by Miriam Bell
With the slowness of a sloth, I make my way after lunch to the library. Dad waste no time giving me a cart and telling me to go collect books from those who haven’t returned what they borrowed. The pile of books on my cell floor comes to mind but if he remembers he doesn’t mention them. My steps are labored as I work through the soreness of my muscles. I would hate to know how Connor had trained growing up if this morning’s session was any indication. I perform a few stretches before beginning my task.
I collect several items from familiar faces of the community. Some apologize for not returning novels sooner while others just give me a dismissive gesture and toss the book into my cart. I’ve been at this mind-numbing task for an hour before I come across Evie.
“Millie,” she calls out to me as I walk across the cafeteria’s dirty floors.
I wonder who is set to sweep the floors today?
“I’m so glad I caught you,” she says.
She pulls out a small book from out of her apron pocket and with careful hands places it inside my full cart. Evie is a young woman, a couple years older than Jay and Lonnie. She is tall and awkward with her long brown hair braided down her back. Where I’m hard and toned from many training sessions, she is soft and curvy. She isn’t obese by any means. There is not enough food available for anyone to have that luxury. Evie, just has an easy charisma making her gentleness and shyness combination into a sweet charm that I could never pull off.
“I hear you’re training every morning with Connor,” she says, dusting flour off her apron.
“Yeah,” I reply, not liking where this conversation is going, “also with Clover and Tessa.”
She gives me a tender smile.
“Is Lonnie and Jay going to train as well? I doubt they would give up an opportunity to learn.” She pauses. “I heard Connor is a great fighter and could be an excellent teacher.”
I try to give her a smile in return but fail.
“I’ll let you know by the end of the week,” I say and begin to push my cart away, “ and thanks for letting Connor bring me my dinner.”
I wave goodbye. Her pale cheeks turn pink as she glances down to the floor.
“You’re welcome,” she replies. “He definitely has a way about him.”
She turns quickly, mumbling a goodbye. My hands grip the cart tightly. Another new emotion joins the ranks of all the others. Jealousy. I attempt to push the sentiment away.
When I arrive back at the library, I’m greeted by an empty room.
“Dad? I’m back.”
No one responds. Knowing I’m required to stay, I decide to empty out my recently filled book cart. I lean on the dented metal for support, my muscles still aching. I didn’t realize there were so many muscles I’ve never used while training on my own. After categorizing and shelving almost every book in the cart, I turn down the back aisle with the last one in hand. I jump about a mile high when I discover Connor.
“What the hell! Did you not hear me earlier?”
He glances up from his book, eyeing me with amusement. He sits sprawled out on the floor. His long legs stretched out as he leans back on the heavy bookshelf.
“You weren’t calling for me.”
I stare at him in bewilderment.
“Not the point.” I say, recognizing the cover of his book. “I’ve read that book.”
I force my muscles to bend and sit down beside him. He watches me.
“You should stretch out some or you’ll continue to stay sore.” he says, earning my glare.
“I’m good,” I say as I settle in beside him.
He purses his lips.
“How far have you gotten?” I motion toward the book.
His amusement at my interest grows.
“Not too far. Just started. I’m at the part where a dragon bites the crappy king’s head off.”
He looks at the cover of the book then turns back to his page with a snicker. I release a slight laugh and glance away, attempting to stop myself from noticing how beautiful his face appears in this soft light. He’s clean and shaven, wearing new clothes that have probably been given to him by the scouts. The silky grey of his shirt makes his eyes stand out even more. I’m suddenly made aware I haven't even washed my hair since I’ve been back. Insecurities fill me. If Connor notices my body stiffen, he doesn’t react visually.
“What do you got?” he asks.
Connor points to the book I’d forgotten in my hand- Evie’s book. A picture of a beautifully decorated cupcake graces the cover.
“Its nothing, just the last book I needed to shelve. Evie still requests cookbooks every time we savage in the red zone.”
I make a face at the cover and resent the fact I’ve never eaten a cupcake before.
“She’s a sweet girl. I like her a lot,” Connor says, giving me another amused glance.
I realize beyond my jealousy is a lingering fact, I’m no longer the only fish in the sea. He has options now and Evie is the better choice. I deflate a little where I’m sitting. I’ve got to bury this crush I can’t admit to.
“Yeah, she is. If you like sweet,” I respond knowingly.
Embarrassed, I quickly stand with my muscles protesting and place the book back onto the shelf.
“She’ll make a good fit for you,” I say and hurry away.
He follows.
“You know it wouldn’t kill you to be sweet every once in awhile,” Connor says.
I glance behind to find him tucking his book away in his back pocket. The bottom of his shirt rides up displaying a slither of skin. I force myself to quicken my pace.
“I can be sweet,” I remark, retreating.
Connor is too fast. I come to a stop and swirl around. He almost bumps into me but with his fluid manner, he’s able to stop in time.
“I’m just saying. You get a lot more bees with honey,” he replies.
We’re inches apart.
“What did you tell me before about bats, something about not wanting them around.”
His eyes narrow on me. I step closer to him ignoring the sudden nervous energy I feel.
“Why don’t you follow your own advice,” I finish and involuntarily wet my lips, the action drawing his attention.
“I try but I can’t help it when it comes to you,” he says in a serious tone.
I’m left speechless with the declaration. His eyes soften as they take in my flushed skin. I step away from him and find myself surprised when he continues to pursue.
“We can’t continue to act this way,” I say as I rally to regain my composure. Confusion laced with annoyance appears on Connor’s face.
“What do you mean?”
I take a big breath in an attempt to gather my courage.
“You’re hot. You’re cold. Sometimes you act as if you can’t stand me and then you do something that makes me think you’re actually interested. I can’t be around your mood swings.”
His mouth drops open in surprise, so I take the rare occurrence to continue.
“Look, I know you think what happened at Tom’s house was a mistake. That much is obvious since you ran out like someone lit a fire under your ass.”
He begins to say something but I cut him off.
“I get it.” I gesture with my hand. “I was the only girl for miles around and you couldn’t help yourself. I don’t need to hear your excuses. I want to start over- a fresh start, everything else is water under the bridge.”
I stand a little timid waiting for his response. He stares at me baffled without an ounce of his usual cockiness.
“Friends?” he says the word like a bad taste in his mouth.
I continue to wait in anticipation of his response. A crease appears between his brows as he consider my words.
“I can do that,” he says and gives a tired sigh, “but before I do I think it’s important to point out one thing.” His voice deepens. “You kissed me back.”
The doors to the library swing open and I jump away from my new trainer. Dad, wearing an easy
grin, strolls into the room.
“Hey Connor. Did you find the book you wanted?”
Connor straightens.
“Not one of the ones we were talking about.”
He pulls out the aged book from his pocket.
“But I did find this one.”
My dad studies the cover.
“Oh yea, you found one of Millie’s favorite,” he says and reaches for the worn pages. “Remember this one Nix? I used to read it to you once a month when you were little.”
I smile at the use of Dad’s nickname for me. It’d been awhile since he was happy enough to call me by it.
“Um, but you sucked at doing the voices.”
He chuckles and says, “True.”
Connor retrieves the book from my father’s hand using it in a brief salute.
“Thanks. Well, I got to go. Chevy won’t train himself. See you later.”
He nods at us then leaves through the library's wooden doors.
“How many conversations have you had with him, Dad?” I asked mystified by their familiarity and the certainty Connor is actually training Chevy.
“Oh please.” He waves me off nonchalantly.
“No Dad, how many?” I ask, aiming for a sweeter tone.
“He came in yesterday and today. Not a big deal.”
Oh wow, maybe you could catch more bees with honey.
Dad continues, “The boy likes to read and wanted to know if we had some kind of book about wars and stars. I can’t remember exactly.”
With my muscles stinging, I plop down onto one of the wooden tables.
“Never heard of it,” I say.
“Me either but we might find a copy one day.” He pauses. “Anyway, who’s ready to work?”
The question earns a groan. I spend the rest of the afternoon with my dad. We make sure not to hit on certain topics like me being a scout or some of the questions I’ve been burning to ask him. Through all the cleaning and categorizing, I realize the degree of how much I’ve missed him. I just want to enjoy this peace between us for as long as it will last.
In the evening, we walk together to a memorial that is being held for Old Tom and the other two scouts lost from our community. No one else besides Lonnie, Jay and I, who left that same day has returned but we still have hope they will come home safely. The time of day is beautiful with a light breeze darting through the changing leaves. The sun warms my face as I stand motionless on the dried grass. Mr. Herdon says a few words about Tom but I’m not able to listen. Comprehension of anything he says will only make the rip in my chest grow wider. Instead, I allow my mind to drift to distant memories; ones that don’t involve the horrors of the past few days. I cling to my father recognizing his fragile strength. His arm tightens around me. A new voice starts to speak. It’s Lonnie.
“Timothy and Sandra were people of compassion. They both wanted to make a positive impact on our home and in the lives of those who live here. When I first started with the scouts, Timothy was my mentor.”
He continues to talk but I faze his voice out as well. I notice different voices begin to speak one by one but I don’t look up to recognize them. I refuse to say anything or process the meaning of their words. What can I utter to all those people that they don’t already know- details of Tom’s death? No. I need to be stronger than this. “Soft can get you killed.” Tom’s words haunt me.
“Millie, honey, it’s my turn.”
My dad releases me to speak to the crowd. Everyone has showed up to honor Tom, Sandra and Timothy. I feel bad I didn’t recall the other scouts’ names before their memorial began. Suddenly, I’m in another's embrace.
“I got her,” the velvet voice says lightly.
An image of summer nights lying in the tall grass breathing in the cool air enters my head. Connor’s warm breath tickles the tiny hairs on my neck. My heart flutters. He lays a hand over my hair.
“What are friends for?” He mumbles into my ear and quickly falls back into silence.
His embrace is full of warmth and comfort. Can a friendship between us really work? I let the question float around in my head before answering. If I don’t give it a chance then, no, it never would. In a moment of spiritual enlightenment or extreme stupidity I open myself up to him.
“I feel so helpless,” I choke on the words. “I’m stronger than this. I need to be stronger than this.”
My voice is so low that I doubt he has heard me until Connor removes his hand from my hair.
“You’re not weak, Millie.” He pauses. “If you didn’t act like this I would be worried.”
I lift my head to him, ignoring my father’s voice in the background.
“You wouldn’t act like this.” I say, noticing a slight redness to his cheeks.
He’s so beautiful.
“I’m not a good person,” Connor replies.
I brush off the comment until I realize he’s serious.
“The way you care for your family, how can you not be?”
He remains silent while memorizing my face. His voice is calm and confident when he speaks.
“If you were a weak person you would’ve took your own life a while ago. It’s easy to let depression consume you- to give yourself over to regret and suffering. A weak person follows a path with least resistance. You’re not that person.”
I let his words hang in the air between us and begin to listen to my father’s voice. He is calm as he speaks about Tom’s favorite book, an action adventure novel.
“I didn’t know Sandra and Timothy like I did Tom,” I say quietly after minutes pass. “Tom was a man who got things done. A man you could come to when you were in need. He was a provider and a protector. Someone who took burden upon himself so that others who weren’t as strong didn’t have too.”
Connor listens closely to what I say.
“You were lucky to have him in your life,” he responds.
I press into him feeling a small section of the wall I’ve built around my mind and heart crumble. The words come to me in a whisper and leave the edge of my lips just as silently.
“Tom was useful.”
Chapter Nineteen
A month goes by quick when you fall into a routine. Every morning I wake up and head to the gymnasium. Connor begins each training session with stretches and a light jog. Tessa, Clover and I keep pace with each other around the perimeter of the prison’s fences. Connor joins us often, slowing his speed down to match our strides.
The increasingly colder weather makes my bones hurt. I don’t complain though, my body is getting stronger and more toned. I’m no longer as sore as I was the first week of our new training sessions and have learned to welcome the inevitable ache of my stretching muscles. When we finish with our jog, we’re rewarded with more stretches that lead into intense drills, followed by kata, and weapons training. After I’m convinced I can’t take anymore, Connor proclaims it’s time for more stretches.
My favorite practices are the ones when Lonnie and Jay are able to join in. Those days Connor withholds the weapons training for some good ole fashion sparing. Unfortunately, those are the same days Evie leaves the cafeteria's kitchen to watch. She sits quietly on one of the empty mats not wanting to get in our way. She’s the perfect spectator with her attentive eyes and meek expression. I ignore her.
“So Connor, are we finally going to spar today?” I say, in a teasing manner.
Ever since our fight in the red zone he has been reluctant to fight me. Sparing is different than combat but the idea of getting past his defences, thrills me. The quirk of his mouth informs, he is considering my offer. In the past month, we’ve been able to put our differences aside, allowing us to finally become real friends. His sarcastic manner has not disappeared but neither has my temper. We’ve become a little more tolerant of each other and most days find a middle ground of understanding. His single eyebrow lifts and a sneer appears on his lips.
“All in good time, Mrs. Daniels,” he says.
I pinch my expressio
n, making a face at him. This earns a laugh.
“What, I’m not challenging enough for you?” Clover asks.
She circles me in a predatory manner. Her face is alight with good humor and a glimmer of competitiveness. For the last few weeks she has enjoyed the less eventful days of our community, becoming more childlike in her behavior. If I take anything good from the red zone, it is her and her happiness. A much larger Chevy takes note of Clover’s advancement on me and begins nipping at her heels.
“That doesn’t look very threatening with a dog playing behind you,” I reply and laugh when Clover turns around grabbing for the dog’s feet.
Chevy bounces away out of her grasp and lets out a frolicsome bark.
“Crap,” she says, holding back a smile.
Clover leaps toward the dog, only for the dog to evade her again. His tongue hangs from his mouth as if declaring victory.
“No, Clover is going to be sparing with Tessa,” Connor announces while loudly clapping his hands together.
Chevy snaps out of his puppy mode and sits alert- waiting for Connor’s next command.
“I want Tessa to learn the fighting techniques my dad taught you when you were her age.”
He directs his comment toward Clover as she nods and ruffles Tessa’s hair.
“Stop,” Tessa squeals but a smile struggles not to appear on her sweaty face.
Connor turns his scrutiny back toward me and scowls. A heavy arm drapes itself across my shoulders. Lonnie with his hair in a mess gives me the full blunt force of his charm.
“Millie, you’re with me,” Lonnie says with a cocky smile.
Connor begins to say something but Lonnie continues with his eyes twinkling.
“Hey, man. Mrs. Emerson wants to see you for a moment.” Lonnie gestures to a set of doors on the other side of the gym. “I just saw her poke her head in and motion for you.”