Of a Note in a Cosmic Song; Part Three

by Nōnen Títi

  “Maybe I just want to be away from all those arguments and the election talk,” she admitted. She explained about the girls supporting different camps and getting stuck in the middle. “The story of my life. Everybody argues; they thrive on it, and I think they enjoy it and that they enjoy that it hurts me. They lie about each other and everybody believes them. Nobody even listened to me at the trefin. I made a fool of myself. They applauded and then turned around and laughed at me. Nobody cares. All they want to do is win and it doesn’t matter who gets hurt.”

  Benjamar refilled the cups. “What about Kalim? Do you two still get along?” he asked.

  “Yes, we do. It was nothing, really. I guess he just didn’t want me to leave him.”

  She told it then anyway; told him of Laytji’s request to have Kalim come to Learners, like the specialists had on SJilai, after most others had declined with excuses because they felt just as lost as Daili did without written prints. Kalim had said he was busy, but in her quest to save Learners, Laytji had kept insisting. Kalim had refused to give in, saying Laytji had not asked but demanded and he wouldn’t answer to that. “He could have said yes. What is an hour or so if it makes the kids happy? But he sticks to his principles, so Laytji got upset.” She briefly told him how this had led up to the discussion that had her run out.

  The more wine Daili drank, the easier it was to come out with all her grievances. “I think that’s the reason Hani signed on in the first place. She doesn’t want to be with us anymore.”

  “She’s growing up, Daili. Let her have some time away. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t want you,” Benjamar said.

  “But she doesn’t talk about it. What if she feels abandoned? I promised her a better place to live, Benjamar, but it isn’t better. People never change. I betrayed her.” She drank the last of the wine from her cup to drown the water from her eyes.

  “I think that is the problem, isn’t it, Daili? It has nothing to do with Hani leaving on this expedition or even with you not going. It has to do with moving here, with you taking Hani and leaving your own daughter behind. You have never forgiven yourself.”

  “What if she’s sorry? What if Anni is? What if she needed me, but I left and I can never go back? What if she hates me?” She took the jug Benjamar had left standing and filled up her cup again. “I hated my mother, Ben, and I hated you too.”

  He took the cup out of her hand.

  “I can’t sleep at night anymore because of you. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, but I know it was you. Maybe I knew from the start but I couldn’t remember. Only now the dreams came back.”

  “What dreams?”

  “I dream of an innocent child being used to uncover a lie spun to protect another child; a child like Jitsi. The trial made it worse and then Jema and now I just don’t know anymore!”

  He handed her a tissue. “The trial of Thalo and Leyon? Is that why you didn’t come to me anymore?”

  Somewhere far away, Daili knew she should get up and go home, because she didn’t want to tell him and she wasn’t getting the facts right from the wine, but she went on anyway. She recalled Jema telling her what she didn’t want to know and about the triggered memory of a little girl he had called as a witness at his trial. “The one that made you judge.” She wiped her eyes with the soaked-through tissue. “My mother cheated me. She told you what I’d trusted her with, and then I had to come and testify. I didn’t understand it then, Ben; I thought I was helping. You said it would be okay but it wasn’t, because I had to go back to Learners. Most kids in Kolnuia were Society then. They talked about me, they talked to me. They told me I killed Leni’s father. It never stopped after that. I didn’t even understand why they said it then, but I believed them anyway.”

  Eventually she’d forgotten about it altogether, wiped it from her memory until it suddenly had come back when she heard him talk at the trial. “It was something you said; the words you used. I suddenly knew I had been there once and I knew that without me… that they were only trying to protect Leni’s father. She was only six then, same as Jitsi was when she came on SJilai. And now Jema told me they’re all here, all those kids, and I’m afraid to even go out anymore in case they know who I am!”

  More tears came. Benjamar handed her the wine back and she drank it too fast. He didn’t say anything. Maybe he didn’t even know what she was talking about. She was sorry already she had. It was a lifetime ago…

  For a long time, all Daili seemed to do was wait and drink. Then he sat down right beside her.

  “Listen to me, Daili. I have made mistakes in my life. It was a mistake to use a child to get the truth out. Your mother didn’t mean to cheat you; she worried about you spending the night in a home where people were beaten. I didn’t know about Leni. Trials are about facts, not about the emotional baggage of the people involved. – Or so I believed.”

  “I don’t know, Ben. I never trusted my mother after that. I never told her anything. I guess I deserted her, in a way. We were never close, but I didn’t know why until I remembered.”

  “I have deserted a son because I didn’t understand him, Daili, even if we lived together. It makes no difference if you’re on another planet or in the same home. Being close is not a matter of physical distance: You didn’t desert Anni and she doesn’t see it that way. You’re not deserting Hani either. You gave them your trust.”

  He refilled her cup, but not his own. She felt warmer toward him now. Maybe he was right.

  “I can’t go back and start over, Daili, and I can’t make it better for you; I can only learn from my mistakes. I’m glad you came and told me. I won’t fail you again.”

  “What about Leni?”

  “Maybe we should go and find her. Talk to her, together.”

  Daili finished her wine without tasting it. Later, she hardly remembered Benjamar walking her home.

  The next morning Daili was too tired to go to work. Kalim stayed home too; he crawled back onto their mat after seeing the kids off. “Benjamar had a go at me last night,” he said.

  “Kalim, I’m sorry. I’m not even sure what I said to him.”

  “No, you’re all right. I could have been more tolerant. I have chosen to live with a family but I run off to work all the time and let you deal with it.”

  That wasn’t quite true either: Kalim tried hard enough, especially with Tikot. She told him so.

  “Daili, I’m apologizing to you. Accept it. We have to re-evaluate our needs here. It’s so easy to fall back into a life of work and responsibility as if that’s all that counts, but it isn’t. Too many things here are different. Things we took for granted on DJar, like the food we threw on the table each night without taking any pleasure in either making or eating it. Now that we’re here, where nothing tastes or smells of anything, I’m beginning to see the value of it. The same goes for our time together.”

  “What did Benjamar say?”

  “A whole lot of things. He made me realize that we’re expecting too much of this place. We all want it back the way it was on DJar, not just the technology, yet we forget why we left. Benjamar asked one very simple question, really.”

  Daili rested her head on his chest. On one side she could hear his heart’s steady beat, while her other ear listened to his words.

  “He asked if going to Learners made Tikot happy. If going to work made us happy, or if we do it because we see it as a job and DJar dictated that jobs have to be done every day, need or no need. Whether you and I are here today is not going to change the lie of the land or the next storm coming, so we don’t have to go.”

  “Then where is Tikot today?”

  “Playing outside. Long ago on DJar there was no Learners: Kids learned by watching, copying, asking questions, and they did fine. Learners here is no more than a child care centre.”

  “Frantag will get a fit if you tell him that.”

  “That’s the whole point. Everybody is shocked if we discard what we presume to be necessities, but Benjamar is right. The only way
to make a community work is by making its people content, not by forcing them into useless activities. So from now on, we work when there is a need. Let Sunya go on the expedition; let Hani go. You and I can be here together. Take it easy.”

  “I’m very lucky to have found you,” she told him. “And Benjamar. We’re all very lucky to have Benjamar.”

  When Laytji came home she reported that Tikot had not been at Learners again.

  “That’s right. He had some friends he wanted to play with,” Kalim replied.

  Laytji, now as tall as Kalim, stopped in the middle of the room and stared at him.

  “From now on he’ll only come when he wants to,” Kalim told her.

  “Jema won’t be happy.”

  “If Jema has a problem with that, she can come here and talk to us,” he said.

  “I always had to go.”

  Kalim explained to her then what he had earlier to Daili. He also suggested they’d all take a day off tomorrow to go to the beach together. He cut off Laytji’s protest by repeating that Jema should come and talk if she wasn’t happy about it. Hani also spoke her doubts about staying away from the workshop, and Kalim told her the same thing.

  Daili walked to Benjamar’s home later to say thank you and to apologize for drinking so much.

  Benjamar laughed. “You see, Daili, the day people stop coming to me for advice is the day I will be too old to keep on living. Until that day comes, please stop saying sorry to me.”

  He mentioned that the wine was a blessing in some cases. Without it, Daili would have never expressed what really hurt her. Daili had to admit that she’d already started healing from having talked. She told him of Kalim’s turn-around.

  “I guess I was pretty hard on him last night. Not just him, though. Your visit yesterday reminded me of my job here; that of getting people moving so now and again. So I had a good time today. I went to see Branag and Tini. I talked to Jema as well. I gave them all a bit of a mouthful. I may even go to Frimon and Roilan and do the same thing. You go to the beach tomorrow and don’t worry. I don’t think anybody will come and complain.”

  “Do you want to come with us?”

  “No, this is your family outing.”

  On the way home, Daili thought she should do something special for Benjamar soon. He had turned her desperation into happiness with a single evening of talking. Maybe she should have another little get-together: The people he had mentioned were those who’d been at her party on SJilai, those she’d been closest to. But would it be the same? Tini was so difficult lately and Jema would probably decline the invitation. What had Benjamar said to them? Hopefully she’d not told him anything about them that was unfair.

  It had been so long since they’d done something as normal as spend a day at the beach. The sea didn’t have much of a tidal zone, but the air was moist and the cold wind felt different than in town. Daili shook her hair loose and let it blow around. The girls and Tikot, dressed in thick jumpers and pants, looked for orbs in the sand, which was wet and course and stuck like glue to their clothes. Once they were satisfied that they’d not disturb any creatures, they made a sandcastle together.

  Watching them brought back a memory from long ago. Though only six DJar years, it felt like much longer since they’d tried to decide what the right choice to make was; since Anni had decided for all of them. “Do you girls remember the Ketemer beach, when Kun DJar was just a dream?”

  “Yes, a dream I had to fight for,” Hani said. “I was so afraid of you then. You were this strong woman and I needed you, but I wasn’t sure if you’d take me.”

  And fight she had. “I never had the impression you were scared of anyone.”

  “I was, but not anymore. Now I think you’re the best friend I could have ever had.”

  Daili told them how proud she was, that they had more than proven their determination these last stations. “Are you happy you came?” she asked, aware that this question could spoil the mood.

  “Sure; we have a real life now,” Laytji said.

  Hani didn’t understand that. “I’m happy with this life too, but it’s no more real than it was on DJar.”

  “Yes it is.” Laytji tried to explain what she meant, but lacked the words. Daili understood her but she could also see Hani’s point: Hani was a different person. Her reality was based on facts rather than emotions. Thus, for Hani, life was real no matter where you were. And Anni? Maybe Laytji had been right about that too. Anni would not consider this a better life; she lived by other standards.

  When dusk came, the girls said they were hungry.

  “I haven’t heard anybody say that for a long time. Must be the fresh air and the exercise,” Kalim told them.

  Tikot was neither hungry nor thirsty; he’d brought a flask. He didn’t want to go back yet and insisted they stay until dark to see the sparkles on the ocean.

  It was worth the wait; when it came, the whole sea seemed to be switched on as if it was a sheet of light. For a little while, they all had a go at catching some of it in their hands. Tikot walked around with some on his shoes, making a little trail on the sand. Then they all stood and watched, stunned, as the trail collected into a puddle that appeared to work itself back to the water deliberately. They tried it again.

  “What causes that?” Daili asked.

  “It’s a life being that floats on the top. Remag says a chemical reaction makes it shine like fireflies, but then really, really big,” Tikot answered.

  Daili suggested, in that case, maybe they should leave it in peace, so Tikot reluctantly agreed to go home. They crossed the dunes under the light of the one moon, all five in a row, holding hands. “We should do this more often,” Kalim said.

  The first homes were within reach when they saw two people emerge from the shadows, heading away from town. “Somebody’s breaking the rules,” Tikot said.

  “So are we,” Hani replied.

  To Daili’s surprise, it was Jema and Jari they came face to face with a moment later.

  “We’ve just come from the beach. I won’t be coming to Learners anymore. Kalim says I don’t have to,” Tikot told them.

  “You won’t miss much,” Jema answered, to which Laytji made a noise of protest.

  Kalim’s hand on Daili’s back reminded her that this was a good moment to say something. The only thing that came to mind was that Jari looked good; her hair was cut and tidy, and she smiled, but Daili didn’t say anything.

  “Come on kids, we’ll go ahead,” Kalim said.

  “I’m glad to catch both of you. I’m having a little party at my home, like we had on SJilai. Benjamar will be there and we would like it if you came – both of you and your family, Jari.” Daili blurted it out. Or, at least, it felt that way, and then she held her breath.

  “When?” Jema asked.

  Afraid this would be an opportunity for Jema to say she was busy, Daili came up with the best she could. “Whenever you can all make it. Maybe about a kor from now, at the start of the new season. Come over an hour before Kundown and we’ll all eat together.”

  “I’ll tell Mom,” Jari answered.

  For the first time since they stood there, Jema looked at Daili. “I’d like to, but… maybe we should meet before…”

  At that moment, Daili actually saw what Nini had tried to tell her all along: All that distance had been insecurity. “Anytime, Jema; you know that.” Something snapped as she said those words: They sounded right. All the way home she felt strangely happy; only when she was almost there did she think that a Kun DJar kor was only six days and a kor from now would be either on the day of or the day before the elections, and the last thing she wanted was for that to become the subject of the evening.

  Tikot was alone when she arrived. The girls had gone with Kalim for the food and hot water. “I’m tired,” he said.

  “We all are, I guess. Do you want a drink?”

  He didn’t. He told her he still had his flask.

  “I thought you’d have finished that by n
ow.”

  “I filled it up in the sea three times.”

  It took a moment for Daili to realize he’d been drinking seawater and that was not good. She made him empty the flask and refill it with water from the container and told him to drink lots of that.

  “But it isn’t salty,” he protested when she tried to explain why it wasn’t safe to drink from the sea.

  By that time the others returned with the food and it was only the next morning that Daili recalled Tikot’s words, as well as Kunag’s mention of the sea on that very first exploration mission on Dryland. Could it be that the seawater was drinkable? There could be life in there that was dangerous, but there was no salt. What if they could clean it, filter it? Had they, all of them, really taken DJar knowledge for granted without ever thinking that if the salt content was lower, the water could be consumed? Did it take a child to point out the obvious?

  She considered taking Tikot to Irma but he showed no signs of weakness, so she let him go and play, unable to shake the excitement that this revelation caused her. Frimon and his worries about the water shortage would be outvoted in no time. The river and even the well might be dry, but there was a massive ocean out there. It could save the colony if the draught continued. She’d have to tell someone: Jenet, probably, or the food testers, but how would they react? Maybe she’d write it down first and do some tests – it had to be scientifically valid or they’d laugh at her. She scribbled a few thoughts down on the corner of the SJilai-scan map she was making for Sunya to take on the expedition, and left for work

  It was still early when Daili returned home after having decided to abandon her efforts to find sources for fuel. There were none, and even if there were they would never be able to reach them. They had windmills and helio arrays, and that would have to do. Instead she would concentrate on getting Sunya prepared for the expedition.