Chapter 6

Avalon didn’t trust Aric. Reed remained the only one who she’d given her trust to. What she’d given Aric was time. Time which she’d estimated would be brief.
While the air ran cold, his hand was scalding against hers. He was quiet, she was pensive. Her stress had mildly ebbed out as they ran past the curious crowd, hand in hand. But there remained questions scattered in her mind; increasing by the second. She didn’t ask her questions, not even one, in fear that her voice would drown in the noise. It was loud enough she’d barely heard her own breaths—as harsh as they were.
Aric didn’t fear the weight of the noise. “What in the hell is going on?” he croaked.
She squeezed his hand, for he could not see her expression nor hear her voice. This time around, it was done in response rather than in an attempt to suppress emotion, as she habitually did. It was only to affirm she felt alike.
Aric’s own angst was mollified by her doing. He faced her briefly with an expression so loose you’d imagine they were prancing down the port.
They’d nearly been there; to the port. They ran against the crowd. Against the source of attraction. To the dark. Where boats stood without a light or a soul. Avalon thought it resembled a graveyard.
The ruckus behind them grew out of earshot, and their breaths became the cacophony.
“Hey, stop for a minute,” Avalon said, completely winded. “I have to make sure Reed is fine.”
He’d stopped as she wished, but doubted she needed to worry.
“I’m sure he’s fine. It’s Reed after all.”
The implications of his words surprised her, and she cocked a brow.
“What do you know about Reed? You’ve been here no longer than a cruise ship passenger.”
He chuckled, vitality returning to his eyes. “After you left, I drank your beer and communed with Reed.”
“Communed?”
“Communed.” He straightened his face. “Woe is me, I am leaving him too,” he teased.
“Woe is me, I’m leaving with a clown,” she retorted, her expression twisting into a scowl.
Aric had refrained from making another witty remark, as that involved the fact she still held the hand of this clown. He thought she’d let go instantly if their hand holding was made aware of in words spoken aloud.
“We’ll swing by the cabin. He’ll be there; if not, he’ll be by the boat. He worried about you too. I didn’t get to know the man because all he talked about was you. He reminded me of how my father talked about my sister. She’s the favourite after all.” He laughed all the while a young ache nested in her heart.
She’d miss him terribly. So much so that she reconsidered leaving; for a beat. Her grip loosened in Aric’s hand, and her expression faltered in progression. From the eyes, to the lines on her temples, to her cheekbones, and to the corners of her lips. Aric took notice of the change. He’d taken the pain as his own—into his large heart. It was fairly easy for him to empathize. He viewed his sensitivity as an interchangeable trait. Tonight, it was a flaw to feel one’s pain and have no means to ease it.
“The longer we linger, the harder it will be to leave,” he said rationally.
The chaos in town, as it happened, was the decoy they needed to leave as discreetly as possible. In exchange, they’d need to move quicker. Her parents might’ve already noticed her absence, but the port wouldn’t immediately surge on their radar. They might’ve followed the crowd themselves, thinking she’d been as curious as everyone.
“Let us simply make sure Reed is in no danger. Then, I won’t hold us back,” she said, almost pleading.
He nodded and fastened the clasp of their hands, reigning her back in. That pull had reminded her of the warm weight against her own. She’d acclimated to the sensation in the mere time they’d been running away. It was beyond her belief, yet she thought letting go would bring more attention to it.
Aric himself wasn’t sure why he still held on, in spite of the calmer air their ears absorbed, and their lesser sense of urgency. He concluded that it was all he could do to feel useful. For his sensitivity to pivot to merit.
“I knew he’d be by the boat,” he mumbled under his breath.
They hadn’t needed to go as far as the cabin, given that Reed oscillated near the boat—thinking as Avalon did—peeking for a chance to see inside. It’d been dark enough you wouldn’t recognize anyone, but Aric had somehow caught his face.
Avalon was struck with relief until immediate embarrassment followed. She unfurled her hand from Aric’s and took a step forward. All before Reed could catch sight of what neither of them could explain.
Warmth was gone, safe for fading residues. She held her own hand to cope with the loss of heat. Though, her hand was a far cry from his. It was icy and lighter. But it’d been the hand that held her times before.
As for Aric, comfort turned unfamiliar again, and his interchangeable sensitivity cried flaw. He slipped his hands into his pockets.
“Reed,” Avalon called, hands cupped around her mouth.
Reed flinched, relief finding him too.
“As I said. He’s fine,” Aric told, and he walked over. He’d ready the boat, leaving them the tersest of time to exchange words of consolation.
“What on earth broke out in town?” she asked Reed.
He shook his head, “I don’t exactly know either.” What he saw was a shadow of herself, a dark silhouette at best. He heard a tremble in her voice; only by that could he notice the anxiety nibbling at her. “Don’t worry about me. Leave. There doesn’t seem to be a threat anymore. They’re dealing with the aftermath. People are panicking out of confusion. There’s nothing here worth keeping you.” He huffed. “Leave, Avalon.”
Avalon reserved her doubts, for they would not point to him. She believed his first answer. The rest was his assumption. She quivered from the cold and the uneasiness.
“I will,” she replied, a hint of hesitance creeping into her tone. “I’m leaving,” she asserted. She bit her lip and drew her eyes to the sea.
The sea was never silent, but its sound was never obnoxious. It wasn’t there to be compared, to be uplifted, or diminished. There was no contrast to note with the commotion farther down. Some people, such as Avalon, had another set of ears for the sea. For them, no sound could overpower water and current. Even in storm, waves soothed her. They worked their magic and brought her reassurance. A voice, not tangible, called her in. The sea had called.
“Reed. Thank you. Thank you for everything.” She held her hand tighter behind her back. “Take very good care of yourself. And…” though they could barely see eye to eye, she faced him. “Don’t worry either. I’ll live better than I ever have. I trust you know how to live your life, hence I won’t worry.”
She’d cracked the ice he was building in his heart, to be numb, to feel less, and he grew more grateful for her character.
“I won’t say you’re wise beyond your years, even if you may seem to be. You’re just a good person. Always were, always will be,” he last said, before helping her up the boat.
She didn’t refuse his help as she’d done to Aric. She let him hold her luggage, then stepped on the plank Aric had reached out.
“Ready when you are,” Aric said, taking the hat box from Reed.
“I am,” she returned, giving her back to the town.
Aric didn’t ask a question more; he began pulling out the anchor.
When the boat was no longer weighed down in place, it started following the wind and the current. Ever so slowly, the quay parted.
Avalon whirled back to catch sight of Reed and her town. Her last memory would be dark. What had been her world shrunk until it vanished from view. All the while briny water glided her away.

Avalon held the metal mug, wry in the face. It was coffee indeed, but warmth didn’t seep through metal, and her hands remained chilled under chiffon sleeves. She glanced at Aric.
He slurped his coffee and flinched. “Ooh, that’s hot,” he bawled.
She shook her head and gingerly approached the edge of the mug. It only took the smallest of sips to taste bitterness. She sighed in contentment. At the very least, he brewed good coffee.
While it was incongruous for coffee to soothe, Avalon was an exception to that gospel. Her system had been so indulged it stopped treating it as a foreign substance. Coffee descended as water.
Unbeknownst to her, he’d been watching her. Right as she turned away. He’d smile wistfully. A little curious. A little thankful. He’d been sitting on the ground near her mattress. When he’d gotten the bed, he didn’t think it’d be for a woman. Aric’s only task was to accommodate a worker for a night’s time. Only for the isle’s travel and back.
“It’s getting cold,” he said as the morning light crept into the sky; a shade lighter and void of its sea of stars. “Is there anything warm in that hat box of yours?” He didn’t think so.
She inched the mug nearer to her face, her shoulders lifting higher. “I have a cape.”
“Not a shawl but a cape?” he raised a brow.
“It wouldn’t fit alongside the cape and other necessities.”
“You’re vastly ill-readied for a person of wealth.”
“I’m not a person of wealth; I’m a person who came from wealth. Now that I’ve left the wealth, I am but a person.” The words were simplistic in her mind and they rolled off in easy succession.
She’d left more than materialistic gains behind. The last chapter of her girlhood, for despite having passed that age, she’s never truly felt a woman. While still not knowing what made a woman a woman in her book, she foresaw a plunge into that territory. Independence had been the first step. Having to care for her needs and wants, she thought, would make of her a woman. A person of her own. That person is who she wishes to discover. Bare of what had painted over her name in gold and silver, she’d find it easier to pursue introspection.
He nodded. “That’s fair, but trust me, you’ll get cold. You don’t want to perish early, before you knew what it were to be a person.”
Avalon gazed at her arms underneath the sheer chiffon sleeves; they were still and covered with bumps, and her hair stood like a scaredy cat’s. She didn’t object. Aric had already uncrossed his legs and crossed to the cabin.
He’d come back with a wool jacket; the best one he owned, and for that, he rarely wore it. The textile was coloured in muted shades of both green and brown. The jacket was earthy, like soil and trees. Its collar sat in triangles flopping on the collarbones, but it could also stand tall; covering sides and back of the neck.
“I’ll return it,” she said, slipping her arms into the sleeves. “I have some money which I’ve earned myself. With that, I’ll buy the necessities. I’ll need to exchange the currency. Do you know what they use over there in Gardenia Isle?”
“It’s only a jacket,” he brushed off, sitting back down. “Keep it. As for their currency: Solos. I can exchange whatever you have. I’m always looking for foreign currencies.” He laughed. “Well, every currency is foreign when you travel so much.”
Avalon didn’t find it in her to laugh along. While she’d have found his life interesting under normal circumstances, her immense worries weighed down any form of interest. What could entertain a mind concerned about tomorrow’s resting place or next month’s sustenance?
She’d barely registered what he said and thought of it as more complicated than it needed to be. Aric wasn’t oblivious to the lack of attention. His sensitivity heightened in the lull. There was space in sound to notice further. To notice her empty stare directed at his temple rather than his eyes. The frequency of her long breaths and what followed: a pause. As though internally, her world would halt for every interval in between.
This was strange to him. Despite his outgoing nature, he’d spent much time in solitude. Perhaps he was the strange one for having chosen this fate. What he thought was odd was her silence and absent-mindedness.
How could one fixate on the sky for hours and let time so effortlessly slip away? He mulled over.
“So… You can detect poison, I heard, which is also why I came to find you.”
She swung her head to him; a bubble popped within the mindless motions of her mind.
“Yes.”
“How does it work? Do you close your eyes and it comes to you, or do you seek it? I wish I had an ability. The money would make itself.”
“I don’t need to close my eyes. It doesn’t find me, nor do I seek it. It’s not as magical as it sounds. Poison has a foul energy. My intuition is a guide like anyone’s, but my separate recognition of chemical evil turns it infallible.”