by Alia Hess
Corvin’s nostrils flared.
“Relax. You look fine.”
Trav appeared at the door, a small bag slung over one shoulder. The ever-present cloak used to shield his albino skin from the sun was missing, his face awash with weak gray light.
“Hey, guys.” He gave Corvin an uncomfortable glance and walked inside, setting the bag on the table.
Corvin clutched the door knob, the paper flower in his other hand going slack. “Where’s Dewbell?”
“Uh, she didn’t come this time.”
“What do you mean? W-why not?”
“She told me it hurts her too much to see you guys in here. She needs a break. Sorry.”
The flower quivered in Corvin’s hand. “But… But I need to talk to her about last week. She doesn’t want to see me?”
“She does, but she hates this place. It takes a lot out of her to visit you guys here all the time, and last week was just too much.” Trav looked at his big feet. “Which is mostly my fault.”
“But…”
Corvin turned to Sasha, face drawn, and Sasha’s stomach dropped. No, it was my fault. I told her she needed a break. And now when Corvin needs her, she’s not here.
“Give Trav that flower for her,” Sasha said. “She can read at home and know how you feel. Besides, after what that fat guard say about her, is probably better this way. He threaten to touch Dewbell, Trav.”
Trav scowled. “I’m not surprised. I had sandwiches for you guys that Dewbell had made, and that guard slapped them out of my hand and they went all over the ground. Sorry.”
Corvin pulled a deep breath through his nose and dropped the flower on the table. “Better that way. We can’t get any more food or things from home from you. It’s putting us in danger. We already dumped all our unnecessary things—dishes and all my sewing supplies.”
“I thought it looked empty in here.” Trav reached into his bag and pulled out two folded papers. “But hey, I have letters for you from Dewbell. She told me she would keep writing you, and if you want to write her, you can do that too.”
“She’s not coming back at all, then?” Corvin’s brows pushed together as he unfolded the letter Trav handed to him. “I suppose it’s for the best for her safety, but I’d hate to think she’s staying away because of my actions.”
“That’s not why.”
Sasha took his own letter and opened it.
Sweet Sasha,
I want nothing more than to be with you in person and give you some more of my hugs, but I don’t have the strength in my heart to—
The sound of crumpling paper caused Sasha to look up. Corvin held his balled-up letter in one fist, face pained.
“Hey, what’d she say? It can’t be that bad. It’s Dewbell.” Sasha took the letter from Corvin’s outstretched hand and smoothed it out.
My Dearest Corvin,
I just can’t be around you right now. I think staying away from each other for a while—
Sasha folded the letter and offered it to Corvin, but Corvin simply stared at him. “What’s the rest of it say?”
“You want me to read it?” Sasha glanced at Trav. “Out loud?”
“No. To yourself. Tell me if it’s bad.”
Sasha unfolded the letter hesitantly. “You sure?”
“I can’t do it.”
Trav put a hand on Corvin’s arm and he flinched away, backing into the wall. Trav’s gentle, lilting voice came out low and barely audible. “Why don’t you sit down while Sasha reads it, brother? I brought cookies.”
“What?”
“Look, I’m not going to pretend I know what goes on in your head, but when I got home last week, I thought about what you’d said—that you were only trying to save Sasha from things that you went through—and I… I realized what that meant.” Trav rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Owl never told me—”
“I never told her.”
“Well, I still feel like you and I have a long way to go before being comfortable around each other, but I overreacted, and I’m sorry. Come sit down.”
Corvin slid away from the wall and sat at the table. “Dewbell made cookies?”
“No. I did.”
“You, Trav? Made me cookies?”
“Well, they’re for both of you, but yes. Luckily, the guards didn’t spot them. Dewbell was going to make them, but I told her I would do it. I made her dinner last night too, and brought her some veggies from the garden. Seasalt is taking her shopping today.”
Corvin stared at the table. “Thanks for looking out for her.” He pointed to the letter in Sasha’s hands. “Please read that.”
Sasha turned his gaze to the paper.
My Dearest Corvin,
I just can’t be around you right now. I think staying away from each other for a while is best, because my heart aches for you. Too much. Much too much.
I am not an artist like you, nor a poet, but to give you strength while you are there, I want you to know how much you mean to me. I love you so much. I burn for you in my body and mind—for your gentle touch and sensitive, beautiful, artist’s soul.
You are such an amazing man. There is so much depth behind your eyes that when I stare into them, I feel like I could get lost forever, and I cry when we make love because you take me to some place no man before you has taken me.
You complete me.
Yours eternally,
Dewbell
A flush burned in Sasha’s cheeks and he folded the letter, handing it to Corvin. “She is not mad at you, man.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very.” Sasha sat next him, hands in his lap. “You should read it. But don’t punch me for reading that private stuff, okay? You tell me to.”
Corvin opened the letter and scanned the lines, his breath quickening and eyes growing misty.
Sasha glanced at Trav and gave an awkward chuckle. “So, this is about most uncomfortable meeting, huh? How you doing?”
Trav shrugged and swallowed hard. “I don’t know. Okay, I guess. I’ve been without Owl for what seems like forever now. Son of Owl cries a lot more than he used to. I got upset the other day because he broke one of the Old World gadgets in Owl’s collection. I mean, that stuff is already broken, but it’s just—it’s her stuff. And you’d think this situation would make all of us come together to support each other, but instead, I got mad and yelled at Corvin.”
Corvin was smoothing out his letter, almost compulsively, a distant look in his eyes.
“We do come together in this, though. Everybody cares,” Sasha said. “Everybody is doing best they can.”
“Even Quietbird is stressed out right now,” Trav said. “It has something to do with you two, but he won’t say what.”
Corvin looked up, lines stacking his forehead. “We’re not going to get transfered or something, are we? Because he promised that wouldn’t happen.”
“I wish I could tell you. I don’t know what it’s about. We’ve only got about three weeks until Owl and Dusty come back with the others. That is, if everything went according to plan. I’m going to keep hoping it did. The lack of communication has me worried, but I don’t want to think about it too hard until I know for sure there’s a problem. You think you guys can hold out for another three weeks?”
Sasha sighed. “Not like we got choice, even if we can’t. Maybe you should have brought bigger bag, Trav. I am kind of small guy. I could fit inside and you could carry me out of here.”
Trav breathed a laugh. “Want me to just toss you both over the fence?”
“Yeah, that is great plan. But I want to see you fight that ugly guard, Halfmoon, first. He’s fat, but I think you can take him.”
Trav chuckled. “You have love notes for Dusty this time?”
“Yeah, I got bunch.” Sasha walked across the dim room, cool ocean breeze invading the hut through the open window. The sky beyond was dreary, burdened with a thick layer of dark clouds. He picked up a sack filled with folded notes and handed it to Tra
v.
Trav looked into the bag, his pale eyes widening. “Good lord, Sasha. Your well of perversion is bottomless.”
Sasha shook his head. “No, no. Most of them are just little papers with one sentence. ‘I love you.’ ‘I miss your face.’ That kind of thing.” An impish smile curled his lips. “Some sexy ones too. ‘I want to eat you up like—’”
“I get the point. What do you want me to do with them? It’s going to take forever to read all these one liners if they call again.”
“No, I want you to take them to my house and put them all over my bed for Dusty to see when she get back.” He absently touched the photo inside his shirt. “Can you do that? We have extra key hiding in flower box.”
Trav stared at him. “I hate to say this, but I may have to learn some romance pointers from you.”
Sasha winked at him. “You steal whatever idea you want if it make Owl happy.”
Trav tucked the origami flower into his bag and pulled out a drawstring sack. He looked at Corvin. “I’ll give Dewbell this flower as soon as I get back.”
“Thanks, Trav.”
Nuts and white chocolate studded the cookies in the little sack. Corvin grabbed a handful and let out a contented sigh. Sasha took a bite of one and sat back. “Every time somebody give me food that don’t come from jail, I fall in love with them. Look out, Trav.”
Trav chuckled and shook his head.
As Sasha chewed, he opened Dewbell’s letter.
Sweet Sasha,
I want nothing more than to be with you in person and give you some more of my hugs, but I don’t have the strength in my heart to do that right now. I am so, so sorry about what happened to you, and I’m so grateful that my darling Corvin was there to help you. I want to be with you two for moral support, but all of this just kills me inside, so I’m taking your advice and resting up emotionally for a bit.
I’m sure Corvin will be upset. It breaks my heart, but I can’t be around him right now. I love him too much, and you as well, to see you guys suffering in that horrible place. Do make sure he reads the letter I wrote him, will you?
Stay safe. I don’t know if I will feel up to coming back to Tam, but I’m counting the days until everyone gets back and you are released. Write to me if you feel the need.
I love you.
Dewbell
Sasha sighed, tracing the letters with his finger. It was good for Dewbell—good that she was doing this for herself to ease her own suffering a little bit. Hopefully she was soaking in a big bubble bath.
Not cutting her arms in it.
The thought made him sick and he pushed it away.
A bitter, salty wind rattled the shutters and Sasha stood to close them. The swollen gray clouds had taken on a sooty appearance, as if Corvin had dragged his charcoal stick across the sky. Beyond the huts, the ocean was a kicking black abyss, and sea birds screamed overhead.
He latched the shutters as Trav stood.
“Sorry to cut this visit short but it looks like it’s going to get nasty outside. I should get home.” Trav clapped Sasha on the shoulder. “Your neck’s looking better. You haven’t had anymore trouble with anyone, right?”
“No.”
“Good.” Trav chewed his lip, his gaze turning to Corvin. He hesitantly offered his hand. Corvin frowned and shook it. “I’m glad you were able to stop that guy. Nice job.”
Corvin’s mouth parted. “Did Dewbell put you up to this? The cookies. The apology. Being nice to me.”
“No.” Trav sighed. “I don’t hate you, Corvin. I’m sorry I come off that way. I just… don’t understand you, I guess. You put me on edge. Maybe, uh, maybe one of these days we’ll have to go fishing and drink some moonshine or something. Y’know, to get to know each other better.”
“Um… Sure. Okay.”
Trav rubbed the back of his neck and looked around. “Okay, I’m gonna go. See you guys in a few days.”
He opened the door, wind whipping in and sending goosebumps across Sasha’s arms. Thunder cracked as the door shut, cold breeze whining through the wall slats.
It was too bad Sasha didn’t have his big pink coat, but he knew the North was cold, and had wanted Dusty to take it with her. She used to make fun of him for wearing it—insisting it made him look like a chewed up piece of Corvin’s gum—but she seemed happy to take it. He had a habit of giving Dusty his tee shirts too. She liked to wear them, and he liked to see her in them. More so than even the wedding ring on her finger, those shirts swelled his chest with pride. They screamed, “that’s right, baby. She’s mine.” Hopefully that coat was keeping her warm right now.
Sasha pulled on a sweater and pair of socks. Corvin had cocooned himself in a blanket in the corner of the room, sitting against the wall with a cookie in his mouth and Dewbell’s letter before him.
He glanced up. “Dewbell doesn’t hate me.”
“No.”
“In fact, I think she might love me even more than I realized.” Corvin’s gaze went back to the letter.
I wish I had a letter from Dusty.
If she wrote him one, it wouldn’t be beautiful and poetic like Dewbell’s to Corvin. Dusty wasn’t built that way. Her letter would be blunt, raw, and to the point: Sasha, I can’t stand being away from you, and I need your kisses badly. He loved her honest and down-to-earth nature.
Shivering, Sasha wrapped several blankets around him and pulled the photo from his shirt. It was a bit brittle and warped from his genius escape attempt into the sea. He clutched it tightly and shut his eyes as the ocean roared and wind howled outside.
Dear Dusty,
I don’t think you going to hear this letter before you come back, but maybe I can give to you later. I am in little hut, freezing my ass off. Storm has been blowing for three days. It’s real nasty outside, raining and windy and lots of lightning. Corvin sometimes hang out in hut with me, but then he goes to diffrent one by edge of water. He tell me he has some important things to think about and want to be alone sometimes. I think he is thinking about Dewbell a lot. Or maybe he is doing meditation or something and don’t want my jokes to bother him. I don’t know.
I don’t got anything to do, so I am writing to you. I miss you so much. I love you. I want to touch your face and kiss your lips and smell your hair. Every day I have same fantasi about you. We are sleeping in bed, and it is morning. We are warm and safe in the covers, and you feel so good laying next to me. It is quiet and peaceful, and there are delishus food smells coming from market. And maybe soon we will wake up and drink coffee and buy hot pastri from food stall. Maybe we will make love in shower. But right now, we are just asleep, safe and warm in bed, and I don’t want nothing else.
I love you.
Your Sashabear
Sasha awoke wet and shivering. He jerked up, bewildered by the water pouring through the gaps in the wall slats. A gust of wind hit the hut and the floor shifted. Food trays and letters fell off the table into the water, and the window shutters flew open. Rain blasted in, lashing his already freezing skin. Wind tore palm fronds from roofs. The horizon out the window was ugly and black, punctuated by bursts of lightning.
What time was it? Evening? Certainly not yet night, as Corvin always returned from that little hut by the water before—
Shit. Corvin!
Teeth chattering, Sasha reached for the door knob. The floor bucked again and the walls bowed, then split, giving birth to a torrent of dark water. Sasha fell back, gasping and splashing. He struggled to his feet and slogged out of the disintegrating hut, the wind screaming in his ears.
It was difficult to see anything in the hurling rain. Chunks of debris—hut walls, palm fronds, doors, and parts of the detainment fence—bobbed and lurched in the icy water, which now reached his knees. Sasha’s heart seized as he turned for Corvin’s hut. It wasn’t there. He squinted into the storm, wet papers and leaves slapping at his arms. Detainees hurried past him, climbing toward higher ground. Guards shouted, beckoning furiously toward the grassy embankmen
t. Sasha ran for the ocean, his heart jackhammering as he strained to see through the chaos.
A flash of red caught his eye. Corvin was chest deep in water, arms flailing as he tried to grab the rocky outcropping at the beach’s edge. Sasha splashed through the water, his legs numb with cold and pulse throbbing. Corvin’s wild, panicked gaze caught Sasha’s and he thrashed harder.
Sasha gripped the sharp rocks and reached for Corvin’s hand. A tide of water engulfed Corvin and he disappeared.
“No!” Sasha stared at the spot, a nauseous surrealism twisting his gut. He scanned the water, willing Corvin to materialize. Fence posts and tree branches rolled through the swift current. Where is he? Where is he? Should I dive in? No, that would be suicide, but I can’t just leave him.
A ragged palm tree fell into the water, the swell hitting Sasha in the face. He clutched the rocks as the ocean threatened to drag him in, searching frantically for another glimpse of Corvin.
Lightning flashed over the water. An ear-splitting peal of thunder filled the darkness.
This can’t be happening. How will I break the news to Dewbell? How will I live now without that weirdo’s quirky company?
Sasha let out a sob, his tears mingling with the rain and seawater covering his face. He touched the soggy photo inside his shirt. I have to get to high ground. Have to stay alive. For Dusty.
He pushed up from the slippery rocks, limbs numb and reluctant to leave the spot. Corvin bobbed back to the surface, gagging and coughing. Sasha sucked in a breath, heart lurching.
“Corvin!”
Sasha gripped his shirt sleeve and jerked, trying to pull him to solid ground, but the ocean pulled harder and he lost his hold on the rocks and fell. He plunged headfirst into the frigid black, flailing and kicking. He kept a death-grip on Corvin’s sleeve. If they were going to die, at least they would be together.
Debris slashed at his arms. His lungs burned, aching for air. The icy water bit at his skin, enveloping him in a suffocating embrace. He had no idea which way was up; the ocean tossed him like a toy.
Dusty’s face swam in his mind—memories of lying in bed. Her warm, petite body against him, their limbs tangled in contentment and comfort. Sheets twisted around them as the first rays of morning pierced through the curtains.