His face scrunches up. “Please don’t do that.”
“Oh, Sid. You really should have gotten to know me better before marrying me.”She says, as if she shouldn’t have done the same thing herself.
The joke breaks one layer of ice between us, a phantom grin spreading over his face. Does this counts as moving on? Maybe. It’s good to see him smile, even if there is still a tremor in my pulse when I look at him.
“Carlos said you were asking about cooking jobs.”
“Oh, yeah. He says they’re hard to get.”
“So? That the kind of thing that stops you?”
“I don’t know.” I’m used to being driven by survival, not desire. It’s hard to conceive of things any other way.
“It sounds like a good idea—getting a job off the acreage, so you’re not stuck with us all the time,” says Sid. “There are plenty of people on this island you could be talking to who aren’t paramilitary terrorist types, if that appeals to you.”
“Heh.” He’s also trying to make light of the situation. But it rings too much of truth. “I… wouldn’t mind a little space, actually.”
“Of course.” He rises from his chair and I realize that, without meaning to, I’ve dismissed him. “I’ll talk to the guys. If there’s ever more you want to know… you can always ask. Nothing’s off the table, okay?”
“Thanks.”
I return to the apartment, where I find April reading by candlelight.
“Everything okay?” she asks, setting the book down.
“Yeah.” I wrap my arms around her. I might not be able to dump all my troubles on April, but she does help. During that first awful year after our mother died, April’s love kept me alive. I might have given up dozens of times if I hadn’t known I had a little child who needed me to hold her and sing to her. Who needed to know that, for all the bad in the world, she was still loved. And who, without thought or hesitation, always reached out to hug me back.
In some ways, her teen years have been harder. There’s less of that little girl warmth about her now. But not tonight. She squeezes me back and even though thewhysbehind my grief go unspoken, I’m grateful for her support.
“The food was really good,” she says, when we break apart.
“Wish I could have stomached it.” All those lovely tomatoes, and I didn’t get any.
“Dominick says Carlos makes that one a lot, so you’ll get to try it soon.”
We share a few more minutes of small talk, comparing the books we’re reading. All considered, I’ve got a secure place to sleep, my little sister at my side, neither of us in danger of starving or succumbing to the elements any time soon. I should feel at peace.
Instead, I think of him. Who holds onto Sid when his demons chase him?
WHEN I FILLApril in, she takes the news far better than I did. From the drop, she’s all sympathy.
“That’s terrible! Thank goodness they got out of there, right?”
“For sure. You’re not bothered, though? You’re comfortable living here?”
She snorts. “Honestly? Have you met Carlos? Can you even picture him with a gun?”
Absolutely not. But I don’t need to call up a hypothetical image for Sid, James and Silas. When I point that out, she only shrugs. “Because they had ajob. I bet they hated working for the border guard after everything TNS put them through.”
Once she says it, I find myself goingoh yeah. I never got the impression Sid liked his old job, but knowing this does put it in a new light. Salt Spring must have been eager to hire guys with combat training, even if they weren’t citizens yet. And sure, those jobs pay well, but he would have been constantly reminded of where he came from.
“Still, TNS attacked Port Alberni. Obviously, it wasn’t the guys themselves, but they still came from—”
“I’m sorry, Kayla, but… it’s not the same for me. I wasn’t even born.”
Of course. This is one of those things I’ll have to live with alone.
Talking with April does put some things in perspective. Mentally, I can now file Sid underused to be an axe murderer but no worries! Will probably not axe murder me now!
