Of a Note in a Cosmic Song; Part Three Read online

  She had to go past Frantag’s office once more. The door stood open so she sped up; no need to risk being berated by Kalgar in the middle of the street.

  Like a plump pudding, offering diners not nutrition but the luxury of indulgence, to please not so much their stomach but their heart and soul, so Daili was the sweet sustenance for confused emotions rather than the source of information most people used as an explanation when going to see her. This time Jema went straight for the pudding. “I need your help, Daili.”

  Daili sat back in her seat and waited. It wasn’t hard to talk to her; within no time Jema had poured a whole avalanche of words over the table between them in an effort to recall everything Frantag had said. “Can’t you talk to him?”

  Daili made a tired move with her hands. “I warned you not to get Frantag upset. I told you he, too, had the best in mind for everybody.”

  “I know but–”

  “Hear me out!” Daili’s chair clattered to the floor as she stood up. She wasn’t just tired, she was annoyed. “I gave you that job against Frantag’s advice. It was me who assured him you could do it. It was me who ignored all the rules he would’ve liked to have kept in place. It was me who talked to him every time there was a problem and now… now it is I who gets him calling me with complaints of verbal abuse for which I have neither answer nor excuse. He wants you off the job and to be honest, I have no alternative to offer him.”

  In that short space of time Frantag had already spoken to Daili? “I tried to talk to him, but he’s so unreasonable.”

  “Yes, he is, Jema, but he’s still in charge and I don’t think that he’s the only one who should give in a little. I don’t care if you were right or wrong. I just won’t stand up for you if you’re going around abusing people. This has nothing to do with the status you or Frantag had on DJar. This only has to do with people respecting each other.”

  More than her words, Daili’s eyes expressed her upset. “I don’t know, Jema. I can’t deal with this. I came back from two kor down there and I’m exhausted. Just when I want a bit of time to think it all over, I get everybody’s troubles thrown at me. You’re not a child. You’ll have to take the next step yourself. If you want to keep your job you’ll have to go back to Frantag and sort it out with him. This is no longer my problem.”

  Tired, angry, and defeated, Jema turned and left the room, closing the door just a little too hard. She should have known better than to expect help from a government member. Four years of work all for nothing; she was no longer needed. Well, they could stuff their job. She’d stick a note on the door saying Learners was now once again a correction institute under Frantag. Bet Daili had not told him off.

  Once more faced with the problem of where to go, Jema walked into the infirmary to find Nini.

  “She’s off today. She’ll be at home,” Remko said, and gave her the room number.

  To avoid meeting anybody from Learners, Jema went straight to Habitat Three. She accepted the visitor pass and went looking for the room; the streets here were identical to Habitat One. After she’d already knocked on the door, Jema hesitated. Why would Nini want to see her?

  The door opened. “Jema? Come on in.” Slimmer than ever in her underdress, her hair uncombed, this was a different Nini. “Just got off my mat. I had the nightshift.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay. I was just getting up. Sit down.”

  “What’s wrong?” Nini asked, while getting dressed.

  “Nothing I just felt like–” Nini’s smile made Jema stop in mid-sentence. There wasn’t much anybody could keep hidden from Nini. Besides, to drop in like this, unannounced, in the middle of the day… “I messed up big time.”

  As she had with Daili, Jema told Nini everything that had happened from the day the notice had come to Learners. The anger came back all by itself. “I don’t know what to do. Learners was all I had.”

  Nini sat cross-legged on the floor opposite her. With her eyes she demanded attention. They were neither angry like Frantag’s nor sad like Daili’s, but their friendly acceptance translated into a feeling of guilt for Jema.

  “Please say something. Tell me I was wrong, whatever.”

  Nini only observed her. It made Jema uncomfortable. How stupid to sit here with nothing to say and nowhere to look but the empty street. Maybe she shouldn’t have come. “I’m sorry, I–”

  Nini shook her head. “Shh.”

  That made it even more awkward. Jema couldn’t just get up and walk out now. Nini didn’t want her to talk; not even to say sorry for waking her up, for invading, for carrying all her anger in here. Why had she not listened to Kiren? To Daili? Why had she gone back to Daili later? Daili, who was so tired and had enough to deal with already. How unfair to have thought Daili had sided with Frantag when she’d only expressed her hurt. She’d been right to be angry. What could Jema say to Nini who just sat there, waiting… and for what? “You must think I’m totally mad.”

  Nini didn’t respond.

  Now what? First she said all the wrong things to Frantag, now she wasn’t saying what she should. It was hopeless. “I had nowhere else to go.”

  That must make Nini feel better. That stupid notice. If only it hadn’t arrived when she was there. She’d read it out loud, cursed, ignored Kiren and stormed into Frantag’s office. The words she’d used to him… called him names, shamelessly, and kicked the door. It wasn’t just Frantag who’d been impossible. Then that request for an apology. He could have kicked her out there and then but he would have been satisfied with an apology. Only she hadn’t tried: she’d challenged him, provoked him, totally overreacted, and why? Because of a few guidelines that were nowhere near relevant yet? Because she didn’t want to get back to being a worker…

  Nini still watched in silence. She didn’t interrupt the thoughts, neither with words nor movement. And she knew. Nini knew what was going on. Jema could feel it. “I guess I was maybe a bit unfair.” That, of course, was a gross understatement.

  “Tell me again what happened. Everything,” Nini said. She nodded as if to emphasize.

  This time Jema told it more honestly; not just Frantag’s part but her own as well, all of it. “I don’t know. I come in here all angry and you say nothing and now I feel that I must say sorry to them. I don’t know why.”

  Nini stood up. “Let’s go have a drink.”

  Jema followed Nini to the Habitat Three social room. “I came to you for an answer. You didn’t say anything,” she said, once they sat down.

  “It was you who needed to talk. You found your own answer.”

  “How did you know?”

  “That the power of silence is the greatest master of all? Experience.”

  Nini’s face was so peaceful; just a warm smile, even after all she’d been through. A lotus flower, picked and planted in a bed of thorny roses. It not only made the lotus show its glorious independence; it also emphasized how plain roses really were. “How?”

  “I ran from everything for nearly seven years, Jema. I was angry, bitter, and even dangerous sometimes.”

  “You had a right to be.”

  Nini ignored the interruption. “I was on Freberer right before they caught me. I told you about Mektar. He taught me more in those few short stations than anybody else ever did, except my mother.”

  “He told you about the power of silence?” She shouldn’t butt in like this. Let Nini tell her story.

  “He sat down and let me express all those years of everything, like you just did. He let me go on and on for a whole night, longer even, and he said nothing. I started over and over again. His silence made me talk. Finally, I was so exhausted I slept for sixteen hours straight. He waited for that too. All he’d done was be there and listen. He helped me live again when I was almost dead inside and he did it without a word. That’s how I learned: experience. That’s all you need to learn anything.”

  Jema sipped her drink. Nini must think her silly coming in here with just a bit of trouble
, which, on top of that, Jema had caused herself. She mentioned it.

  “That. That is another thing I learned. Never apologize for having those feelings. He hit me once. He’d never been upset about anything I did. I made mistakes, said the wrong things, ranted and raved about Geveler, but he hit me when I said sorry for expressing my needs, because by doing that I was denying him.”

  It was hard to imagine Nini ranting and raving. “Do you miss him?”

  “He told me that if I learned from him, he would never really be gone. He lives on in my memories. So now a bit of Mektar lives on in you as well.”

  “In that way, all people from the past would live on in others,” Jema said.

  “Only those we learn from.”

  “I wish I had an experience like that. Somebody to teach me.”

  “You had other encounters that will help you cope,” Nini answered.

  But what? So far Jema had made a pretty lousy job of it.

  It was nearly change of light when she left. There was little question of where she’d have to go. To talk to Daili and then Frantag… or maybe the other way around. It had not mattered so much that Frantag was angry, but it did matter that Daili felt hurt. How could she say sorry for that?

  For the second time today, for the third time this moon, she knocked on Frantag’s door. He’d have a fit.

  “Come in.”

  As soon as she opened it she saw Kalgar. Frantag, who had been writing, blushed when he looked up.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll come back later.” It was the wrong thing to say after having done this twice before and never being sorry about it.

  “No. Now will do.”

  The fleeting hope of being able to get out of it disappeared. Kalgar stood to the side and looked at her. He must know as well by now. Frantag leaned back and folded his arms, more at ease with Kalgar next to him.

  “I, uh…” What was it with people saying sorry all the time when it meant nothing, but when it really counted they couldn’t do it?

  “Well?” Frantag urged.

  He must be thinking she was considering the right words to say while, in fact, her thoughts were going at airfloat speed all over the place. She took a breath. No discussions, just sorry. How hard could it be? “I wanted to apologize for earlier.” It didn’t sound right. Too easy.

  Neither of the men moved.

  “I’m sorry for what I said to you.”

  They were expecting more.

  “Look, I just got angry then and I really only wanted to make Learners work for the kids.”

  “You think this will get you your job back?”

  “No!” Damn. “I mean, no. I just thought I should come back to… I should have said it all differently. I didn’t mean to accuse you of… well, you know…” She glanced at Kalgar. Maybe it was good he was here; he wouldn’t allow it to fall apart again. But she was running out of possibilities to make them believe she was sincere. “I still don’t agree with you, but I was wrong to come in here saying what I did.”

  “Did Daili send you?” Frantag asked.

  “Daili? No, I… I did talk to her, but I came because…” She didn’t really know. There was no explaining Nini.

  The men exchanged looks. Frantag stood up and started pacing. Why did people always do that? She wouldn’t be able to stand this much longer, feeling like an accused waiting for the verdict. She squeezed her hands until they hurt. It took forever before he spoke. “We’ll have to talk about it some other time. I’m busy now, but I’m willing to review some of the rules. You’re lucky to have Daili on your side.”

  Daili had talked to him? After Jema had acted as if Daili had deserted her, even after feeling disappointed, Daili had argued her case?

  “You can go,” Frantag said.

  It occurred to Jema that she still had her job. She should thank him, but she did no more than nod and walk out. Feeling a mas lighter, she went directly to Daili’s office, but it was empty. Nobody was at her home either. Of course not; Daili would be having meals with the girls. Should Jema go there? No, better wait until Daili was alone; maybe tonight. Besides, she was long overdue at the home.

  Kiren sat in the office, which was a place they seldom used. He jumped up as soon as Jema came in. “Where have you been? I called everywhere.” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Anoyak locked himself in the washroom again. He’s been there all afternoon. He won’t let any of us in. He wants you, but nobody could find you. We even had you called via the speakers in both habitats.”

  “Oh Bue, no.” With a thump Nori’s stone dropped. She hadn’t been there. The one day she had not…

  “Calm down, I talked to him through the door a few minutes ago,” Kiren said.

  “Oh, thank you. What set it off?”

  Kiren answered with a hand movement. He didn’t know. Anoyak had been more withdrawn the last station. The impending change, probably. There might not be a simple answer.

  “Look, Kiren, I’m sorry. I’ll go see.”

  She called Anoyak’s name at the door. Relief only came when she heard him unlock it. He let her in and secured it again behind her. Towels were lying over the floor, as was his shirt and the belt of his trousers. He didn’t make eye contact but sat down with his back against the wall. He looked as if he hadn’t slept for days. His otherwise wavy brown hair was plastered against his forehead.

  She sat down next to him. “What happened?”

  Though he was shivering, his body felt hot. When she tried to hold him he pulled loose and put his head in his arms. He didn’t answer when she asked if he was frightened or ill. She didn’t insist. If she could have Nini’s patience…

  After eight minutes she was getting stiff from the hard floor. Anoyak was unlikely to start talking. At eighteen, he was hardly a child anymore, but he was having a lot more problems than just having been in a home since he was ten. There were no records about the children’s background, and he’d never talked about it. Maybe now was a good time to find out, so she started asking. First about the journey, recalling his earlier problems. Was he worried about the new planet, about losing people?

  He shook his head.

  Did he remember his father? His mother, even? Did he have any memories, good or bad?

  He didn’t respond.

  What she really wanted to know she didn’t ask. Had he been abused? The belt lying next to him wasn’t there by accident. But too blunt a question could make him shut her out as well. “What do you want, Anoyak?”

  The sound of laughter from outside made him tense up.

  She touched the hair on the back of his head. “Don’t worry. Nobody will come in.”

  “They’re laughing at me.”

  Her first impulse was to refute that, but she swallowed the words. Never deny a person his feelings or thoughts no matter how incorrect they may seem. At least he’d said something. “Who’s ‘they’?”

  “Everybody.” He spoke into his arms.

  “I’m not laughing.”

  “Everybody else.”

  “Kiren isn’t, nor Tiya. They worry about you.”

  He kept silent.

  She shouldn’t have said that. If only Nini could be here; she’d been so good with him last time. “Do you think you need to go back to the infirmary?” It would be an acceptable excuse.

  “Can you not help me?”

  “I’m trying, Anoyak.”

  It wasn’t what he meant. She knew it the moment he reached for the belt. In a flash she took control of every muscle in her face. ‘No’ wasn’t an option; she’d be turning him down. ‘Yes’ wasn’t either; it was impossible, if not wrong. She put her hand over the arm which was trying to hand her the belt. He looked at her now, begging, almost.

  “I can’t do that, Anoyak. I’m not allowed,” she whispered.

  “But you promised!” His was a shrill cry.

  “What did I say that makes you believe I promised?”

  It took minutes before he answered. “
You said to come to you when I was scared.”

  “Yes?” She’d said that, but she’d never meant she’d do it for him. He could not have really believed that.

  “Nobody needs to know,” he whispered.

  But it wasn’t just that it was forbidden – when had that ever stopped her anyway? In Closed House these things happened. There had been more children like this. She had once walked in on one child ‘helping’ another, if that was the right way to describe it. Those kids had been labelled already. They didn’t have to keep up pretences, and, thus, they’d acted on their needs – each other’s needs. The staff were never involved in that. As if by agreement, the children of Closed House accepted the staff merely for their daily care. Emotional needs were cared for by the others. Only in some rare cases, like Nori’s, had an outsider been trusted… Anoyak didn’t have anybody else who would even remotely understand him. The others worried about his mental health and he knew that. She couldn’t let him struggle alone. He’d end up like Nori. But was this the answer?

  She changed to squatting, pushing her back against the wall, ready to get up. He let go of the belt when she took it from his hand and followed it with his eyes when she put it down on her other side, out of his reach. Though she’d expected a violent reaction, she still struggled to seize his wrists before he could get his hands onto the floor to push up with. It took all her effort to keep him down. “Listen to me.”

  He pushed hard against her arms. She dropped her knees on top of his legs so he couldn’t use them and leaned forward to hold his arms against the wall. “Listen to me!” Only when he stopped fighting did she release some of the pressure. His eyes wide, he suddenly heaved. A moment later his body contracted with the explosion of his emerging manhood.

  Damn! She should have been alert to that.

  He stared back at her. Fear? Shame? Both, probably.

  “It’s okay, Anoyak.”

  He moved his head forward, then drove it backward into the wall; it was the only thing he could do that she was unable to prevent. He did it again.

  “Stop that!”

  He kept his eyes on her and started rocking, repeating it, faster and faster. She felt the vibration each time his head hit the wall. She tried to stop his head moving with her body, but this wasn’t Kamaron, who’d been half her size.