Caim

by T. S. Simons

  'What am I?'

  'What would you like to be?' I asked her gently.

  'I do not know,' she confessed quietly, as the loud reunion continued around her.

  After breakfast, Sorcha steered Cam and me to the bedroom, loudly insisting on checking Cam's wounds. But as soon as the door closed, it was me she rounded on, ordering me to lift my top and lie on the bed. I scowled at Cam, knowing this was his work, but he sat silently beside me, holding my hand, guilt and concern etched in his forehead. She checked my surgical wounds forensically, her pursed lips speaking volumes. Pulling her bag from behind the door where she had clearly stashed it earlier, she removed the stitches from the two more recent wounds. As she worked, I told her about Illy's pregnancy, but she didn't take her attention from me, firing off questions. She felt along the bones in my face, palpating the breaks, asking me where I could still feel the pain, finally confirming that my cheek and nose were healing as well as could be expected. My nose was straight, but the cheekbone wasn't. It was too late now unless I wanted it re-broken to be correctly aligned. Not waiting for my response, she headed into our tiny en-suite to wash her hands as I sat up and pulled my top down, not wanting to feel a victim any longer than necessary.

  'Let's take the kids for a walk and a picnic,' Cam suggested as I rearranged myself, ready to return to the chaos I could hear coming from the kitchen as siblings and cousins argued.

  'Want to come?' he called to Sorcha, who shook her head as she returned through the doorway.

  'No. Di and I are headed into town to arrange the memorial for Luca. We have buried him, of course, but we waited for you to return to have a service. Illyria needs closure. The girls too. It has been hard on them, with you away so long.'

  'I should….' I started to say as we walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, but broke off as Cam's warm hand lightly touched my arm. Neither of us wanted to be away from each other or our children today. Besides, she might resent me now that we are home, I thought sadly.

  Rounding up their children, Di and Sorcha left, arm in arm, still so much in love.

  'Maybe they are still happy as Sam and Kendra so compliant!' I whispered, making Cam grin, although I needn't have whispered. Our children, and particularly the younger three, were intelligent, loud, and challenging. They regularly argued, and not infrequently, got into physical altercations. The volume rapidly escalating, I prayed they would be on their best behaviour today, for Ceridwen's sake. She might think she was better off with Angus.

  Neither Ceri nor Louis had asked about Angus, and we hadn't volunteered anything. Illy and I swept out of the house, all smiles, and walked them to the Eurydice, talking all the way. It was only a few hours to Stornoway, then half an hour home. Golf carts were everywhere now. They were so prolific that no one bothered keeping track of which cart belonged to which family. They were all electric, and as Sorcha and Di's algal bioreactors had been so successful, we had as much power as we needed. Every home had a plug to charge the carts, keeping the few electricians who had initially been settled here very busy.

  'Should we check in on Illy first?' Cam asked quietly, pulling me onto the couch as the kids ran around looking for socks, shoes, and hats. 'Let her know there will be a memorial?'

  Gratitude filled me, and I smiled. 'No. Let her be with her girls today. She will want to spend time with them. But tomorrow, yes. It will all hit her tomorrow. How alone she is. Pregnant. A single mother.'

  'How do you know?' Cam asked curiously.

  'Partly as I have been there. Mostly, as I am the daughter of a psychiatrist! Mum used to talk about her interesting cases over dinner and the impact on people. Not in an identifying kind of way,' I rushed to add, lest he suspect all therapists were malicious gossips. 'But without using names, she would tell us things. Dangers of acting in a certain way. Things to be wary of. Cautionary tales, I guess.'

  'Cautionary tales? Like fairytales for teenagers?'

  'Not at all. It was her way of teaching us life lessons. Describing obsessive relationship breakups, teenage girls experimenting with drugs and needing to turn to crime to pay for it. How loss doesn't always hit you instantly, owning your mistakes. The cases were always fascinating.'

  'Owning your mistakes?'

  'I remember her describing one guy, an accountant or something financial. There was a lot more to it, but the part I recall was that every time his boss gave him feedback on his performance, he would call in sick the next day. The problem was, he couldn't see the issue. Likely he didn't realise that everyone else could see the pattern and were likely laughing about it behind his back. Unable to cope with criticism, he would sulk and deny it. Then take a day off. Mum would use stuff like that, non-identifiable stuff, as a lesson to us. In this case, the lesson was to learn to accept criticism, assess it, and work out whether it was valid. If it was, then acknowledge the feedback and try to improve. If not, thank the giver, ignore what they had said, and not let it affect you. But never, ever respond badly. Especially in public. "Bad sportsmanship", my dad used to say. More than anything, Dad hated a sore loser. He used to say that handling criticism is like playing sport. It is so important to handle a loss graciously and with dignity. "People judge", he used to tell us all the time.'

  'He was right,' Cam admitted. 'People do judge a bad sport. I've met enough of them. And not just in sports. Politicians losing an election, people missing out on a job.'

  'Well, it is a good thing you won me then, isn't '

  'Angus didn't think so.' Cam leaned in for a kiss, and I lay across his chest, oblivious to the riot going on around us.

  'Eeewwww! Mum! Dad! Must you do that!' Kat's voice shrieked across the room.

  Looking up, I smiled at her. 'Is there something you need?'

  'My sneakers! I can't find them anywhere!' she wailed.

  'Did you look under your bed, darling?' Cam suggested helpfully.

  'Yes!'

  'Wardrobe?'

  'Yes!' she snapped back.

  'Did you bring them back from Di's?' Cam asked, more gently than I would have after her last fiery response.

  Katrin scoffed like we were imbeciles.

  'Well, it is a small house,' I pointed out. 'There are only a few places they could possibly be.'

  Louis walked past at this moment, fully dressed and ready to go. Ceri at his side, looking bewildered among the chaos.

  'They are outside the front door, Kat. Where you left them.'

  Katrin snorted and stormed off through the door in a huff, Louis in her wake carrying the now full picnic basket.

  'Goodness, she is like a hurricane,' I breathed to Cam.

  'She is like her mother,' he retorted.

  I rounded on him. 'What is that supposed to mean?'

  'Stubborn, opinionated, and unable to do what she is told.'

  Slapping at him, he caught my wrist and breathed into my ear.

  'Also, loyal, intelligent and the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my life.'

  'Hmm… backpedalling, are you? Trying to redeem yourself? It is going to be a bit uncomfortable sleeping on the couch if I kick you out.'

  'It is all true.'

  Sensing that we still had an audience, I smiled up at Ceri as she watched this byplay.

  'It is alright, Ceri,' I soothed, noticing her tense posture. 'We are just playing.'

  'Grown-ups play too?' she asked, her eyes popping wide.

  'Oh, all the time,' Cam grinned, pulling me back down to lie across his lap without warning.

  'Hey!' I yelped as he lay me flat. 'Watch your stitches!'

  'I am fine,' he protested, kissing me before sitting me upright. 'Right, is everyone finally ready? Can we go, please?'

  With the children chatting happily around us, the nightmares that plagued me faded, just a little. Cam slipped his hand into mine and smiled down at me as we ambled along behind them towards our favourite place. A beautiful, secluded valley on the far side of the loch.
Luca's loch. Now he was gone. I couldn't believe I was back here, and he wasn't. It felt so wrong. Luca's determined face as he gave Thorsten CPR down on that sandy bank momentarily obscured my vision. I blinked to clear it, and it was replaced by the scene as Illy held him on the dock. I doubted I would ever forget the look of anguish on her face. Snapping myself out of my melancholy, I forced myself to focus on my surroundings. Stunted trees overhanging the dirt track. Views peeking through as we rounded a bend, occasionally revealing hills covered in flowering heather, interspersed with autumn tones, browns and golds. All the little things I had missed, lying in that bed. Tiny details that I had never paid attention to before. The scent of crisp mountain air making me snuggle down into the warmth of my jacket. Weeks of wearing nothing but a scratchy hospital gown, and I was in heaven with soft fabrics against my skin. I had never been enamoured of particular trees or plants like Cam or my mother. I just took them for granted. But now, I embraced their presence with a joy that surprised even me.

  Checking the children hadn't seen my inner turmoil, I forced a smile as I watched them run ahead, teasing us for being slow. They knew where we were going. A flat grassed area surrounded by a plantation of tall conifers, almost like a small football oval. Louis was carrying the basket, so we took our time. Enjoyed the scenery and each other. Ceri lingered behind the others, not quite as far back as us, but her discomfort clear. Her rigid posture and awkward gait proved she had never walked for pleasure and didn't know how. The children were teasing each other, playing tag, and generally stirring each other up.

  'Ceri!' I called, seeing her falling further behind the group. 'See those beautiful purple flowers? The ones growing in little clumps under the trees there. They are called field gentian. Could you pick some?'

  Puzzlement crossed her face, and I watched as she squatted and squinted at the patch of flowers, pointing at them.

  'What is she doing?' I asked Cam under my breath.

  'You are so neurotypical. She is assessing them all.'

  'That isn't what I meant!'

  'But it is what you said. Pick means to choose. So, she is choosing.'

  Reaching her in a few long strides, Cam squatted beside her and showed how to select flowers with as much stem as possible without damaging them. Chatting away to her calmly, he explained these flowers were found in the alpine regions across Europe, whilst others were native to here. I listened as he pointed out the different flowers growing in the area: yarrow, milkwort, squill, speedwell and others, sharing their common and botanical names, showed her the various parts, and explained how to choose a bouquet. Some just bursting into bloom, more still in bud. But not the fully open ones, as they wouldn't last as long.

  As I watched her, I noted she was soaking it all up like a sponge. She asked no questions but paid close attention to what Cam said, then replicated his actions. At his prompting, she handed me a bouquet, awkwardly.

  'Oh Ceri, they are beautiful! Thank you!' I smiled at her, making her blush.

  Showing her how to smell the scent, her eyes widened as the earthy fragrance struck her.

  'Didn't you know flowers smell?'

  She shook her head.

  'What do they smell like?' I questioned her. 'Did you know they all smell slightly different? Each species has its own distinct scent.'

  Ceri's eyes opened in amazement.

  'Did you not read about flowers then?'

  'I know what they are,' she intoned. 'But I believed they were used at wedding and funeral ceremonies. People paint them too. I did not know they had a smell.'

  'Well, here we use them just to look pretty,' I said briskly. 'Also, the bees love them.'

  'Bees?' Her brow furrowed. 'The insects that make the honey?'

  As we made the final descent from the rough path to the grassed valley, Cam explained about bees and their crucial role in pollination, promising to show her our hives when he did his next inspection. I carried the flowers with me to the picnic spot and laid the small posy carefully on the edge of the blanket.

  'Come on, mum!' Louis called. 'Come and play soccer with us!'

  Not wanting to let them know I was in pain, and after checking that Cam was comfortably resting, Thorsten and I paired off against Louis and Xanthe. Kat acted as referee. Ceridwen could not be convinced to join in.

  'We will teach you,' Kat urged. 'It isn't hard.'

  But Ceri shook her head violently and sat on the edge of the rug, watching intently.

  After twenty minutes of laugher and running, we returned to the rug for lunch, my stomach and face throbbing, but so happy to be home.

  'Ceri! Did you destroy mum's flowers?' Xanthe asked, her face dropping.

  Peering over her shoulder, I saw what she meant. Every flower and stem had been shredded into tiny pieces, scattered over the corner of the rug.

  Not wanting to cause a fuss, I smiled and said nothing. But Kat, ever outspoken, snapped, 'Why would you do that? Mum wanted those.'

  Ceri, startled, refused to respond as Kat continued to needle her. Xanthe looked like she was going to cry. Cam hurriedly jumped in and changed the subject.

  'Who wants a sandwich?'

  After eating more than either of us had in months, Cam and I lingered under the trees, feeling blessed to enjoy the gloriously rare Scottish sun beaming down on our faces. The children had returned to play with the ball, Ceridwen lurking around the edges of the grassed pitch, pretending to be interested in the nearby bushes, growing at odd horizontal angles.

  'Why do they grow like that?' I asked Cam abstractedly as I lay beside him.

  'From the wind that used to gust through here. That is why there are very few tall upright trees. They grow straight now, since we have been here, and they are protected from the gales. But goodness, the gusts of wind used to shoot right through you like a hurricane. Most of the islands don't have many established trees, only in the towns where they were protected from the wind.'

  'One of the few things I enjoyed when we were away was feeling wind again,' I noted, not mentioning the many things that still haunted me.

  'Who would have thought we would end up here?' he murmured, squirming to avoid a dripping branch, curling up behind me. 'Melbourne, August… never in a million years did I think you and I would end up here.'

  'Didn't you say once that you wanted to live in Edinburgh?'

  'That is true. During my teens, I always dreamed that one day, I would live in Edinburgh. You asked me once if this was close enough.'

  'And you said yes.'

  Closing my eyes with the warm sun on my face, I remembered many of the places I had visited. Tropical islands with turquoise water and pristine white sandy beaches. Windswept glaciers. Bustling cities thick with pollution. But none of them felt like this place. Home.

  An angry scream woke me from my pleasant haze. It was Thorsten, followed by angry chattering voices.

  'What now?' I grumbled, ripped from my daydreams.

  Cam was already on his feet, clutching his side from the rapid movement, trying to simmer the impending riot. With a look quelling the others and a few quick questions fired at Louis, the most reasonable of the bunch, he ascertained they had been trying to teach Ceri to play soccer. Ceri had been unable to kick the moving ball, and getting increasingly frustrated, had shoved Thorsten to the ground and snatched it. Thorsten's mud-stained pants, and the fuming faces of the others, were damning evidence.

  'Is this true?' Cam asked her gently.

  'No!' Ceri's voice grew high and indignant. 'I didn't! He fell over.'

  Cam nodded, not wanting to call her a liar so soon after her arrival. The fury emanating from the other four signalled clearly enough that it wasn't true. They may be siblings, and may not always get along, but heaven help someone who hurt one of their own blood.

  'It is time to go anyway,' he announced, to general grumbling. 'We still have some chores to do at home before dinner.'

  Ceri said nothing, but stood
at the edge of the blanket awkwardly. Cam gave directions to pack up the picnic, collect the ball, grab their jackets, and start walking back.

  'Have you never played with a ball before?' I asked as I stood, my stomach aching from the sudden movement.

  The slight shift in posture proved she had heard me. Cam looked at me and shrugged, and I let it go, instead shaking the blanket and packing up the now much-lighter basket.

  The walk home was much quieter. Our four huddled up the front, talking and kicking rocks. Ceri, a few metres behind. They weren't excluding her, I could tell, but were smarting from the perceived lack of consequences.

  'Do we do something?' I asked Cam in a hushed tone.

  'No. She needs to learn how to interact with others, take responsibility for her actions and apologise for doing something wrong. She can't learn it academically. People all respond slightly differently. It can be difficult, but she needs to read the situation, respond and assess that response. Did it have the desired effect? We can't intervene, or she will never learn.'

  'It is her first day. She just looks so unhappy.'

  'She needs to be, and they need to set expectations from the start. She hurt Thorsten, then lied about it. She needs to see that the others won't be happy about their little brother being hurt. To ignore it today and punish her next time would be even more confusing for her. She needs to learn, then maybe next time she will try a different way.'

  'When did you learn so much about children?'

  Cam sighed. 'That was my childhood. Having Asperger's, I couldn't read the situation and would always try to be the silliest, the loudest. I couldn't see that other kids were turning away from me. I thought if I could get their attention, make them laugh at me, then they would laugh with me.'

  'Did you ever learn?'

  'Not really. I'm still not great in groups, am I? But in ones and twos, yes. Finally, a few kids gave me a chance, set clear boundaries and told me when I was overstepping them. That helped me learn. Having siblings might be the best thing that ever happened to her. They will firmly tell her that her behaviour isn't okay, like now. But they are stuck with her, so they need to work it out. They can't just wash their hands of her. It might make them a little more tolerant too.'