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Authors: Megan Dinsdale
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grudges.” I rolled up the map; there were only a couple of miles left to go.
“Who was it?”
I spoke too soon. I knew what she was talking about and I ran my hand over my head. She was right about that. I did it again because I could. Maybe what I was going through was what she went through. I could tell that it hurt her to tell me her parents were dead and the fact that she believed it to be her fault was a whole other story. It was as if just saying the words aloud made it real and she didn’t want it to be real. When she said it though, it seemed as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, like she could finally lay her parents to rest and be the person she used to be.
That was it. Was this an epiphany? Maybe I was in the same dilemma she was and I had to see her go through a similar situation to realize it. I didn’t want to lay them to rest though. I refused to let them go; if I did, I would have to admit to myself that I wasn’t able to save them, that they were gone for good. I knew it wasn’t directly my fault that they died, but I also didn’t save them. I should have been able to. I should have tried harder.
The same moon was reflecting the same sun, blanketing the desert with the same shy light, dulling the stars in the same sky. The dirt we walked on was the same rocky stuff that had been there for centuries. Nothing was changing around me and it made my life so incredibly mundane. I needed a change and I couldn’t believe it took this kid and her incessant bugging to realize it.
“My wife.” I answered and something lifted. I felt lighter.
“I’m so sorr—”
“And my daughter.”
Chapter 7
[ Elle ]
I stopped so abruptly that dust sprang up, whirled around my legs, and softly fell back to the ground. I was choking on words I hadn’t even thought of to say yet. I absently looked down at my arms; there was a splotch of blood in the curve of my elbow I had missed while cleaning. What could I say to that? I knew anything said to me about losing my parents wouldn’t have helped. It’s just nice to know that someone cares.
“ I’m so...so sorry.” I wished I was an eloquent speaker. Sorry could never express how I truly felt about his situation.
He was a father. He didn’t have his daughter any longer, but he’d always be a dad. Suddenly the last few days flashed back to me: his playfulness, his desire to heal my wounds, the empty look in his eyes. I recalled him poking me and tugging my braid. It made so much sense now—he wasn’t just patronizing me because of my height like I had originally thought. I imagined his daughter and how he probably acted with her—a little girl on his shoulders, her arms wrapped around his head, giggling with delight. I envisioned him tossing her into the air before catching her, a grin on both of their faces.
And his wife. He was a widow. Something panged in my chest. He had loved a woman so completely that they’d married and had a child. He was a family man and everything I had learned about him thus far proved opposite of that fact. He hadn’t always been hiding behind his self-erected barrier. I suspected the loss of them had caused him to build that sturdy, unbreakable wall.
Tex had stopped several yards ahead of me. His back was to me. I wanted to see his face. Would his barriers still be up? How long would he continue to barricade himself behind them? I slowly made my way over to him; I was afraid of what I might find.
“ Stop.” He didn’t move.
I was so close to him I could hear his breathing. It was labored. Was he crying? Maybe he didn’t want me to see him that weak. I chewed on my bottom lip. I wanted so badly to help him.
“ Do you want to talk about it?” I hesitated between each word, wishing more than anything that he’d say yes.
“ What the fuck do you think?” That smarted. He rubbed his face, sighed, and said, “I’m sorry.”
“ I only want to help and try to understand.” I reached for him, but
“Who was it?”
I spoke too soon. I knew what she was talking about and I ran my hand over my head. She was right about that. I did it again because I could. Maybe what I was going through was what she went through. I could tell that it hurt her to tell me her parents were dead and the fact that she believed it to be her fault was a whole other story. It was as if just saying the words aloud made it real and she didn’t want it to be real. When she said it though, it seemed as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, like she could finally lay her parents to rest and be the person she used to be.
That was it. Was this an epiphany? Maybe I was in the same dilemma she was and I had to see her go through a similar situation to realize it. I didn’t want to lay them to rest though. I refused to let them go; if I did, I would have to admit to myself that I wasn’t able to save them, that they were gone for good. I knew it wasn’t directly my fault that they died, but I also didn’t save them. I should have been able to. I should have tried harder.
The same moon was reflecting the same sun, blanketing the desert with the same shy light, dulling the stars in the same sky. The dirt we walked on was the same rocky stuff that had been there for centuries. Nothing was changing around me and it made my life so incredibly mundane. I needed a change and I couldn’t believe it took this kid and her incessant bugging to realize it.
“My wife.” I answered and something lifted. I felt lighter.
“I’m so sorr—”
“And my daughter.”
Chapter 7
[ Elle ]
I stopped so abruptly that dust sprang up, whirled around my legs, and softly fell back to the ground. I was choking on words I hadn’t even thought of to say yet. I absently looked down at my arms; there was a splotch of blood in the curve of my elbow I had missed while cleaning. What could I say to that? I knew anything said to me about losing my parents wouldn’t have helped. It’s just nice to know that someone cares.
“ I’m so...so sorry.” I wished I was an eloquent speaker. Sorry could never express how I truly felt about his situation.
He was a father. He didn’t have his daughter any longer, but he’d always be a dad. Suddenly the last few days flashed back to me: his playfulness, his desire to heal my wounds, the empty look in his eyes. I recalled him poking me and tugging my braid. It made so much sense now—he wasn’t just patronizing me because of my height like I had originally thought. I imagined his daughter and how he probably acted with her—a little girl on his shoulders, her arms wrapped around his head, giggling with delight. I envisioned him tossing her into the air before catching her, a grin on both of their faces.
And his wife. He was a widow. Something panged in my chest. He had loved a woman so completely that they’d married and had a child. He was a family man and everything I had learned about him thus far proved opposite of that fact. He hadn’t always been hiding behind his self-erected barrier. I suspected the loss of them had caused him to build that sturdy, unbreakable wall.
Tex had stopped several yards ahead of me. His back was to me. I wanted to see his face. Would his barriers still be up? How long would he continue to barricade himself behind them? I slowly made my way over to him; I was afraid of what I might find.
“ Stop.” He didn’t move.
I was so close to him I could hear his breathing. It was labored. Was he crying? Maybe he didn’t want me to see him that weak. I chewed on my bottom lip. I wanted so badly to help him.
“ Do you want to talk about it?” I hesitated between each word, wishing more than anything that he’d say yes.
“ What the fuck do you think?” That smarted. He rubbed his face, sighed, and said, “I’m sorry.”
“ I only want to help and try to understand.” I reached for him, but
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