The Skeleton In Me

Chapter Twenty-Two

My imagination was taunting me. I kept seeing Mr. Father hiding in the shadows, several times I had double-take down different alleyways, different streets, thinking I saw him.

I never did.

I looked over at Cousin, who was acknowledging the town, he looked around, curious. I wasn't sure if he had ever been in a town before. The only traveling he has ever done was in chains.

"There is another town about twenty miles east." I say to him, though I am unsure if he's listening, "I'd like to try and make it there by tonight." I have no hope that we'd actually make it. Twenty miles is a lot when you can barely walk two at a time without resting.

We walk for an hour or so before we stop to rest. I try to give him some water to drink, but he refuses to take it. I don't push him this time, though.

On and off all day, we walk, we rest, we walk, we rest. Once the sun was out, I decided we could cut through a park to avoid the business of the streets. When stores began to open, I pulled Cousin into a used clothes shop, and buy him some more fitting clothes. I buy myself a clean shirt and pants too, so at least we don't look so out-of-place.

When Cousin changes into his new clothes, he looks almost normal, despite his adamant thinness, but we were working on that.

I'm feeling more confident when we begin treading on the sidewalks again. Our clothes aren't dirty or torn, and Cousin, though wary as more people are out, doesn't panic like I had expected he would.

A woman walked past us, along with her were three kids. One of the kids stared at Cousin, and I didn't fail to notice how he uncomfortably shifted nearer to me, his eyes were glued to the concrete.

I don't say anything about him so close to me, and of course he doesn't. Though, even as the woman was long gone, he didn't back away.

Sometimes, as we walked, our arms would brush. I was sure touching me would bother him, but it didn't seem to. He never left my side.

The faint whistle of the train could be heard. Cousin would wince each time, and I hated myself for ever bringing up the train without comprehending that of course, he wouldn't like trains. Walking all the way home was going to be a lot harder, but if it made Cousin even the slightest bit more comfortable, then that is what we were going to do.

The sun begins to set, though only just barely, and yet I knew that Cousin was done for the day. He kept staggering, and once would have tripped had I not quickly held onto him.

It was disappointing, though, because we hadn't even made it ten miles throughout the entire day. We had to rest several times, and even while walking, it was incredibly slow.

It was going to take us weeks to get back home at this pace, but I tried not to complain.

I really tried.

I didn't want to spend money on a motel room every night, and looking around, it didn't look like a motel was anywhere near us. Instead, I found a quiet place hidden by trees near the town's river. We could see cars driving across the bridge in the distance, but they wouldn't be able to see us due to the abundance of bushes we were surrounded with.

"We will stay here for the night." I tell Cousin, who is already leaning against a large rock, exhausted. Since there wasn't much room in the tiny hidden place anyway, I sat beside him, and handed him another piece of dried meat.

He took it, and this time, it took no persuasion to get him to eat it.

We ate in silence and watched as the cars drove across the bridge, most likely on their way home. The falling sun shone brilliantly on the water, making the river look like a mass of sparkling jewels.

"It's beautiful out here." I say, not expecting an answer. I never expect him to answer me, it is always by chance with him.

This time, he took the chance, "I don't see it."

I swallow, "Don't see what?"

"Beauty."

"Perhaps that is because you have never seen beauty before."

It takes him a long time to answer. I begin to think he won't until he does; "It doesn't exist."

"You're wrong," I correct him, "Because I look in front of me right now, and I see beauty."

"Then you are the wrong one."

I look at him, and the words spill out before I think about it, "I think you are beautiful."

He turns and stares at me. Our eyes are locked. I don't know what he's thinking because his face is expressionless and impossible to read. I wait for him to tell me that I'm wrong again, to fight me, but he doesn't. Instead, he turns his face back to the water, and for the rest of the night, we say nothing.