“I mean, I don’t want to leave him.”
“We all must do things we do not want.”
I’ve been holding it together pretty okay until this point, but for some reason, that makes my throat clench. “Can’t I stay?”
“No.”
“What if he wakes up?”
“Of course he will wake up.”
“What if he wakes up and I’m not here?”
“Why must you be here?”
“Someoneshould be here.”
“Yes,” she replies blankly. “Me.”
Talking to Illiviamona is kind of like looking through a kaleidoscope. You start at one place and end up at another without really knowing how you got there. I accept the futility of this argument, but I can’t just leave, so I say, “Do you have pen and paper?”
Illiviamona points me toward the supplies. She starts to wash up while I stare at the page and try to think of what to write. I’m no poet. I don’t have much practice putting my thoughts into words. But maybe that doesn’t matter. It’s important to me that Lament knows I was here, that I’ll come back for him the moment he needs me. If I can get that down, it’ll be enough.
Hey, Lament.
I spend a few minutes writing the note, then fold and tuck it into the pocket of his pants. After, I take a minute to wash the worst of the grime off my hands and arms, change into a clean shirt (Illiviamona lends me one of hers, which is about my size), and find my way back to The Bargainer’s command center. The other Sixers are there, sitting in despondent silence. When I enter, seven pairs of eyes look my way.
Vera stands from her chair. “How is he?”
I think I mean to say something like,He’s sleepingorIlliviamona closed the wound, but what comes out is, “The scars.”
Vera pulls in her lips. “You saw?”
“Yeah.” I swallow. “I didn’t know.”
“He doesn’t… he doesn’t really like to talk about it.”
“I’m not sure he wanted me seeing. I feel like I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s good you did,” she’s quick to interject. “The two of you… I mean, I think it’s good.”
I just stand there. I feel more rattled by Lament’s scars than by the fresh ape wound. My understanding of who Lament was—who heis—is changing by degrees. No wonder he doesn’t want to fly with anyone. No wonder he’s so determined to uncover the source of the mist. How can he possibly move on from Bast’s death when his body bears that kind of memory?
Tears—unwanted, possibly unwarranted—threaten my vision.
“Oh, Keller.” Vera is there in an instant, wrapping me in her arms.
I hug her back, feeling stupid and grateful. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”
“Because you care.”
I do. I care a fucking lot, and honestly, what am I supposed to do with that?
“Come on.” Vera takes my hand and pulls me toward the couch, sitting me next to her. “You’ve really had a time of it since you got here, haven’t you?”
“We were going to haze you,” Avi admits from her beanbag, “but now we feel too bad.”
I give a weak laugh and wipe my eyes. “Thanks, I guess?”
