CHAPTER 7: WISHES

Heart against heart in hope and desire.

Gen looked from side to side to make sure no adults were within earshot.

“Are we still rolling out the plan?” he whispered to Tymas.

The plan. The patch. The pathway out of the village. So many things had transpired in between that they’d almost forgotten about the patched tunic and the process they’d so painstakingly engineered.

“Of course. We have to. But maybe not anytime soon.”

“Why’s that?” Gen asked.

The answer walked out of the door that very moment.

“Because of that man. He says I have to stay home and rest more…except for school,” Tymas glowered.

Gen observed the man, carrying a satchel with herbs peeking through its flaps and standing at the threshold conveying his last advice to Tymas’ Ma. He was a different healer than the one who attended to Tymas previously.

“Are you still sick?”

“Of course not. My Ma’s just overly worried, as usual. She invited that man to check on me. And he says he will be back again next week, can you believe it?!” Tymas huffed, glaring at the healer till he left the yard.

As soon as the front gate was closed, it was flung open again. In walked Drewe, with an alarming new addition to his colour palette. Besides the usual blue and peanut brown, there was crimson, lots of it, running down his right forearm and staining his tunic. A scrap of cloth was messily wrapped and tied around where the wound was.

The boys watched uneasily as Uncle Drewe staggered towards the door, blinking sluggishly and not even noticing them. While Tymas was at a loss for words, Gen managed to call out to Tymas’ Ma.

When Fiona walked out the door and saw Drewe, she was visibly taken aback, though uncharacteristically composed at the same time…perhaps she considered the two children watching and taking their cue from her.

“What happened?” She asked, steadying Drewe by the arm and walking with him towards the house.

“Fishing accident,” he mumbled, face drained of colour and struggling to stay attentive to whatever else Tymas’ Ma was saying. There was no telling how much blood he’d lost on his way back.

Fiona turned back just as they reached the door.

“Gen, could you be a dear and get Tymas’ Pa? He’s at Mr Yaren’s home. Take the street to your left till you reach the weaver’s home, then make another left and go five doors down,” she instructed in her most steady voice.

Gen looked at her then at Tymas, then back at Uncle Drewe. It felt like a blur but one moment he was nodding earnestly and the next he found himself racing down the street. He’d never undertaken such a weighty task while travelling on an unfamiliar path with such confidence before but the instructions seemed to have woven themselves into his feet more than his mind.

He’d run for some distance when he saw baskets up ahead, but no weaver when he passed the yard. There was a thick silence on the deserted street, but not for long. Taking another left, he was met with smoke at the end of the street. Dense, black smoke rising into the sky and villagers running amok from the burning site.

Five doors down…he couldn’t make out the houses in this fiery mess. His breath hitched in his throat and he choked on the smoke. And then came the horrific realisation…was Tymas’ Pa trapped in-in..whatever it was he was seeing? 

He began to shake, tremble, and jitter, but remained stiffly rooted to the spot. In his heart he wished Tymas’ Pa was anywhere but in the house at this moment. He wished Uncle Drewe was back to normal and not having his life drained away at the very moment. He wished Tymas was here with him so he wouldn’t be alone, but at the same time not. He wished for water to put out this monstrous fire.

Then came more shouting. A group of fishermen had arrived with buckets of water. They must have yelled at him to move out of the way but he was so stupefied he’d defaulted to letting his limbs take control again. They charged past him like a roaring wind through sundried grass.

Then from the back of the fishermen group came a voice calling his name. It was Joele. He was the one who had went and called the men.

“Gen! What are you doing here?”

“Sir, Uncle Drewe, he’s injured and…” his lips quivered before he burst into tears. Joele grabbed his hand and whisked him back home.

When they returned, they found Fiona standing outside the door.

“I think it’s under control,” she sighed. “What’s this?” she swiped a hand over the soot on Joele’s face and arms, and gasped when she saw Gen looking just as grimy, but with tear tracks down his cheeks.

Joele gave her a reassuring pat on the arm before going into the house. Fiona took Gen aside to clean him up.

After he had washed all the soot off his face and limbs, Gen quickly went to check on Uncle Drewe. But he was greeted with a surprise when he entered the room.

Long, umber brown hair; a slender lady bent over the bed where Uncle Drewe was lying. Tymas was sitting on a stool at one corner, swinging his legs back and forth with a nonchalance that was unfitting given everything that had taken place that afternoon. The room smelled heavily of ointment.

Ms Enka turned around just in time to see Gen enter the room. In her hands were some blood-stained cloth and items he didn’t recognise. She greeted him as she walked past and now Gen could get a full view of Uncle Drewe - right arm bandaged, the rise and fall of his chest steady. He looked peaceful and at rest, save for the droplets of sweat at his temples pooling over the shadow of his veins.

As their teacher exited the room, Gen overheard Fiona talking to Joele. 

“She rushed over as soon as she heard the news. Says she’s been apprenticing under a healer on the side. He looks much better than when he first returned.”

Tymas hopped off the stool and came to Uncle Drewe’s side. He shook him gently and he roused.

Fiona was about to pull Tymas back from disturbing Drewe but let him be when she saw that the colour had returned to his cheeks.

“Ms Enka saved you,” Tymas said, and Drewe sat up in an almost involuntary way. But then the pain in his arm made itself known and he faltered.

“She’s still here, just cleaning up,” Joele assured him and made him lie back down. Drewe looked down at his arm, gaze becoming tender as if he could see the fingerprints she’d left all over the bandages.

“Do you want to marry Ms Enka?” Tymas suddenly interjected, softly but sternly, yet there was something subdued in his resolve.

Drewe stared at him. A flicker of a glance towards the door. It traversed the empty hallway to where the basin was, and there she was in his reverie scrubbing blood off her hands, shoulders slumped in weariness and relief, a lock of hair that had escaped her immaculate coiffure running down her temple.

“I wish that.” 

Voice above a whisper as the words settled like morning dust over the atmosphere. His grey-blue eyes reflecting the light of a future with her.

“I think you’ll be happy, Uncle Drewe,” Tymas said.

“You really think so?” Drewe broke into that winsome, waggish smile.

Tymas nodded.

Then Ms Enka returned, drying her hands on her skirt as she walked in. Fiona and Joele ushered the boys out of the room to give the budding couple some privacy.

When Gen returned home, he heard a yelp coming from the kitchen. Rushing there, he found Ma stomping on a rag that was in flames. 

His heart fell. It had just been returned to safety not much earlier that afternoon but he now realised the firm ground of sanctuary was but the deceptive edge of a cliff, temporal and vulnerable to sudden fissures.

He saw Nana’s mug from the corner of his eye and grabbed it, then flung its contents (however much it contained) onto Ma’s feet without a second thought.

Ma was shocked, but Gen wasn’t quite regardful of her reaction. As soon as the flaming rag had been doused, he ran and hugged her tight, shedding tears that puzzled her.

“Ma!” he cried, and refused to let go, until she gently guided his hands into her palms.

As she looked closely at her trembling son, gasping between uncontrolled tears, she noticed the black stains on his tunic. But he looked in no condition to provide an explanation.

“You must’ve had a difficult afternoon,” she said gently, caressing his cheek. Difficult was one way to put it, but it might have been an understatement. That day was Gen’s first taste of the pain and fear of potential loss, though he was fortunate to have come away without suffering any. Two almost-losses in one day…Gen wished he would never have to go through anything like that again.

Ma would later find out what happened from Fiona and Joele. For now, she gave him a nice bath, worked any remaining soot out of his hair, combed it, and prepared a nice meal with a few extra olives for garnish, his favourite.

That night after Ma tucked them in and Gen sunk beneath the covers, determined to sleep this nightmare of a day away, he heard Leia call out to him from the opposite bed.

“What are you giving Ma for her birthday?” she whispered.

Ma’s birthday! Gen had almost forgotten that it was tomorrow. He’d woken up that morning jittery with excitement at the thought of Ma opening her gift. But after the day’s events, the only nerves that remained were of emotions he’d rather not talk about, that is, if he had the words to in the first place.

“Something special,” he replied, then rolled off his bed to pull out the tiny box from under his bed. Just checking that his gift was still intact, and special.

He opened the lid gingerly, letting in just enough moonlight to glimpse its shine.

“What is it?” Leia asked, climbing down her bed. Gen quickly replaced the lid and slid it back into the darkness. “You’ll see tomorrow,” he said, pleased with all the secrecy.

Leia must have pouted, but he couldn’t quite see in the dark. He heard the rustle of fabric as she climbed back onto her bed.

“I made Ma a flower crown.” 

“I think she’ll like that very much, Leia,” Gen answered, and it was genuine.

She hummed in agreement before letting out an adorable yawn. The sibling conversation faded into silence as sleep sailed them toward the horizon of tomorrow.

The next day, Gen was up before Ma could wake them with a damp washcloth. When she did walk into the room, her dainty footsteps a grounding force for vapid mornings, Gen pushed her out and said that they needed time to get ready for the special day. Leia called in reinforcements and got Pa to hold her hand and keep her away until it was time.

Back in the room, the siblings went and got their respective gifts. As Gen polished his on the skirt of his tunic, he heard a cry—a restrained one—from Leia’s side of the room.

He hurried over and found Leia on the verge of tears, a wilted flower crown in her hands.

“Don’t cry, Leia, it’s Ma’s special day. Here…you can share my gift.” He showed her what was in the box and her eyes lit up.

They walked out of the room beaming, Leia at the front with the gift in her hands, Gen following closely behind with his hands on her shoulders.

“Happy birthday, Ma!” They chirped. A rosy smile spread across her face as she received the gift, but she pulled them in for a hug before opening it.

“Open it! Open it!” Leia cheered. 

Ma’s eyes lit up just like Leia’s did. She hesitated for a bit, then picked the sky pearl up from the shreds fabric it was nestled in. Holding it up and rotating it in the morning light streaming through the window, she cast a glance at Pa.

“How did you children get this?” She asked before Pa could.

“From a fish. Uncle Drewe said I could keep it,” Gen replied, a little sheepishly.

“And you thought to give it to me,” Ma continued, “Thank you, I couldn’t have asked for a more special gift.” She touched both their chins tenderly, smiling warmly.

Nana walked out of the kitchen with Ma’s birthday treat—on the platter was bread baked with nuts, seeds, raisins, dates, and olives. It was tradition to load the loaf with as many ingredients as possible, for they symbolised well wishes. Ma then cut the loaf into slices and distributed them to the family, a custom that signifies sharing those blessings with cherished ones.

“Ma, make a wish!” Leia said, when they had finished the meal and made sure every ‘blessing’ had been consumed.

Ma made two wishes as per Derri’s birthday tradition—one secret, and one spoken. The people believed in some sort of unifying tension between the two that increased the chances of them coming true.

After a few moments of silence as Ma made her secret wish, she began to speak aloud, looking into the faces of her family.

“I wish that my family will always stay together. That my beautiful children, Gen and Leia, will be obedient and stay safe within the village walls. That they will be far away from the dangers of the outside and grow up healthy and strong.”

Gen shifted uncomfortably in his seat and averted his eyes when Ma’s penetrating gaze fell on him. Her gaze was usually tender and consoling, but this time it was imbued with the keenness of a sharpened blade, piercing through and shattering his heart’s very own wishes.

A part of him wondered what her secret wish was, and if it was anything worse than this. Though it pained him to oppose Ma’s wishes like this when it was her special privilege on her special day, he wished hard that they wouldn’t come true.

If wishes even meant something and achieved anything, Gen hoped his future didn’t depend on who wished harder.