Heart Broken

Chapter Two: A Sorry Road

Chapter Two: A Sorry Road

"If a path has no obstacles it probably doesn't lead anywhere"- Frank A. Clark

My grip on Tack's hatchet was slippery with sweat as I hacked at another branch that was in my way. The tool split through the branches middle and it swung down, leaving a clearing through the entangled foliage. I had traveled a mere two miles in an hour. The path twisted and turned, like streams branching off a river. The trail I walked shouldn't be called a road. Leaves and brush covered the dirt path and trees grew over it and on it. The shade was a welcome, but was countered with sap, leaves, and thorns. 

Digging into my shoulders was a canvas drawstring bag I found underneath Mama's bed, under the thin floarboards of her sleeping pallet. In it were glass jars, old magazines, a cylinder that provided artificial light when you pressed a button, clothes, and many other objects that must've been brought from the city where Mama came from. They lied on top of each other in a color-drained heap.

I guessed she hid those treasures under the bed because they brought up painful memories from her childhood, yet she never touched them or threw them away. I had discovered the secret stash while playing hide and seek five years ago, when I was ten years old. Before I could run to tell Tack, Papa stormed into the room, his eyes wild when they landed on me crouched down on my knees. He had run over to me and shook me hard, his fingers wrapped around my upper arm like a boa constrictor around a spider monkey.

"Never, EVER touch this stuff, are you listening Mezirae?! This is your mother's stuff and she would be very mad, even more furious than me if she saw you doing this. You're lucky she's out in the garden now. Understand?!"

"Papa you're hurting me," I whimpered, but he didn't loosen his grip and the fire in his eyes didn't cool. I knew he was serious because he had used my full name. 

"Understand?!" He repeated, more forcefully that time. I nodded, sniffling. He let go of my arm and placed his big paw-like hands on my shoulders.

"Why?" I asked. Papa sighed and looked down at the cubby I opened.

"Your mother is from a big city, far away. Her childhood was very hard and wasn't as nice as yours is. These are from the city and Mama wouldn't want you to see them. That's all I can tell you," he told me, more gently. He shooed me towards the door, and I went back to playing hide-and-seek with Tack, but I wasn't really in the mood. After a few minutes I had sat down at the back steps, watching Mama.

Mama was smiling and pulling weeds out of the soft soil of her garden. She was bouncing a two year old Amka up and down on her lap. Amka was giggling, a bright flower tangled in her black curls. Mama hadn't looked like someone who was broken by her childhood and living with painful memories, but I didn't want to test that idea. I kept quiet about my discovery and almost completely forgot about it.

The mosquitos were horrible as the sun continued in it's descent towards the ground. I waved my hands around madly as another swarm hit me. I had bites sprinkling my arms and a particularily annoying  spot on my back I couldn't reach. I was thankful for the clothes I found in Mama's secret space because they covered me much more effectively than my old, baggy dress would have. When one mosquito landed in my mouth, I snapped. I swatted at the bugs furiously while making my way to a log that laid across the path.I plopped down on it, my aching muscles sighing in relief as I sat on the soft rotting, damp wood.

I was accustomed to mosquitos, but never ventured far from our house which had a continuous fire going. It's smoke had warded off the worst of the mosquitos, so I might as well have been naked for how exposed I felt sitting on the log. I swung my pack around onto my lap, grumbling about how I should've set the clothes I was wearing over the fire so some smoke filtered through. I pulled open the bag and a wave of black grief crashed over me.