Page 25

My fingers press without a decision. The beat strengthens once, and heat spreads outward through the surrounding fibers. For an instant I see brightness and hear Rachel’s voice among the others around the fire.

Then it is quiet again.

I press once more.

Nothing answers.

My hand stays where it is. I expected another response, and the absence of it leaves me waiting longer than I need to. Across the yard stands another building. I have not been inside it. I want to know what is there.

I cross the grass and push at the door. It catches near the bottom before giving way. Inside are wood, tools, boxes, and a workbench. The room smells different from the porch and the night outside.

Something moves across the room. I turn quickly, and a figure turns with me. My arms rise. His rise too. When I step sideways, he follows.

For several moments I watch him while he watches me. He has my height and shape, the same gray cloth around his hips, the same green growth along his shoulders.

I lift one hand. He lifts his. My fingers meet a cold, flat surface, and his meet mine from the other side.

He is not another person.

Reflection. Mirror.

The words come easily.

The face in the mirror belongs to me, but it is not familiar. I touch my cheek and feel small ridges and crossings beneath my fingertips that the flat image cannot give me. The eyes in front of me remain open while mine are open. When I tilt my head, the face tilts too.

“Me.”

The word comes clearly.

I say it again and watch the reflected mouth move with mine. Something inside me quickens.

“Me.”

I like the sound, so I make it again, quieter this time, then louder. I watch how the reflected mouth changes with mine. No one gave me this word or showed me where it belongs. I keep saying it until the figure in the mirror no longer feels like only an unfamiliar shape.

It is me.

I look down at my hands and think of Rachel’s. Hers are smaller. They moved slowly when she showed me the cloth, and one stayed open between us until I decided to reach.

Then there was her other touch.

Her palm against my chest.

Warmth covered one place and sank inward through the weave. The beat beneath it struck hard enough that I felt it spreading away from her hand. I can still find the exact place now even though she isn’t here.

I cover it with my palm and try again. “Ra…”

The sound fails.

I want it to reach her.

A wavering howl rises outside, thin at first and then climbing. Another answers from farther away, breaking into a quick series of yips before going quiet.

I turn toward the sound.

Animals. Distant. Calling to one another.

I put my hand on the workshop door. It moves when I push it, and cool night air reaches me again. Night fills the doorway. Cold air moves over my face and shoulders, lifting the fine green growth there. I stand at the threshold while another wavering call comes from beyond the yard.