The Bright Unknown

by Elizabeth Byler Younts

  “We’ll go west, to your aunt.” The emptiness in his voice hollowed my heart.

  There was such finality in his words. He didn’t look at me when he spoke them either. He was lost somewhere inside of himself, and I couldn’t blame him. At least we were together in our grief. A loss like this was like veins of sadness flowing through your entire body. “Ezra showed me how to read a map.”

  “Can we take a train?”

  He shook his head. “We don’t have enough money.”

  “What about a—”

  “It’s way too far for a taxi. That’s for short distances.” His tone was irritated, and when he abruptly folded the map, he turned away from me.

  “Ezra did say she was nice,” I added and put a shivering hand on his arm. I didn’t know how to give to Angel the comfort I also needed. I knew my words were thin and shapeless. “Ezra thinks she’ll take us.”

  “Sure.” He nodded. I’d have to be okay with the pieces of Angel that were left. What else could I do? He was the reason I hadn’t curled up somewhere and died alone.

  “We’ll do this together, Angel. Me and you.” The kiss and his profession of love always hovered over us. I wondered if he regretted it.

  He swallowed hard—I could see it in his throat. But he didn’t look at me.

  “Would you have stayed with me and my family if—” He finally looked at me, and his stare wandered around my face for a moment before finding my eyes. “Would you have given up on your aunt?”

  While there was a slight edge to his tone, his voice was like a single thread that could snap in two at any moment.

  I opened my mouth to speak but stopped. I hadn’t belonged there as much as he hadn’t belonged to Ezra. I only would have stayed for Angel’s sake. His mother’s embrace had made him happy for those precious few minutes. The happiest I’d ever seen him in all of our years together. Happier than I’d ever been. Happier than when he’d kissed me? I didn’t know. Maybe. This evolution of our hearts was painful and left many unanswered questions.

  “What matters now is that we’ll figure this out together, right?” I didn’t answer his question, and my soul winced at my cowardice. He looked away and walked around me. “Angel?”

  “I think I’d like to be Luke.” He stopped and looked just above my head—as if he could see all the way back to that big brick house where his dreams had died.

  “But your mother. The things she said. I don’t—”

  “You don’t understand,” he yelled suddenly. He’d never yelled at me before. “I wanted to be that Luke. I wanted to be the kind of son she would love. I wanted that life. Not this one.”

  The words themselves made me step back and out of the lit sidewalk and into the soft grass. He didn’t want me was what I heard.

  “Your father at least wants you to write him.”

  That was what he saw? What I saw was a shocked man who only offered to write because he felt beholden. I saw a man who had stripped me of my name but not given me another. Angel and I were not so different, I thought. But from the beginning his expectations were too high for truth to match them. If only we’d heeded Joann’s warning.

  “Please—Nell.” My new name sounded strange in the tenor of his voice, and I nearly regretted my request. I searched his face. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin ashen. And he was so thin. Getting him well was what mattered.

  I nodded in agreement, that I would call him Luke. Then we walked into the unknown darkness of the night. Toward Margareta. Toward Brighton.

  1941

  Behold the Crux

  We walked in the dark, cool evening for hours. We were alone, and I didn’t know how Angel knew where we were going. Did he sense west?

  The few cars on the road slowed as they passed by but didn’t stop. I looked the other way so they wouldn’t see me. Angel did the same. My stomach growled in my hollow insides—except for my mind. It was full. We had nothing left to eat. We’d gone hungry so often; maybe it had been preparing us for this.

  With every hour we walked the houses grew farther apart. The starry sky took me back to the little Juliet balcony and to the conversation I’d had with my father. After a long stretch of road there was a subtle glow that marked the navy sky.

  “I can’t see what that is, can you?” Angel called back to me and I ran up ahead to him. I was glad to hear his voice. He hadn’t spoken in hours. The only voice I’d been hearing was the one in my head.

  The small bloom of light came from some type of building.

  “I don’t know. Some small building, only one story. I can see cars and trucks in front of it. There’re a lot of windows. The sign says ‘Diner,’ but I don’t know what that means.”

  When we got into the parking lot, we could see people inside. It was some type of dining hall. Everyone was eating or drinking at tables. Only a few cars were parked in front, and there was a truck with a large white rectangular box on the back. It sat up high and intimidating.

  I’d longed for the cake that had been set before me at the Sherwood house—I hadn’t even taken a bite. I could almost feel the spongy texture in my mouth. Why hadn’t I eaten it before I opened my mouth to defend Angel? Watching the people eat now only made me hungrier. Hungrier than I’d been at the hospital. I fought feeling weak from hunger and fear.

  Angel sighed, and his shoulders sagged under the parking lot light. He looked through the windows and then at me and then back again. He had to be as hungry as I was, and he hadn’t eaten that lovely cake either. He was close enough to the window that I could see his faint reflection in the glass. The person on the other side of the diner window was startled by Angel standing so close. Angel didn’t notice, but the man’s brow furrowed and he slid away. I pulled at Angel’s sleeve and brought him closer.

  “I’m so hungry,” he finally said.

  “Me too.” But would food fill us?

  “We’ll watch what other people do, like Joann said.” He sighed. “Maybe it won’t be hard.”

  As nervous as I was about going to this place called Diner, I wanted to eat. I took Angel’s hand and he clung to mine.

  When we walked inside, everyone turned toward us. Their gazes lingered for several beats of my held breath, then they turned away. A few people looked over their shoulders at us a second time. Whispers floated around and brushed against my ears, but I was glad I couldn’t make out the exact words. The only other sounds came from behind a large opening in the wall where a man in a white apron worked in the kitchen. He must have been the one making the food. I didn’t know that men cooked in kitchens. Only women cooked at the hospital.

  The sizzling and slapping of kitchen implements came in bursts. There was a haze of smoke and bright lights, making me squint. Angel pulled his hat down even farther. His eyes squinted painfully, having gotten used to the dark. The scent of food surrounded us and my emptiness craved even the unfamiliar smells.

  “Just the two of you?” The tired voice of a woman came from my right. Her head was down, and she was counting paper money in front of some type of gray machine with a drawer. Her yellow dress and white apron went to her knees, and her little hat reminded me of a nurse’s cap. Her brightly made-up face didn’t keep her from looking tired and bored. She pushed a pad of paper and pencil into her apron pocket, then her eyes raised to meet us—to meet Angel.

  “Another albino? Good Lord, I thought you freaks had left already.” She looked at Angel and then at me as if we’d already squandered all of her patience, even though we’d just arrived. “What’re you, doll, some kind of handler? You’re not beefy enough to be his bodyguard.”

  A handler? I couldn’t fathom what she meant.

  “It ain’t natural, with those red eyes and all. That lady albino was the first I’d seen, ya know, just about scared me solid.”

  “A lady albino?” Angel stepped toward her. “Here?”

  She scoffed. “Don’t pretend you don’t know about that side show that’s been moving through here.” She raised an e
yebrow.

  “Side show?”

  “You know, the strong man, dwarves, bearded ladies.” She made a gesture like she was pulling something down from her chin. “The lady albino with the see-through skin like you. You ain’t part of the troupe?”

  Angel and I shook our heads.

  “Well, it don’t matter to me as long as you don’t give me no trouble.” She walked down the aisle of tables and gestured for us to follow her. “The name’s Sandy. I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

  Taking care of us. With little understanding of what that meant, I walked with Angel to the table where Sandy pointed for us to sit. We slid into the bench-like seats facing one another. They were cushioned and not uncomfortable, considering we’d slept on a park bench not so many hours earlier.

  The lady put two papers down in front of us and turned to leave.

  “What is this?” Angel asked me but loud enough that Sandy turned back toward us.

  “Your menu.” Her expression was loaded with confusion.

  “A menu?” When Angel spoke I wanted to hide under the table. Why was he so open about his ignorance?

  “Just lay off the act, rube,” the woman said. “I’ve got my eye on you two. Don’t yous leave without paying neither.”

  Rube?

  Paying for the food hadn’t even crossed my mind. What else would we have to pay for that we were used to being given?

  “You ask too many questions,” I whispered harshly at Angel. “We don’t need more attention.”

  “How are we going to learn if we don’t?” He glared. “At least we know what this is called now.” He tapped the menu.

  The menu had rows of what I knew were foods, but I’d never heard of some of them. Omelets, eggs Benedict, French toast. I didn’t know what any of those things were. Angel was looking at his menu wearing an expression that mirrored my thoughts: confusion.

  “We get to choose one?” Angel said finally.

  “There are dollar signs next to each meal. Do we have enough money?” The writing was quite small. I leaned forward and whispered, “Can you read it well enough?”

  Angel looked a little closer at the menu. His eyes were only a few inches away.

  “Let’s share something just in case.”

  I nodded.

  “The foods sound so strange. Listen to this—” I turned my menu and pointed at the word omelet again. It didn’t make sense to me. I read, “‘Plain omelet with ham or bacon.’ What is an omelet?”

  “Anything we get will taste good.”

  Angel actually smiled, then he squinted and moved closer to the menu. A moment later he reminded me of the pancake Joyful had brought us a short time ago. We’d split it, only getting a few bites. We’d also eaten eggs before. So we ordered what they called the Classic Breakfast. Just one, though. We each got a pancake, a fried egg, and a slice of bacon. It was my first time eating the salty, crunchy meat, and I savored it from the moment it touched my tongue. It was also my first taste of syrup. It all tasted so good, but the food was gone before my stomach was half full.

  Half full was better than nearly starving. At the hospital we’d been starved for food, love, and a family. Would finding Margareta Friedrich change that reality? Would it be days or weeks or more until we found my aunt, and would she even want to be an aunt to me? I’d seen maps as a child and generally knew the geography of our country. Michigan was so far away. And what seemed further away was the idea that a family member cared enough. What if she’d also grown to be more like my grandmother and Mother? What if she wasn’t able to help? Then what?

  It seemed like years since my mother died, but it had only been about a week. It seemed like years since Joann put us on the train, but it had only been days. It felt like an eternity since Grace knew herself and we’d made plans.

  When Sandy kept the three dollars that Angel handed her and said, “Thanks for the tip,” I was reminded that I had so much more to learn. Who would I ask?

  “You been looking at that map an awful long time.” Sandy looked over Angel’s shoulder. “You trying to get somewhere?”

  “Brighton, Michigan.”

  “You got a way to get there? I didn’t see no car with yous.”

  Angel shook his head.

  “Herb,” Sandy called over her shoulder. “You want some company again?”

  1941

  When It Rains

  Once we got outside, I looked up. My little Crux constellation—full of hope—was long gone, having passed through our northern sky only briefly. But the rest of the sky was still unlike anything I’d seen before. I wasn’t looking through a dirty, broken, barred window. This was like sitting in the center of the universe and I could look up and see it all happening at once. The dark part of the sky directly above me had small pinholes of light, and then as my eyes cascaded down toward the horizon, the colors went from pink to yellow to a deep blood-orange.

  I let myself get lost in the painting of light and hope when a voice called and reminded me that we’d just accepted a ride with a stranger driving a big truck with a white rectangular box on the back.

  “So you ready to go, cowboy?” The man, Herb, wore a wide-brimmed hat, baggy denim jeans, and a shirt that was well-fitted around his belly. He had a smile on his rough-red face. He clapped Angel on the back, hard, and it pushed him forward a step.

  Cowboy?

  “We’re ready.” Angel righted himself and looked nervously between Herb and me.

  “Well, aren’t you as cute as a button, little lady,” he said, looking at me as he opened the door that was several steps up.

  I nodded and walked toward the open truck door.

  “So an albino and a mute—got it,” he said and nodded a little and then kept talking.

  Angel and I got settled in the truck, and it was different being so high up. It reminded me a little of riding in the train. But when we got on the road it didn’t have the smooth, rocking rhythm of the train; instead, the buzz from the engine was loud but strangely relaxing.

  “Gets awful lonesome driving as much as I do. Nice to have the company for a few hours here.”

  “We don’t have any money.” Angel tossed his words toward the man.

  The man sighed. “Sandy said that was probably the case. But that’s okay. I get paid to drive anyway.”

  After having walked for hours and eaten a meal, sleep was all I could think of. In my sleep I could see familiar faces and step away from my fear for a time.

  “I can get you into Ohio, but once I unload there, I’ll be going back to Pittsburgh,” Herb said. “Maybe you can find another trucker who can take you a little farther.”

  Herb paused for a few long moments.

  “But be careful, not everyone is as nice as I am.” He winked, and when we didn’t have anything to say, he began fiddling with a knob that turned on music.

  That was the last thing I heard before I fell asleep. It was a calm, dreamless sleep. I wished it had lasted longer than a few hours. My body must have sensed when the truck stopped and I opened my eyes. It was gray, and I knew what that meant. We would have a day of rain.

  The driver door opened, and Herb’s wide smile and loud voice infiltrated the small space.

  “Good morning, travelers,” he said. “You were terrible company, I have to say.”

  I didn’t know how to respond. I jabbed Angel, and he roused.

  “What?”

  “We’re stopped,” I said.

  “Oh, you ain’t a mute after all.” He laughed a little.

  Herb helped me out of the tall truck and shook Angel’s hand. He pulled Angel aside, and they looked on a map and talked some things over for a spell. Angel nodded more than he spoke. Then Herb pointed us to a diner across the street. Another one?

  The diner looked so much like the one we’d been at only a few hours ago, except it was bigger and looked older. There were large windows in the front, like the other one, but these windows had curtains on the inside that could be pulled.
This time Sandy was named Bobbi Jean, and she was wearing blue instead of yellow. She looked at Angel with wide eyes but didn’t say anything about another albino. We didn’t have to ask what a menu was. Even though I’d never seen or eaten an omelet, the word was familiar now, and it felt strange that it was. We split the same meal but ordered an extra pancake for us both. We also ordered a few muffins for the road.

  Not much later we were on the road. But this time our legs were all we had. For the next several hours there was a constant drizzle. I was soaked. My feet ached. My shoes weren’t meant for this much walking. Angel looked as miserable as I did, but we didn’t talk much.

  Angel had started a cough the day we fled, but it was much worse today and his lips were almost the same color as his skin. His eyes drooped. Was it melancholia or was it the influenza that had been going around the wards when we left? But he kept walking. When one of us stopped we’d eat some of the food we’d purchased at the diner that morning.

  The long stretches of road and stretches of sunset were ahead of us now. I was up in front, but when I looked back I could only see the shadowed figure of Angel. He was so far behind and coughing more. I started looking for shelter. A few flashes of lightning peeled open the sky and forced the drizzle into a steady rain. When the rain began piercing through us like liquid needles, I went back and began pulling Angel. He was shivering uncontrollably, and his teeth chattered loudly.

  “There,” I yelled and pointed. The rain was so loud my voice drowned in the roar. “I think it’s a barn.”

  I had never been inside a barn. I’d only seen pictures of them in books and encyclopedias. The prospect of encountering animals made me hesitate, but I had to get us out of the cold rain. It took me a few minutes to figure out how to open the door—it slid. Why didn’t it open like a normal door?