I want to see her. I need to see her. It takes me little effort to look up which house she’s in on the documents and I decide that evening to go to her. I still have to get through so much stupid paperwork and then have my meeting with the overseer. He wants to take me on an even bigger tour tomorrow, to show me more of the villages and the town itself.
I’m exhausted just thinking about it.
Finally, when it seems like I can’t possibly file another form or write another letter, I realize I’ve reached the end of my stack of paperwork.
Layla’s house awaits. I clean myself up as best I can, changing out of my Lieutenant’s uniform into something more plain and simple.
As I head out, walking through the cobblestone streets, I think about the last time I did this. When I went to her house only to find out she was gone, like a thief in the night. My heart aches. Yearning bubbles inside me, like a spring with a crack. It feels as though every step closer that I get, my throat constricts tighter and breathing gets harder.
She looked so good. Like she was healthy. Is she healthy? Is she taking care of herself?
The bungalows are in neat little rows, separated by a stone path. Outside the path is sand and neatly manicured tropical plants of red and orange.
The bungalows themselves are made of wood, with sturdy thatched roofs and large windows. A porch wraps around the front and some are a single story tall while others are two stories.
I arrive at Layla’s and immediately recognize it as hers. There’s a seashell wind-chime hanging off the balcony that tinkles in the gentle breeze. A bucket and shovel lay sprawled out on the porch in the corner. There’s a shawl hanging off the rocker that I recall Amara made for her.
I stand outside her door, glancing around. No one can see me. I don’t know if I’m grateful for the privacy or wish that I a neighbor would ask me what I’m doing and give me a chance to coward out again.
I’m glad I didn’t bring anything with me this time. Last time I made a fool out of myself in front of Layla’s cousin. She pushed me away and I felt so stupid. I wish I’d had the courage to push back then, to demand answers. I wish I’d been brave enough to say something before Layla left.
My hand rises, poised over the wood to knock…but I can’t bring myself to go through with it. There’s so much distance between us. Will she tell me to leave, to get off her property? Or will she be happy to see me?
What will she say when she sees me?
The second the door opens, all thoughts fly out of my head. I stare at her. There she is. Two and a half years…and there she is, in all her glory. Her hair halos out around her face, looking even more curly and free here. I lick my lips, drinking in the sight of her. She looks somehow even better here than she did on Tlouz.
All of a sudden I wish I had brought something with me. My chest feels tight and I can’t stop staring. It feels wrong to show up empty-handed. Like I should have brought her a giant bouquet of flowers or something.
Instead of letting me in, or looking happy to see me, she slips out the door and onto her porch with me, shutting it behind her. She wraps her arms around herself, looking at me expectantly.
There’s so much to say to her. I want to tell her I love her. I want to tell her I’m sorry it took me so long to realize, too long. To ask about the horrible disease and how it’s progressing. I want to know if I can make things better for her. Easier.
I open my mouth, intending to ask that. Intending to ask one of the million questions on the tip of my tongue but for some reason, the first thing that comes out is, “Is that my son?”
“Excuse me?” Layla asks, crossing her arms and glaring at me. “What in the name of the gods are you doing here and what makes you think you can just show up out of nowhere like this?”
I close my eyes briefly. Shit. I didn’t mean for that to be the first thing I ask. It just came out. I open them again and breathe in and out. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spring all this on you. Can I come inside? We can discuss everything, I promise.”
“Anything you have to say we can talk about right here,” she says. “You can start by explaining why you’re here.”
I’m taken aback. What did I ever do to her to make her treat me this way? This isn’t fair. I’ve only come to talk to her. I don’t even know why she disappeared in the first place. I thought maybe she felt like she had to leave because of her disease.
She didn’t even bother to tell me goodbye, and now I show up and she acts like I’m the one who left? I feel pain in my entire body. All I want to do is grab her and kiss her and she’s acting like I broke her heart.
“My job brought me here,” I tell her, snapping right back. “Why are you attacking me? You left without giving me any warning or explanation, Layla!”
“And you have no right to just show up here demanding answers, Kerym,” she shoots back. I loved the fiery side of her back then but right now all it does it make me want to bang my head against a wall.
“Why did you leave without telling me?” I ask instead. “Is it because of your son? Is that our son? Tell me the truth!”
“I have nothing to say to you,” Layla turns up her nose. I can’t believe that she would do this to me. I feel so betrayed.
“Layla, please, talk to me,” I beg. “I don’t understand why you’re so angry with me. Help me understand!”
“You did tell me that what was between us was purely physical,” she says, tone going icy. “I don’t know why it matters.”
I want to lash out. I’m so angry right now. It’s like she’s trying to push my buttons. “You don’t get to throw that at me. You agreed to it!” I tell her back.
“So why did you show up here?” she asks. “Did you not find a suitable replacement? Because I’m not going to just fall back into bed with you.”
“I never asked you to!” I yell. “Gods!” I run a hand through my hair, trying to figure out why this conversation is going so horribly wrong.
“Then don’t worry about me,” she shrugs. “You’re here to work. I suggest you actually go work.”
“Fine!” I cross my arms. “I will!”
I turn and stomp away, my entire body hot and fuming.
What is wrong with Layla? Why is she acting this way? Why is she trying so hard to push me away? I don’t understand. Is she trying to protect me from seeing her while she’s ill?
Her comments keep swirling around in my mind.I’m not just going to fall back into bed with you.Did you find a suitable replacement?
It was never like that for me. I’m not some ladies man who flirts with everything in a skirt, she knows that about me. I thought what we had was special.
Tears sting my eyes and I wipe them away furiously. I can’t believe she would accuse me of traveling across the sea just to coerce her back into my bed. Why does she think that?
None of our conversation went how I wanted it to go. I didn’t even get to tell her I love her. She just accused me of ulterior motives and pushed me away. I don’t even know where to go from here.
The only thing I know for certain is that her kid is my son. She wouldn’t be so defensive, so protective of him if he weren’t.
If he wasn’t mine, she would have just told me instead of avoiding the question. She wants to keep him from me and I don’t know why.
My heart aches. I need to see him again. That’s my son in there, my child. He shares a part of me, just like he shares a part of Layla.
I can’t believe she didn’t even tell me about him. I don’t know whether to be angry or feel hurt or betrayed. I know we agreed to keep things purely physical but she should have known me, she should have known that I would have done the right thing by them if I knew she was pregnant.
My heart is heavy in my chest as I head back to my quarters. I can’t believe all this is happening. Layla is sick and she’s got a kid and it’s my kid and…I don’t know what I’m going to do about it but I do know that I’m not going anywhere any time soon.
