Bliss

15 - Sky

I am afraid. I am not afraid.

I am terrified.

I want to see them again.

Ingrid will kill me if I see them. I debate on heading over to the visit them while she's swimming, but then I decide against it. What good will that do?

I am afraid. I am terrified. I am not scared of them, but I am, and I want to--no, I need to--see them again. I have so many questions. But Ingrid can't see them. Both of us can't see them, because they could be dangerous and they could hurt us.

I just feel so torn.

I open up a blank page in my sketchbook. A sketchbook costs ten cents, and every month, I need a new one. Recently, I have been drawing the things that fly overhead, that peck at pebbles on the beach. The tiny birds with the wings that spread out far out their sides and that sing and squawk and chirp. Tiny birds, big wings, sharp claws, hooked beaks.

I have been drawing them more now when it suddenly hurts to run and there's nothing else for me to do. The pain just reminds me of my surgery, and of hospitals, and of death and of the smell of puke and of little kids crying, and I don't want that surfacing up on my daily life.

The bird, this time, has a short beak, a long neck, a fat body, tiny wings, and two sticks for legs, and it looks silly and stupid, but it reminds me of Harry. Of the bird. A rough outline, lines that do not connect. It doesn't even have feathers. It's stupid, but it suddenly looks more beautiful than the other birds I have drawn.

I'm not stupid. I know someone must have drawn that, and when he got defensive as soon as my eyes fell on it, well, it's obvious he must have drawn it. He's been outside of the country, so maybe birds like that exist.

Somewhere out there.

I feel angry. I feel like my hands will hurt if I don't fill the bird in but I can't bring myself to do anything except watch the rough outline. Light streams in through the window and falls over the paper like a spotlight is shining on it, begging me to continue, but I can't. My mind is so wrapped up over everything.

I'm afraid, scared, terrified.

Ingrid doesn't have to know. All I need to do is see them, meet them.

Ingrid didn't talk to me last night, after she came home. It was fine, though. I wasn't in a mood to talk either, and Maya, although she and Ingrid made some conversation during dinner, still seems a little suspicious of us.

I walk to work, because my side hurts when I run now. Instead of my regular ID, I have the new temporary one I received with the papers. Once I get there, I check in and head to the locker rooms to change. I feel very relieved to see Elper there.

"How are you?" she asks with a smile, but her eyes look worried. She stretches her hand out to pat my shoulder. It feels nice, comforting. "You look like you've been through a lot."

"I haven't seen you much at work," I point out. Elper just shrugs.

"I've had troubles at home," she says placidly. "The government lent me a few days while I tried to put everything together. But I'm back now. You still haven't answered my question."

I sigh as I slip on the white coat. The supervisor's voice booms through the speaker. "Good. You haven't been around to chastise me for my almost-lateness, so everything has been slightly more pleasant."

Elper laughs. "Well, I'm back now. Good luck today, Sky. Come get me if you need anything."

I smile, turn to walk around, then stop in my tracks. I spin on my heels to face her. Elper's thin frame is bending over her boots, fastening them. She looks up at me, waiting.

"Um, maybe we can talk after work? I just need some advice." The words come out before I can stop them.

Elper's face transforms into worry, but she doesn't press it. "Okay, we can."