Page 24 of Broken Bonds

Giving her a nod, I say, “Alright, I’ll leave you alone for now. If you need anything, though, just call. I’ll stay close.”

The smile she gives me is so tender it makes my heart ache.

“Thank you, Dr. Pyrrhos. For everything. Saving me, and…and opening up to me.”

I hesitate before softly replying, “Call me Aleixo.”

Before she can say another word, I turn and hurry out the door.

Samantha

Afew days pass before I venture back out of my room. The morning after my rescue from a frozen death in the middle of the snow, I woke up and everything that I’d learned about Dr. Pyrrhos…or, rather, Aleixo crashed over me like a tidal wave. I freaked out all over again, except this time, I didn’t have the numbness of the cold and shock to tamp down my emotions. It really hit me that Aleixo is a phoenix. A phoenix!

I’ve spent so much time studying phoenix mythology, convinced that there had to be some truth to it. Now, I have undeniable proof that the thing I’ve been hoping is real for so long actually exists…and I have no idea how to respond to my new reality. How am I supposed to act around Aleixo now? I’m at a total loss, especially when I think about everything he must have experienced throughout his long life already.

It makes me feel rather insignificant in comparison.

So, like a coward, I stayed hidden in my room while I worked through everything I was feeling and thinking. It’s a lot, admittedly, and I really struggled to consider everything calmly and rationally at first.

That first day of my self-inflicted confinement, Aleixo came to my door to ask how I was doing. I told him I just needed some time by myself, and I apologized, though I didn’t mention how nervous he made me now. I’m sure he could hear it in my tone, however, because he left pretty much immediately after that with hardly another word. Then to my complete surprise, a few hours later there was a soft knock on my door and when I peeked out to see what he was up to. Aleixo was nowhere to be seen, but there was a tray on the floor with food.

A grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup.

If I hadn’t been so overwhelmed by everything, I would have tracked him down right then and there and thanked him. I wasn’t ready to talk to him yet, though, so I took the tray inside my room and ate the food. It was warm and tasty, and went a long way to soothe the worst of my ravaged nerves. I placed the tray back out in the hall afterwards, and it wasn’t lost on me that we’d suddenly switched roles. I was the one hiding away and avoiding contact, and he was the one attempting to coax me back out.

It was just so hard. I’m not sure I can really describe how I was feeling during those few days. Confused and anxious for sure, but I was also coming to terms with the fact that the world was not the place I’d always assumed it was. Creatures of myth were real and walking among us. I wondered how many more there were like Aleixo just meandering out in society, hiding their true selves and forms so that us hapless humans remained none-the-wiser.

These are the kinds of thoughts that raced through my head hour after hour as I stay locked away from Aleixo. For his part, he kept bringing me food, as well as my laptop and the camera I’d had with me that I’d left behind in the ravine. He doesn’t try to get me to talk to him or force me out of my room. It’s as if he’s intentionally giving me time to process everything, being patient and considerate in a way I hadn’t expected.

It isn’t until four days after my accident that I finally emerge from my room. I feel like a bear coming out of hibernation as I poke my head out the door and gaze up and down the hallway. There’s no sign of Aleixo, but it’s nearly dinner time I think, so maybe he’s in the kitchen. I step over my threshold and start making my way in that direction, but I hesitate once I’m out of the dorm area.

I’m still nervous to see him. To talk to him. I’ve had time to think about what this could potentially mean for my work, and I want to ask him about regeneration and explore all the possibilities to tapping into that power for medical use. The problem, though, is that I don’t know how to bring the subject up without it seeming as though I view him as some sort of subject to be studied, like the Antarctic hoatzin. Whether technically human or not, he’s still a person, and I don’t want him to feel as though I’m trying to commodify his abilities.

But there’s so much good that could potentially come from his powers, or whatever it is you want to call them. There are so many people who could be helped by them. So many people who could be made whole again.

My own leg tingles, the shadow pains seeming to mock me as they remind me of what was once there. Is it possible I could get my leg back with Aleixo’s help? I’m almost too afraid to even hope that. It would be such a crushing disappointment if I couldn’t at least try.

I need to talk to him about it. I need to at least try to convince him of all the possibilities that could come from him helping me with my research. Lifting my chin, I square my shoulders, determined to plead my case and continue on toward the kitchen.

The smell of the food he’s making teases my nostrils before I reach the doorway to the room. Whatever he’s cooking smells savory and my mouth begins to water a little bit. Stepping into the kitchen, I find him standing over the small stove. There are a few pots simmering in front of him, and he’s stirring them at once with both hands.

He must hear me approach, because he suddenly glances over his shoulder and raises his brows in surprise.

“Oh, hey! I didn’t expect to see you out and about. I was going to bring you dinner. Are you hungry?”

I slowly nod. “Yeah, I am…it smells good. What is it?”

“Stir-fry and rice,” he answers as he turns back to the stove. “I’m really not much of a cook, but I can throw things together now and then.”

He’s being humble. Everything he’s made me has been delicious.

His friendly demeanor is throwing me off a bit. He’s acting like nothing odd has been happening between us. That I haven’t been basically hiding from him for the past four days. It’s a little weird, because now I’m not sure if I should bring it up or not myself.

“Um…need any help?” I ask lamely.

“I’m good,” he assures me. “Go ahead and have a seat.”

I slump toward the table and settle into one of the chairs. This feels painfully awkward. Is he angry at me? I wouldn’t blame him in the least, but it doesn’t seem like he is. He seems genuinely okay right now.

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