Chapter Ten
I look for Tomas in his cabin, the common room, the supplies room and all over the deck. The only place I haven’t looked is the control room; I just assume Diego and Vonteuse are in there, a silly assumption given that Tomas said it was one of the places where he can sketch uninterrupted. I trudge back up the stairs to the deck, feeling tired again. I’m sure it is a mental tiredness not physical, a morning of fishing and walking the same few metres over and over isn’t to blame for the type of fatigue I am feeling. The tension between Max and I was almost tangible. I was tempted to wave my hand through the distance between us while on sentry to see if I could feel some static. I am certain he would have felt sorry for what he said and try to take it back but for the whole three hours he remained quiet. I’m not sure I know him well anymore and that makes me feel an overwhelming sadness. Unusually, I feel like I have to talk to someone about it and the only person I can think of is Tomas. So after I showered and changed I went in search of him, a fruitless search it has proven to be so far and my sadness is quickly turning to frustration.
I walk briskly up to the control room and step up onto the shelf expecting to see Diego and Vonteuse working hard on the control panel, but instead the room is empty except for the far corner where Tomas is bent over his sketchbook on the floor. He looks up at my entry with frustration on his face that turns to a welcoming smile when he sees it is me. That takes a little of my annoyance away and I feel a pang in my stomach that he is prepared to be frustrated at anyone else but is happy to see me.
I can’t help but smile as I walk over to him and huddle in the opposite corner just like the first time we met in this room.
“Working on something spectacular?” I ask casually trying to keep it light.
I am a bit scared that we might lose the newfound ease we rediscovered when he fixed my broken fingers and fall back into awkwardness.
“Always”, he answers, curving one side of his mouth up in a smirk, although I see a knowingness flash in his eyes, as if there is more to say that he keeps to himself.
“Can I have a look?” I ask reaching out my hand for the book.
Tomas closes the book quickly and shakes his head, smiling slightly to soften the blow of being refused. It’s the first time he isn’t prepared to share his work with me and it makes me burn with curiosity and rejection. What can he be drawing that he doesn’t want me to see? To make it worse the smile he plastered on his face is an attempt to cover something else, some other strong emotion hidden in his eyes. It looks like fear, as if I have caught him out in something. I stare at him trying to work it out for a second until I sense that Tomas is becoming increasingly uncomfortable. I let it go; who am I anyway, the journal police, I wouldn’t just hand over my journal if he requested it.
“I was looking for you, I have to ask you something about Max”, I get straight to the point.
Tomas looks simultaneously relieved and concerned at the change in topic.
“What’s up?” he asks as he straightens up and stretches his legs out in front of him.
I am distracted for a second at how long they are laid flat out on the floor like that. He really is quite big, tall but not slight in any way. It’s deceiving because he doesn’t use his size to dominate or attract attention, like others I know.
“Have you noticed a change in Max since you met him at training?”
All the feelings of sadness and anxiety come flooding back as I voice the question. Tomas looks at me trying to read the emotion in my voice and I can tell he is thinking about constructing an answer that won’t offend me.
“Give it to me straight, Tomas, what?”
“When you were sick, Pia, Max was really worried, frantic really. He went from never leaving your side, not letting anyone near you, to doing every single one of your sentry duties without help, to fits of rage and violence. At one stage he tackled Renka around the waist knocking him to the ground. He apologised to everyone on board when you got better and has had their respect since”, Tomas says this in a tone that suggests it was going to be a nasty shock to me, which in truth it is.
I stare at him for ages, not really seeing him, trying to see this person he described as Max. It just dioesn’t gel with my Max, why hasn’t anyone told me this before now? Does everyone think I am too fragile, too weak to know what happened to my brother? Am I? Tears well up in my eyes and before I can stop them they spill over onto my cheeks. In my living memory not once have I cried in front of another person, not at my parent’s funeral or the funerals of anyone else I knew, but in this short time, Tomas has seen me cry twice. I am disgusted with myself for letting him see my weakness – it’s Max, it always has been. Poor Max, how could I be so stupid to think, or even say that morning that I would and could protect him from everything, when all he needs protection from is me? I thought I was doing right by Max, doing everything for him but instead I was blinding myself to his needs, to how he has changed from the ordeal of my sickness. Silent tears continue to fall down my cheeks, dropping onto my hands as they curl and uncurl in my lap. I’m vaguely aware that Tomas has stood up and is walking towards me. He kneels down and wraps me up in an all-encompassing embrace in one gentle movement. I rest my head on his shoulders and let the tears fall onto his jumper.
I’m not sure how long I let him hold me like this but eventually I take a huge steadying breath and let it out in one big sigh. Tomas takes this as a signal that my pathetic emotional display is over and lets me go. I look up into his eyes and am struck with how penetrating his stare is. He looks right inside me as if he’s searching whether the damage is core deep. His pupils widen when he notices me staring back and resolve sets in his features, there is no hesitation. Maybe that’s because my body is working under some unknown code, giving off every possible signal that I want Tomas to kiss me. He leans down holding my gaze and presses his lips lightly to mine. The pang in my stomach from his welcoming smile earlier explodes into a raging fire that spreads down my legs and up through my chest. His lips are soft and full against mine; I’ve felt nothing like this before and don’t want it to stop. He uses his lips to open mine and gently deepens the kiss before pulling away slightly then leaning forward to press a soft peck on the corner of my mouth to end it completely.
I keep my eyes closed for a second after Tomas’ lips leave mine; I want to remember everything I feel in this moment. My whole being is centred on my mouth, like all the nerve senses have made a dash to that central place. I lift my fingers to my mouth and caress my tingling lips. When I open my eyes Tomas is looking at me with concern on his face. A small smile curves my mouth to reassure him that I’m okay. He responds with a tentaive smile, I giggle a little at this shy person in front of me who has just been confident enough to comfort me while I cry my eyes out then kiss me so thoroughly. He must read my mind because he seems to see the contrast and find the humour in it as well.
I straighten up and sort myself out, patting down my sure-to-be unruly hair, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious with Tomas staring at me, my cheeks flame in response. I sense more than see Tomas reach out and push a few stray strands of hair behind my ear, letting his hand caress my cheek before it falls to his side. The motion is so intimate, more intimate than the kiss we just shared and I don’t know how to respond. Tomas saves me by taking a step back and smiling in reassurance.
“I like your hair”, he comments simply.
“Um… thanks”.
I’m not used to accepting compliments. In fact I can’t remember ever getting one, accepting graciously isn’t going to come naturally. Especially since I’m well aware that I’m not looking my best. I have healed almost completely from the sores but there are shadows left on my skin and my body still doesn’t have the fullness it had back home when we had fresh red meat and our rations allowed us to make some bread. Maybe that’s why the compliment was about my hair, there isn’t much else to admire unless you have a liking for pockmarked rake-thin girls with a bad temper and o
veractive tear ducts.
I continue to fiddle with my clothes, straightening them out and looking intently at them until I’m forced to look up at Tomas. He’s staring at me with a smile on his face enjoying the spectacle I’m making of myself. He likes seeing me uncomfortable and this makes me angry. That is enough for me to square my shoulders and look him directly in the eye with my chin sticking out at an angle.
“That’s better”, Tomas says with a smile and I can’t help but smile back.
He knew how to bring the situation back into the realm of normality. In this moment I’m not sure there ever is going to be ‘normal’ again. Everything has just changed between Tomas and me and I don’t know how to deal with it. I liked kissing him, I really liked it, but what am I doing getting involved with someone in ‘that’ way? I have just been sick, I could get sick again if I assume what Renka said is the fairytale it sounds like, and getting attached to someone in that way is only going to lead to a lot of pain. Besides that, a rush of guilt overwhelms me, I had come here because I was upset about Max and wanted help sorting out my feelings about him and then I feal into a wonderful kiss with Tomas and completely forget about Max. I really am a selfish person. Did I seek Tomas out to talk to him about Max or did I just want to see him and used that as an excuse? My face must have contorted into a tormented expression because Tomas, who had just straightened up from picking up his sketch journal walks over to me, puts his hands on my shoulders and looks searchingly into my eyes.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“I was just thinking about Max. I only wanted to protect him but I’ve been thinking about myself more than him. Why didn’t anyone tell me this before?” I ask Tomas pleadingly.
“He asked us not to. He didn’t want to worry you when you were working so hard to get healthy again”, Tomas answers compassionately.
“And there it is, he was the one protecting me, he has been dealing with so much and I should have been there for him. I should have asked how he handled it, how he was going, instead I got better and ignored the changes I noticed in him”, I almost groan in response.
There is so much more I am feeling about it, so much more that I need to say but I have to say it to Max.
“Do you think I treat Max in a way to satisfy a need in myself instead of what he needs?” I ask quietly.
It’s the question whose answer could change the way I thought of myself. I had always seen Max as intuitive, cutting straight to the point of every issue. Maybe he has seen me for what I am all along and reversed our roles. I hate the thought that I could have been a burden for him, holding him back some way. That’s what I have been noticing, Max coming into his own, interacting with everyone else without encouragement or guidance from me. I always answered for him, was there to make sure he wasn’t socially uncomfortable but maybe I was forcing that role onto him. When he was truly alone, when I was sick and incoherent he broke down and came out the other side a different person, but maybe he was always that person and I chose not to see and he let me ignore it.
Tomas has that look that shows he is contemplating just how far he can go before he offends me. That is answer enough to my question. I nod my head in understanding, turn and walk out of the control room. Tomas doesn’t try to stop me and I am grateful, it’s Max I need to see.