Authors: Masha Leyfer
CHAPTER 34
I duel with Nathan in the Field of the Fallen with a pair of wooden swords. He is easier to defeat than Mike or Emily, but with my wounded leg and the fact that one of my hands is occupied with the crutch, I am at a disadvantage. This time, however, I win, and I lean triumphantly on my staff.
“Nicely done,” Nathan congratulates me. I smirk slightly.
“I know.”
“Do you then?” he laughs. “Can we take a break?”
“Sure.” We sit down against two wooden cutouts, facing each other. “This is so nice,” I say.
“What? Beating each other up?”
“Well. That too.”
“Mark of true love right there.”
I laugh.
“Absolutely. But what I was referring to was being happy. I don’t know, Nathan, it’s just been so long since I’ve been actually truly and consistently happy, I almost forgot what it feels like. But now, ironically since my almost-death, now I’m happy everyday. It’s almost unnatural, you know? I’m afraid that it’ll end. It’s like an overdue volcano. My happiness has a time limit and it’s already been exceeded.”
“Molly,” Nathan says, shaking his head. “You know that your happiness doesn’t have a time limit.”
“No, of course, but it feels that way. It’s just unbalanced. Something goes right, something has to go wrong. Otherwise, it’s just unnatural.”
“So it’s natural when things aren’t in your favor?”
“Yeah. Why would the world give me more than it takes?” I knock on the wooden cutout behind me three times. “Lord knows I should be thankful for what I have, but…”
“But sometimes you can’t help but want more?”
“Yeah.”
“You know, over the years I’ve learned two things that are applicable in this situation. Number one: you can feel lucky and grateful for everything that you have, but it doesn’t at all mean that you are obligated to feel happy. What you are grateful for having and what you want are often two very different things. And that’s okay. Number two: it isn’t wrong to want more. On the contrary, wanting more is what progresses the human race. We wanted warmth, we figured out how to utilize fire. We wanted shelter, we figured out how to build it. When you want something, you’re not taking it from somebody else and you’re not invalidating somebody else’s struggle. You’re setting a new goal for yourself. That’s why it’s always bothered me when people tell you not to ask for more than you have. You end up with this complex that you always have enough and then, even when you don’t, you can’t ask for more because you’re afraid to. Because you’ve been taught that it’s wrong. But what are you supposed to do? We’re taught not to ask for anything unless we can’t live without it, but we are never taught that we shouldn’t let ourselves get to the point where we are dependant on somebody else giving us that one singular thing. Doesn’t that seem off to you?”
“Wow. Well, it does. I never realized how, um...how skewed your perception of the world becomes when…”
“When somebody else tells you how to see,” Nathan supplies.
“Yeah. What if looking wrong is the cause of all of our problems? I don’t even mean our personal problems. I mean all the problems of the world.”
“I think it is. Nobody ever does anything because they want to cause harm. People do things earnestly thinking that they’re the best thing to do, because that’s how they see him. And we all have the power to change things that we consider beyond human control. If we all helped even a little, if we all looked in the right way, the world would be a much better place.”
“But then comes the question about what the right way to look is.”
“Yes. And that’s where things become very difficult. That’s why the world isn’t a perfect place.”
“Do you think all of your views are right?”
“On one hand, yes. That’s why I hold them. But on the other hand, statistically, I must be wrong somewhere.”
“But we can never know.”
“No, we can’t.”
“And since the world is still flawed, at least some of us must be wrong.”
“Yup.”
“Jesus,” I run my hand through my hair. “What a conundrum.”
Nathan smiles.
“You’re adorable when you’re confused.”
“Shut up, I’m having an identity crisis here!”
“Continue. I’ll just watch.”
“This is all your fault! You with your philosophy and untimely compliments and nice hair and stupid beard-”
Nathan kisses me.
“You insulted my beard, I had to retribute,” he explains.
“This is retribution?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe I should insult your beard more often.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“The only way your beard’s destiny could be any more obvious is if it was a giant sign that said,
Please get rid of me
.” He kisses me again.
“And in general, facial hair-” he kisses me a third time before I can finish and this time, I melt into it and we kiss the way we did the first time, like the world has just ended, but we survived. We survived, because nothing can kill us. Because tonight, we are immortal.
__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __
I sleep in Nathan’s tent again that night.
“You know, you sleep like a warrior in battle,” he is saying.
“What does that mean?”
“You kick a lot and you move constantly. I think I would lose a fight against you sleeping.”
“Really? Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He pulls me closer. I close my eyes and smile as he kisses the top of my head. “I’ll love you forever,” he says.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not?”
“Forever is a long time.”
“So?”
“Who knows what will happen in that time? Don’t bind yourself to me, to this.”
“Hm. Even though I have to admit that you might be right, this is how I want to spend the rest of my life. With you.”
I kiss him on the cheek.
“And I want to spend mine with you.” He pulls me even closer and holds me so tightly, that in that moment, I know for sure he’ll never let me go.
__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __
I wake up unnaturally early, long before the sun even begins to rise. After several futile efforts to fall back asleep, I submit to my wakefulness. Nathan is still asleep. I don’t want to wake him, so I gently move his arm and hobble out to the Field of the Fallen. I bring my crossbow. I haven’t shot alone in a long time. Too many things have been happening for me to enjoy a moment of solitude. I am happy for the opportunity to shoot alone, without any sort of obligation to anyone. I smile at the familiar thunk of metal against wood and realized that I missed it, even though I last heard it yesterday. I shiver at the morning cold, pulling my hands as deep into the sleeves as I can without loosing use of them and realize that I missed that too.
And then I realize that it’s not just me right now thinking, it’s me in the future. She’s going to miss all of this when it finally over.
I’m going to miss all of this when it’s finally over.
I’m going to miss the pain, the cold, the neverending uncertainty of survival, the constant fighting, the unanimous hate of the CGB. I’ll miss wondering what’s out beyond the ocean. I never really wanted to find out. I was afraid that it would disappoint me. It’s better for there to always be the hope of a utopia, however unrealistic. It’s better for the boundaries of our world to be undefined.
This world, however much I hate it, is my world. This fight, however gruesome and terrible, is my fight. All of these suffering are my sufferings. They make my life mine and they make my life vivid. Without them, who am I? I can love somebody else’s world, live comfortably somewhere where there aren’t problems, but… But then who do I become?
After this ends, so does this life. I’m not sure I’m ready to build a new one. I’ve always lived on the premise that the fight would continue forever. Winning it wasn’t my job. My role in the puzzle of success was simply to provide the tools for it to be possible. Then it wouldn’t even matter if my name wasn’t remembered, because I would matter anyway. I would matter for my whole life. But now? I matter for a year and then disappear. I don’t know what to do with the rest of my life. I never had any plans, because I never believed that the war would end.
And here we are.
At the end.
And although I’m ready, I can’t help but be slightly terrified.
THIS ENDS BOOK ONE
THANK YOUS
Writing Afterland was a long and rollercoastery process, and a wild ride that I did not get through alone. A lot of people deserve to be thanked for the creation of this book, and so this will be a lengthy section.
Before I begin, I would like to say that if you read this part first for any reason, the rest of the book is better, I swear.
First of, I would like to thank you, the reader, for actually reading this. Thank you so much for putting aside the time to make my dreams come true. (I know that sounds corny, but it's true.)
My first official thank you goes to Lyudmilla Starobinets and the Theatre on the Roof for getting me into theater in the first place and pretty much shaping the person who I am today. I would not be where I am today without you. Thank you.
I would also like to thank Elina Starobinets for being my favorite teacher and awesome friend. Thank you for all of your awesome.
Next, I would like to thank my 'squad' to whom this book is dedicated. Thank you all for giving me advice on Afterland even before I let you read it. You guys are basically my favorite people in the world and I owe My entire existence to you. So, in no particular order:
Masha, thank you for being my amazing best friend since forever. You are so great that I, a writer, in some sense of the word, do not have the proper words to describe you. Thank you for developing countless stories with me and being generally awesome. Also, thank you for googling things for me when I didn't have wi-fi.
Dasha W., thank you for being my daughter/mom and my life-support throughout all this. Thank you for co-fangirling over Urinetown with me and thank you for supplying much-needed wisdom to all of us throughout life.
Dasha D., how to thank you? You provide the intangible atmosphere of our group that is very difficult to put into words. Thank you for always laughing (go for it), and being the gravity that holds my life together. Also, thank you for being my knitting protege.
Dasha K, thank you for being the sassmaster. Also, thank you for the wonderful bits of conversation that always brighten up my day. Lastly, I would like to thank you for standing by me in my argument with my mom about the pronunciation of croissant.
Yasha, thank you for being my comedic relief and fabulous conversation partner and an amazingly talented musician. Thank you very much for actually seeing plays with me and for putting up with my outrageously slangular vernacular, because that is what I look for in a friend.
Lastly, but certainly not least-ly, Polina, the one non-Asha. Thank you for always being awesome and supportive. Thank you for having an unreasonable amount of energy and talents and for sharing in my writing struggles. Because writing is hard, but it's much easier if you have someone to complain to.
Next up, my family. First of all, thank you for being my family. Shout-out to my dad, for letting me break two of his knives before convincing me to change Molly's first weapon to a crossbow. Shout-out to my mom for being a quality mom and for being the most functional person that I know. Shout out to my brother for actually being enthusiastic about Afterland and for tolerating me. Shout out to my aunt for being a real-life Mary Poppins and always having what I need.
Thank you to all of my friends’ families, especially the Kazantsevs, for being the coolest family I know.