I grab a date cake and run back to the quiet place on the lane. No one is here. Dare I sing? I push the desire away. I had better not or there may be trouble. I return to the house and eat more though I am not hungry. I clean my basin and put it away. Later I will clean up the family’s food.
I must go to the spring. I prefer to stay and think but we need fresh water. And I need Kotharat to be pleased with me. About to leave for the limestone basin, Sandalphon arrives, his greeting is gentle. “I hope you are well.”
He stays by my side as we walk. “As well as can be. I have so much to think about it is hard to sort it out.”
“Could it be that you are fearful? Also, you are not quite recovered from the journey and . . .”
“I am well but tired. Can you help me?”
“Much of what you say is to complain and find fault. You convince yourself how terrible you are and that prevents you from being content. If you continue, you will never trust you can do well.”
I stop walking. “I do not do that.” Sandalphon does not answer. “Do I? Can it be changed?”
“I do not need the answer. You do. Take time to think about what I said. We have one more point to speak about.”
“Must you say it now?” I sit and close my eyes.
“As a human, incidents arise when you are small, which make you assume you are lacking. Others can do what you cannot.” I open my eyes. “Children do not understand the reason is that the adults are older and they learned more. We can always find reminders of inadequacy if we choose.”
“And when you are grown?”
“Each time humans are chided for a wrongdoing the same lack overtakes them. You can understand how the effect may be long lasting.” He moves away. “You gave no consideration to wants and needs.” I did not do as he asked. Again. “You should. It is important, and you might want to change some behaviors.”
“You are right. I told myself I cannot do the work and will not have what I want and need and we just started.”
“You are beginning to understand, and I wish you well.” My heart swells.
I get home and store the jugs. Another decision faces me. The sadness is back, and though it is exciting to enjoy new understandings I do not have the energy to go to class. I need to be alone, away from chatter and discussion with the freedom to think. But if I do not go, Abram will have a disappointed face. Nothing should go wrong. If it does I will cry and embarrass myself.
I wait with patience to discover the reason. Distrust and worry came because of the beautiful one. I overheard her talking to Yardin. Adi said, “Elisha is having trouble, she is slow. She will never understand the teachings.” Resheph is the only one who is aware I worry. Did he tell her? Then the beauty whispered to Yardin, noticed me, and laughed. I did not hear Yardin’s answer.
Resheph returns from his duties. The basin of bread and fruit I prepared is waiting. I would like to throw it in his face. Could he be so mean to tell my secret? What does this mean for our future? He ignores my mood, eats, and we leave for class.
Melchizedek’s house is in sight when Resheph says, “I am concerned. What is wrong with you this morning?” His tone is gentle and caring, unlike other times.
“Nothing.”
“Elisha, you cannot fool me.”
“I am out of sorts and do not understand why. This is new to me, so there is much to think about. The confusing part is that I wrote a new tune and that always makes me happy.”
“A song? You make them? That is splendid.”
“Do not congratulate me. You may not like my music.”
He cocks his head to one side. “That might be true. I will let you know.”
We arrive a bit late and the rest of the students are waiting on their pillows. We hurry to the last two seats. The beautiful one is at the other end, and I am happy to be far away from her. Abram sinks on to his bench. “Settle in. I need no noise so I can teach.”
Resheph raises his hand. “Abram, I hope my speaking does not interfere with your plans. Elisha told me she wrote a song.”
I stare at him. I did not give him permission to talk about my music, about anything having to do with me.
Abram turns to me. “Elisha, is this true?”
“Yes Abram, it is.” I am on fire.
“Congratulations. May I ask you to sing it for us?”
“It is not complete and I am not ready.”
“You are shy but people here care about you. Please.”
These people are not my family. How can they care? If I say no I will be more embarrassed. “Yes, Abram.”
“Come to the front and stand near me.” He beckons.
Unsettled and struggling for breath, I walk to the spot he indicates. I take time to calm my anger and breathe. “My song is called ‘Always Plenty.’” The song ends and no one moves. Abram slowly claps his hands and the others join him. I stand rooted to the ground. There is no praise in the applause. They smile and pretend to be nice because Abram would be angry if they were mean.
“Let us get back to our seats. Thank you, Elisha, for attempting to use my teachings. The song is nice, and my hope is that you will continue to create music.” He turns to the class. “Elisha is an example of finding your passion. If you are sure of your desires and work hard, you can accomplish what you wish.”
I pass Resheph on the way to my seat. The smirk on his face says, Do not try. You will never succeed.
Composing is my passion, but did Abram like the song? The way he spoke, careful with his words, gave the impression he wanted to dismiss me. I want to run, be anywhere else. It is not possible to give him my attention. Like me, my songs will never be good enough.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The teaching ends later than usual. “Resheph, I must go.” He does not finish his conversation, and I move down the path.
He catches up. “What is wrong?”
“Your ima decided I will make the evening meal from now on and requires me to observe how she prepares the food. You know very well how she likes when comings and goings are proper.”
“We will hurry.” He moves faster than me then peers over his shoulder. He wants to race, and we do. All the way home.
“What fun that was. I am winded. You won only because your legs are longer than mine.” He laughs, and I get into the house first.
Kotharat’s cooking lesson entails her being on top of me and over my shoulder, informing me of the particular tool to use, and not agreeing with the way my mother taught me to measure. I am surprised she never follows me to the well to make sure I collect water properly.
Cleaning up over, my attention wanders back to class. They applauded and said nice things and were polite. Abram’s words fit the melody. They applauded but only because Abram did. My song was not acceptable.
The morning brings no sun and dismal darkness. The rainy season is coming. My sorrow is worse. Is it worry consuming me? First I was not wanted by the villagers, now my music is not good enough. I need my brother.
Resheph and I sit across from each other and I can barely make out his face. In this darkness you cannot see past your nose. At least we are contained by the walls and will not get sand in our eyes. The rest of the family is gone. The silence between us feels cold.
I decide to break the quiet. “It is late for a windstorm.”
“How would you know, you do not live here.”
“Where is your mother?” He does not say a word. “Why is she out in this weather?”
“She is tending to a friend who is sick. My father went with her, so she is safe.”
“Will your abba go to the bake stall?”
“Will you stop asking questions? He went to the flour storage.”
They are gone, and I am trapped alone with him. With each bite of food my body strains to speak of what hides inside me. His interference made me sing. He made me find out my music will never be good enough and he does not care.
“Did you sleep well?” Resheph does not bother to lift his
head.
My sleep was broken with dreams of running away and falling. “Yes, I did.” Resheph peeks at me and turns his head away. I find myself doing the same thing.
“My ima is not an unkind woman, yet at times she appears so.”
Why did he mention his ima? She is like a sentry watching my every move. “My ima, as well. Working so hard makes them impatient.”
“They spend too much time with work and no time for enjoyment.”
I nod. For the first time, we are not comfortable with each other.
I am relieved when Kotharat’s voice invades the house before she does. “The wind has let up and extra water is needed. My friend is too ill to go to the spring. Take the jugs and go at once.”
I grab my cap and shawl. Still not light, at least the gusts have quieted down. We reach the path. Each person is rushing somewhere and we are obliged to walk close to each other. We push against the wind and if someone passes close by Resheph brushes against me and presses his elbow into my side. He would not say so, but I am sure he does it on purpose.
I try walking to one side of him and then the other. “Your quick pace is trying on my shorter legs,” I lie. He slows down.
We fill the containers and turn to go back. The wind is almost gone and after the first few steps he brings up a subject I hoped to avoid.
“I heard about your journey when you told Melchizedek. Before we reach my father’s house, one detail needs explanation.”
“What shall I explain?”
“Your name.” He stands still.
Why does it bother him? Was this Kotharat’s idea? “What about my name?” I want some distance and walk ahead of him.
“Where are you going?”
“I am heading over to the rock so I can rest. My story is not exciting.” I put the vessels down and sit.
Resheph laughs as he puts his down. “I am sure you have an explanation. No woman has a man’s name. I do not understand and I am waiting.” He is standing behind me.
“But wait, we need to hurry. Did you forget your mother’s sick friend needs the water?” I try to get up and his hands are on my shoulders holding me down.
“You are avoiding my question making me more curious. I will not let you move until you answer.” He sits next to me and crosses his arms over his chest. The rock is not big. I move as far away as I can. “It is hard.” He moves closer, his man smell is intense. I turn away, so he will not notice my cheeks growing hot.
“You said your story is not interesting.”
“That is true but does not make it any easier.” I squirm in my seat waiting for a remark, a question, someone to interrupt, so I do not need to continue. “Lying under a sapling near my home I . . .” If I tell, he will be sure there is something wrong with me. “I was a small child . . .”
“Go on. I am listening.”
The sweetness in his tone makes me melt and assures me I am safe. The words flow. “A strong kindliness inside me demanded my attention. The feeling was tender and loving.”
“Out with the remainder.”
I nod. He smiles and his face is peaceful. “This knowing sensation told me to use the name Elisha from then on to gain courage and that advice stayed with me until . . . Can we walk? I am afraid your ima will be angry.”
“Yes, but you must finish.”
We pick up the jugs and move on. “The notion grew to be mine and became strong within me. The children called me boy-girl and made me feel horrible. Sandalphon assured me that this was a proper name and would give me courage. He comes to me still.” I turn toward Resheph. “Do you know anything more about Sandalphon?”
“I remember someone who was here long ago spoke to him.”
Melchizedek said the same. “My entire village thought I was sick in the head and said I spoke to the air. Your knowing Sandalphon tells me another person talked to him and what Sandalphon said is true.” Resheph roars with laughter and I want to run and hide.
“You are slower than I supposed. I thought you understood there are people who believe many things but many possibilities are not taught. They think things cannot be when they are quite common.”
“You mean there are people like me?”
“Your eyes are as wide as the desert. Yes, others see, listen to, and are aware of things most of us are not.”
There are more as strange as I am, and they study with a great man. It is possible I will be accepted. I want to rise above the ground and walk on clouds or twirl around and around with joy. If I do, Resheph will not view me as grown up. But a giggle escapes. “Do you do that?”
“I am not blessed.”
“My tribe believed I had devils in me.”
“That is not unusual. Others suffered the same, but their walk was not as difficult as yours.”
“Why not?”
“They did not travel alone, nor did they encounter the dangers you met.”
After the teaching, Sandalphon joins me on the way home.
“How are you?”
“Well, thank you. Resheph went to help his father.”
“I am aware. Did you enjoy your chat?”
“Oh, yes. I found others like me.”
“I know.”
“Of course you do.” The orange in his colors is brighter than usual. “Now that you are learning, there are some important issues to be considered about females.”
“About females?”
“It is a complicated problem. According to your society, even prior to her birth a girl is blemished.”
My hands are on my hips. “Sandalphon. What are you saying? Blemished? Is this true? If it happens before you are born how can you do anything?”
“First, you need to ponder the reason for this difficult lesson.”
“What are you telling me?”
“Think about Eve’s story and its connection to the scars that were left. This is important. We will consult soon.”
The sound of his words concerns me. Am I damaged? Sandalphon wants me to ponder on it, but I will not think about the dreadful meaning. What does Eve have to do with me? I will think about her another time.
I run home while the sun is hanging in the sky almost ready to go down. My head roams through my discussion with Sandalphon. “Girls are marred before they are born,” he said. I push the thoughts from my head. Kotharat told me she would tend her ailing friend. This is the first time I must cook dinner.
With the jugs on my shoulders, I run to the spring. No one is on the path and my thoughts return to pondering the meaning of blemished. It can be soiled, broken, disfigured, or damaged. Am I all those because I am a woman? Who decreed it? Women could not have.
The well is a happy place. The coming sunset fills the area with shadows. I must be late because no one is here to gossip. It makes the stillness peculiar. With the vessels filled, I hurry back to prepare the evening meal.
The bread comes first in case Baal Hadad barters all his at the bake stall. The keep is full of vegetables that need to be used before they rot. With great care, I cut them into like-sized pieces that fit into our mouths as Kotharat instructed. Lentils, garlic, a pinch of cumin, and the cinnamon I like to use are added. Water goes into the heavy pot and I drag it to the fire and hang it on the hook.
The family is seated on their mats and the flatbread I baked is piled high. Its fragrance calls to our bellies. I set the cook pot in the middle of the eating space. The heaviness of the pot is comforting. I made enough for the family to eat well and plenty for the morrow.
Baal Hadad readies a piece of bread. Drops of perspiration drip down my back. He is about to dip the bread into the pot. My nails bite into my palms. He brings the bread to his lips. The family waits for his reaction. “This is delicious, Elisha. But I would like to teach you more about baking.” His eyes smile.
“Thank you, my lord. My ima never taught me how.” I am sure no one tasted the tiny bit of anise I picked.
Resheph’s arms are crossed over his chest. “I do not like this. Ima�
�s stew is much better. The vegetables fell apart.” Sometimes he is like a child, making everything a contest.
“If you do not like it, do not eat. That will not make your ima happy.”
Kotharat glares at Resheph. “Thank you so much for your opinion.” Then she turns to me. “Where did you find the vegetables?”
There is only one place. “I chose the ones in the keep that lost their freshness and had to be used before they were thrown away.”
“Did you use them up? There is no market on the morrow.”
“Most of them are gone but I made enough for another meal.”
“That should have been my decision, not yours. You did not ask what plans I had for the food.”
How could I ask? She was not here. “I am sorry, Kotharat. I will do better next time.” She is never satisfied.
“This is a delicious meal thanks to Elisha.” Nikkal always rescues me. “No matter. We have enough and we always have plenty of baked goods.”
I send her a sideways glance of thanks from under half-closed eyelids. She shows me a slight parting of her lips.
The cleaning is done, and I go to my sleep space to call on Sandalphon. While waiting for the cloud to arrive I come to a decision. I will not waste time pondering on Resheph. He enjoys being unkind. What needs attention is my reaction that men’s opinions are more important. That Baal’s thoughts were more precious than anyone else’s. Why, as a woman, am I not concerned with females who also want to be pleased?
I cannot help pondering on Eve. If she was made from Adam’s rib, then she was the same as he. Why did men decide after she ate the fruit that she was wicked? Sandalphon arrives with the turquoise ball and his vivid colors.
“Well done, Elisha, but what is disturbing you?”
“Kotharat. I do not want to be mean like she is.”
“Do you remember the time at home when you had so much kindheartedness for a lame boy? What did you say afterward?”
“That I am dull and do not belong anywhere, and will not be able to understand, and will never do anything well. And I am a waste of time.”
Mountain of Full Moons Page 10