Haven (Installment 2)

For another instant the forces of instinctual caution and intellectual curiosity battled each other, and then I began to move towards her, and it occurred to me for the first time to wonder where she could have come from if not here. Everything outside of Haven was barren desert, inhospitable. No one could live there.

Now I walked more boldly, for the more I looked at her the less threatening she seemed. Up close she was so ordinary, the person herself was completely at odds with the mystery attached to her. Still though, her eyes spoke of some wound I could not see. I half expected she would turn around and there would be a horrible bloody gash in her back. Then, realizing I had been standing five feet away and gaping for near a minute, I impulsively raised my hands in the same manner as her. This seemed to please her, for she smiled and dropped her arms to her sides. The smile made the hurt in her dark eyes even more disturbing and I heard myself ask, "Are you okay?"

She looked surprised and replied, "Yes. Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

As I checked her for injury I noticed an object attached to her hip. It recalled the rifles hunters used to shoot game, but it was smaller and fatter. The design of it, the sleekness and the minimalism, made me feel it had a completely different purpose.

"My name is Jane," she said, still smiling; and, with a pause and a giggle, she added, "And I come in peace." It was the giggle that did it. It made me feel she was an innocent and that the injury I'd perceived was a horrible tragedy, for her soul was clearly shattered, and no matter about the odd rifle, she needed protecting, and would she like to come to my town?

"I'm December," I said, and together we walked, out feet pushing down the grass and the sky darkening in preparation for night. Though she was short and I was tall, though I knew where we were going and she did not, the whole time I could not help but feel that I was following her. Over the years I would know Jane this would be a constant, for she always seemed to know something no one else in the room knew, and she always seemed the natural leader because of it.

It was strange how as we walked our conversation turned away from her and to the details of my life. Later I thought that it must have been some architecture of hers, for I had a million questions and asked none of them, while her nodding and pensive expression told me she was gleaning information from every word out of my mouth.

My town was built around the River Tam which all the barges used to get goods from the fishing and farming Villages to the City. As we walked past the first houses outlying the town I said, "The City is built of steel and our houses are built of adobe, but we know that we depend on each other and really everyone's the same everywhere." I thought this was the best thing I could tell her for her to understand Haven. I think that even then I had an instinctual knowing, for I would find out later that trust and understanding were two things her world lacked most. After this she was quiet and just gazed in her analytical way at the open doors and children playing freely while their parents talked around the community fire pit.

Something I've always loved about my village was the way we painted our window frames bright colors. the buildings were all flat, dusty, tan, but the planks framing the windows were green on one house, red and yellow on the next, and cyan blue on a third. We lived in a world either pale or silver-gray or goldenrod, but always punctuated with our bright paints, bright fires, bright spirits.

At the edge of the village were houses with vegetable gardens and swing sets. Here were slow, lazy days and people who valued family above all else. As we moved toward the center of town the streets became wider and busier. They were filled with bustling people who wanted a steady income and a drink with some friends. The busier the streets got the more nervous Jane got. I noticed that she kept her hand nearer her weapon. When we reached the river the air was filled with shouting and our movements were hindered by a hundred other bodies. I saw it as beautifully functional, a center of productivity. Jane saw everything as a threat.

That first day Jane stayed at my house, an apartment near the river and my job as a porter, with the window frames painted green. In the coming weeks I would help her find work and an apartment of her own while she dodged questions about herself and my curiosities went unsatisfied.