Page 36 of The Quiet
She nodded back at him.
The man gestured toward the wagon as if inviting her on. “I’m headed there too. Chance has a funny way of bringing people together. Better not ignore it.”
She climbed in clumsily, finding a spot in the corner. Clutching her bag to her chest, she watched the man as he stretched his arms out over the sacks and bails to his left and right, crossing his ankles in front of him as he spoke to the wagon driver. His jacket opened to expose a belt with an assortment of gadgets, including a single large dagger.
Baker kept her bag tucked guardedly to her chest, noticing some tattoos peeking out between the man’s sleeve and the end of his glove. It looked like a list of names and Baker was both nervous, excited and afraid of the possibility. His fingers continued to move the coin, back and forth from his pinky finger to his thumb.
As they started off on the ride, Baker sat there in silence, looking down at the floor of the wagon only when she didn’t stare at the coin. The noisy cart wheels bumbled across the rocky path, the back of the wagon bouncing along through the woods at a decent pace.
Baker stared at the man’s face now, wanting to ask him how he was so composed. She wanted to know how to be as sure as he was. He was fearless and strong, like a spirit of courage, unflinching in the face of realities many seemed to ignore. Power radiated off of him in a way that made her want to reach out and touch him, perhaps to borrow whatever it was that gave him so much permanence in the transient world she lived in.
Surprised by her boldness, she reached forward, touching his hand as it rested on his knee. His head turned back in her direction in such a way that told her she’d startled him.
She looked up at his face as if just as surprised as he was, but found herself still clinging to his hand. His eyes softened, and he turned his hand in hers so that his palm faced hers.
“Whatever you’re looking for, here you go,” he said, and she looked at his empty palm, puzzled at first but then imagining that maybe this man was magical and he held whatever it was she’d wanted.
Unsure of what it was still, she deliberated as she grasped at his empty palm and leaned back, examining her hands as if she held something powerful and mysterious. She looked back over at him with some measure of awe to find that he was smiling.
“What is it?” he asked, and she assumed he somehow knew the answer and was waiting for her to discover it.
Life, she thought. The type of life that would keep Death away forever. It was the type of life that the man in front of her was made of. She took her palm and pressed it over her chest, already feeling a bit braver. Thankful, she looked at him and smiled back.
“That was a surprise,” he pointed out, clearly pleased.
Somehow, she felt warm in feeling like she’d given something back to this stranger. She nodded, and looked away, embarrassed. A few rays of sun began breaking through the gray clouds, hitting her like a spotlight, lighting up her existence to the rest of the world.
The farmer and the man began talking, and for a while, she just watched him. They exchanged cigarettes, talked about trade, gardening and the ongoing nature of the war before the topic of the ROSE came up.
“I tell you what, those Riders of Saint East are making it worse for the lot of us,” the farmer grumbled.
“Oh, really?” the man in the wagon said, raising an eyebrow as he exhaled smoke playfully into the sky. “The ROSE seem to think the human race is selling its soul.”
For the first time in a long time, she remembered the Riders of Saint East with fondness instead of the horror of their deaths. With striking clarity, her mind swept through the tragedy of the melting mountain and resurrected the memories of laughter and mission of the warriors.
“Yes,” Baker’s word bubbled out of her as both a realization and conviction. Having heard her speak for the first time, the manraised his eyebrows. Baker was shocked at the word, wondering if it was perhaps the ease of this man’s presence that gave her the power to talk. Her voice sounded weak and ill used, but there was no weakness in the conviction of her tone.
She stared as if she couldn’t believe it herself. She gave this man credit for inviting the words, imagining that her silence might again descend like a wall in the presence of anyone else.
“You agree?” He paused, visibly processing not only the implications but the boldness of her words.
She just stared back at him, surprised at her own audacity, but relieved by it. She nodded, as if confirming her agreement.
“Just like that? You agree?” He asked, leaning forward as he waved his cigarette through the air.
She nodded, eyes now drilled into his with a pinched lip and furrowed brows. She pointed to his wrist, and then planted a hand on her chest. That’s what she wanted from him. She wanted the life the ROSE had, she wanted what she’d briefly seen in Khalid. With great vigor, she suddenly remembered them in a new light. This stranger, just in his existence and manner, had shown her that light again. She wanted him to take her with him.
He seemed to study her intently so she pointed back and forth to his tattoos and then to her chest.
He looked around after a moment and lowered his voice. “Who are you asking? I’m not a recruiter or anything, you know. I’d be really surprised if he was,” the man said, nodding toward the driver. “My guess is that you’re not old enough.”
She grabbed his knee again in protest. She was old enough for everything. It didn’t matter what anyone else said. Suddenly, she wanted to join the ROSE more than she’d ever wanted anything else. The ROSE were alive and it had taken all of this suffering to finally understand what that meant.
“Alright. I guess I can’t argue with that, can I?” he said. “I can tell you about them at least,” he said, starting off on their history that Baker already remembered from Von. Then he transitioned to their rituals and Baker was intrigued.
“Whenever they say hello or goodbye, they kiss each other on the forehead,” he explained, tapping his forehead with two fingers. “It’s a double meaning. The first is the acknowledgement. It means I see your truth and that I love you, that your life will always have been lived, and that in that way, it’s eternal. Poetic isn’t it?” he asked.
I see your truth and I love you.Baker thought in amazement.Love.She continued to listen intently and remembered Khalid kissing her on the forehead.
