She takes it, presses a few buttons randomly. Her shoulders slump.
“Leave it out in the sun,” I say softly, taking it from her. “Maybe it’ll dry out, start working again. ”
She shrugs her shoulders disconsolately. Her strength suddenly vanishes; she half-collapses to the ground. She starts to laugh, and it is full of sorrow and torment. “Look at me,” she says. “I’m pathetic. I’ve never felt so weak in my life. ”
I sit beside her and we lean against each other. The horses, still harnessed to the carriage, stand withdrawn under the shade of the tree. The sky is a pure cerulean blue, not a hint of a cloud across its wide, invisible dome.
“What now?” I say gently.
She leans her head against my shoulder. “Let’s just sit here. For five minutes. Let’s pretend everything is okay and we’re just resting from a nice, leisurely hike. ”
“I think we can do that. ”
“Five minutes. We can talk about what to do next after that. ”
I inhale the air saturated with the fragrance of ripeness, of grass and fruit and leaves. Feel the soothing warmth of the sun, her body pressed up against my side, how she so perfectly and softly fits into the nook of my body. “Let’s make it ten minutes. ”
She nods against my shoulder.
Ten minutes turns to one hour. One hour becomes two, then three. We nap, three, four times, sleep lulling us throughout the afternoon. We eat between naps, feel energy return. And now, in the late afternoon, we’re at last restored. We chew the slices of orange slowly, savoring the taste. There’s more than enough other fruit dangling from the trees, but neither of us wants to get up.
Sissy looks much better, her complexion returned to normal. Alertness again shines in her eyes. “This is where you got your fruit? Your whole life?”
I nod.
She takes in the trees. “So you’d come here with your father?”
“Yeah. Every few weeks or so. Until he . . . went away. ”
She looks at me. “He never told you . . . anything?”
“No. Nothing. And then he was gone. Made me believe he’d turned, then perished in the sun. ”
“That must’ve been hard. ”
I pull a blade of grass from the ground. “It was lonely. A part of me refused to let go. For the longest time, I pretended he just went away somewhere. ” I smile sadly. “I used to walk the streets in the daytime hoping to . . . no, never mind. ”
“No, what?” She angles her body to face me. “Really. ”
“It’s ridiculous, but I used to think he hadn’t died. That he had made it somewhere safe, some place far away. And that he would send me a message to tell me he was okay. ” I pull another blade of grass. “Thought he’d send it by a remote-controlled plane. Yeah, I know, it was silly. But I was a little boy, alone for the first time in my life. All I could do was cling on to fantasy. ”
“Well, you were right,” she says lightheartedly. “He did just go away. ”
I don’t say anything.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly, putting her hand on mine. “I didn’t mean to make light of what happened. ”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. ” I give her a quick smile to let her know everything is okay.
“I actually know what it feels like,” she says after a minute. “He did it to me, too. ” She stares into the distance, her eyes moistening. “It was the suddenness of it. No good-bye. No explanation. One day here, the next day . . . gone. Like I didn’t even matter. ”
I twirl the blades of grass around my finger, snap them. “That’s what I don’t get. I mean, we know why he left me. It was to go to the Institute and protect you. ” I turn to her. “But Sissy, why did he leave you? And why only months before the Heper Hunt was to begin?”
She leans forward, arms on her thighs. “I can’t figure it out,” she says.
“No one can. Not even the chief advisor. ”
She nods. “And you know what really bothers me as well? Why did your father leave the Mission only weeks before we were to arrive? I know he was having it bad with Krugman, but still. Why not hold out in that cabin for just a little longer?” She exhales in frustration. “Something must have happened for him to jet off so quickly. ”
I clear my throat. And when I speak, it’s with a quiet, broken voice. “Maybe it’s obvious. ”
“What is?”
“Something caused him to suddenly leave the Institute. And something later caused him to leave the Mission. ”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe it’s not something . . . but someone. ”
Her eyes turn to mine.
“It’s pretty obvious if you think about it,” I say. “Each time, he moves just before a certain someone is due to arrive. ” I go on, ignoring Sissy’s shaking head. “Me, Sissy. Before I’m due to arrive at the Institute, he leaves. Before I’m supposed to arrive at the Mission, he leaves. It’s like he’s avoiding me, deliberately trying to make sure we never meet again. ”
“Gene—”