by Nōnen Títi
“Why can’t I talk to her?”
“You’ll have to tell me that,” Nini answered.
“But I don’t know. Every time we meet I want to, I really do, but it just doesn’t happen. It’s like we’re strangers.”
“What is it you’d like to say?”
“That I didn’t mean to hurt her, I guess. That I shouldn’t have come to her when she was so tired.”
“Daili knows that.” Nini’s voice sounded sharp, irritated.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t bother you with this.”
“You are not bothering me.” But the way she said it… Nini seemed so capable of anything; all those disasters of her life, but she carried on.
“Why can’t I be like that? I feel like blaming others when the smallest thing goes wrong. I get angry and then I can’t talk anymore.”
“You’re blaming yourself,” Nini answered.
“It just seems so useless sometimes, even here. I mean, I agree with Daili’s speech and everything, and I know she’s right that nobody said it would be easy, but ‘not easy’ is different from ‘impossible’. It’s their future we’re here for, their kids, and–” Jema stopped suddenly. This wasn’t the right thing to say. They had talked about children before. Nini was just as hurt about that and had much more right to be hurt. “Sorry.”
“Stop saying sorry to me!” Nini stood up. “It’s getting cold.” She went inside.
Jema felt the cold too, but it came from inside her rather than from the night air. I am sorry. Three little words. Three stupid little words, blurted out so easily, meaningless then. But when they were to mean something…
After a while Jema did go inside, because it made no sense to stay out. Nini was sitting on her mat, leaning into the corner of the two walls with the nobi in her arms. The moment Jema entered she started talking.
“I’m not always capable of carrying on either, you know. I also get angry sometimes, but I find people to talk to. I told you about Mektar. On SJilai I talked to Remko. I still do, sometimes. I talk to Benjamar.”
Jema sat down on the edge of Nini’s mat and put the cups she had taken in beside her on the floor.
“I also wish I could start over and not have to remember everything,” Nini went on. “But even if we’re in a new place the past is still there. I can’t make it disappear, no matter how much I’d like to.” She buried her face inside the nobi for a moment. Her voice was quiet like she was; soft on the outside, but strong within.
“DJar ruined my life too, Jema, but it doesn’t have to ruin my future as well. I understand your hate. I feel it too, you know, but I hated the system for it, not the people. I don’t blame them and I don’t blame myself. That’s why I talk to people. Every day you wait may be your last chance to talk to someone you should be talking to. It may be your last chance to get over what happened, to forgive if not forget.”
“I know that.” Jema tried to keep her voice low like Nini’s; it seemed wrong to be loud. “But I can’t forgive, not that, not ever. You told me yourself that every species lives only to procreate. You have the system to blame, but I blame Kityag. This was my comate; this wasn’t some oppressing regime or accident: He assumed to know what was best for me and with that denied me the one thing that makes life valuable, and I’ll never forgive him.”
“But Daili is not Kityag. All the men here are not Kityag.”
“I know I’m projecting. I understand the psychology, but it doesn’t change my feelings.”
Taken by the intensity of Nini’s response, Jema had raised her voice anyway. She wanted to say sorry for that, but swallowed the words. Almost jealous of the toy, Jema beheld the woman who embraced it. Nini was sad. She never showed much of her anger or pain… she talked to people. Not to Jema. It was obvious why: Jema expressed her own anger far too often; she’d never given Nini a chance.
“Have you ever asked for help, Jema, other than with things that needed doing? Like, have you ever asked anybody to help you with a personal problem? Did you ever tell anybody you were lonely? Do you trust anybody? Do you trust me?”
The glassy button eyes stared back at Jema, unmoved.
“Have you ever admitted being frightened, unable, ashamed?” Nini went on.
Jema liked it better when Nini was quiet. She picked up the cups to put them somewhere else, but found she couldn’t get up; Nini had taken a hold of her dress.
“Well, have you?” Nini insisted.
“I’m a grown up. I’m supposed to help others.”
“No, no. There are people who never grow up and are not ashamed of that. There are also people who’ve never been young; who never had anybody take over and respectfully smack their backside.”
“I’m used to standing alone.”
“There’s a difference between standing and kicking,” Nini said.
“If it wasn’t for Kityag–”
“I don’t think Kityag has anything to do with this. Did you ask him? Beg him for a child?”
“Look, I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can.” Nini was still hugging the nobi with one hand while holding Jema’s skirt with the other, and she wouldn’t let go.
“He should have known.”
“But he couldn’t, could he? He was incapable of understanding you because you never said it. Maybe he was unable to see past his own views, but you should have realized that because you did understand. You should have asked it, for yourself, not expected it. You are right that people hurt each other by giving unasked advice, but you got hurt because you didn’t ask, because you can’t ask anybody for anything for yourself. You have given up everything that was important to you because you didn’t ask.”
Jema didn’t answer the accusation. How was she supposed to have begged for something that was a natural right?
Nini let go of her dress and moved forward to sit on the edge of the mat. “Jema, listen; I’m not trying to force you into anything, but after all this time I wanted to say it. I want you to know that I’m here for you. I have always been here, hoping you would trust me, at least let me in. But even that never came, so now I’m telling you: I am here, but I need you to ask me when you’re ready. I need to hear you say it.” She stood up, put the nobi down and started changing her clothes. “I’m going to sleep. You can wake me if you need to.”
Jema returned to the front step and contemplated the offer. Here was the one person she had never thought existed; the invitation had been there for moons, right in front of her. The hints had been so obvious now that she looked back. How could people live so close together and never know each other?
Marya came home much later. She mentioned having tried a bit of the dune wine, but it looked like she’d had more than just a bit. She went straight to her mat. The hours flashed away. Too many thoughts….
When light returned, Jema went for hot drinks before waking Nini, who had to work. She owed Nini; an explanation, if nothing else, but by the time Nini left for the clinic, Jema had not been able to find the right words. Now what? Marya was still sleeping.
What she should do was go to Daili, but on the way the doubts came back. What if Daili wasn’t alone? What if she was busy? What if she didn’t really want to see Jema anymore? What if Jema could just stop thinking for a while? She kicked the ground hard, frustrated by her own hesitation. A little pebble jumped away and went flying over to the other side just as a door opened and Tini stepped out. Jema held her breath as the tiny rock hit the wall, right next to Tini’s head, who slammed the door and glared.
“Sorry.” That stupid word again.
Tini recovered and looked at her. “What?”
It only then occurred to Jema that Tini had never been aware of the pebble, that the glare and slamming door were not meant for her. “Is Jari home?”
“Isn’t she always?” Tini asked.
“Can I talk to her?”
Nini and Daili had both said it wouldn’t help to try talking to Jari with her mother around, and Tini was obviously
leaving. Jema felt inside her pocket: The paper was still there. Why not?
“I have a meeting to go to,” Tini said.
“I’d like to talk to Jari alone.”
Tini hesitated before reopening the door. “She’s in the back.”
Jema nodded and went inside. She’d never been here before, but immediately recognized the landscape on the wall as Kunag’s work: Wonderful green Telemer. What must Jari think every time she saw this? It was Kun DJar, not DJar, that had hurt Jari. Jari was angry, not just at the planet but at everybody who was happy here. How to get through that? Try what everybody else already had? Daili, Nini, Irma, Tini, Kunag – all nice people, gentle people, but Jari wasn’t going to be nice and gentle, nor would she respond to it. Jema took her time moving through the room until she could see the girl sitting on her mat.
Line of Defence
Jari sighed with relief at the sound of the slamming door. Mom was going to give herself a nervous breakdown the way she was going: Always jumping in to make sure other people didn’t say the wrong things, always smiling when she called for breakfast. Dad and Kunag couldn’t wait to get out in the morning and Mom had been home too often lately. The peace that descended as she left was more than welcome.
“Jari?”
She spun around. Though she’d never really talked to her, she knew who Jema was. “How did you get in here?”
“Through the door.”
“Duh!” Another one of Mom’s tricks. Jema was framed by the entrance to the room. A large dress reached down to her ankles and was tied in the middle with a small belt. “Go to hell,” Jari told her.
Jema stayed where she was and smiled; another one who wouldn’t leave on being yelled at. Everybody apparently thought that if they were here to help they could march straight in. Jari knew that if yelling didn’t work right away it was better to ignore their efforts, so she picked up her print and turned her back. After a while they’d all leave, tell Mom they really tried and return to their pathetic little farming lives feeling good about themselves.
“Aren’t you gone yet?” she asked minutes later when Jema still stood there.
“What? To hell? I thought I just got here. Isn’t that what this place is?”
“Very funny.”
“This home, I mean, not Kun DJar. You’re making this place a living hell, right?”
Jari scowled. No way was she going to fall for those tricks. “I hear you’re not doing too bad yourself. I hear Daili talk to Mom.” When Jema didn’t respond she knew she’d scored. “One all.”
“I didn’t see you at the trefin yesterday,” Jema said to that.
“I didn’t go.”
“Why not? Afraid to show your pretty face?”
That was supposed to be her side of the conversation. “Damn you,” she told Jema.
“I thought I was already damned, being in hell and all.”
Jari put down her print and turned all the way. “You know that dress makes you look stupid?”
“No more stupid than the scar makes you look. But you know what, Jari? This dress used to belong to a person I cared very much about and what it looks like to others is totally irrelevant to me. I’m a step ahead of you in that.”
Jari put all the curse words that came to mind in a row and spat them out in a last effort to make the intruder go away.
“That doesn’t get you any points. That’s cheap. It is still two to one,” Jema said.
“I didn’t know this was a game.”
“It isn’t. It’s a contest. Championship Hurting People. I’m still winning.”
“I’m not trying to hurt people. I just want to be left alone.”
“Oh, I see; locking yourself in your home doesn’t hurt people?”
“It’s none of your business anyway.”
“That’s right, Jari. It isn’t my business. Besides, I don’t really care. I hadn’t even intended to come here today. I accidentally ran into your mom. I kicked some stones. One of them almost hit Tini. Shame it missed. Had it hit her face she would have been able to join you in this hide-out forever.”
“Okay, so you don’t want to be here, so leave.”
As an answer, Jema took a few steps away from the wall and into the room.
Jari jumped off her mat so she wouldn’t be lower down. “Why did you come in then if you were only passing by?” she demanded.
“To avoid having to go and talk to someone I do care about. Same as you; I’m hiding.”
“Okay, so I’m hiding. Big deal. It isn’t like they need me out there.”
“You mean that you’re too lazy to get involved in the jobs that need doing in town.”
“Damn you.”
“Or maybe you’re not lazy. Just scared you may get your pretty face dirty.”
“Stop saying that. You’re not shocking me.”
For a while Jema just stood looking at her. Jari preferred the game of words over the silence, but she was running out of things to say.
“You know that scar runs down the exact middle of your eye? Maybe if you’d get a mirror you could see it, Jari, but I believe this place is mirror-free? Has been for a while, I hear.”
So they all talked to each other. She still wouldn’t let it get to her.
“Well, how about some answers? It must be at least kor to one by now,” Jema said taking two more steps.
“I’m not playing anymore.”
“Don’t be silly; you’ve only just started. I’m at least sixteen years ahead of you.”
Jari noticed her reflection in the eyes of her opponent. It was small and hard to see, but the outline of her hair was there, long and wide. The moment she saw Jema smile, she knew she’d been found out. She pushed the woman with both hand as hard as she could and then kicked to keep her at bay.
“You have just lost your only point for foul play,” Jema said, recovering her balance.
“I told you I’m not playing. Go away!”
Jema took a step forward. “Try kicking me out.”
“I just may. Don’t think I’m afraid of you.”
“You’re afraid of yourself.”
“Go away.”
“You don’t really mean that.”
“I do!”
“You know, Jari, at first you had the right to be upset and angry, but not anymore. Not after the storm; not after people lost their children in the mud and children their parents.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I have no idea. What do you want?”
“For you to leave.”
“Sorry, can’t do that. Unless you want to come with me?”
“No.”
“You know what will happen if you go out, Jari?”
“I know nothing will happen, I just don’t want to.”
Jema came closer still. Automatically, Jari stepped back.
“Actually, a lot will happen. People will look at you, point maybe. They’ll be surprised to see you after so long. Then they’ll do either one of two things: They’ll quickly turn and pretend they didn’t see you, or they’ll whisper to whoever they’re with. They may even giggle and they’ll run home to tell the others all about it. ‘Did you know Jari is finally coming out of her home? Poor kid. What a pity. She used to be so pretty and now look at her. So hurt. How will any boy ever want a girl like that? How–’”
“Stop, okay? Stop!” It wasn’t just the words but Jema coming closer that needed to stop. Jari had reached the wall. There was no place to go.
“I’m not quite finished,” Jema said and let her hands come forward to lean on the wall on either side of Jari’s head. “So you have two choices. You run and hide away from them forever, which will make them right in everything they say and think. Or you go out and confront them. Make them look like the idiots.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“I know it’s easy for me to say, but didn’t I just offer to go out there with you?”
“What good will that do?”
“I may
prevent you from punching them in the face.”
Something in the image that came with those words made Jari want to laugh, because Jema was right. “I can’t breathe when you’re this close.”
“I told you you’ll have to kick me if you want me to move. Only this time I’ll kick back.”
“It still won’t work. People don’t want to talk to me.”
“No, of course not, since you meet everyone with the message that you have a scar. You use it as a weapon with which to threaten those who come near. Nice excuse not to have to deal with what really worries you.”
“I’m not worried. I like being alone.”
“Yes you are, but it has nothing to do with your injury. On SJilai you dropped out of Learners because you considered yourself ready for a job. Now you’re old enough and have to prove yourself, and you’re afraid you can’t do it.”
“Damn you.”
“I’m beginning to learn your secret language, Jari. ‘Damn you’ means ‘you’re right’.”
Jari closed her eyes. If Jema would only move.
“Listen, Jari. It looks to me like you’re cornered here. I’m not going to give in now that I’m here. You can’t play this game forever. I made this promise to try and kick some sense into you. I promised Daili, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I hate losing battles. So you can either work with me on my terms and we’ll take it one step at the time, or I can force you out, literally.”
“Mom would report you for violence.”
“In which case you’d have to come out and testify in front of everybody.”
“What do you want me to do?” No longer did she want to push against the invasion; she’d have liked to embrace it.
“Have a look at this.”
Jema stepped back from the wall and reached into her pocket. Jari expected a mirror, but it was a piece of paper. Just when she reached for it, Jema pulled back her hand. “If you damage it, I’ll hit you. Kunag made it on my request, so it’s mine. You hear what I’m saying?”
“I hear you.” She took the paper. Typical of a Kunag portrait, he’d put her face in a frame and at a slight angle. Jari didn’t immediately recognize herself; the anger in the eyes of the portrait was not what she remembered, even if it was true that she was often angry. The scar was there, but only as a thin line. She turned the paper over. Nothing was written on the back. Trying to appear indifferent, she handed it back, but Jema didn’t take it.