Of Fêtes and Pottery Classes
Late morning sunshine shone through the open flap in the tent. Zheng sat in a chair across from my bed eating a garnished plate of food, her guards milling around outside the door.
“I sent Izzy and the rest off a few hours ago and Marco needed a moment to take care of himself since you’d probably break in half if he tried anything with you.”
“Stop.” He’d probably just woken up and gone to bathe. Zheng could never resist the opportunity to needle me about my frosty bed. She needed to get her head out of the gutter.
“You fell asleep during our slumber party. I knew it should have been no boys allowed.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“Damn straight you will.” She stood and dusted herself off. “So you are up. You are alive. You are not broken in half yet. I’ll see you out there.” Zheng finished off the plate Izzy had clearly left for me.
I held onto my abdomen and got to my feet. Everything was stiff. There was some food leftover on a second plate. It was a journey to make it the few feet from the bed to the table but I’m proud to announce I was successful and my reward was a cinnamon roll, what looked like the third cinnamon roll, that had been on the plate. I was happy for anything left at all. I sat and ate.
Izzy’s bed was neatly made and empty. According to Zheng she’d left hours ago while I slept. I have to admit to a little relief, not having to perform for my sister. Zheng made it seem as though Izzy would be away for a few days and judging by the scarcity of Izzy’s possessions, Izzy had packed for seven lifetimes away from the compound.
I found my crutch in the corner and got to my feet. Slow was better than stopped. One small fix followed by the next; enough slow and small repairs and I’d be on the water again. Endurance and patience was my mantra as I took one painful step after the other. Today was better than yesterday. Tomorrow would be better than today. On and on and on until I was back on the water.
Marco, Zheng, Catherine, and Elizabeth were already at the dock waiting for me. That was a relief. They stopped their conversations as I crutched over. Elizabeth could give me a run down of the progress. Marco was good with sail repair. I’m sure Catherine could take inventory of the hold. Zheng would procure me the labor for larger repairs. She wanted me sailing again as soon as possible too. Every hour I spent at port was an hour she wasn’t making a mint off of me and my cargo hold.
“All of you are here? Great. I’d like to start –”
“Um, Captain?” Elizabeth interrupted.
“Yes?” Why did she look so uncomfortable? Why did they all look like that? “Speak. What’s going on?”
“We’ve been left instructions,” Marco answered and handed me a folded paper. “We’ve all been threatened and will be following these instructions.”
“Threatened? By who?” I opened the paper and saw Izzy’s handwriting.
List of approved therapeutic activities for Anne:
Arts and Crafts: Collage / painting / art
Learning to weave, paper mache, sewing, knitting - anything textile related
Fishing
Sewing
Running
Massages and other self-care
Meditation
Yoga
Shopping
Collecting pretty seashells
Get a pet
Flower arranging
Self-portraits
Writing poetry about her feelings
Journaling
Enjoying the sunsets / sunrises
Finding a new hobby
Exercise
Lots of water. Fresh produce.
Walks! Should start every morning with a walk, and a good meal.
Make a list of 5 things you like about yourself
Eating, sleeping - No drugs! Clean Living only!
“Are you all joking?” None of them looked in a joking mood and none of them were moving. “What could she possibly have on you that would convince you I would be better off–” I scanned the list, “--collecting pretty seashells, than fixing my own ship!” I crumpled the paper but they still didn’t move. Zheng handed me another note.
Dear Sister,
There will be consequences if you cannot find it in yourself to relax and recuperate.
For starters, I intend to obtain another goat and three kittens (I have already selected names), and will sing you to sleep every night detailing Ian’s prodigious love making skills. I may even draw out some storyboards!
I’m certain that you’re already trying to find your way out of this, but resistance is futile. After several consultations, Zheng and Marco have agreed with my game plan. I look forward to hearing all about your days of lounging and leisure.
Love,
Izzy D. St. G. C..
“You all can’t be serious.”
But they were serious.
I was to be off my ship, occupied with inane “relaxing” activities, and away from any and all stress. I was able to give Elizabeth and Zheng repair instructions before Marco escorted me off my own ship.
“Come on, Annie. It’s not all bad.” He took the crumpled list from me and read a few options out loud. “Fishing, yoga, walking. We are already walking, that’s not so bad. And sewing, you like sewing.”
“This is crazy. She’s crazy!” I shook the paper in his face and he laughed and pushed my hand away. “Crazy.”
“We can check poetry off the list now too. Look at you making progress already.” When I lagged behind him he put his arm around me and pulled me back up to speed. “We are checking your bandages daily now too. Back to your tent and take your shirt off.” He leered then grinned, no doubt thrilled by his assignment.
I was bleeding again and my knee and arm had swelled up. He cleaned and wrapped me back up but I wouldn’t budge when he gestured to our bed. “I don’t need to lie down any more. I want to be moving.”
“We can move.” He gave me my crutch and his shoulder and took up an abominably slow pace. I grumbled about how beetles were outpacing us but I could breathe and I wasn’t punishing my body; I could keep this up.
We “walked” a good distance down the shoreline until we were out of sight of the massive docks. There was a small sandy beach where we stopped for a snack. Marco pulled out a bag of nuts and dried fruit and we shared it as I caught my breath. I was grateful for the rest.
I picked up some stones and attempted to skip them into the waves. My torso and arm weren’t working together. I dropped the stones in frustration and looked out at the horizon hoping to see Mo’s sails and the replenishment of Fountain. I’d chug it at this rate. Marco picked up my dropped stones and skipped them out to sea as if it was easy and anyone could do it.
“Show off,” I grumbled. He laughed and winged the flat stones as far as he could, grinning each time the stones skipped the surface.
Eventually we sat down back to back on the sand. “We could collect stones instead of shells.” He held one up that was dark gray with a ring of white around it.
“My mom called those lucky rocks. She’d send us out to find them. Looking back on it they probably were only lucky to her as it kept us out of her hair for at least 10 minutes.” I reached for the rock and traced the circle of white. I’d collect it anyway. I could use a little luck.
“My oldest sister sent us to look for hag stones. Little river rocks with holes in them. Said if you looked through one you could see through a witch’s disguise. My brothers could find them. I never found one.
“Think they only ever found one or two and then just kept ‘finding’ them to taunt you?”
“Those little shits…that’s how they did it! I ought to go back and kick their asses.”
“Anytime you want,” I offered.
“Nah. Let them be.” Marco shifted the sand at his feet hoping to find a stone with a hole right then and there but no luck.
“I’ll help you look tomorrow.”
“Want to head back?”
“I’m comfortable here.” I lay my head back against his shoulder. Besides, it would take me a million years to shuffle back at this rate.
“Me too.” He put his head on my shoulder.
I’m not sure when we fell asleep but we both slept better when we were at each other’s back like this.
****
“This blows,” Zheng complained as we tried to make self portraits derived from the limited art supplies in her compound. She dug at her slab of wood and pulled out splinters. Marco was picking up the splinters and pinning leaves to his paper with them.
“Marco, I think that’s great,” Catherine complimented Marco as John Henry made handprints in ink on his paper.
Zheng redoubled her efforts to try and get a compliment from Catherine too. I looked at the pile of dough I was supposed to be turning into a sculpture and poked at it. Catherine had set all this up this morning and I had dutifully followed along but my eyes were on my ship where Elizabeth and a crew of “engineers” were straightening the bowsprit.
The ship was strung with more rope than when Mary set up her clothes lines. They were going to winch it back into shape. I itched to be over there overseeing the operation. The only reason I was here doing arts and crafts was because Zheng agreed to do it also. She assured me her people were experts and could get the job done without either of us. My stomach hurt as I listened to the echoes of their shouts over the bay.
John Henry wandered away from his handprint art to sit on my lap and mash my pile of dough. I pulled him close and rested my chin lightly on the top of his curly head as he dug his fingers into the soft dough then lifted the mash up to my face, an inch from my eye, so I could praise him for his skills.
“That’s lovely, John Henry.” I pushed his hand away from my cornea. Then I quickly rolled three balls of dough into the shape of a snowman and said in a cartoony voice, “Hello, I’m Mr. Snowman. How are you today?”
John Henry shrieked with glee and clapped his inky doughy hands in pleasure before smashing Mr. Snowman flat.
“You’ve killed me! Nooooooooo!” We repeated the comedy schtick several times and I provided Mr. Snowman with tragic death scenes before building him back up and letting the baby smash him again and again. Eventually John Henry proved to be a merciful and magnanimous ruler, kissing him on the head and letting the snowman live a long and happy life.
He shoved the little snowman into his shirt and went to show his mother, imitating his best approximation of “Hello, I’m Mr. Snowman,” in his garbled baby language. We all clapped for him and he screamed with glee then ran to find the other children. Three of his nannies followed after him. I absently picked up what was left of the dough and formed it into the shape of a canoe.
One of Zheng’s underlings came to get her to settle a dispute and Marco went off to find us lunch. I sat with Catherine and kept working on my boat sculpture.
“I know we aren’t supposed to talk about the ship,” she started, her eyes watching the preparations on the Try Your Luck, same as me, “but will it be able to sail again?”
“She’ll sail again,” I assured her. Looking at her expression I realized that might not be the answer she was hoping for.
“Oh. Oh good.” Catherine rolled up John Henry’s artwork for safe keeping. She studiously avoided looking at the ship.
“Catherine, do you want to stay here?” I could only imagine the amount Zheng would charge me for the young mother and son’s permanent room and board but I’d arrange it.
“No, I – I’m just worried. There are still people that know me in England and I don’t want to be sent back. Sent back to him.” She twisted her fingers and I was reminded how very young she was. “He liked to lock doors too,” she whispered.
I knew her husband well. He’d imprisoned me many times and taken pleasure in releasing me and other prisoners with punishments more vicious than deserved. Catherine was a child when she was married off to him. She was still a child. That man enjoyed power and was not afraid to wield it.
“I’m never going back to that island. You have your berth on my ship for as long as you want it. I won’t force you to go anywhere.” I’d given Elizabeth her position on my ship. I could take Catherine on as well. Since we couldn’t find a place for her anywhere else then why the hell not just stay, at least for a while. She’d get tired of sailing at some point. Over with the other children and nursemaids, John Henry was showing off Mr. Snowman. I couldn’t just drop him off any random place. Screw it all, we had time.
“Never going back to England? That can’t be true. Do you mean to say the ship cannot make it that far?” She looked off to where John Henry was playing. Zheng was now in that mix too, letting the babies climb all over her.
“No, I won’t be sailing from here to England. Not happening. Besides, if I had to do that kind of journey I’d take the portal.” I felt again the portal pulling against me even from the bilge water. I had not finished paying for my transgressions and my chest wound opening back up was only one indication of that.
“Oh, yes, I suppose that makes sense. Perhaps we pack some parasols this time to protect from the sun.” She shuddered remembering the terrible heat as we were becalmed in the portal. Parasols were a great idea. I made a mental note to acquire some. Too bad I couldn’t text Izzy to pick some up on her shopping trip.
“The portal isn’t always like that. It was mad that we were just travelling space, not time. It feels cheated.” The way it worked was you serve Time first, then Space. Everytime I tried to cheat Time, I got in trouble. I rubbed my chest, this was a little excessive in my opinion but I had a feeling the portal was feeling cheated in several ways and I’d only begun to pay.
“Yes, I suppose it would,” she mused. She had a far off dreamy expression and I wondered for a short moment if she did understand. No one else ever did. Not Zheng, Mo, or anyone. She shook it off. “So we’ll be sailing the long way around to get Isabelle to England then?”
The fuck…where did that come from?
“Izzy is not going to England.” On that there was no discussion.
Catherine gave me a smile all too similar to the one she saved for John Henry. I was reminded of how she connived me into shedding my layers and bearing my scars on the ship. There was always more to this girl than I realized and it caught me out every time.
“She is married. She is in love.” Catherine smiled at me indulgently.
“Where she belongs is home, safe, and free.” I couldn’t take her to England. I wouldn’t take her to England.
“Mmmm,” Catherine considered. “Perhaps.” She took the mangled dough from my hand and didn’t elaborate.
“Perhaps?” There was no ‘perhaps’. There was no way I could condone delivering my sister into the hands of an angry portal or several ocean’s worth of dirty ports, pirates, and slavers, only to maybe-possibly-hopefully, arrive on the shores of a country that wouldn’t see peace time till the late 20th century.
“Only,” she twisted the dough in her hands as she watched her son play with the other babies of the compound, “where I belong is back in Commander Sutton’s home. Or, as you’ve said, another husband’s bed.”
Oh she was good. She was very good. And she was right. In this time and this era, where she belonged was her husband’s house. That is where everyone would agree she needed to be. That was where everyone would agree she was safest. She was Lady Sutton and her place was where her father negotiated for her. Meanwhile the girl was flourishing here.
“That is completely different,” I argued. “It’s dangerous here. Would you allow John Henry to walk into a lit hearth?”
“John Henry is a baby,” she countered.
“So is my sister.” She needed my help. She needed me to protect her. They all told me that. She needed me to look after her. She was smaller and weaker and needed my help.
“No. Not the same, Captain.” She smiled and grasped my hands.
“Catherine, what about you?” I desperately swerved the conversation in a new direction. Once she got tired of me, she’d still needed a home and it was a tricky riddle to solve. She could sail with me for a while but not forever. John Henry needed land and friends and experience. My ship could not provide a full future for a growing child.
If only Izzy was right and Catherine could find a nice waterfront property with a garden. Only a short carriage ride away is an open minded town with denizens who would embrace and accept her and John Henry and where she could support herself off of cooking eggs and minor sewing projects. Dreams. That home existed nowhere throughout all of time.
“Me?” Catherine smiled even broader. Then she ducked her head as if thinking a secret thought that she couldn’t show the world. “Me,” she sighed, “Captain, I boarded a ship as a girl for a fairytale island. I met a villain. I met a prince. I fell in love and because of that love I received my John Henry. Then I met a lady and a captain who taught me about magic, took me to a cold land, and then across the world. I’ve decided that I will no longer attempt to wonder what direction my life will take. I couldn’t have guessed at any of this. I’ve decided that I rather like letting the story play out instead of attempting to design it myself.”
She said it like her life was a fairytale, like all the darkness weighed nothing against the light and as if she were at the end of her story instead of creeping her way through chapter one. She was no fairy princess. Her life and her child’s life were hanging by a swinging bridge with the other end mired in smog. Why should Izzy have to live like that when she had a golden ticket out of here? And what kind of monster would I be to keep forcing Izzy into the mire at the end of her bridge too.
“I cannot take her to England. Why must I willingly and happily sail her into known danger?” It would be carelessness bordering on sinful to be the one to sail her into harm’s way.
“No, that would be unwise,” she agreed. I looked up in surprise at not to having to fight for what seemed like common sense and logic.
“Exactly.” An ally at last. I smiled at her, full of gratitude and hoped that she was on my side.
“I did not mean that. I was talking about…taking our hands off the wheel and seeing what happens,” she said it like it was the easiest thing in the world to let go when you were the one at the wheel.
It was my fault Izzy was here. It was my fault she wasn’t back home yet. Her every move in the 17th century was my fault. Every papercut, every drop of blood, every heartache, was my fault. If I let go of the wheel and let her go, it would be my fault that my mother and I would one day stand over her grave with a bouquet of flowers reading the date she took her final breath. It would be all my fault. My chest hurt.
Mom and I stood in a small overgrown graveyard in England. It was a pleasant day…for England. We’d landed at Heathrow this morning and stopped only to buy flowers, roses interwoven with lavender.
“How did…how do you think it happened?” Mom laid the flowers down.
“I don’t know. Looks like she lived a good long life…for the time.” The grave told us little. There were others nearby. Perhaps they were her family here. Perhaps they were her children. I was never any good with British naming traditions.
“Why did you do this?” she cried.
Catherine’s hands appeared over mine and brought me out of that graveyard. She squeezed my hands and waited for me to look up at her. My chest wouldn’t release.
“Should I bring you your medicine?”
“Thanks, Catie. Please,” I wheezed. She was back in a minute with a cup and with Elizabeth. I took a sip.
Catherine headed toward her tent. My mind began to wander, wondering about all the different people and places where I could hide her and the baby and whether any of those places were better for her than my ship.
Elizabeth sat with me and we talked about the ship till I could breathe again. She gave me a long and detailed run down of every system and every repair. She cautioned me to sip and rest. The ship would be alright. We would be alright.
****
“You’re looking good. Wound is closed.” Marco rewrapped my chest and, with a swift smile, pressed his lips to the fresh bandages. “To make it better.” He smiled up at me.
I tucked his hair back behind his ear. We’d woken up early and he’d decided to use this time where I was already calm and in bed to change my bandages. Our bedding and blankets were still warm. The compound was quiet and dark. Our tent was quiet too. It was just the two of us and we’d grown comfortable with the privacy in the tent. No sisters. No guards. Just some soft oil lanterns and warm blankets.
I started to get up but Marco climbed up the bed over me, pressing me back into the pillows. He was only teasing, playing. He’d been as good as his word and hadn’t asked for any physical response from me. He truly appeared fine about it too. Marco stretched out along the length of me, keeping me lying in bed and resting. I loved the feel of his weight against me and wondered if I should make a move. My wounds twinged and I relaxed back. Not yet. Everything was going well. I’d like it to keep going well.
“What’s on for today?” He kept himself pressed against me as he pulled out Izzy’s list. He pulled me even tighter to him as I groaned and tried to steal it from him. He just laughed and held the paper out of my reach. “I’m thinking today’s the day we find you a pet,” he read from the list.
“Because you all think I do such a good job taking care of myself, let’s go ahead and add an animal into the mix?”
He laughed and crossed out the pet idea. “It’s early enough, we could go enjoy the sunrise.”
“I’m not ready to leave this bed yet. It’s too nice here.” I snuggled in closer to him and he put his arms around me.
“I agree.” He kissed the top of my head. We were forgetting ourselves. I didn’t want to pull away, however. I was happy right where I was and I think he was too.
“Aha, here we go. ‘Find a new hobby.’ That’s our winner today.” He showed me the item stating, Finding a new hobby, and beamed in victory.
“What does she have on you that you are following this stupid list?” I asked for the millionth time. He looked happy. I liked that he was happy.
“I tell you what, when you are strong enough to chase me down, I’ll tell you then.” He stretched back on the bed and took me with him.
Challenge accepted. “Best incentive to rest and heal I’ve heard yet. What’s my new hobby going to be?”
“Not a new hobby, exactly. Though, if I were to guess, it’s one you haven’t done in a while. Since that wound is good and closed, I think it’ll be a good choice.”
***
The little beach Marco and I had found was perfect. The surf broke a good distance from the shore allowing for long rides. The long boards were old and heavy but they floated and that’s all that mattered. The last time I’d surfed was with Maui out on the Marshall Islands in the 1900s.
I “surfed” like I “walked” but it was better than writing poetry about your feelings. Marco checked that I was wrapped up and my abdomen wasn’t open or seeping. Several solid nights’ sleep, zero exertion, watchful eyes, and the initial measures of the Fountain had worked wonders. He deemed my water excursion safe so long as I didn’t submerge past my hips. He assisted me into the waves and got me on a board. The cold water and release from gravity was relief incarnate for my knee. I lay back on my board like a dead seal with all my limbs in the chill water, floating and feeling the swelling go down.
I was dressed in light silk kurta pants, and a wrap shirt. Zheng was in less and Marco sported a breechcloth only. So far as I knew, neither of them had ever seen the full extent of my scarring and I prayed that the color of the silk on my legs wouldn’t turn transparent with the water. Catherine had been the one to help me dress this morning. My legs were fully wrapped up but I kept them underwater as much as possible just in case. Despite my fractional amount of uncovered skin, I felt exposed.
The feel of the tide, the pull of the waves…it was bliss to be out on my element again. As I floated, my mind wandered beneath the current and out to the wider ocean. The portal was out there calling to me, waiting for me. Its call was calmer than before, as if it was patient now that it saw I was taking care of myself and out of danger of the secondary measures.
Oh, how I wanted to answer that call. I’d go back far, far away from everything I knew. The few times I’d done that had been fantastic. There were people I missed, countries I missed, all there within my reach. I just needed my ship repaired. If I could sail the Try Your Luck home, I’d get Edgar to fix her, and then I’d be out on the sea where I belonged.
“You’ll get eaten by a shark if you keep lying on that board like that.” Zheng paddled out to me and lay down on her board the same as me.
“Would be a bad day for that shark.” I kept my eyes closed and soaked in the sun. “I haven’t surfed in forever. This is nice.”
“You still aren’t surfing. You’re floating.” She flicked water over me and started floating herself.
“I’ll surf soon.” I waved off her critique of my skills. “At least I’m out of that bed. You get out on your board much these days?” The sun felt almost as wonderful as the water.
“I get out when I can but it’s been busy. This age of exploration is gumming up the ocean with Europeans. God save us all when you Americans get your naval forces on the waters.”
“You’ve got some time.” Americans wouldn’t really be in these waters for about 300 years.
“About that.” Zheng rolled over and splashed me till I opened my eyes and sat up. “I think I’m going to break camp here within the year. If you’re around I was hoping you might get me back to the 800s. Start over fresh. I think if I wear a veil I could stay in business longer. Maybe go up by Korea? Jae’s been teaching me some of the language.”
I had suspected Zheng was close to collapsing her operation here. These places were only sustainable for 15 years at a time before populaces grew wary of her and took action. After which, she’d disband the whole thing, take to the portal and attempt to jump to a new time. She could navigate the portal better than Marco but that wasn’t saying much. She was stuck in this era and couldn’t find her way past the 1300s. When I was with her I’d help her navigate to a specific point and help her set up shop.
“Yeah, maybe. You’ll have to watch it that you don’t accidentally compete with yourself. Have you kept track of the years and locations you’ve been in operation?” She had such a small window of time to work with. Unless I started her off in a different era, she was confined to the Crusades.
“I’d need to make a list. Been a while since we worked a job start to finish,” she said as she floated.
“I’d like that. I have to return my sister…somehow…but after that I had no plans.” I really had no idea what I’d do after leaving Izzy at Heron’s Landing when the “summer” was through. All I could see was my reflection beneath the waves. The portal thrummed silently through me, upset at the image.
I really wasn’t sure what I was going to do afterwards. I had a silly image of me in a houseboat with a slide living in the portal forever. The portal purred at that dream. We were both being silly. My watery reflection returned more solidly than visions of that houseboat. I really wasn’t sure what to do.
“I’ve always got a place for you, you know that.” Zheng paddled herself alongside me.
“Thanks.” Yeah, I’d go wherever Zheng was headed next. We were a good team. We both lay back and let the sun bathe us as the water held us up.
“In all seriousness, when is she going home?” Zheng lazily paddled around me.
“I don’t know. In all my planning, the problem was always getting her back here, not returning her.” I was aware she’d likely have a reaction to traveling back in time, but I was wholly unprepared for her arguments to stay. Leaving was never supposed to be the hard part in this journey. “I mean…plumbing.”
“Movies,” Zheng added. Tonight her people were going to act out what Zheng remembered of Moulin Rouge.
“Fabric softener.” I missed soft towels.
“Grocery stores,” she pined.
“Pain relievers.” My kingdom for an aspirin.
“Bottled water.”
“Ice.”
“Batteries.” We both held a moment of silence to mourn batteries and all battery related accessories.
I saw Elizabeth on the shore. I waved and gave her a sign that I’d be in in a sec. I wanted to get the daily report on the repairs.
“One thing,” Zheng floated back into view, “She doesn’t want to go home or you don’t want to take her home?”
“She doesn’t want to go. She’s married and everything,” I insisted but there was doubt in my words and Zheng could smell it.
“It would be easy enough to get her on a ship and out of here. I know you hate goodbyes…think about it. I’d come with you,” she offered. It might be just so she could walk down the aisles of a super store again, but the offer was sincere.
The thought had crossed my mind that there was little to stop me from putting a bag over Izzy’s head and handcuffing her to the mast; take her home by means of force. Should it come to it, I would, but that was not ideal. I know I said that when I took her home, that that was it. Yet, in my heart, I fostered a little dream where I’d sail back into her life to watch her grow old and maybe share a coffee or tea every dozen years or so. Any plans involving chloroform and handcuffs would mean sacrificing that little dream.
“That would be nice, sailing together. Let’s think about it,” I agreed.
“Don’t tease.”
“Never.” I paddled out to a wave and rode the whitewater in. Looking down, I saw a fresh bloodstain on my shirt. Shit. I covered it with the surfboard.
Elizabeth met me on the shore and gave me the rundown on the ship. The bowsprit was repaired and today was the first day they hadn’t had to bail out the bilge area, the sealants were holding. I thanked her profusely and released her to go fleece a new crew that had sailed in a few days ago and hadn’t yet been warned not to wager against her.
I wrapped a dry length of cloth around myself for a towel and went to find Marco, he was up the north end of the beach shifting rocks. I eased down to the sand to watch him hunt for stones.
“Perfect! You’re here.” He fished in a pocket and brought out a small stone with a hole in the upper corner.
“You found one!” I reached for it and marveled at the small hole I could almost fit my pinky through. “What’s this supposed to do again?”
“Keep me safe from witches. When I look through the hole here,” he held the stone up to his eye, “I will be able to see through a witch’s disguise. Stay right there, I want to see if it works.” He stepped back and surveyed me through the hole up and down while whistling. “You are looking good, Annie. I mean, wowza.”
“Shut up.” I whacked him and he laughed. I know it was stupid but I was pleased he might be thinking of me that way. He had looked really good playing king of the mountain the other day.
“Let me try.” I held out my hand and he tossed the stone to me. I put it up to my eye and looked him over. “Nope, must not be working. You still look like a tired old man still in his tired old clothes.”
“That’s because I’m not a witch. I’m way nicer than you.” He narrowly avoided the shower of pebbles I tossed in his direction.
Marco waded in a little stream headed to the ocean. I watched his bare feet just slide into the water like it was the easiest thing in the universe. My own feet were wrapped up until barely a grain of sand could get in. I was suddenly very jealous of his feet. I wanted to feel the sand and the water too.
“Found another one!” Marco shouted.
I wanted to unwrap myself. I wanted to feel the water without interference of cloth or anxious prying eyes. I wondered…mornings were quiet here. A small plan began to develop.
Where Zheng went, so did her entourage. On the beach were the makings of a full blown revelry but this time there was no one offering me any substances and neither Zheng nor Marco partook of anything. It could have been out of solidarity or because they’d been scared straight. Either way they sat with me around the fire drinking tea and eating vegetables (fresh produce, check it off the list!).
Zheng ordered her attendants around while she ate. There was lots of noise and music tonight. Marco lounged next to me and brought out his stone. He looked through the little hole at Zheng and leaned over to say he thinks she got a new tattoo. Then he scanned me up and down again till I shoved him over.
The party would continue long into the night but I was tired and ready for sleep. Marco walked me back to our yurt and saw me into bed.