The warm fire, the dew dripped ceiling, the ugly lime green walls. It was the flower shop. A cot had been pulled out for me. Father Bart was patting my hand when I opened my eyes, “Do you remember now?”
I looked to my grandson and nodded, “The boy is my grandson.” The need for composure was on my mind. I knew how to act. I knew what I had to do. “I thought just as much,” Father Bart whispered smugly under his breath.
“I do not know what happened to him, or me for that matter, but Merek will most definitely find us in this city.”
“You would think, but he has not come to us once. Although we are so close and harbor someone so precious to him, it is just as before. He either has not found us yet, or simply ignores us. I cannot figure which, but it is hard to believe such a man could not sniff us out in his own home.”
“So, all is well then?”
“For now,” he sighed.
“For now,” I tasted his words. I did not like to think how true they were.
“How long have I been unconscious?” I scratched my head, pushing away the soup the Father nudged towards me.
“About a week.” He blew kindly on the steaming spoon. “Now eat, you need your nutrition. You’ll kill yourself if this goes on, and you will kill him as well.” He stuck his thumb at the boy whose cheeks seemed to glow when he saw me. “He refuses to eat if you will not. He still appears to have no memory. It is as if his mind has locked them up. I don’t quite understand why yet, but I imagine he must have seen something truly horrendous.”
Unable to respond, I could not even nod to him. My lips began to tremble at the sight of my grandson staggering towards me. Weak from hunger, his cool blue eyes were dulled, still just as empty and lost as before. He smiled weakly at me, though not really seeing me. It was as if he was blind.
Then suddenly running over to me blankly, he smiled, his hands grasping mine. I slid my hand from his and pressed it to his face. Nuzzling his head into my hand, an innocent little laugh escaped his lips.
“Oh, Jobel.”
All of a sudden he froze. A light came to his eyes. The dull color that lit them faded fast, but what replaced them was far worse. Darkness overtook them, and I grew ever so more fearful by the second. His brow furrowed, his features twisted in pain. He wiggled away from me, his chest moving steadily back and forth as his limbs began to tremble. Looking at his hands, his eyes grew wide. He let loose a cry that shook the walls. It echoed loud and harsh. Banging his fists against the wall, he crumbled to the floor, shuttering violently.
“Jobel! Jobel!” I held him in my arms. Scratching and flailing about, he was nearly uncontrollable. Tearing open my skin in his rage, he froze as my blood touched his fingertips. Collapsing in my arms, my little grandson’s clenched eyes stared to open, tears pouring from them. “Oh, my child, oh, my poor child.” I rocked him in my arms. “What has happened to you?”
Father Bart silently came from behind me. “He must have gone through a terrible experience.”
I spoke to the Father, without removing my eyes from the little boy in my arms, “Merek sent him away because he saw him to be a weakness. I hear his mother is alive, but I do not know why… I do not understand why he is in such a terrible condition as this.” Feeling something wet stain my hands, I gasped, “His wounds have opened!” Glancing frantically around, I nervously searched for something that would suffice as bandages. “Where? Where? Where could they be?”
“Rosetta,” Father Bart calmly placed his hand on my shoulder, a patient smile on his face. “We’ve got some bandages in the other room. Don’t fret. His wounds may have been serious, but they are not as bad as they were. The wound has reopened, but it is not by a major artery. He will be perfectly fine.”
His confident smile that usually washed all my worries away had little effect on me at this time. For his look was as it was before, wary and contemplative, a hint of fear and a pinch of doubt slipping themselves under the brim of his eyes. Without exchanging any more words with me, he left to retrieve the bandages.