NOVEL WORKSHOP
Still One of Us
15 She opened her eyes, met his gaze for the first time.
This is chapter 15 of a new novel. To see all published chapters, go here.
15
They drove a few kilometers without him saying anything more.
He thought it was strange that she only had this informal bag, a kind of canvas sack that she had over her shoulder when he stopped the car. An almost empty sack, from what he could see. An unknown woman traveling far off the beaten track. Almost without luggage. One who did not speak.
He liked that it was quiet for a while. He could think. He tried to see her in the corner of his eye. She sat with her eyes closed. She seemed to be asleep.
They came to an area with narrower, winding roads. There were high mountains on both sides. He glared at her, saw that she had her eyes open.
“You,” he said, “listen, I need to know. Where are you going? ”
She did not answer. She looked blank in front of her.
He asked if she needed anything, if she was hungry or thirsty. Not because he had anything to offer, because he did not. — Yes, maybe a little trifle, by the way.
He tried to smile at her. She opened her eyes, met his gaze for the first time. Something very sad in those eyes, he thought.
She shook her head. Met his gaze again. He interpreted it as: “Thanks. I’m not going to have anything. ”
Almost an hour later they stopped at a rest area. He turned off the engine and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Turned towards her and said: “So — how are you?”
She did not answer, but he noticed that her lower lip trembled slightly.
“How are you?” he repeated. “What has happened?”
She still did not answer. Body slightly leaning forward in the passenger seat, face motionless. He could see that she was far away, deep inside herself, in her own universe.
He said, “You, what is your name?”
She sat as before, stiffened.
“My name is Eric,” he said. “I’m your friend.”
He waited.
“I want to help you. Do you understand that? I want to help you. ”
He saw that she was just shaking her head. A slow, almost invisible movement back and forth several times with the head. A “no”, or maybe a “help me, I do not know what to do”.
“I want us to help each other,” he said in a low, confident voice.
“You can help me. I also need someone. I really need someone. ”
When he had said those words, he felt it stop inside him. He thought, “Hey! You talk too much, and what you say is not something that can help her now.”
They sat still for quite a long time. The clock on the dashboard had moved and had come to a new hour.
“Fleur,” she said suddenly. “Fleur,” she repeated.
He felt it lighten inside him. So, then she was not dumb anyway.
“So, then you are still one of us. You are in my world, thank goodness,” he thought.
He heard her voice like an echo inside him. He felt the sound in her voice was warm, a little dark, darker than he had imagined. There was hope, she could talk.
They came up on a hill, the road flattened out suddenly. The landscape widened in front of them. He slowed down and turned onto an exit.
He opened the door and got out of the car. He went behind and opened the tailgate, pulled out the old cooler bag that was standing there. The freezer elements were long thawed, and it was actually best to take out and use as much of the provisions as possible. It was not certain that the food was edible much longer. The temperature had risen and approached 30 degrees. He could not imagine how he would manage to find a way to cool down the food again. The cooler bag lacked the electrical cord that belonged to it and which he had previously used to connect to the power supply on the car.
He opened the door to the passenger side and tried to convey a smile to her.
“Hey you, come on. We sit here. ”
He went behind the car again and sat on the edge under the tailgate. There was shade there, and the old cooler bag stood open and presented its contents: An orange juice carton, four apples, some dry rolls, a packet of cheese and one of boiled ham.
He felt the heat on his face and was suddenly unsure if it was safe to eat the food. He carefully emptied the juice from the box into the cardboard cup. She hesitated a little, but then she accepted the cup.
He put his hand on her arm. He felt her move. He could see that she was tense. Probably very scared.
“What is it,” he said. “Do not be afraid. I’m not going to do anything to you. You can trust me; I’m not harming a cat. ”
He looked at her, but she did not smile. Her face was stiff.
He felt that he got a good feeling for her. He knew he had to help her. Take care of her. Help her figure it out — whatever it was. He knew it. He was confident of that. He was going to help her.
He told himself: Do not cross the invisible line. Do not invade her, as he might have been tempted to do if this had happened when he was younger, twenty years earlier.
He thought: Maybe that’s how she is. The quiet type. A person who does not talk as much, maybe a little like himself. Sara had said so many times to him:
“You’re so silent, You’re so distant. Makes me crazy! You say nothing, you. It is not good. You come and you are silent, and then suddenly you come and want something. Something I do not want. I told you so! ”
He felt the darkness approaching. He felt the cold in the air. He closed his eyes, opened them again, closed them, opened his eyes and stared in front of him.
He had to stop thinking such thoughts. Do not think back on her. She who had been his. Had traveled her way. She was no longer there, in his life. Sara was “dead”. Because he was dead now. Gone forever. To him she was dead, though she probably walked light alive somewhere. Had probably found a new life to live. He was pretty sure of that.
They sat in the back of the car for a little over half an hour. He thought about how to get her to talk. He wanted to put his hand, his fingers over her hand, which lay on the edge under the tailgate, where they sat. But he did not dare. He was afraid it would be wrong. She must not begin to believe that he was — one such, one of that kind.
“Fine here,” he said. “Beautiful when the sun goes down over the mountains over there.”
He turned his face and looked at her.
“It will soon be dark. Then it’s going to be cold. “
He thought about how to get her to talk. She barely answered, and only with one- or two-syllable words a couple of times.
“But why were you standing there, in the middle of the godforsaken road?” he asked. “Where did you come from?”
He stopped. Waiting. An impatient movement with the right arm. He hoped she did not notice.
“Okay. Where are you going? — Where were you going? What happened? ”
Now she shook her head. She said no with her head.
“Nothing,” she said.
“Nothing?” he said. “Nothing,” he repeated. “What do you mean? What are you talking about? ”
“No, not now,” she said.
“Okay,” he said. “Not now, but later.”
They were quiet for a while. Then he got up, shoved the cooler bag into the trunk and stood behind the car waiting.
She got up from the trunk and stood motionless, distant, with her neck bent.
He closed the tailgate, walked around and got behind the wheel. She hesitated. Then she went and sat down in the passenger seat.
