Friday, April 15, 2016

The Earth is Red with Clay: Part 4

When I wake up from my fall, I feel like I am floating in midair. I try to take in some air but there is none. Nothing but a mouthful of water. A lake. At the bottom of the hole is a lake. But I am so disoriented, I can’t tell which way is up. I barely know how to swim. All I can seem to manage is flailing my arms about in the water. The air is running out. I… can’t… breathe…
                Suddenly, I feel a sharp thug on the back of my dress, and I am starting to be pulled up, up to the surface. I finally reach the top, and my lungs gasp in as much air as they can. There is something else there beside me. A boat maybe? And there is someone in the boat, the person that pulled me out of the water. Even now they have grabbed my hands and are starting to pull me up and over into the boat. I am still thrashing about in the water. “I-I can’t- swim,” is all I can spit out.
                “Stop splashing!” the person in the boat commands, “its ok, I’ve got you.” And with one last heave, I roll over the side and onto the floor of the boat like the catch of the day. My vision is blurred with water, but I can start to make out the face of the person who rescued me. It’s a boy, about my age, and his only feature to pierce through the dots swimming in front of my eyes is his great big blue eyes. So… so… blue. “Hello,” I hear him say. He seems so distant now; I must be falling back into unconsciousness. “My name is Atari.” 
                Even with my eyes closed, I can feel the room spinning. I feel as if I left my brain floating in the lake, and it is still bobbing up and down when the rest of me is still. I carefully, painfully move my hand across the surface that I am lying on. It feels soft like cloud material; I almost guess that it was sheets on a bed, but none of my sheets have ever felt so luxurious. I keep inching my hand across the bed until it slips off of the side and another hand catches it. The new hand is small and gritty like the person has spent the past couple hours playing in soil. It fingers my knuckles for a second, massaging out the tension.
                “G?” the little voice whispers. It seems like it is spoken to me through water, which is probably still clogging my ears. But… did I hear it correctly? It didn’t just call me G, did it? Because that nickname was given to me by…
                “Dandy!” I shoot out of bed only to collapse on the floor in weakness at her feet. My head ache makes it too painful to open my eyes, but that does not stop them from shedding tears. S-She’s here. She’s really here. I feel her chubby arms wrap around my neck. “I thought you were- I thought I’d never see you again.” My words can’t come out as anything more than a string of blubbering.
                “Oh, G! I’m so glad you’re alright! When Atari pulled you out of the lake, you looked like one of those drowned rats, and I was sure that you were a goner.” Good old Dandy; always knowing how to inject an insult into a perfectly happy moment. I laugh in spite of myself.
                Suddenly, there is a quiet knock at the door. “Good to see you’re up.” The voice sounds thick and sweet like drowning in maple syrup. I think it is Atari’s, the boy that saved me. My eyes flutter open long enough to see him kneel down next to Dandy and me. “How are you feeling?” he says putting his cool hand against my forehead.
                “Fine,” I start, trying to keep my eyes open longer. I see Dandy curling herself up in my lap and Atari’s blue eyes staring at me. “I think I’ve still got some lake water sloshing around in my head, but other than that I’ll be okay.” We all laugh.
                Now that I can keep my eyes open, I am finally able to take in my surroundings. It looks like a cave carved out of the Georgia red clay, with smooth walls and floor other than the occasional ascent peddle sticking out of the mud. The only furniture in the room is a solitary wooden bed covered in white sheets. There are candles scattered about the room to give light but other than that there is no sun. “Where are we?” I finally whisper.
                “Well, are you up for a walk? Maybe we could show you?” Atari replies. He and Dandy help me to my feet. Dandy grabs my hand and Atari my elbow as they lead me out of the little cave through the door. Everything is so smooth and soft here, there are no sharp or rough edges, just gentle sloping curves. The red clay seems to have worn down everything that it has touched until it is soft and tender, from wooden bed posts to human skin.  We walk through several hallways passing several doorways and bedrooms like the one we left. There is still nothing but the forever stretching red clay. Suddenly, the hallway comes to the end and… I could never in a thousand years imagine what I was standing in front of.
                It was a city, completely built of the Georgia red clay. There were buildings and markets and pillars sprouting straight out of the ground drenched in deep crimson color. It almost looked like an entire wall of buildings and houses stacked on top of each other reaching to the ceiling, surrounding a courtyard full of market tents and statues and children playing and parents talking. Parents, real parents. There was even shrubbery popping out of the ground at scattered intervals around the courtyard. It was like a whole world had been buried underground.
                While we are looking over the balcony at the spectacle below, a pair of adults walk up to us. They are dressed slightly nicer than the people who I see below us. “Well, hello! We were just looking for you.” The man hollers. Dandy lets go of me and runs into the man’s arms as he picks her up and puts her on his shoulders. She giggles as he tickles her toes.
 “Who are they?” I whisper in Atari’s ear. Dandy’s behavior surprises me; I have never seen her this… happy. For the past seven years or so that I have known her, she has always been a dismal kid, rarely smiling and never laughing like this. Even when she was an infant, and my mother and I raised her together, she cried much more than laughed. Who are this people that they should solicit such an unheard of emotion out of her?
                “They are my parents.” Atari replies, “But…”
                “But what?”
                “They are also Dandy’s.”
                Dandy’s parents? She found her parents? And Atari’s her… brother? But… how? Why would they leave their daughter in a ditch on the side of the road and then leave for a prosperous city completely sheltered from the Apocalypse? It doesn’t make any sense. And it’s almost cruel. My questions are just about to spill out of my mouth, when the woman who must be Dandy’s mother walks up to me. “And who might you be?” she asks.
                “My name is Georgia, Dandy’s si-“  It seems wrong to call myself Dandy’s sister when I am standing in front of her mother, who is most definitely not mine.
                “She’s Dandy’s sister.” Atari finishes. I look over at him, startled. He shouldn’t have said that.
                “Oh yes! Dandy’s sister, that’s right. She has told us so much about you. We are so glad that you could join us.” The woman gushes. She takes me by the hand, away from Atari. “Are you hungry dear? Would you like to come over for supper?” Supper does sound wonderful, so I can’t help but accept the invitation. And with that we all walk to Dandy and her parent’s house.
                Dinner is wonderful. Dandy’s mom made stew with vegetables and an odd variety of spices. It is still the best thing that I have eaten in the past seven years. Dandy seems to like it too. Dandy seems to like everything about this place. She spent almost the whole dinner conversation talking about how one of the fishermen on the lake had rescued and how she had been brought back into the city and found her parents. Her parents are actually the founders of the city and are the ones in charge. Dandy’s father explains how a group of people decided soon after the Apocalypse started that they needed to find a place where they and their families would be safe. When it was declared that the Apocalypse was a worldwide epidemic, they decided that the only safe place left was underground.
                “And the city has been here ever since.” Dandy’s father concludes his story.
                “Okay, so there is one thing left that I don’t understand.” I start, “Why did you leave Dandy behind?”
                Dandy’s parents hesitantly glance at each other. “Well… until about a week ago, we thought she was dead.” The whole table lapses into morose silence at the mere thought. So many hours of loneliness are wrapped up in those words, so many nights of grief. Dandy’s father brightens at a new thought. “And it is truly a miracle that our precious baby girl has been brought back to us at last.” Everyone nods with cheerful agreement.
                A satisfied quiet hangs in the air as everyone continues to devour their stew. They all look so happy, just absorbing each other’s presence. They look complete. Nothing like the gaunt, huddled masses I had seen for the past few years. I look at them, Dandy and her family, and I am reminded that I can’t have that- all that I’ve lost. Atari is discreetly making goofy faces at his sister, who is trying to contain her erupting laughter. Both of their parents gaze contently at their blissful children. Is this what a family looks like? Is this what I’ve lost? Did my mother use to look at me with that comforting smile that Dandy’s mother wears? Or did I once have siblings that tried to make me laugh? Did I ever laugh as a child? I sit, somehow separated from the warmth at the table, and wonder if the Apocalypse has stolen more than my family. It stole me- or at least who Georgia Clay used to be. The girl whose name I couldn’t recall when the Headquarters man asked for it. I wonder if that girl is lost too.
                Unfortunately, it is impossible to have such deep and sullen thoughts without some emotion showing on your face. The tears dripping from my chin into my bowl do not go unnoticed. “Georgia dear,” Dandy’s mother croons, “Is something the matter?” I cannot bare the maternal pity in her voice. I can’t make any words escape my mouth before I have shoved myself away from the table and rushed out the door in a wave of sobs. 
                The hallway is empty and I cannot contain the bubbling lump in my throat any longer. I crumble onto the floor and cry for everything I haven’t allowed myself to in the past seven years. I cry like a child that has given up looking for her mother and desperately hopes that her echoing sobs call her back. I rub my cheek against the smooth touch of the red clay, hoping that it will somehow bring back a memory of my mother’s touch. I lay like this, helpless as a child, for several minutes as I finally let out all the agony that I have held in for so long. After those several minutes, I hear the faint footsteps and brush of fabric pace to my side.
                “Georgia…” The voice is calm and soft. It burns my ears. “It’s Deborah, Dandy’s mother. Would you like to tell me what’s wrong?”
                At Deborah’s request, I try to gather my thoughts into coherent words. It doesn’t work. “I-I… I want my mother, but I don’t have a mother! The world took her from me but I want her and she’s not here, Deborah- she’s not here! I want my mother, Deborah! I don’t want to be alone… please don’t leave me alone…” My shrieking is at a fever pitch now.
                Dandy’s mother holds my cheeks in her soft hands and makes me stare into her big mother doe eyes. “Georgia.” She speaks my name with much more conviction this time. “You aren’t alone- not anymore.” I try to look away but her hands keep my head steady. “Now listen to me, you are here for reason. The Apocalypse didn’t leave you alive just to die alone. And you know what… you are my daughter. I am your mother now. So you called for me and here I am.” Her eyes are beginning to well with tears also. She wraps me in her arms, tight enough to squeeze all my broken pieces back together.
                And in this moment, I know that that lost girl is really gone. That girl that lived before the Apocalypse, who had a loving mother, and maybe even a father, who was happy and innocent, could finally die in peace. She rested deep under the red clay and all that was left was Georgia. Sad, tired, broken Georgia. Nothing more than clay hoping that the arms of this new mother could mold her into something whole.
                Georgia Clay can be a child again.

                And I am okay with that. 

No comments:

Post a Comment