Forever the Road (A Rucksack Universe Fantasy Novel)

by Anthony St. Clair

  His face had remained serious. “To us.”

  She had said nothing. Tears stung her eyes now.

  Did I know? she thought, staring at the crumpled note in her hands. Love or duty? The Jade of Agamuskara or a Jade who is no longer a Jade? Who am I? Who do I want to be?

  The bar shelves broke Jade’s reflection. Her blue-and-gold eyes shimmered, wide with fear and a sadness that loomed like a hole she could fall into and keep falling.

  A life with Jay, or the life of a Jade?

  But what was the worst that could happen? Whenever a Jake or Jade left, either from resigning or from being sacked, The Management always let them choose new circumstances to move into, or as they called it, “revision.” No one had to just pick up where they were leaving off. Usually, people took a new direction in life, often with family, a lost love, or some other path that may have been. If they wanted, they could have their memories of their service removed, but most didn’t do that. They treasured their old selves, like old photographs occasionally taken out of a dusty box. They always chose health and wealth. No former Jake or Jade, far as she knew, ever wanted for life’s basics.

  The Management knew they asked a lot from their Jakes and Jades. In return, no matter the circumstances, they always offered a healthy severance.

  The worst that can happen is a new life, Jade thought. I’d never want for anything. Jay and I could go anywhere, do anything, for as long as we wanted. I’ll age but I’ll be healthy. Maybe that’s not so bad.

  Flowing through her mind was the potential of what could be. I don’t have to choose yet, Jade thought. I have time to figure this out. Maybe there’s a way to do both and be both. Maybe I can appeal to The Management somehow. There has to be a way around this destiny, a different path for him. For me. For us.

  She closed the cabinet, folded the note, and tucked it into her pocket with the other two notes.

  Why didn’t I know right away?

  Jade breathed in deeply, arching her head back and closing her eyes. When she breathed out she lowered her head and looked straight in front of her. There’d be a way. The Management had to know there were other options. She would figure things out with Jay and this supposed destiny looming over him, her, and the city. “Jade or not,” she said. “I’m still me.”

  She stepped outside, squinting at the harsh light as she locked the door.

  “Are you okay?” Kailash asked. “You seem flushed.”

  “I’m okay,” Jade replied. “Just rattled over that fight last night. I have to get back in time to get rid of that broken table.”

  “But you got what you needed?”

  “Oh…” I forgot, Jade thought. “We can just go,” she said, turning and starting to walk in the direction of the hospital. “It wasn’t the right thing after all.”

  “No more song?” Kailash said.

  Jade didn’t reply. Kailash said nothing else, and Jade didn’t like a word of what the other woman wasn’t saying.

  ASHA TOOK her first steps on her own, and everyone cheered. Her feet shuffled a short distance from her hospital bed. She smiled but looked down at her feet, surprised that they were stepping and that she was moving them.

  “It’s been so long,” she said, her face still gaunt but filled out slightly from over two weeks of regular nourishment.

  “A step at a time, my lass,” Rucksack said. “No rush. The world’s a better place just seeing you up and about again.”

  Jigme glanced at Rucksack, who was standing next to Kailash to the left of the door, and at Jade and Jay to the right of the door, their hands intertwined. They’re all here. Together, he thought. For Amma. For me. They all smile so big, so bright. They all look so happy.

  Somewhere deep inside Jigme, a little boy wanted to jump and cheer, spin in circles, hold his mum’s hand, and gaze at her with wide eyes.

  But every time Jigme tried to let that happiness flow through him, something leaped up inside him and burned away all the cheer.

  He tried to smile as big and bright as everyone else, but the corners of his mouth would barely stretch upward. His face felt thin, as if his skin had been replaced with cheap paper.

  Shouldn’t this make me smile? Jigme thought. Shouldn’t I be happier? Just a few weeks ago I felt so alone. Now Amma’s come back. It can be me and her again, the way it used to be. The way it should be.

  Asha took another shuffling, unsteady step forward. Jigme managed a smile. This one seemed a little stronger. She looked up from her feet and caught Jigme’s gaze.

  “You’re doing great, Amma,” Jigme said.

  He glanced at Jay, whose nod confirmed that the bill was paid. They could leave anytime. He and Amma could go home, thanks to the hospital, the doctors, and Jay.

  “Yes,” said the rough voice in the back of Jigme’s mind, “you can go home. You can enjoy your sweet mother’s company again. But remember, boy, your mother is not walking because of the hospital. She isn’t awake because of these doctors. And all the money from that fool is no more responsible for her walking than you are for the sunrise. You know why she’s able to move around again.”

  Heat rose in Jigme’s mind. Yes, he thought, his memory trying not to turn back to it. I know why.

  A hand on his shoulder made the heat fade. Amma’s hand. She stared at him, kind and hard. “Son?” she said. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s so hard to believe this is over,” Jigme replied. “That you’re okay again.” The memories pushed at him, but her eyes on him, her hand touching him—the memories could not make him look.

  “I’m getting better,” Asha said. “It will still take some time, but I will try hard, Jigme. For you. I will get better.”

  Jay looked over at the doctor, standing in the far corner of the room. “Were you able to determine what got her so sick?”

  The doctor shook her head. “We tested for everything we could. All we know is that she had nothing contagious.”

  “Will it come back?”

  A shrug. “Hopefully not. I can’t say with any certainty if she’ll relapse. Any signs of a recurrence, any malaise, any listlessness, please come back immediately. We’ll do what we can. It’s been a most strange case, and I hope you have a full recovery.”

  Kailash stepped forward. “How about the rest of us wait out front, so Asha and Jigme can have some time alone? Asha, once you’re ready, we’ll take you home.”

  The door closed behind the others. The moment it clicked, Asha smiled bigger than Jigme had ever seen before, and she leaped straight into the air.

  “I’m better!” She landed without a sound and stepped forward to hug him. “Oh, Jigme, I’m sorry to have put you through so much. Will you forgive me?”

  “I’ll always forgive you, Amma.”

  “Are you angry? It’s okay to feel angry. Your mother wasn’t here for you. That will never happen again.”

  Jigme shook his head. “It wasn’t easy. But my friends have helped.” And I have found other ways to make you better. His thoughts flashed to the temple.

  Asha hugged him tightly to her. Jigme was surprised at how much strength was in her frail body. “Be careful, Amma!”

  “Oh, I won’t hurt you,” she said, giving him a squeeze around the ribs.

  “I don’t want you to overdo it.”

  Asha smiled. “Oh Jigme, I couldn’t overdo it. Not now. Never again.” Something flashed red in her eyes. “I came back strong. I came back to be the mother you need me to be.”

  She’s really okay, Jigme thought.

  Now he smiled.

  Asha stepped back toward the bed, where her best sari, bright red with black accents, lay waiting for her. “I’m going to get dressed,” she said, pulling the curtains closed. “And then, my son, we’re going home.”

  Home.

  Jigme wondered what home looked like now. Since the night Asha had awakened, Jigme hadn’t been back to their small home in the alley. He’d slept in the hospital room. The only time he left was when he returned
to the alley, walked past the red door, and went to the black temple. Lately, the dim temple had begun to feel almost like home.

  Once Asha came out, sparkling and elegant as her sari’s subtle silver-and-gold threads caught the light, they walked down to the hospital lobby and then outside, into the midday air and light. This time when everyone smiled, Jigme managed a grin more easily. Jay led them all to waiting taxis.

  “Son,” Asha said, “do the honors. Tell the man where we’re going.”

  “Home,” Jigme said. Wherever that is now.

  He then gave the driver the details he needed to get them home. A few miles and countless horn honks later, they stood around the red door, which Asha insisted that Jigme unlock. When the door creaked open, a musty smell wafted out—the smell of hot dust, unaired bedding, and stale sick breath.

  “I’m sorry,” Jigme said, blushing. “I should have cleaned.”

  Asha shook her head. “It will be good for me to clean,” she said. “Because of my illness, our home was not what it should be. Together, we will make it a better place. Okay?”

  Jigme nodded. Just like what the Smiling Fire says, Jigme thought. It will all be a better place.

  “It will be a lovely home,” Kailash said.

  “All in due time,” Rucksack added.

  Asha stared at each of them. “We’ll start immediately,” she said, taking a step toward the threshold. Pride flared in her eyes, and Jigme again saw the old strength in her, the mother who could twirl around while she held him over her head. Asha stepped over the threshold, regal, back straight.

  Her foot caught the splintery wood and she gasped.

  “Amma!” Jigme yelled, but she was falling before he could even step toward her.

  Dust puffed off the floor around her body inside the dim room. A dull smack knocked the smiles off everyone’s faces.

  Jigme stared at the hair on the back of his mother’s head. She didn’t move.

  A cough rose from the face he couldn’t see. Asha wheezed, trying to breathe air back into her lungs.

  “Must’ve knocked the wind out of her,” Jay said, stepping forward. “Here, let me help you up, Asha.”

  Jigme jumped between them. “No!” he said. “I’ll help her. She’s my mum!”

  Jay stopped. “Okay. I just wanted to help.”

  “You’ve helped enough,” Jigme said. He leaned down and put his hands under Asha’s shoulders. “Amma? Mum?” She looked at him with pain in her eyes. “I’m going to lift you up. Can you help me do that?”

  She nodded. As they stood, her wheeze deepened back into something resembling breath. “Such… a good boy,” she wheezed. “Always… such a good boy.”

  “Are you okay?” Jade asked.

  Asha nodded. “Silly… So silly.” She coughed. “I caught the step wrong.”

  She stood upright with Jigme next to her. His eyes felt hot and anger burned in his gaze. Why do I feel mad at them? he thought. They’re only trying to help.

  “They are a help you don’t need,” said the voice. “It’s time for them to go.”

  “Would you like us to help you clean?” Kailash asked. “Help you get settled back in?”

  When Asha shook her head, Jigme thought he saw a red glint in her eyes. “Thank you for your help and your kindnesses,” she said. “But I think it would be best if Jigme and I had some time alone in our home, just mother and son.”

  “We’ll come back around later,” Rucksack said. “We’re nearby if you need us.”

  “Thank you,” Asha said. “You’ve done so much already. I’ll get stronger. I want to get stronger. Good-bye.” With a small smile that stabbed the corners of her mouth upward, Asha closed the door.

  “Amma?” Jigme said. “What now?”

  Weak light collided with the dust in the stale air.

  “Now we wait,” she said, her face half in shadow, half in the watery light.

  “Wait for what?”

  “Wait until we know they are gone.” With that, Asha stood still, her eyes locked on the closed door. Jigme tugged her hand and continued to speak to her, but she did not reply.

  Once a few minutes had passed, she looked away from the door. “They’re gone now,” she said.

  “Are we going to clean?” Jigme asked. “Would you rather rest first? You don’t want to do too much on your first day home.”

  “You’re wrong,” Asha replied, stepping forward into the light. “There is much to do.” The red glint shone brighter in her eyes now. Fiercer. “Starting with you leaving.”

  “Leaving? But we only just got home. Where are we going?”

  “Not me,” Asha said. “You.”

  “Me?”

  Asha nodded. “My strength is as his strength, son. If I am not to be as I was, then you must help him.”

  “How? I don’t… I didn’t mean…”

  “I know. But it’s okay. You didn’t know, and neither did he. That’s why what you did, even though you meant to do nothing, was so right. It made him strong enough to make me strong enough to come back. Don’t you want me to be able to stay here, with you?”

  Though he nodded, tears burned Jigme’s cheeks.

  “Then you must go,” Asha said. “He is waiting. He knows what you must do.”

  “To help him,” Jigme replied. “I don’t want to go.”

  “To make him stronger is to make me stronger,” Asha said. “I must tell you the truth, my son. I am not better.”

  “But you came home!”

  “I am strong while he is strong, but his power is not fully returned. Not yet. Not for a while to come. If he is allowed to weaken, then I will weaken too. If I weaken… he will live forever but I will not. He may fade but he can come back. If I fade, as I was fading before you helped him, then I will die.”

  “Amma, please…”

  Asha nodded. “I know it’s hard. But isn’t your mother worth it?”

  The tears kept coming, but Jigme choked out a small, “Yes.”

  “That’s my son,” Asha said, kissing Jigme on the forehead. Her lips burned.

  “When will he be strong enough?”

  Asha said nothing. The glint faded from her eyes. Jigme began to think she wouldn’t respond. Then the red flickered again.

  “He will be strong enough when he tells you to bring me to him,” she said.

  “It’s the only way?”

  “Whatever he tells you is the only way.”

  Outside, the world was still in midday. Around their small room all seemed dim and gray, like pale light under stormy clouds. Jigme stepped into the alley.

  “Son?”

  He turned and looked at his mother.

  “I know you’ll make me proud.”

  Asha closed the door. For a moment, Jigme looked longingly toward the living end of the alley, where mothers cooked, where children played, where lives were being lived in the bright light of the day. Jigme turned the other way and returned to the black temple.

  “I DON’T UNDERSTAND what the problem is,” Rucksack said, wiping the last bits of grease off his fingers, “though clearly it’s so vexing it’s put you off your samosa.”

  The samosa should have looked tasty, Jay thought as he stood against the wall. He and Rucksack were just outside the flood of people wandering the city’s busy streets in the afternoon heat. The samosa’s warmth permeated Jay’s right hand, and he looked down at the small pasty, its warm weight promising a spicy delight of vegetables, potatoes, and chickpeas. The scent of chickpea dough, fried in nut oil, had pulled Jay by the nostrils to the man’s cart.

  Jay sniffed in the aroma of the carrots and peas, simmering beneath a cloud of steam. After a morning of looking over half the streets in Agamuskara, they hadn’t even eaten lunch before meeting up with the others at the hospital.

  Now, with Jade getting the pub open, with Jigme and Asha back home, and Kailash doing, well, doing whatever Kailash did, he and Rucksack could get back to what mattered most: hunting the city for Mim and Pim. It
was as if Jay could sense his passport. Somehow it always seemed near, though they had yet to catch so much as a glimpse of Mim and Pim.

  By the time they began churning through the busy streets again, Jay’s stomach protested like horns in the city’s daily traffic jams. Holding two fingers up to the man at the samosa cart, Jay began to drool, not just for the food but also for his favorite part: the haggling.

  The past couple of weeks in the city had been just the sort of exercise he needed. Lots of walking and lots of negotiating over the prices of gifts for Jade, meals, and rides all over the city. The haggling had always been one of Jay’s favorite parts of travel.

  “It all comes down to who wants it more,” someone had told him so many years and passport stamps ago. “If you want it more, they will win. If they want you to buy it more, you will get the price you want.”

  The man at the cart wrapped each samosa in a small square of newspaper. Jay stared at the wrapper as grease absorbed into today’s news. From the photo, it looked like some story about the sun. The newspaper was fresh, at least.

  “Jay?” Rucksack asked. “Are you okay?”

  “He charged me four rupees,” Jay replied.

  “Quite a bargain you struck.” The straight line of Rucksack’s mouth made it clear he had overdone the haggling.

  “That’s the thing. I didn’t strike a bargain. We didn’t haggle.”

  “What do you mean, you didn’t haggle? It’s not as if he gave you the local price straightaway.”

  Jay bobbed his head.

  “He charged you the local price? No haggling?”

  “I couldn’t so much as express my outrage at his prices.”

  Jay thought about the exchange again. Bringing forth his mastery of international language, Jay had arched an eyebrow and rubbed the tips of his thumb and index finger together in the opening salvo. How much?

  Instead of asking forty rupees—a far more typical price for the foreign traveler, from what Jay had come to understand from previous samosa purchases and from talking with other travelers at the Everest Base Camp—the man had charged Jay what he would have charged a local.

  “It’s just not done,” Jay said. “I was going to counter with ten rupees. Not that he would accept that, of course, but there’s a process to this—a time-honored tradition of someone trying to get extra money from the bloke who clearly isn’t from around here. I respect that tradition. It’s a thrill, even. I love telling someone their prices are outlandish and then walking away.”