Chapter 3

As I crossed the garden to the spot where Kardaram had set up dinner, I was terrified. What was I going to say? How would Dera react? I hadn't had any time to examine my emotions, let alone formulate a way to communicate them with the one who was closest to me.

Dera was sitting at the table looking slightly nervous. Again his eyes went to the letter in my hand, which I set in the center of the table as I sat down. Kardaram had already had something ready, and so almost immediately our meal was served. Dera's eyes went to the piece of paper, which I had folded, and then up to my face.

"What is it, Fafa?" he asked. Such a simple question, but the answer was beyond me.

"After dinner," I said. "First we must eat."

We ate our food without relish, without speaking. I had difficulty facing him and kept glancing around the garden. Every time my eyes would return to my partner, his eyes were either on the letter or on me. He ate quickly.

Slowly and deliberately, he picked up the letter.

"May I?" he asked.

I didn't answer him, but simply watched as he unfolded the sheet of paper and began to read. As soon as he got through the first line, he froze and stared at me.

"No," he said, barely making a sound.

I nodded slowly. "Yes."

Hand over his mouth, he kept reading. I saw him rereading several lines and very slightly, nodding. Once he had finished, he kept his focus away from me. He must have been thinking and the thoughts must have been unpleasant. He made a face and his hand went to his stomach.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he said, and then, without warning, he leaned over to the side as his body choked up every bit of Kardaram's carefully prepared dinner.

I was aghast. What had I done? I should have realized that the shock would be too great, that I needed to have a gentle way of letting him know the news, but no, I'd let him read the letter for himself with no preamble, no explanation, no warning. And now he had gone pale and was sliding out of his chair in a near faint.

I scooped him up and rushed him into our bedroom.

"Oh, Dera, Dera," I sobbed, "I didn't mean to tell you like that, I didn't mean to have you--" My words were choked with tears. I hadn't cried that much in a very long time, not since the miscarriage -- and pray that this was not another one.

I lay Dera on the bed and ran to get him a glass of water. I dried my tears with a towel and came back to bed. Dera had slipped under the covers and was huddled into a ball.

I sat on the bed beside him and tilting his head, pressed the glass of water to his lips. "I'm sorry, Dera. I-- I just got it. It came this afternoon."

I ran my hand over his stomach. "I hope you're alright. I shouldn't have shocked you like that but it's just that I don't know what to think, I don't know what to feel. I can't believe he's alive..."

Words ran out. I lay down and stared at the ceiling. "It's like a dream but at the same time, it's a nightmare. What could have happened to him? Where has he been? Is he angry with me?"

When there was only silence, I had to ask, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, just let me rest a bit and think about this."

The room was silent again for a minute or two.

Finally I felt Dera stir beside me. "He's not angry with you," he said quietly, his voice seeming to come from a far away place.

I turned my head. "He's not?" I asked.

"No," he said. "He's not. He loves you and I think he's writing because he wants to make thing right, wants to--"

"Dera!" I interrupted. "How can you be saying this? A few minutes ago, you were so upset you were sick! Aren't you still? I mean, I thought -- we all thought -- he was gone, and now he's back! What if he wants--"

"He won't," Dera said, sounding suprisingly calm. "I was sick before, it's true, but it was just the shock -- that and this pearl, which as you know, affects me rather more than I'd like. Anyway, you've told me all about him, don't forget. He loves you but in a Wraeththu way, not a possessive way. He's not going to--"

This time I interrupted him. "But that's not what I'm saying! I'm saying what if he expects things from me? Am I supposed to be the same? What about the family you and I have made? How is he going to feel about that? And am I supposed to take him in, to be with him?"

The interrogatives piled up. I wasn't even talking to Dera anymore, I was babbling. Dera sensed this and slipped out from under the covers. Standing up, he touched me on the cheek. "Go to sleep."

It was the perfect advice -- not because of how I felt afterwards, because as I'll relate shortly, I awoke in quite a state -- but for the simple fact that as soon as I had permission, my questions ceased. My thoughts stopped dead. My emotions froze. And I felt asleep. Call it a reflex, call it proof of Dera's power of me, but I dropped off to sleep almost immediately.

And then I dreamed.