by Susan Kim
Now Esther fussed over the baby, trying not to meet anyone’s gaze. She knew the others were aware of Aras’s absence. Joseph, for one, was openly staring at her with a look of consternation. But the last thing she wanted was anyone’s sympathy. What she needed most of all was to see her partner again. As concerned as she was for their relationship, she was also sick with worry. Aras was adept at navigating the world without sight, but she knew anything could happen, especially if he was smoking again.
Once Esther made certain that Kai had finished his bread and fruit and that Sarah had drunk her fill, she got to her feet. After asking Michal if she would watch over the children, Esther slipped downstairs.
As she feared, the long, dim hallway was empty. The sunlight pouring in at the windows on either end revealed only the beige carpeting, embedded with the faint impressions of countless footprints. Esther and Aras’s room was empty, too.
Although there was much work to do on the roof, she had no other choice: She had to search for him. Her children were safe for now, although the thought of Michal’s constant generosity again gave her a pang. Esther headed for the staircase and began the long and arduous process of checking the entire building.
She went down to the levels directly below their living quarters, places she and the others had barely visited: long, dim hallways identical to their own, lined with anonymous doors made of the same blond wood. Many of them were still locked. The few rooms that she could enter seemed to be preserved in time, their dusty desks and chairs frozen in place and their surfaces orderly with wire baskets still filled with yellowing paper, containers full of pens and pencils, framed photographs, and strange machines and contraptions whose purpose she could not begin to guess. Even the air seemed from another era. It was clear no one had been inside for many months, perhaps years.
By the time she made it down to the top floor of the mall, she saw it was already bustling with activity. The glass system had just started two days before. Even though the remains of shops still carried some clothing, food, and mysterious items of entertainment and recreation, the majority of goods had now been moved out and placed on tables in the main hall. Beside them was food from the garden, vegetables and fruit in baskets and boxes. As she and Gideon had planned, everything had been made to look as appealing as possible, to attract buyers with pieces of glass.
More than a few workers stopped to greet her; some whispered as she passed by, their expressions shy and grateful. She saw that there were many unfamiliar faces at work: sweeping the floor, repairing a broken window, tending the generator. Clearly, these were Outsiders, now toiling for glass. Gideon had suggested this arrangement, and it seemed to be working; everyone appeared happy and busy, and the place gleamed. Still, that was not what mattered to Esther; at the moment, she had only one thing on her mind.
She gave her well-wishers an automatic smile and kept going.
But it was no use. A thorough search of the basement level, including even the foul garage, revealed what she had already feared: Aras was nowhere.
She stood alone and uncertain what to do next. What if Aras was not hurt or lost but staying away on purpose? If she had any pride, she thought, then she should go upstairs and act as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Aras was bound to return at some point. If he was attempting to punish her, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing how worried he had made her, how miserable.
That was something she would have done if she were younger. But Esther understood from bitter experience that pride was not only childish but foolish. It meant you assumed the other person would always be there no matter what, a belief that was foolhardy even in safe and prosperous times. Life was too uncertain to ever take anyone for granted or to harbor anger against someone you loved. And as she thought this, she realized she still had one place left to look.
The house. Their house.
Esther slipped out of a side door and took off. Although Aras had led her and the children the one time they had gone, she still had a good sense of direction and knew which way to head. Esther was surprised by how good it felt to run: It was mindless yet exhilarating, as if she were fleeing her troubles. She put on speed and covered the distance so quickly, she nearly overshot the street she sought. Only at the last moment did she recognize the abandoned lot on the corner, and she skidded to a stop.
Breathless, Esther approached the small building, her heart pounding. She forced herself to be calm and not to get her hopes up as she took hold of the doorknob. Then she stood inside the front entrance. It looked untouched since the last time they had been there, but she still strained her ears to hear if anyone was at home.
“Hello?”
The silence was stark; even the mice or birds had stopped their activity inside the walls and chimney. Without hesitation, Esther ran through the house, quickly checking each room. The idea that Aras was waiting for her up on the roof grew stronger until it became a kind of magical belief. Her heart pounding, Esther flew up the final small staircase and paused before pushing open the heavy glass door.
He wasn’t there.
As Esther stood staring out at the empty expanse, disappointment and exhaustion hit her like a physical blow. Then she heard something downstairs: the banging of a door.
“Aras?”
Esther was already at the door, cocking her head to hear better. Yes, she realized with a jolt of hope, someone was definitely downstairs. “Aras!” She bounded down the steps two at a time, racing down the hall and rounding the corner, and thundering down the final stairs. Her relief was so enormous, she could not keep a huge smile from her face.
And then she stopped.
A stranger was standing in the front hallway, wrapped in sheets worn as protection against the sun. When it pushed down the hood from its face, Esther saw with a sense of crushing disappointment that it was no one she knew: only a girl about her age, pretty, with thick, wavy dark hair and big eyes.
“Esther,” she said.
The visitor was clearly from the mall; there was no other way she would know Esther’s name. But how had she managed to find her way there? As if reading her thoughts, the girl spoke.
“I’m Nur. I saw you go and I followed.” She smiled. “I got a bike, and you still go faster.”
It was true; Nur’s cheeks were bright pink and she was out of breath. Yet despite the stranger’s friendly words, Esther was on guard. Now she vaguely remembered having seen her before: She was one of Gideon’s Insurgents. “What do you want?”
Nur’s expression turned serious. “I got to talk with you. Away from the others. It personal.” She hesitated. “It about your partner.”
Esther froze. Nur crossed to the stairs and sat on the lowest one. She glanced down as she pulled the robes out from under her feet. She didn’t seem to want to look Esther in the eye. “He friend with my friend.”
“Who’s your friend? What’s his name?”
Nur shot her a look. “Her name.” She busied herself again with her sheets as Esther took in the meaning of her words. “Ruth.”
A girl.
“Where is he?” she finally asked.
“That what I try to say.” Clasping her hands in her lap as if for courage, Nur stared straight up at Esther for the first time. “They both gone. Together.”
Esther blinked; the words made no sense. “Gone?” she said stupidly. “What do you mean?”
“Gone.” Nur lifted her hands in the air. “Last night they go. I don’t know where. But it for good. My friend told me.”
“Your friend . . .”
“I tried to stop her,” Nur added. And she seemed genuinely sorry; her face was flushed and her eyes bright. “Ain’t right to steal someone’s partner. But she don’t care. She say they in love.”
Esther swallowed; when she tried to respond, her throat was so dry it was nearly impossible to choke out the words. “I don’t believe it.” But as she spoke, she saw something out of the corner of her eye, a spot of color. She whirled around and
realized what it was: a ragged bit of cloth lying as if tossed in the corner of the front hallway. Even as she crossed to pick it up, she knew what it was, and at once, Esther gave a low cry.
It was Aras’s partnering tie.
Esther reached out and her fingers closed on the familiar strip of cloth, the twin of what she wore on her own wrist. As she pulled it free and crushed it against her face, she could hear nothing else but the sound of her heart, hammering within her chest, and all she could feel was anguish.
“How long was it going on?”
Nur shrugged as if to say, What did it matter? “Long enough.”
Esther could only nod, her face expressionless.
Another girl . . . That would explain the late nights, the long silences. The fights. The smoke and perfume. With a fresh shock, she recalled their last encounter, their angry words. She had dared him to leave. And now he was gone.
She thought of Kai and little Sarah . . . and for the first time, Esther experienced a flare of rage. Aras had abandoned not only her, but two innocents who needed his love and care. And all for someone else.
Nur had risen and was standing in front of her, her face full of pity and another expression Esther couldn’t name. “You all right?” she asked, placing a hand on Esther’s arm. Esther shook it off.
“Why did you tell me this?” Despite her efforts, Esther’s voice broke.
“Because. You our leader. And you got to know.”
There was nothing left to say. Nur pulled her hood back up over her face and slipped out the door.
Esther was left standing in the shell of what was to have been her home, a refuge she had avoided accepting. How much of this was her fault? She felt something new, a dizzying sense of guilt.
She waited until the clanking of Nur’s bicycle faded away.
And then Esther broke down and cried.
Gideon was alone in his locked office, tallying up his glass pieces. He trusted no one else to count them, not even Eli.
Every day, several of Gideon’s Insurgents brought in the pebbles, heaped in cardboard crates, and dumped them on the tiled floor. Thanks to the system of calculation he had asked Joseph to teach him, Gideon now knew exactly how much he was paying out and how much he was taking in.
He paused now to admire the quantity of fragments. They were piled in glistening heaps, catching the light that streamed through a translucent window and casting a greenish glow on the white tiled floor. It wasn’t their beauty he was contemplating; the glass was essentially a pile of trash. What was remarkable was that he alone had given value to something so worthless. It had started as nothing more than a hunch. But the system was already starting to flourish.
It turned out that these glittering pieces of green could make others work for you and get you what you wanted. In short, the pebbles could give you power.
Gideon had seen the way Esther convinced the others to embrace the new system. Instead of calling a large meeting, as he would have done, she had gone person by person, talking to people both inside the District and out. Esther used simple words and short sentences. She also allowed the others to ask questions, which she answered with patience. By doing so, she had managed to win over even the most stupid and fearful. It had taken her more than a week, but by the end, everyone accepted the new way without question.
It was clear that people responded to Esther as they never would to him. If anyone could persuade even more to come around to his way of thinking, it was she. With her influence, he would soon be in the position he wanted.
And now that Aras was gone, so was his final obstacle.
There was a knock at the door.
“Who?” Expectant, he set aside his notebook and flexed his fingers, his hand cramped from clutching the pencil. There was silence and then a girl spoke.
“It’s me.” At the sound of Esther’s voice, Gideon smiled.
Gideon had watched Esther experience what it was like to live without a partner. In secret, he had observed her as she worked in the garden and around the mall. At first, she behaved as if nothing had happened—displaying more stubbornness and grit than he would have predicted.
It was, in its own way, admirable.
Still, the new reality had begun to take its toll on her, as Gideon knew it might. He could see it in the sadness that tugged at her face, the way she struggled to police her son, Kai, the air of distraction she had when he worked with her late into the night. The day before, one of his guards had reported that Esther had faltered while toiling on the roof, even breaking down in tears.
He found her vulnerability exciting, and a new idea came to him.
He had called her and she had come. As Gideon glanced in the mirror, he ran his fingers through his hair. Satisfied with how he looked, he collected his thoughts. Then he crossed the room and unlocked the door.
As Gideon let her in and closed the door behind her, Esther wondered why he had asked her there. She shot him a questioning look.
“I hear you been sick,” he said.
Puzzled, the girl shook her head. “No. A little tired, maybe. But I’m fine. In fact, I . . .”
“I know what happen.” Gideon spoke in a meaningful way. Then he added in a softer voice, “I mean about Aras.”
At the mention of her partner’s name, Esther flinched. Then she felt her cheeks burn hot.
For many days, Esther had not spoken with anyone, not even Skar, about what had happened. Although her friends had certainly noticed the boy’s disappearance, they were too discreet to bring it up, and, stubborn as always, Esther clung to the belief that he would return. She forced herself not to think of the girl he had left her for; she knew no details and wondering what she was like only tormented her. Yet even if Aras’s new lover was more feminine and beautiful than she, Esther was convinced that Aras still loved her and the children.
Surely he would come back.
In the meanwhile, she had thrown herself into work, getting up early to head to the garden and staying there until well past sunset. During the evening, she busied herself with Kai and Sarah. Esther had declined any help from Michal; as much as she loved Skar’s partner, she couldn’t bear her pitying glance. What’s more, the children took so much energy to mind, they proved a welcome and exhausting distraction.
Only late at night, after the children were long asleep, did Esther perform what had become a secret nightly ritual. Days after Aras’s disappearance, she remembered a dusty box of white candles she had stashed at the bottom of a closet. Although cracked and dry, they still burned well, and each night, she lit one and set it in the window.
The solitary flame was a signal to Aras, wherever he was, that he was welcome back.
Yet as the days turned into weeks and her supply of candles began to dwindle, Esther finally had to admit the truth that she had been fighting all along:
Aras was never coming home.
Ashamed, she now stood in Gideon’s office and pretended to examine the ceiling. She hoped that the tears that had sprung to her eyes wouldn’t spill down her cheeks; she hated for anyone to witness her misery, most of all Gideon. To her relief, the boy turned away, as if he hadn’t noticed.
“What he done ain’t right,” he remarked. “Smoking that stuff, running off with that girl. That bad. We all think that.”
At first, Esther recoiled. Then she exhaled; it was inevitable that rumors would have spread by now. “Yeah.” She swallowed hard, relieved that her voice didn’t shake too much. “Thank you.”
“It okay.” Gideon turned and spat on the floor. “But that kind of trash ain’t worth it. You deserve better.”
Humiliated, Esther gave a frozen nod. She supposed, as usual, Gideon was trying to be nice; still, she wanted nothing more than to get away from him as quickly as possible. Although well-intentioned, he was only making things worse: His sympathy and kindness ground into her heart like broken glass.
She turned blindly to the door, but Gideon followed.
“Dwelling on it a
in’t gonna get things done,” he said. “People need you. You got to move on. Question is, how?”
Esther had been fumbling in vain with the lock. Now with a sigh, she turned and faced him.
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
Gideon shrugged. He was standing so close, he loomed over her. “I think you need a new partner.”
Esther shook her head. “I’m not looking for one.”
Then the boy did something peculiar. He sank to his knees so that their faces were nearly at the same level.
Had he fallen sick? Alarmed and perplexed, Esther glanced around for help, but his guards were nowhere to be seen. Then Gideon did something even more bewildering.
He took her right hand in both of his.
Esther found herself staring down at the sight. Despite his height, his pale hands were small and square, with broken fingernails and a faint scar that ran across one knuckle. She felt as if her mind were not quite working; nothing seemed to make any sense.
“Are you . . .” She could barely form the words. “Are you asking me to be your partner?”
“Things here working good,” Gideon said. “The new system. The glass. But ain’t one person who can run it himself. Herself.”
Esther was aware that a smile of disbelief was flickering across her face. Realizing that it probably seemed rude, she tried to control it. When she finally spoke, it was in a grave voice. She felt as if she was explaining something to Kai.
“But I don’t love you.”
Gideon shook his head, as if impatient. “Ain’t important. Besides, there ain’t much time. Got too much work to do.” He glanced at the floor as if examining the tiles. “And who knows? Maybe something happen between us.”
As Esther took in his words, she found she was appalled by such cold practicality.