Broken City

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

You know, nothing in his manner or words caused me a moment’s unease—I wonder if that’s what’s making it hurt so much, that it seems so unexplainable. Somehow I feel as though Tom lied to me. Every action, every word told me that things would be fine, that I had no need to worry.

Well guess what Tom this isn’t alright, there are no circumstances in which I would term this fine. Do you have any idea how mad I am at you, how angry and hurt and frustrated I am?

Why?

Would it have been so hard to tell me?

How could you?

Why was it possible for you to just walk away—without a word or an explanation—not even a note! It needn’t have been for me, it could have been a missive to the tribe in general, I’m not picky. But no, you sneaked off into the night with Uncle Jep and the children like some sort of thief.

Jan is standing beside me in the rations queue, strangely silent and I can tell from the sidelong looks she keeps giving me that she’s worried.

“Go on, Jan—say it.”

Jan jumps, I don’t think that she had known that I was aware of her scrutiny.

“I was just thinking—he probably had a good reason for what he did, Deeta,” her voice is carefully modulated to be as inoffensive as possible.

“I know that, Janny, it just doesn’t seem to make me feel any better.”

Jan’s hand slides into mine, her warm clasp immeasurably comforting.

“Hello?” the voice is warm and softly accented. “You are Deeta, no?”

I turn and find myself looking into a pair of chocolate brown eyes.

“I am, but—”

“But who am I?” she smiles friendly at me and Jan.

“My name is Catalina,” she seems to expect some sort of reaction and on receiving none she looks a little perplexed. “Oh, but you will probably know me as Kate?”

“Your Robin’s—” I begin.

“Friend!” Catalina jumps in quickly looking over her shoulder. “Yes that’s me, Robin asked me to make sure you were alright, so amigos are you okay?”

 “Yes, we’re fine,” I answer.

“Good,” she smiles again, “so this is very strange to you, no?”

Her hands make a gesture that encompasses the queue, the desk and several people in charge of meting out our rations.

“A little,” I admit. “Catalina, Robin said you prepared our quarters for us?”

Catalina nods.

“Was there something wrong?” She asks.

“No, not at all, I just wanted to say thank you.”

Catalina’s face takes on a rosy hue and she mumbles something in Spanish.

“It was so little a thing, I wish there had been time to do more, Robin says that the place looks good now, he said he found you scrubbing.”

“Yes, I don’t know why but cleaning and arranging—it just makes you feel like you belong more.” There is an awkward silence and I begin to wish that I hadn’t put that thought into words. Catalina reaches out her hand and rests it on my arm, her eyes are warm and understanding.