Death of the Body (Crossing Death) (11 page)

I didn
’
t stop myself from feeling excited to meet Ruth, or reacquaint myself with her as the case may be. That seemed like a good emotional compromise—more realistic.

Nicholas had no interest in showing me the cavernous building we called our home, opting instead to pull me out back into the expansive grounds. It became apparent that his aptitudes didn’t lie in books and schoolwork, but in nature and athletics. His energy surprised me as he bounded across an expansive lawn toward a row of trees in the distance. I had to remind him I had just spent the last few days recovering from dehydration in an infirmary. He slowed his pace, albeit reluctantly.

We reached the row of trees just as the sun was setting behind them. I followed Nicholas to a makeshift shelter fashioned out of long pieces of wood leaning up against a large tree.

“You helped me build this,” Nicholas said, carefully watching me survey my surroundings. He sat on a tree stump and motioned for me to sit on another. “And that over there,” he pointed, “was where Simon died.”

I followed his finger to a large white rock interrupting the flow of water at the river’s edge, and cringed. “He drowned?” I asked.

Nicholas nodded slowly. “Do you remember?”

I shook my head as the name
Simon
connected to the word
drown
in my memory.

“That was a hard day for all of us.”

“They still let us come out here?” I asked, surprised that the adults would permit Nicholas and I to be out here alone.

A sheepish grin crossed his face. “If we get caught I’ll just tell them I was trying to help you remember. You should have some pretty strong memories here.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, Simon, for one. And you spend a lot of time here whenever you can. You and I sneak out here pretty often. It’s a good place to think, to get some fresh air, and play. When they told me you were in the infirmary, I honestly thought you were playing some sort of joke to get out of classes so you could get out here.”

“Would I normally fake an illness to get out of class?” I asked, amazed. That didn’t sound like me at all.

Nicholas chuckled a bit. “Are you kidding? You are the
best
at getting out of class. I always get caught. But I think that’s just because the nuns like you more.”

His grin was contagious and I couldn’t help but smile.

Nicholas’s eyes glazed over a bit, his smile fading. When he looked at me again, I could tell there was something he was trying to say, but didn’t know how to form the words. “You really don’t remember Simon?” he finally choked out.

The question caught me off guard. I thought we were done with this subject. “No,” I answered. “Why?”

Nicholas kicked the dirt, not looking at me.

“What?” I prodded.

“Nothing,” he answered, blinking back hurt in his eye. “You’ll remember soon enough.”

My eyes narrowed—a gesture that he didn’t miss, but ignored.

“Come on, we’d better head back for dinner.”

“Okay,” I agreed reluctantly, stealing another glance at the large white rock in the river.

It wasn’t until I was almost back to the church that I had an idea. In fact, it wasn’t an idea at all—just a realization. As I walked back toward the stone edifice, with its windows now lit against the murky sky, I thought I could hear a murmuring coming from inside. It wasn’t until I got closer and the murmur seemed farther away that I realized what I was hearing. It was the trees near the river that were talking to each other.

I couldn’t remember if I had heard them down by the river or if I had just started hearing them now, but even if they had been talking to each other while I was sitting with Nicholas in our makeshift fort, I probably wouldn’t have noticed. The sound was so familiar to me that it wouldn’t have been something I would have picked up on immediately. That thought gave me an odd sense of comfort. The fact that something as simple as the whispers of the trees could be familiar in this unfamiliar world was exactly what I needed to start unraveling my current existence. I resolved to ask the trees about my time here—surely they were older than I—in hopes of determining not only how long I had been in this place, but how I got here.

Eight

I met Ruth that night at dinner, as well as a few of the other children that claimed to be in my classes. I probably would have met more had I remembered I was supposed to answer to the name “Alexander.” It was easy when people were looking right at me when they called me that name, but I had a hard time responding when it was shouted across the room while I wasn’t paying attention. I found the food incredible and the environment in which we ate wasn’t that far off from what I remembered in Orenda; everyone ate together in a large cafeteria, and we all ate the same thing. There were choices in drinks and desserts, and the nuns ate at separate tables instead of with the children. I didn’t see Father Michaels at dinner and couldn’t help but wonder why he wouldn’t join us for what would have been considered a joyful community meal in Orenda.

I was right in my assumptions about Ruth. She was smart, articulate, full of wit, and had a short fuse, just like Hailey. I was quickly convinced, however, that Nicholas and Ruth were not, in fact, Ralph and Hailey in the same way that I was both Alexander and Edmund. There were differences in their personalities that extended beyond the simple physical. Hailey was both warm and inviting while Ruth was slightly distant. This was a trait found among most of the children, and I decided that it was because they were all alone in the world. All of the children seemed to have one similar hope: to find a family to adopt them and to love them.

I was different. I had a family that loved me. I had no desire for another family. I only wanted mine. And if I couldn’t have my mother and father, I still wanted my larger family—my people, the mages—my town. I began to realize that family, by definition here, was a close group of a few people who were biologically related. The idea of adoption was both foreign and common to me, as everyone in Orenda was “adopted” by all of society. The ability to adopt a single child into an already formed biological family was the part that was unfamiliar. Immediate family, extended family, and the human family all had different meanings here. I was more comfortable with “the human family” because it was communal.

I didn’t sleep well that night, in spite of being tired. The dormitory slept all of the boys and there was more movement and noise than I was used to. To top it off, the night air sometimes grew hot and thick. My dreams translated my discomfort into nightmares with dark creatures that breathed hot, wet air into my face while pinning me down so I couldn’t move. I woke up more than once, sticky with sweat (this was becoming all too common), my finger with my father’s ring the only cool part of my body.

The morning brought with it the promise of new experiences. A nun I did not recognize woke us, but at least I was now starting to get familiar with the unfamiliarity of my life in this orphanage. Unfamiliar faces were so common that I anticipated hearing a name or a word that would connect facts in my brain together with the newly impressed image of the face. After just one day of experiencing this pattern, I realized I had grown to expect it. This unknown nun became ‘Sister Mary Elizabeth’ as soon as I heard the other boys acknowledge her name. I knew she came to our convent three years ago and was one of just two nuns who were assigned specifically to our care. She was the closest thing any of us had to a mother, but I felt
disconnected
from her. The emotions that connected back to her name were emotions of indifference, not emotions of love. I didn’t dislike Sister Mary Elizabeth. I just didn’t trust her.

Nicholas was by my side almost immediately. He yawned and stretched before wishing me a good morning. “Today is Saturday,” he told me with as much excitement as his just-waking body could muster. “We only have Sister Mary Elizabeth
’
s class, and choir. Then we are free to do what we want.”

This thought excited me. I couldn’t wait to get back outside, hopefully alone, to talk to the trees. I asked myself if I should have felt guilty for wanting to ditch Nicholas, but quickly decided that any guilt I had was overshadowed by the importance of having a moment with the trees to get my questions answered.

I followed the large group of boys into the locker room where we washed our faces and made our hair look somewhat presentable. I had to give up on a few strands that refused to do anything but stick straight out from the side of my head, but flattened the rest down over my forehead to where it fell just above my eyes.

Breakfast consisted of a bran muffin that tasted like salt and a small carton of orange juice.

Nicholas and I met up with Ruth at breakfast. She seemed eager and full of energy today.

“Between classes, would you like to play chess with me?” she asked excitedly.

Nicholas made a face while I searched for the word
chess
in my mind. “What’s chess?” I finally asked after finding the word, but not being able to connect it with anything else.

Ruth looked disappointed and surprised. “Our favorite board game.”

I shrugged and responded to her expression with an apologetic look. “You’re going to have to remind me how to play.”

A calculating grin pursed her lips, “Hmm,” she sighed, “I guess that means you’re not going to have any chance of winning.”

“Just remind me how to play,” I grinned.

“Alexander will beat you even
if
he doesn’t remember how to play!” Nicholas interrupted.

Ruth responded with a roll of her eyes. “Oh Nikki,” her voice trilled, “if you only had a brain.”

“Don’t call me Nikki.”

Ruth winked at me, ignoring Nicholas’s clenched teeth. “See you after class, Alexander.”

She bounded away, leaving Nicholas fuming.

I chuckled. “She likes you, you know.”

I didn’t think Nicholas’s eyes could get any wider, but they did. “What?” he screeched.

I laughed again. “You two remind me of Hailey and Ralph. Hailey is always giving Ralph a hard time, and—” I stopped, catching myself.

Nicholas didn’t miss a beat. “Who are Hailey and Ralph?”

I floundered, trying to come up with an appropriate response, finally deciding to keep my mouth shut this time. “Oh, never mind,” I said, grateful when Nicholas shrugged his shoulders and started walking toward our class.

“I’m kind of excited for class today,” Nicholas changed the subject. “We’re supposed to start talking about the Council of Trent and the Catechism before the Catechism of Pius the Fifth.”

He might as well have been speaking a different language.
Council
, I understood, and
catechism
was at least one of those black words, but the rest was just rambling.

“I’m really fascinated by the doctrine of four hells. Aren’t you?”

I stared at him blankly as we entered a large classroom. I recognized Sister Mary Elizabeth from this morning, standing in the front of the room. She was watching the clock with more zeal than she had for watching the students, obviously waiting for the proper time to start the lecture.

“Oh come on, Alexander,” Nicholas continued. “We’ve been talking about this for days!”

I was about to mouth some sort of apology or reminder about my lack of memory, but Sister Mary Elizabeth hurled a piece of chalk at Nicholas with such force that it bounced off his head in more than one piece.

“Sit down you two—you’re late,” she boomed. “And you, Alexander, are lucky your head is already damaged.”

She feigned throwing another piece of chalk in my direction. At least I now understood why my feelings for this woman were unpleasant: her presence was entirely overbearing and rude.

I sank into my seat.

“Now, the Council of Trent was the 19
th
Ecumenical Council of the church, and convened in Trent between December 13
th
, 1545, and December 4
th
, 1563. There wasn’t another council until the First Vatican Council which took place in what year?”

Nicholas raised his hand excitedly. “1869,” he answered when called upon.

I found myself re-evaluating my prior thought that Nicholas wasn’t book smart.

“Correct. Now the Council of Trent was extremely important in the wake of one Martin Luther, who taught the doctrine of justification by faith alone. This is just one of the doctrines of the Protestant faith that the Council of Trent helped to solidify as false. In addition the relationship between faith and works as it relates to salvation was clearly defined.”

I was already bored.

Nicholas, however, was paying rapt attention. When he caught me looking at him he nodded his head excitedly at me, like some sort of encouragement for me to agree with him that this was the most fascinating thing I had ever learned. I yawned.

The trees outside the window swayed back and forth gently in a light breeze and were more entertaining to watch. I strained to hear their conversation but the walls of the building and the ornate stained-glass windows were too thick to allow me to hear anything.