Lion Heart

Chapter 5

I didn't feel like getting up that morning. The sunlight peering in through my window was too bright. The vibrant chatter of the birds outside was all too loud. And the events of the previous night were still images fresh in my head. I took the pillow beside me, the one I had pushed away during my restless tossing and turning, and held it against my head, hoping to shield myself from sound and light. It didn't work. I groaned, pushing myself up from my warm bed and wincing as my bare toes touched the cold stone floor. Muttering words that would make my grandmother and Alphonse gasp, I carefully smoothed out the white shift against my body. It was awfully cheery out today. From my window I couldn't see a cloud in sight and the low hum of morning bustle was getting louder by the minute. I filled the low dish situated by my bedside table with water from a ceramic jug that had been placed beside it. As I began to wash and change, I let my mind go blank and regress into the learned movements. I didn't feel anything despite the previous events. Apathy enveloped me in a thick mist. And I really didn't think about the death I had witnessed. I was unsure whether or not I should feel guilty about my lack of feeling. After all it was only natural after seeing so much death for one to get used to the stench of decaying bodies. It was only when my body had run out of actions did I truly seem to wake up.  And by then I had found myself at the wooden door of Mr Naheri's shop.  My hand hovered tentatively over the brass door handle, shaking ever so slightly. I was once again at a crossroads.  Was I to resume my normal life, to erase the memories of the night before without a qualm? Or was I to carry this burden as a testament to my bystander nature? Was this supposed to be my punishment for my lack of action as I witnessed the death of young men before my eyes?  My hand turned the doorknob and my ears pricked at the long high pitched creaking that emanated from the door.

"NADIA, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?"

Alphonse's hands gripped the edge of the counter. His eyes were red and his cheeks were flushed; he had been crying. My limbs tensed and a chill made its way up my spine.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED DAD WAS? HOW WORRIED I WAS?"

I stared blankly into his eyes. I didn't know how to feel. Sure, it was selfish to just go off like that, but I just couldn't find it in myself to feel sorry. All I could think about was that one soldier lying on the ground, the look of resignation on his eyes right before I watched them close. I had been replaying that moment over and over in my head. I didn't feel anything. I couldn't feel anything. I wish I could. I wish I could understand how that man must have felt. I wish that I could feel the way he felt knowing his final sight would be the corpses of his fellow guards and a cowardly girl watching silently as he struggled to breath. I couldn't fathom how angry, how frustrated, how helpless he must have felt. If I could, maybe I'd feel something. Maybe I'd at least feel guilt or some sort of anger. Maybe I'd have an answer to Alphonse's fucking question.

"Alphonse, let me speak to Nadia."
Mr. Naheri's serene voice cut through Alphonse's slew of anxious questions. The boy blinked in surprised, but nodded warily, making sure to shoot me an almost betrayed glared as he moved away from the counter and exited the room. Mr. Naheri gestured towards the small wooden table situated upon a intricately woven carpet in the back corner of the shop. Accepting his invitation, I pulled out one of the four wooden chairs at the table and took a seat. I studied my hands for a while as I took note of the squeak emitted from the chair as the older man sat down. Mr Naheri wasn't particularly heavy, but it was clear that his age had caught up to him and subsequently the starts of a prevalent beer belly began to read its head. His steely eyes glimmered in the morning light streaming through the window next to us. But the laughing lines around them were not held up in his usual knowing grin. He was much more sullen. His dark skin had a sickly yellowish tint to it and bags had formed under his eyes. I studied my hands laid in my lap in hopes of averting my eyes from Mr. Naheri's piercing focus. I could feel his eyes boring into my face, as if he was searching for something in the expression I wore. Finally I glanced up.

"What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?" My voice was strained from lack of use and the growing intensity of the shopkeeper's stare was taking its toll on my calm facade. He cleared his throat.

"In all honesty, I wish to discuss the same subject my son had berated you about upon your arrival."

"So you're interrogating me." The ends of Mr. Naheri's lips twitched upwards at my comment and a dry smile took its place on his face.

"Yes, I suppose you can call it that."

"And you want to know what happened to me last night." I gulped, trying to suppress the queasy feeling rising up from my stomach.

"Yes. If that's not a problem."

"I'm not really sure what you want me to tell you."

"Anything please, anything."

"I don't know."

The hard eyed man sighed, exasperated. A crack of vulnerability had breached his seemingly cool, respectable facade. I wanted to say something to comfort him, anything to make up for the hours of anxious waiting he had experienced, but I let the silence hang in the air.

"When you didn't get to the shop by sundown, we were so scared." I looked up in surprise of his sudden comment.

"Alphonse hung around the front window waiting for you. He didn't move for hours. Neither of us could sleep. And when we heard the gunshots..." His voice wavered and his face was scrunched up in a pained expression.

"You thought I was dead."

"Yes." The man gulped before he continued. "We were crying. I don't think I've cried like that since María died. We stood there for a long time praying that you were safe. But I could tell that by midnight Alphonse had already given up. He went to bed and didn't speak until you walked in this morning."

Everything was uncomfortable. My hands were shaking at a feverish speed. The clothes I was wearing were too itchy and I was too hot. My face was warm and my eyes becoming watery with guilt. And my tongue was still held still.

"He cares for you, you know." Mr. Naheri's eyes no longer held their serious luster. They had grown mushy and the shopkeeper had oddly took on the features of a frail old man. "We both care for you. Nadia, we're  family. You've been a daughter to me since the day I hired you."

I nodded my head slowly, still unable to find it in me to speak.

"I understand that you don't want to talk about it right now. I can only imagine what you have witnessed in the past few hours. But please tell us eventually. Alphonse won't rest until he knows. You know how impatient that boy is."  Mr Naheri cracked a bitter smile.  "I just hope you tell him. He cares for you so much. I'd hate to see you two break apart from this. And please take this day to rest. Don't push yourself too hard."

"T-thank you."  I've never felt more awful.