Page 23 of Nyx
Golden tan fingers grip the same corn cob I’m holding, mere inches from mine, and another confused wave of emotions wraps me in its fog. “Nyx?” he prompts, and I release the plant as my hand falls to my side. “Do you need a break?”
“No, I…” I trail off, forcing a swallow and resting my palm over my stomach. Millions of butterflies flap inside my belly, trying to steal me away into the clouds, or at least that’s what it feels like. I’m not convinced they won’t take me airborne even as I anchor my feet to the ground.
“I’m sorry.” Reyes is quiet, and I can’t read the emotion on his face as he steps back. What is he apologizing for, when I’m the one who can’t find my words? The one who can’t make sense of anything at the moment, and can’t explain why. “That was… I shouldn’t have… I’ll give you space.” An apology is written in his pained smile as he takes another step backward. He turns as if he’s walking away.
I don’t want him to leave.
Don’t know if I can handle him staying.
“Wait,” I beg in a whisper, reaching to grab the hem of his shirt. It’s a replay of a moment that repeats in my mind. We’ve been here before—done this same dance outside my door the first time he brought his muffins. We stood in this same position, and I held his shirt and pleaded, but despite the familiarity, somehow it’s still new and strange. It’sconfusingbecause I don’t know what I want.
I just know I don’t want him to go.
Emboldened and terrified, I tug the fabric in my hand and try to pull him back towards me. For a few seconds, he doesn’t move, only stares off into the woods with a distant expression on his face.
“Reyes,please,” I whisper, and when he finally looks at me, the world ceases to exist beyond the two of us in this garden. I want to cry, to fall to my knees and weep, and I want to run and hide from the intensity in his eyes as much as I want to bask in their warmth. Voices become muffled and lights grow halos, and I can sense myself retreating into that safe space. For the first time, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to take solace in the quiet of my mind.
My ringing ears grow louder. “Keep me here,” I plead in a breath, and his entire face crumples for a moment. My fingers slacken on his shirt as he moves closer.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, and I nod as tears blur my vision. “Take a step back.” My feet move like they’re puppets under command of his strings, and I step back by a stride, and he follows. “That’s it. Now, a few more.” Shadows fall over my shoulders as one of the tall corn plants brushes my shoulder, and the next few steps bring us deeper between them.
Further and further, I inch backward. He mirrors each movement until we’re surrounded by green stalks and bursts of yellow, with the blue sky serving as a backdrop. The earthy, rich smell of the soil is thicker here as it moves under our bare feet. We’re removed from the rest of the world, if only by a flimsy veil.
“Breathe.” His command is firm, but his tone is gentle. The ringing in my ears fades a notch as I force a shaky inhale, and his smile is brilliant. “That’s good. You’re doing so good, Nyx.”
Another rush of gratitude and something more potent swirls in my belly as I take a deeper breath, then one more. I close my eyes as the distant murmur of voices and cheerful twitter of the birds return. Anxiety clenches my gut, replacing the warmth.
My brokenness is on full display. I’ve given him a close-up view of the tangled thoughts that live in the fragile corners of my mind. The impulses that rarely heed my command and too often sweep me away in their tides.
I’ve reminded him what a mess I really am.
Part of me wants to hide behind my eyelids. Clamp them shut until he takes the hint and leaves, and he would. He’d give me space even if I didn’t use my words to ask for it, but I’m so tired of letting the world move while I stand still.
My eyes inch open, finding only serene patience waiting for me on his face. “Are you with me?” he asks, and a wavering inhale fills my lungs. Words are too much work, too distant to find, but I nod, and his brilliant smile turns radiant. “Good. That’s really good. Do you need to stop, or would you rather keep working?” I nod faster as soon ashe gives me the second option, desperate for something to focus on.
“Thank you for telling me, and for letting me help. We’ll keep working, okay? I have an idea. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He weaves through the stalks and disappears for a moment, though I follow the shadow of his silhouette as he moves nearby. When he returns, he carries two baskets that are smaller than what we were using earlier. They fit in these tight quarters, and he places them on the ground between us.
“There, that’s better.” He dusts off his hands with a sweet smile. “We’ll work here where they can’t see us.”
Gratitude swells inside me until I’m convinced it might burst my heart straight out of my chest, and he pretends not to notice as a tear slips loose. “Thank you.” The words are barely more than a breath, but as his face softens, I know he heard them.
He heard them, and all the others I don’t know how to say.
Reyes
We’reallcoveredheadto toe in filth, and everyone is so exhausted, I doubt anything will get done tomorrow, but today?
Today was amazing.
An air of accomplishment lifts the mood of the whole village. Glass jars cool in the shade, and there are enough of them to fill a small room. Yellow squash and crimson-red tomatoes, pickled green cucumbers and potent purple onions. An entire rainbow of fresh produce that will help us get through the colder months.
Winters of the past, where people bundled in thick jackets and the ground froze solid, are distant memories. We read about them in books and hear tales of what they used to be. White, flaky snow pouring from the sky like shooting stars and coating the ground with its blanket.
The reality of this new world isn’t so picturesque.
The colder months aren’t romantic or serene, they’re an annoyance that disrupts everyday life. Temperaturesdrop low enough that you need a constant fire or a few layers of blankets to keep warm at night. Outdoor gardens hibernate until the heat returns, and the animals go into hiding. Food is our most precious resource, and it becomes even scarcer in the winter.
Some things grow in the cold. Variations of lettuce and greens, and members of the cabbage family like broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and, well… cabbage. But the weather is unpredictable, and the dry earth is selfish with what little nutrients it has left. My old camp had a few greenhouses, though after the attack, I no longer had need of them. The sheer amount of food stores would’ve lasted me a decade or more.
