Earthrumbler

Chapter Fifteen: Familiar Faces

Weeks passed. My injuries disappeared slowly. My hand still shook when I formed a loose fist, but it recovered well. Ugly scars lined my calves, and ridges defined my back with small regions of smooth skin. The brand was different; it was the only part of myself that I noticed in a looking glass. It was pristine, completely legible and equally horrific. My hands ran along the scars constantly, one of the only reminders of whom I was. The other reminder was my necklace. It was waterlogged, broken, and useless. I curled it between my fingers when I thought of Dill. I pressed my lips to it when longing for him tightened my chest.

More often, I thought of home, of Papa and Professor Lester, of falling asleep over my favorite books. I knew I’d leave the Jumping Salmon eventually, but I couldn’t yet. I couldn’t return to myself completely. At nights, alone in the backroom, part of me was visible, glaring even: my guilt. Images of my mother haunted me, crawling up my spine and wrapping around my throat. Her screams filled the silence, cursing my safety. Morpheus never visited me, but thoughts of him did, in which, he berated me for being a coward, bruised my skin, told me how fitting my scars were.

When I washed my face in the morning, sticky skin, a stained undershirt, and eyes underlined with charcoal, seemed too small a punishment. The nights convinced me that I deserved worse. Only sunlight, along with human interaction, kept me sane. Dave and I worked quietly together, asking little of one another and only joking late at night when guests had either left or gone off to bed. When her work was done, Scarlet, who was Dave’s cousin, came by everyday.

She often talked at me, and I interjected occasionally. She poked fun at herself, mostly at her crush. We mocked the “out of picture” girlfriend, we laughed at each other, and our chats were far too short. Unless provoked, I mentioned little about myself. I chided myself each day that I didn’t tell her to call me Jenny.

In the kitchen, I was washing dishes when I heard Dave, “Eve, can you handle things for a bit? I’m going to pay Addie a visit.” As her stomach grew larger, his visits to her grew more and more frequent.

“I’ll be fine.” I put the plates away and wrung out a cloth to wipe down the bar. The room was still, not even the faint buzzing of flies or the creak of floorboards.

A smooth familiar laugh jolted me from the silence. “You mean to tell me that you’ve not only managed to find someone our age in this worn out little village, but that she’s actually interesting? Why am I hesitant to believe you?”

I ducked beside the doorway, out of his view.

Scarlet laughed too. “I’m telling you, Dill. She’s far more interesting than that girlfriend that you spend all of your time writing to.”

“Somehow, I highly doubt that.”

I peeked around, my heart fluttering and stomach twisting at the same time. My knees trembled at the sight of him. Dill stood there just as I remembered him. Long, light hair hung in his face, eyes covered by thick frames. His body was tall, all lean muscle, and the time outside had tanned his skin.

“Has she written back yet?” Scarlet laid her hand on his arm, showing no affections, only the concern of a friend. Her eyes darted around, looking for me.

Dill stood, leaning against the bar. His face was drawn in deep focus, calculating and stormy. His hair was shaggier than ever, lightened with sunlight, hanging in his eyes. I imagined raking my fingers through it. “No. She hasn’t. Maybe, she won’t. So, ah, who are we waiting for?” he asked, swinging his head around too.

“Eve. She’s usually just wiping down the bar at this time. Hey, Eve! Whenever you’re ready, you can bring out an ale or two.” She used the tone often to playfully remind me that she was a customer. “You shouldn’t have to wait around for someone. You deserve better than that.” Scarlet inched closer, and my stomach lurched. “Much, much, better.” One of her hands brushed under his chin. She laid the other on his chest and kissed him.