound as fresh as it was, but she saw no other way. “I know you think Loren was using you. And he probably was, but still…. I bet you learned things about him. True things. I need to know anything you can remember about him that felt sincere. Anything he shared about himself. Or anything about him that felt real. It’s a big ask, but-”
“No,” Fish interrupted. “I’ll do it. I’ll do anything if it might help. But I’m not sure how anything I remember will be helpful. It would likely be more of a rambling thought process than anything. It might take a while, too.”
Tess leaned back, shifting herself further into the sand. “Lucky you. I’ve got plenty of time. And I quite enjoy the company, which is a bonus.”
∞ ∞ ∞
Night had fallen by the time Tess found herself back at Loren’s bedside. She was desperately fatigued, her back aching from hours spent sitting in the cold sand, back pressed against the unforgiving wooden hull of the Della, but she recognized that now was not the time to rest. Loren was wasting away- he’d be dead soon if she couldn’t get through to him.
Dray had insisted on staying this time. He’d ushered Emme out, a zombie on her feet, and had instructed her to sleep in his bed upstairs rather than wander home in her condition. She’d complied easily. Tess figured she’d be asleep before her head hit the pillow.
Dray crouched now against the far wall, his aura shimmering around him as he watched her expectantly. Tess did her best to ignore him- his presence made her antsy but she didn’t feel right dismissing him. She eased herself down onto the hard floor once again, and took a moment to steady herself. She considered how she’d managed to touch on Loren’s, well, spirit, for lack of a better word, last time. She’d been tired- at least that wouldn’t be hard to replicate. And she’d been relaxed, her mind wandering a bit, though she’d still been trying to reach out to him. And…she’d held his hand.
His arms were tucked beneath the blankets now, in some last desperate bid to keep him warm. She tugged the edge of the covers up gently, until she could find and pull his hand loose. As before, it was cool and dry- half dead already. She held it between both of her own and felt eyes on her. When she turned her head, Dray glanced away, but the scowl remained on his face.
She saw how it looked. He’d saved her from Loren, from a cold and painful death, and now here she was, holding Loren’s hands gently, as though he was a dear friend. But Tess saw the shame in Dray’s eyes, and knew he also felt how unfair it was for him to be annoyed, given that she was here because he’d requested it. To pull him from his own mind, she said, quietly: “I was holding you.”
He pulled his eyes from the floor and met hers, confused. “What?”
“When I… got into your head, I was holding onto your face with my hands, and my forehead was pressed against yours. I don’t think I could do that with Loren, not comfortably at least. And the thought of being that near his face…but I think maybe physical touch could be a part of it. That’s why I’m doing this.” She nodded her head towards her hands.
“Right.” Dray sighed. “Sorry. It’s just hard to watch, knowing…”
“I know. But you don’t have to be here.” She said it gently, so that it wouldn’t be hurtful.
“I want to be. I’ll be quiet, though, honest. I won’t… get in the way.”
Something about the comment reminded Tess of another moment, and she sm
iled. “The last time we were in this room together, you were very much in the way. Do you remember? Tom Engles? He’d been blurred and we’d not even been introduced, and you were-”
“Awful to you. I remember.” His pained look had returned, and Tess groaned.
“Snails, Dray, I didn’t mean it that way. Honestly, times have been hard and all and you’ve got more than enough reason to carry the weight of the world. Still, didn’t your mom ever tell you that if you make a face like that often enough it could freeze that way? Geesh.”
Amusement glinted in Dray’s eyes, and he smiled, a fleeting thing, like the sun on these long winter days.
“There, see?” Tess said. “Much better. Now, be quiet and let me do my work.”
She turned from him, closed her eyes, and tried to focus.
It took a while. First because she was still considering Dray seated behind her, and then because she kept getting distracted by how uncomfortable she was in her current physical position. She eventually grabbed a pillow, draping it across Loren’s torso so she could lean forward enough to rest her head on it. She figured the slight additional weight couldn’t do much more damage to Loren at this point.
Now, where to start? Loosen your mind, open it to Loren, call him gently. Hold an image of him in your mind. Who is Loren? Who is he, really? What had been real about him to Fish?
Fish said Loren loved to eat eel soup at the Spilling Inn. He’d mop up every last morsel with bread, and then ask for seconds. He never ordered anything else.
He liked to read, but tried to hide it. Fish would come upon him in the square on a warm day, or in his alcove (Tess’s alcove now, she realized with a start) in the Muddy Gull and he’d have a book wedged between his knees, as if it was an embarrassment to be caught enjoying the words he found there. Sometimes they were history books, other times fiction. Once Fish thought a book might contain poetry but Loren never let him close enough to know for sure.
He hated scarves and thought the scratchiness wasn’t worth the effect. He kept his hands in his pockets when he walked, confident he would never stumble or need to catch himself.
He picked at his fingernails when he was deep in thought.
He kept his shoes polished.
He didn’t like verbal displays of affection.
Tidy tidbits. Would they be enough?
Tess tried to pull from a shallow well of empathy, to push aside what Loren had done to her and instead see him as Fish had- as a fully realized person. She thought of his quirks, his weaknesses, his oddities, as she called to him. His energy was weakening- she could tell that now, and when she felt the same tug that she had before, it seemed much further away.
Loren, I’m right here. I know you like eel soup, and reading. Tell me about those things. Come to me.
His spirit trembled, and a thread of it reached toward her, tentative. When she tried to hold onto it, it slipped away again. Control your frustration, Tess, she schooled herself. Try again. She did, and again she felt him only to lose him.
A dozen times she tried, each time only for him to reach and then withdraw within himself once again. Tess was tiring, and every time it had begun to feel like Loren stayed just a touch further away from her.
She groaned in frustration and opened her eyes, only to find a hand resting on her shoulder that had not been there before. Dray sat beside her, quiet and solemn. “What?” she asked, turning her head toward him.
He shrugged. “You were making noises.”
Tess was mortified. “I was? How long-”
“An hour, maybe more. Look, I can see that I asked too much of you. You can stop-”
“No. No.” Tess sat up, easing out the kinks in her back. “He’s fading. I don’t think he’ll last much longer. And I can get through to him, I know I can. Loren just- wait... I keep calling him that.”
“Well, of course.”
“No, I mean, I don’t think that’s his real name. I keep calling him Loren when I reach out to him, but… something he said on the Blackbirder that night. Something like, that’s what he went by for that time. I can’t call him that anymore- he knows I’m not his friend when I do.” She cocked her head, considering. “Okay, I need to try again.”
Dray hesitated. “Should I go back to the corner?”
Tess wanted to say no, but knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate with Dray beside her. “Maybe, just to watch the door.” The excuse was weak but he offered no resistance. He shifted to his feet and left her field of vision, and she diverted her attention back to Loren/not Loren.
Okay, don’t call him Loren. Check. But was any of the rest helpful? What was it all, really? Just snippets of superficial information? Did it help Tess know him?
This felt impossible.
What else had Fish said, really said? What had he told Tess this afternoon that spoke to who Loren really was?
He studied people, Fish had said, like he wanted to know why they worked the way they did. Clinical interest, almost, though to Fish it had been endearing, like the efforts of a socially awkward person to learn how to fit in.
That was something.
What else?
He had a dry wit, Fish had said. When he thought no one else was looking, he threw scraps to the alley cats. So, he was capable of some kindness then, even if not towards his fellow man.
He’d never talked about where he’d come from or his family, but Fish had guessed that there was someone back home that Loren loved. It was in his eyes when Fish talked about his own distant relationship with his family. Fish guessed a mother or father was out there somewhere, a person Loren might genuinely miss.
Tess would have to work with that. She picked up his hand again, and with her other hand she rested it on his temple, as she thought a mother might. She closed her eyes, considered how to call for him if she couldn’t use his name. Come to me. I’m here.
She lightened her awareness, trying to be peaceful. She directed whatever kind energy she could muster for Loren his way. It wasn’t much. She felt out, spread feelers in all directions, calling softly in her mind for him.
Slowly, a thread of his aura seemed to pull towards her, drifting nearer reluctantly. Let me help you. Come to me. It drifted closer still, and Tess resisted the urge to grab for him. Don’t be overeager or you’ll push him away again, she reminded herself. You might not get another chance at this.
His spirit drifted closer, and she gently reached for it with her mind. She felt a vague whiff of sorrow emanating from it, and she tried to send back soothing feelings. What’s wrong?
Faint, like a whisper on the breeze. I am dying.
You don’t need to die.
He began to drift away again, unimpressed with her assertions. Wait! She had to take a chance. Think of your mother. Would she want you to give up?
A mix of emotions swam towards her at that- shame, fear, guilt. None of them positive, but at least it had elicited some reaction. You need to try to come back. A little bit at a time. I can help you.
The words weren’t there this time, but the feeling was- ambivalence. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. Or maybe not sure that it was worth the effort.
People need you.
Disbelief.
Tess remembered how Loren had appeared on the boat- aloof, smug. She could play to that. People need what you know. They need your wits to get them through this. You can do so much. But you need to come back.
No reply. If he had any feelings on the matter, they were hidden.
Let’s start simple. I’m going to get you some water. You need to swallow it. Then you can rest again. Okay?
Nothing.
Tess pulled herself away slowly, worried to break a connection that she might not be able to make again and hopeful she was gauging this right. She turned towards Dray and mouthed the word water to him while keeping her hand on his head.
Dray slunk from the room and returned a moment later with a small cup. “It’s broth, still warm. Will this do?”
“W
e can try,” Tess said. Dray helped her prop Loren’s limp head up further with pillows and Tess slowly angled some of the liquid from a spoon into Loren’s mouth. It spilled out again. “Rot. Lower his head a little further again, maybe gravity will help.”
“Or he’ll choke on it,” Dray countered.
“So it’s a win either way, right?” That coaxed a smile from his mouth as they reclined Loren further back on the pillow.
She tried again. For a minute the liquid sat in Loren’s mouth, and she held her breath while she watched. Still no movement.
Tess turned towards Dray, considering an apology for creating any false hope, when he grabbed her arm and hissed, “Look!” Loren’s jaw was twitching, as though out of practice with movement. After a moment, his adam’s apple bobbed.
He swallowed.
Dray whooped and ran off, presumably to get more broth, as Tess spooned another bit from the cup into Loren’s mouth. Again, Loren swallowed it.
Good, she thought. Maybe you won’t die.
Not today, anyways.
Chapter Three
A sip of broth here, swallow of water there- this was how Loren was still alive. Still, he didn’t open his eyes, and Tess didn’t think he was feigning his current state of unconsciousness. She’d come to hold vigil every night, grasp his hand, and conjure images of a gentler Loren than she’d ever known. In this way she’d reach him, just enough to encourage him. He didn’t grow weaker, but his willpower stayed a few steps from the darkness, and he clung there for days.
It was hard, so hard, trying to pull someone you truly disliked back from death. She was pulling him back, this person who had blurred Russ, who had planned to weigh her down and throw her into the sea without a moment’s hesitation.
His having information that could help them did little to assuage Tess’s discomfort, and his very presence under this roof was splintering the group. Neither Fish nor Rosie would come to the bakery with him here, and Emme confirmed to Tess one evening that Rosie was barely speaking to the rest of them. She hid out at the Inn, keeping her own useless vigil with the body formerly known as Russ, and would only emerge upon coaxing from one of the Reed brothers for a bite or two of food before she again retreated. She wouldn’t speak to Fish at all.