An Eye For An Eye

Soixante-Dix-Huit

Returning from the bi-weekly grocery shop, I held the flyer in my hand. I set it aside but once I’d finished putting everything away in the kitchen, I picked it back up again and looked through it. It was a martial arts group. They ran several sessions a week, two in the week and one on the weekend.

“What are you looking at?” I looked up to see Deuc walking into the kitchen.
“Just a flyer thing I was given while I was shopping,” I said with a shrug. “Do you know what... bagua is?”
Deuc hummed as he started to make a cup of tea. “A type of martial art, I think.”
“That’s all I know too,” I said, though I’d only learnt that an hour ago when I had quickly glanced at it in the car. “I wonder what it’s like.”

We said nothing as the kettle boiled and Deuc poured the boiling water into his mug.
“I might go along and try it one of the weekends,” I said. Even if I didn’t like it, I would get to try something different.
“There’s nothing stopping you.”
“You… don’t mind?” I asked, furrowing my brow. For some reason, I had expected an argument on why I shouldn’t learn a martial art. Learning it meant I had a better chance at fighting, should I need to, and that included fighting Deuc if it came to it.
“Why would I? It’s not bothering me,” he said with a shrug. “You’re welcome to do whatever you like, I’m not in control of that.”
“Oh,” I said, nodding. Not too long ago, I would have expected that as a response but after everything, I had thought he might have become a little more controlling. I was glad he wasn’t.

“I’ll go try it then, on Saturday,” I said with a small smile. Saturday seemed to be the best day, I didn’t do much else on Saturdays. It didn’t cost much either and it would be an interesting way to spend an hour or two.
Deuc sipped his tea. “Hopefully you enjoy it.”
“I hope so too.”

“I was wondering if you’d like to read to me later, or maybe dance or something,” Deuc said after a moment. I looked at him and then at the flyer.
“Alright,” I said. “I don’t think I have the energy for dancing, something else definitely though.” Deuc smiled and nodded and I couldn’t help but smile as well. It would be nice to get back to normal, or as close to it as possible.

Several hours later, I held my notebook in my hands as I sat next to Deuc on the sofa. I hadn’t read any of my writing to him in a while, and I’d written a lot lately while dealing with grief. It had helped, but I knew all of my writing would show the grief when I looked back on it in a few months. For now though, I didn’t care, and started reading.

Somehow, I ended up leaning against his shoulder. It still felt strange, and it wasn’t quite the same no matter how much I wanted it to be. My notebook was on the table, along with the pen I’d used to make a few corrections to spelling and grammar along the way.

“The full moon is in less than a week,” said Deuc. “It’s a lunar eclipse too.”
“Do we get to see it?” I asked. He shook his head.
“Not really, the moon just isn’t as bright,” he said. “I suppose you could see it just about if it covers more than half the moon and it’s not cloudy.”
“I suppose I’ll have to wait and look then,” I said. And I’d have to wait to see if I’d truly found my anchor. My writing meant a lot to me, and it was a form of art. Art was a part of being human, so much so that it was made by accident.

That was it.

“Liza?”
“I’ve just realised something,” I said quietly, a smile spreading across my face. “My anchor.”
“Yes?”
“It’s art, well for me it’s writing as a form of art. But I always thought that art and humanity came together,” I said. “We make art so often, painting, drawing, planting flowers in certain places to make something look even more beautiful. Even in the stone age there was art. Art is so natural to us, we make it by accident.”

Deuc said nothing for a moment and I turned to look at him. He was thinking, I could tell.
“That’s your anchor. Art and writing is what makes you human.”
“I have an anchor,” I whispered. “No more uncontrollable transformations or anything.” There was no transformations at all unless I wanted to transform, which I doubted I would.
“No, my love, none at all.” He kissed my forehead and I smiled. Things were somehow managing to get better.