The Knowers (The Exiled Trilogy)

by Merry Brown

  “We could meet at Roundtable Pizza instead, if you’d feel more comfortable there,” I offered, sad at the thought of not having her all to myself, not being free to talk since we’d be in public.

  “I think that would be best for now. I’ll see you there at 6:30?”

  “Sounds good.”

  She turned away from me to walk towards her car, stopped, and came back towards me. She looked at me for a moment with her penetrating gaze and pulled down on my arms as she got on her tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek. “Until later,” she breathed softly against the side of my face.

  It felt like my skin was going to melt off. I watched as she turned and walked back to her car.

  How was I supposed to go to work now? How could I concentrate on anything but her? Maybe it was a good idea to not be alone with her in my father’s house with these feeling and desires pounding through me.

  It was cold outside. I turned off the heater and rolled down the windows all the way to work.

  Work was slow, so I worked on being patient. It was much easier to be patient when I knew she’d be waiting for me. Patience seemed like a luxury when the prize was certain. Work crept by, but it finally was time to close the store.

  At Roundtable Pizza we placed our order and found a booth. She’d spent her afternoon at the women’s shelter playing with kids and helping out any way she could.

  “Tell me about it,” I said, wanting to relive some of her stress.

  “I don’t want to burden you. It’s pretty terrible.” She was visibly upset.

  “Lizzy, this is exactly what I want to hear from you. We’re together now, but in order for this to work, you’re going to have to let me in.” She looked up, doubtful, and was about to cut in. “Wait, let me finish. I know being in this kind of relationship is new for you and me too. You are used to bearing your own burdens, but being together means sharing, the good and the bad.”

  “To cause a Knower anything but peace is counter to anything I’ve ever done.”

  “It’s more of a burden to see you troubled and not know what’s wrong or how I can help.”

  She thought about that for a while. Our pizza came; she took a slice and began.

  “I’ve been chatting with a wonderful woman, Sandra, at the shelter. She has two kids, ages 1 and 3. She married her high school sweetheart the summer they graduated and had Abby one year later. All was blissful with this young family until her husband changed jobs. He started hanging around with his co-workers after work and coming home drunk, and some nights not coming home at all. She didn’t know what was happening to him. When he was home, he was now either drunk or angry . . . or both.

  “She found out she was pregnant again and decided to confront him about his awful behavior. He was livid. As far as he could see, she and her ungratefulness were the only problems. In the middle of this heated argument, she told him she was pregnant again. . . .”

  Lizzy began sobbing. “I’m sorry, sorry. It’s just so fresh in my mind.”

  I waited as she took a few deep breaths and continued. “That was the first time he hit her, but not the last. She shut down emotionally. She didn’t have any family around and had isolated herself from other friends since she married him. She didn’t know what to do. Here she was with a baby and another one on the way.

  “When she started showing, when it was obvious she was pregnant, the beatings stopped. She was optimistic that he had changed, or was changing back to the man she loved. He wasn’t out all the time and was spending time with his daughter.

  “After the baby was born he lost his job. On his way home, pink slip in hand, he hit the bar . . . and then, when he got home, he hit her. He was able to find another job a few weeks later, but he was back to drinking and beating. She was trying to make herself leave him, but held out hope things would turn back in her favor. Besides, she had no money, no friends, where was she going to go?

  “One night he came home and was particularly angry. He started beating her. Their three-year-old daughter ran over to protect her, and he picked up his own daughter and threw her against the coffee table. Little Abby suffered a broken arm, gashes on the side of her face, and a concussion.”

  Lizzy’s voice, growing louder and angrier, stopped. I realized I’d been looking down at the table. I snapped my head up to see she’d gone red in the face. She looked so mad, like she’d tear that man apart if she could.

  She closed her eyes and started to breathe deeply again. Her color began to fade as she concentrated on calming down. She continued.

  “Sandra called 911, got in the ambulance with Abby and the baby and hasn’t returned home. That was two months ago. She had the courage and strength to leave all her possessions behind for the sake of her daughters.”

  We both sat thinking about the plight of this woman and her girls as our pizza cooled.

  “Thank you, Will, for listening to me.”

  I took her hand and kissed it. She was exhausted.

  I wondered why she volunteered at a women’s shelter, given how intuitive and sensitive she was to the evil in the world.

  “Why do you spend your time there? I mean, you are obviously kind and compassionate, but if it takes such a toll on you, then why torture yourself?”

  She took her hand back and began rubbing her wrist absentmindedly. “But that’s what I do. It’s okay that it’s hard. Good things are rarely easy. Life is messy and that’s what I, what we, do. We get into the messiness of life with others in order to help.

  “I might feel differently about my work if I didn’t know what I know. Beauty will redeem us all, Will. Chaos, death and destruction will not win. How could they? Beauty is what will be standing at the end of days. There is no cause for despair, even in the face of immense suffering.”

  As she spoke she continued to play with her wrist. That’s when I noticed the bruises.

  Anger pulsed through me. I’d never gotten my answers about her bruises, and I had to know who was hurting her and how to stop it.

  She saw the rage flash in my face as I eyed her arm. She slowly pushed her sleeve up, exposing what I knew was there. Fresh purple bluish bruises.

  Before I could explode, she looked me straight in the eye and said, “Peace William, let me explain.”

  I wanted to jump out of my seat and hunt somebody down. I thought of that man hurting his own wife and child. I thought of all the strong preying on the innocent and good, people like Lizzy.

  She continued to stare at me, so calm and in control. I could feel my tension and anger slowly drain to a simmer. As my breathing returned to normal, she pulled her sleeve up a bit higher to reveal a patch of clear unblemished skin. As my blood pressure and heart rate returned to normal, her olive skin began to change. At first it looked slightly green, then grew darker in color until it looked angry - dark purple and black. A fresh bruise the size of a golf ball.

  My heart rate began to rise as I realized the origins of her many bruises. She commanded, “Calm down, now!”

  Somehow she was pulling out the vile and ache of others. She wasn’t just a patient listener, an insightful counselor. She wasn’t simply listening to the pain of those she found, she was working to heal them – at great personal expense.

  I didn’t want to be the source of any of her pain. I closed my eyes and concentrated on my pulse.

  I opened my eyes to see the worry in hers. She was nervous she’d told me too much.

  “It’s not what I imagined at all. No one’s intentionally hurting you, are they,” I said with confidence.

  “No.”

  “But those are real bruises and they really hurt, don’t they,” I stated again.

  “Yes . . . but not that much. I’m so use to them that I barely notice the pain anymore.”

  “You know I don’t understand how, though I can guess at the why.”

  “It’s a long story, as you can well imagine.”

  “And you’re tired right now.” She was drained from her time at the shelter, fro
m opening up to me.

  She looked up, not wanting to disappoint, but I wouldn’t let her be a martyr for me.

  “Some other time, then.”

  I picked up a slice and ate until my side of the cold pizza was gone. I turned our conversation to the trivial, talking about school and homework. I was having trouble with Spanish II, which surprised me, whereas Calculus was a piece of cake.

  It turns out she spoke and read Spanish fluently and was interested in being my personal tutor. She told me a funny story about our faux baby Isadora being mistaken for a real baby in the market on her way to meet me.

  We got up to leave and I walked her to her car.

  “Thank you, William, for being so understanding.”

  “My pleasure.”

  How awesome and confusing it was to be in love.

  Chapter Nineteen: The Mystery That Is Liz

  My schedule had been put back together, just as I had. We resumed hanging out when I got off work. She couldn’t always come, though. She’d simply explain, “family obligation.”

  I knew that was some kind of code for I’m out saving the planet with my superhuman brothers and sisters.

  My mind was never vacant these days. If it wasn’t occupied with being in her intoxicating presence, it was preoccupied with the mystery that surrounds her.

  Where did she go? Was it far away? Could she transport anywhere, or was there a mileage range? How is it even possible? Can she control it or does it simply happen? Has she always had this ability? Does she use it often, like I use a car?

  I could’ve asked and she would’ve answered. I didn’t voice my questions out loud, usually, because I didn’t want her feeling like a lab experiment, and partly because, honestly, I was starting to wonder if I really wanted the full story.

  In the back of my mind I worried if I knew the whole truth, then, that might spell the end for us. Not that anything she had to tell me would alter my feelings for her one bit, but. . . .

  She, who always knew the best course of action, knew what was really going on and might leave me again. Not because she didn’t love me but because of her love.

  This danger puzzled me exceedingly. I, who lived constantly in danger, would be in even greater danger by being with her? I wasn’t afraid for me, but she was. If she explained it all, maybe she would go back to her original decision to leave.

  My greater fear, though, was that the shoe might be on the other foot. What if I learned the truth, and I was putting her in danger? Could her work be compromised somehow by my presence in her life? Could I be the cause of risking her health and life?

  Yes. I knew this was true. What happened when she let her guard down and we kissed? She lost consciousness and looked near death . . . dead. I assumed since she’s human she’s mortal, like me. But is she? She can get hurt – I’d seen too many of her bruises –but she also heals quickly without leaving any scars or traces of injury.

  I was so absorbed in my questions about her–Does she have parents? Where does she get money? What is her work? Exactly how old is she?–she caught me off guard when I was vacuuming the carpet at work.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you,” she said as she came up to me.

  “Glad to see you,” I said as I set aside my musings and hugged her a little too long.

  She pulled back with a smile spreading across her face. “What were you thinking about? You looked lost in thought.”

  “You, of course.”

  “What about me?” she teased.

  “Oh, just the usual. Contemplating your gracefulness and secrets,” I answered honestly.

  I finished my closing duties, and we headed out for Chinese food.

  Dragon Buffet was crowded, but we found a table in the back. Going through the buffet I piled my plate high with fried rice, noodles, a scoop of just about every dish and a large helping of my favorite, sweet and sour chicken. Her plate contained a green salad, pineapple, and white rice with a bowl of egg drop soup. I looked like a pig.

  As we ate and chatted about our day she said, “Okay, so, ask me anything.”

  “What?”

  “You must be dying of curiosity by now about me, my family, our work, our presence in this world,” she said earnestly. “Quite honestly, I don’t know how you do it. You just don’t go there, don’t ask. But I want you to. Go ahead, ask away. I’m an open book – for you.”

  Of course I was curious. I wanted my infinite questions answered, but then I thought of an easy one I knew she wouldn’t expect.

  “Okay, so tell me, what were you upset about the other day in Senior Seminar?” I wondered what could be objectionable about telling high schoolers how to behave responsibly?

  She wasn’t expecting this kind of question. I saw her mentally change gears as she pushed the rice around her plate with chopsticks.

  “The only truly ‘safe sex’ occurs when the entire person is protected, not just parts, body parts.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Will, what are you? I mean, what’s essentially true about who you are?”

  “I’m human, as we’ve well established – though somehow still different from you?”

  “I’m talking about what we all have in common. You and I, we are not just bodies – objects. There’s much more to us than synapses and gurglings in the brain. So, what are you?”

  “I guess I’m a body and a soul.”

  “Yes! You are obviously a physical creature, but there’s an immaterial part of you too. If that’s the case, when people have sex, then the whole person has sex, not just detached bodies.” Her eyes were intense, her voice rising in pitch and volume.

  “Okay . . . .”

  “So, how does a condom or the pill protect the heart? When we pretend these kinds of devices ‘protect’ us, we lie. It may guard against STD’s and pregnancy, but they don’t reach what really happens when two people are united in the most intimate way. I might be for calling this kind of sex ‘safer sex’ – but it’s certainly not safe, by any stretch of the imagination.”

  “You’ve obviously given this a lot more thought than I have, but I know you’re right. I see the way my father is with women. He uses them and throws them away when he’s done. He treats them like commodities, things, like the stuff he likes to collect in our house. He has no respect for the women he sleeps with, and I’m sure the feeling is mutual. Still, safer is better than nothing.”

  “Maybe, but the lesser of two evils is still evil.”

  “You are passionate about this, aren’t you?”

  “Yes! I’m passionate about misplaced passion I guess you could say. And thanks to you I’m gaining some keen insights as to what the mind needs to do to battle the body when it seeks to take control and run away.”

  “What?” I said with a snort.

  “Don’t laugh, it’s true! Since I’ve been with you I’ve learned more about human nature than I have in a very long time. Experience is an excellent teacher.”

  “Just let me know if I can be of further service in your quest for understanding,” I said with a smirk.

  She laughed as she picked through her food. Which made me wonder, does she need to eat, would she die if she didn’t? She looked up to see me absorbed in my thoughts again.

  “Go head, ask.”

  “This is going to sound strange, but I was just wondering, do you need to eat?”

  “That’s a good question, but, I just don’t know. None of us have ever tried not to eat for an extended period of time. But since we are biological creatures, we’re pretty sure if we didn’t eat our bodies would eventually stop working. We eat regularly because we’ve found, apart from the pleasure it brings, it helps our bodies heal faster.”

  She could tell I was puzzled.

  “Ummm, take my bruises for instance,” she said as she pushed up a sleeve, revealing a yellowish brown mark. I winced and she continued. “The more nourished and well-rested I am, the faster they heal. Simple as that. Your bodies operate in a similar wa
y, but we know you have to eat regularly, and often, to survive.”

  A bizarre question popped into my head, probably because we’ve been talking about nutrition all week in seminar and finished watching Super-Size Me in class today.

  “What is it?” she said reading me.

  Of all the things I could ask her, why was I thinking about this? I still wanted to know.

  “You’d better ask me,” she said, now slightly worried.

  “It’s not that big of a deal, but I’m curious. Are any of your kind . . . overweight?” I knew the answer must be yes. How could an entire community of people be in the normal weight range?

  “No,” she said as if it should be blatantly obvious.

  “Not even one?”

  “Nope.”

  “Explain.”

  “I told you we are still in the original state. This means our bodies don’t have defects, so no one would be overweight for biological reasons. Being in the original state also means we have the virtues. Moderation is the virtue that assists in having a proper relationship with food. Food is to be enjoyed, but not overindulged.”

  “Are you telling me you have a perfect body?” I asked with a huge grin.

  She took the teasing in good fun. “Of course that’s what you’d pick up on. And yes, I guess, I’ve got a great body because it works the way it ought to. I feel so blessed to not be like the Knowers, especially the women, who are crazed about the way their bodies look. You may or may not know this, but I haven’t met one high school girl in this town who likes her own body! Ridiculous!”

  “Yeah, girls are prone to that disease,” I said shaking my head, wondering why it was so.

  “You know it’s not only their fault. Your culture makes them feel inadequate, and before you get all smarty-pants on me, you men are mostly to blame.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “But honestly, it cuts both ways. This culture is toxic for all – men objectifying women and women using men for their own personal gain. It makes me so sad. So much use, and greed, and loneliness. So much ignorance to the real and the beautiful,” her voice turned from playful to echoing ancient sorrow.