The Girl from the Sea

Chapter 3: live and let die

"So," Jorah remarked, over a steaming bowl of rice, chunks of meat and some green vegetables Shale didn't recognize. "You really don't have any memories?"

They had left Eaxander's house after discovering that between their combined knowledge of cooking and food preparation, they were approximately on par with a culinarily inept eight year-old. Since there wasn't much in the house that wasn't raw, spoiled, or foreign to both of them, Jorah had suggested a place in town and Shale had been quick to agree.

When they got there, Jorah seemed to notice the way her eyes skated across the menu, incapable of landing on one word over another, and took pity on her, ordering and paying for the both of them.

Now, Shale swallowed the bite she had been chewing and shook her head. "None before a month ago, when I... when I washed up on the shore. None that matter, rather. I know how to read, and walk, and- well, so far muscle memory seems to be serving me alright. But I don't know anything about me, or the country or practices or acceptable social behaviors. Which is terrifying, as you would expect."

Jorah laughed, downing the last of his water and stabbing another piece of meat with his fork.

Shale kept talking. "Like, I can look out the window and- see that there?"

He twisted around in his seat, following the direction of her gesture. "Mhm?"

"Well, that's a tree. And of course, that's a tree. But I can recognize animals and the different kinds of life in the tidepools, and I have senses about other stuff, like time. And- and some foods? It's not an entirely blank slate, and I do know things. But when I woke up this morning and realized what day it was and that... y'know, today was today, I knew- or thought I knew -that it was in the morning and I'd missed it. But that was wrong."

"Mmmm."

"So-" Shale tried to take a drink, and ended up choking on a laugh that was far too many shades close to panic. "So I'm just left with: 'well, sometimes I'm right! And sometimes I'm utterly convinced I'm right and, oh no! Turns out I'm entirely wrong.' But they feel the same. So I've just been floating in this bay of constant existential fear because..." The words trailed off, and she shrugged. "It seems safer to assume I'm wrong all the time."

She felt the fear-beast, one she was quickly becoming acquainted with, crawling up from her stomach, sinking claws into her ribcage and rubbing its rough scales against her lungs. Time to change the topic.

"And that's not always bad. Two weeks ago it stopped me from trying to cook for the town gathering. I found out later that the tree I had found in the grove was actually m- mach- manc-- the fruit looks like an apple. You know it?"

Eaxander had been the one to stop her, lunging across two tables and bellowing like a walrus to get her attention as she raised the flesh of the fruit to her lips to taste. The memory turned bitter on her tongue, but she knew how to deal with sadness. It was the fear, the trembling uncertainty that needed to stay locked down until she was alone. Alone meant safe.

Now that Eaxander was gone, it was the only thing that meant safe.

Jorah snorted, quickly covering his mouth to keep his last mouthful of food from making a reappearance. "So you didn't poison the town?"

"Thank the stars."

"I can imagine you've had an exciting month, then."

"I'd be more than happy to trade."

Jorah laughed again, and Shale found herself laughing along. There was something about him that was... well, not safe. No one with a laugh that infectious, or eyes so captivating could mean "safe". But... maybe for a little, this Jorah could mean "friend."