The argument lasts more than one session. Two evenings later, we're eating our meager dinner of brown rice. It seems like Apollon is finally coming around— possibly because his plate is already empty and his stomach is growling loud enough that I can hear it from across the room. We get equal portions, but Apollon is the biggest of us. His body requires more food, which means that he's feeling the lack even more than we are. I feel sorry for him. Feel sorry that I have to convince him to do something he doesn't want to do, even though his reasons may be very good.
Miranda, as predicted, is madder than a wet cat. She contains it well, though. I'm the only one who gets the evil glares. She softens when Jonas brings up Matthew. The rest of the time, she's seething. As for Oscar, he's taken up a spot next to Neveah, like he doesn't really want to be part of the conversation. She snuggles him in the crook of her arm, and he sits there pouting. I'll explain to him later, I think, why I have to take this side. I'll comfort him, and tell him how we'll protect him on our journey.
But just when it seems we're making ground, Jonas stops arguing. I'm still pleading our case, and it takes a moment for me to realize that he has dropped out. His face is ashen, drained. Some of his rice remains on his plate, untouched. He sets it aside.
"Are you OK?" I ask, frowning.
He blinks. "I don't know," he mumbles. He staggers to his feet and moves toward the bed, collapsing onto it like he's dead tired. His body tenses on the bed, shivering.
Neveah's eyes go a little wider. She goes to him quickly. Her hand brushes back his dark hair and rests on his forehead. Her frown deepens. She goes to her parcel of herbs and starts rummaging.
Apollon, Miranda, and I exchange startled looks. Miranda opens her mouth and stutters, then bolts to her feet. She's at Jonas' side in an instant, feeling his forehead, stroking his hair.
He pushes her hand away and groans. "I'm just tired," he says. "Leave me alone."
Apollon stands up slowly and wanders to Miranda's side, looking down on Jonas. His hands are in his pockets, his face set in a thoughtful frown.
All this time I've been frozen. Now, I shove myself to my feet, but I don't go to them. I take a pan from the kitchen and push past the sheet to fill it with water. Then I set it on the stove top, open the iron door, and add a splintered board to the fire. When I'm done, I turn toward them, but remain by the stove. I watch Neveah, analyze the lines of worry creasing her forehead, the downward curve of the corners of her mouth. Something inside me dives sharply toward the floor. Sinking. I'm sinking. I stand there quietly and watch Miranda fuss over Jonas. His eyes are closed now, but I don't think he's sleeping. He's just shutting everything out.
Neveah crumbles a packet of herbs into the water I've placed on the stove. She glances up and meets my eyes, and I know for certain that this is going to be the longest night of my life.