And the Trees Crept In(50)

I’m just another rock on a forest floor.

“I can’t,” I say at last.

He stays still, breathing heavily. Waiting.

“It’s too hard.”

“Too hard to keep inside of you, Sill. It’s going to break you if you don’t let it go.”

“My mother… my… she…” I pause. Wipe my face. “When we first got here, Nori had a broken collarbone and arm. It’d been healing for a few weeks, a month maybe, and…” I squeeze my eyes shut. Can’tdothiswon’tdothis—

I feel his hand on my fist, warm and sturdy.

“I told Cath it was a birth defect.”

“So you left Nori’s arm to heal askew.”

“Yes. Her teeth, too. I… I left her to be a cripple with messed-up teeth and now I’m paying for it.”

To prove it, I bite down on the loose tooth in the back of my mouth and spit it out, blood and drool on my chin.

Gowan swallows. “Why lie? Why protect your father?”

“I didn’t want to, but telling the truth would have meant accepting the other truth. I was safe for the first time in forever, and I didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to admit—”

I shake my head, and my body retches as my mind skims the edge of the truth.

He’s still standing behind me, some way off. “Tell me,” he says.

“When we first got here and Cath asked me what happened, I… I told her a story. But… I can’t, Gowan. I can’t.”

“Tell it to me. Tell it to me like a story, just like you did to Cath.”





A Story


Cause and Effect


Silla Daniels learns about cause and effect in school.


Cause: The blush of blue on Nori’s cheek. The shock of red on her lips. The snap of her collarbone when the father pushed. Her silent cry.

Effect: A plan, over time. The stashed bag.

Cause: Nori’s silent laugh, so full of sound. The sparkle in her eyes that, somehow, remains. The silent plea of the mother. Go. The teeth, broken and askew.

Effect: The attempted escape.




Nori is already awake when Silla removes their bag from its hiding place behind the loose boards in the wall. She watches, expectant, as Silla adds the good blanket to the bundle.

Ready?

Silla’s hands seem worried, so Nori smiles. Nods. Everything is going to be okay.

Quiet as a mouse, Silla signs.

Squeak! Nori signs. Smiles.

Silla nods.

The sisters tiptoe into the living room on the balls of their feet, shoes in Silla’s bag. Like a bird, Silla signs. Like air. Sssssshhhhhhh. Mam and Dad are sleeping in the middle of the floor again, a thin blanket tossed across his torso, hers draped close to his. Not too close. Just out of reach.

Silla hesitates a moment. If this goes wrong… if she fails…

One glance at Nori is enough to push her forward. The bruise, the cut lip, the way she holds her arm askew, shoulder raised. The terrible bend in her tiny collarbone, unnatural and awkward. So tiny—too tiny—to be so broken.

Silla moves, her hand wrapped around Nori’s. They are traversing a minefield just as hazardous as the rumored ones out there in the war zone.

Step.

Stop. Listen.

Step.

Feel, stealth, shallow breath.

Five more steps.

Four.

Nori is being careful, even with her shoulder.

Three. Silla can see the door.

Two.

Something stirs.

One.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

She slaps Silla.

“Your father would beat you blue if he knew you were running off to be with some boy.”

Silla’s cheek burns. It sings. “I’m going away from here. From you. And not for some boy.”

Mam’s contempt drips like acid from a mouth stretched with age. She is grotesque, Silla suddenly realizes, because she was once beautiful. Beauty faded and embittered, marred by wounds so fierce that no scars remain, is the birthplace of the grotesque.

“I’m taking Nori.”

“And where do you imagine you’ll go? To Cath?” She dances a crazy singsong. “Crayyyy-zee Sil-la to crayyyy-zee Cath-ee.”

“I should have taken her away a long time ago.”

Mama moves very fast. Before Silla can blink, she has swooped down and lifted Nori into her arms.

“To hell with you, then,” she whispers. “You’re fourteen. You can take care of yourself. Two peas in a pod you and Cath will be. But you leave my baby here.”

Nori’s shoulder and collarbone bend at an awkward angle.

“Look at your daughter!” Silla hisses. “Look at what he did to her arm. She can’t even use it properly! And you wouldn’t even take her to the hospital. You’re poison, both of you. And maybe Cath is crazy, and maybe I am, too, but if that’s true, then you’re to blame. You’re crazy if I ever saw madness, Mama. I love you, but you’re killing us!”

And then, there she is.

Silla’s mother. The real mother. The mother who loves her. The mother who wants to save her.

Silla can see it in her eyes, which are shining with tears.

“Take her,” Mam says, handing a pale Nori over. “Take her away. Now. Quickly—before he wakes. Before I forget, and change my mind! Go! Go!”