Page 54 of The Fall

Lusa blinked, but her throat was too dry to form sounds. She didn’t have to ask which mom she was talking about. Talia had trained both her and Pinga how to turn the sickle-shaped blades grandma Cat used for harvesting for defence, but only Lusa had taken to them naturally.

Sesi held it up to the light. “Callie used this once, but it’s really not her thing. She set it down. The symmetrical blade looked like it hungered to bite into the table. “We’re not going to tell her about this, by the way.”

“Why not?” Lusa had the urge to bite her fingernails, but resisted, keeping a brave face.

Sesi took a thoughtful breath. “It would only worry her.” She was probably right. Callie always worried whenever Lusa did something rough or dangerous.

“It’s an ulu.” Sesi rolled her shoulders, sore from hunching over the whetstone. “Your grandmother’s, then mine. I tried to convince your uncle Siku to take it to help him in the kitchen, but he said he wasn’t a woman, so he couldn’t.”

“That’s stupid.” Lusa knew she shouldn’t have said anything, but it had come out anyway.

Sesi’s smile only grew. “Is it?”

Lusa shrunk back into her chair. It creaked in protest.

“Instead,” Sesi continued, “it stayed with me.” She picked up the ulu. The dying sunlight shifted from orange to red as it travelled along the edge. “I used it to take the fingers of the man who killed my mother. It’s skinned a few people too. Slashed a few throats.” Sesi drew the knife through the air, mimicking the action before placing the flat on her daughter’s arm.

Lusa wanted to pull away, but she refused to flinch. Nodding, Sesi accepted her bravado.

She slid the edge across her skin. Nearly invisible hairs fell away. Eyeing the follicular carnage, Lusa still refused to move.

Satisfied, Sesi lifted the ulu. “To think,” she sighed. “It could have lived a peaceful life chopping vegetables.” Sesi slipped the ulu into a worn leather sheath and snapped it shut.

“Why are you telling me this?” Lusa found she was only able to whisper.

Sesi answered with her own question. “Have you ever seen that knife before?”

The slightest shake of her head was all she was able.

“It’s not for vegetables.” Sesi leaned forward, tucking the sheathed ulu into her pocket. “Neither are you.” Sesi relaxed back into her chair. “But you will be if you can’t learn to control yourself.”

Lusa dropped her head. The other mothers had been apprehensive around her for as long as she could remember. This shame was something else entirely.

“She’s all yours, Talia.” Sesi stood, taking the ulu with her.

The flimsy door swung open. “I told you threats wouldn’t work.” Talia stepped into the old MobilePod. It wobbled slightly with her added weight.

“She’s too much like you,” Sesi mocked as she left.

Talia sat. “She’s right.”

Lusa loved all of her mothers, but Callie always got the most attention. Sesi was second – affectionate, but often busy. Talia was always more standoffish. Present, but closed off. She taught you things, but had an intensity and a hesitation to her.

Folding herself into the seat across from her, Talia leaned her elbows on her knees. “Remember when you would throw tantrums.” Lusa was almost as tall as her now.

She remembered, but vaguely. “Not really?”

“They used to get me whenever you had an episode.”

The memories started to return. Suddenly, everyone around her would be afraid or angry and she wouldn’t be able to breathe. And then Talia would be there. She never said anything or tried to stop her. And when it was over, they always did something together. That hadn’t happened since she was a kid.

Talia tilted her head toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

Lusa smiled.

“Oh, you’re not off the hook,” Talia warned. “You have to listen to me talk while you train.”

Lusa was sceptical, but in the end, it worked. Talia told her things, dark things, she’d never told anyone else. It gave Lusa the vocabulary for her feelings. Every time Lusa needed, she sat on a birch log, sharpening kukris with a file until Talia noticed her swearing in time with the scrape of metal on metal. They would train for hours while Lusa yelled her problems at a damaged pell. Together, they’d forged the links that bound Lusa’s darkness. But in the end, knowing what was there, she was more alone than ever.