Nothing Else Occurs To Me

Chapter 15

"Speaking of camping – sort of -"   Michaela nodded back to the woods. "Have you ever been back there?"

Elizabeth shook her head and swallowed. All of a sudden she was really thirsty. Her throat felt as if it might crack wide open. She wanted a drink, but she kept the book open on her lap, resting on her hands.

"See that path?" Michaela pointed and went on before Elizabeth even had a chance to answer. "Well, see how it curves so sharply? It does that a few more times – you have no idea where it's going. I really don't know why it evolved that way or whatever. I think you could have cut a straight path – but whoever started walking back there didn't. They went all over the place, and it's almost like a game because you can never see where you're going, what's around the next bend. But – " she leaned forward to Elizabeth, like she was sharing a secret – " what's around the last bend is this amazing little creek with a gorgeous, sparkly pool and a little tiny waterfall. You just have to keep taking those turns, going nowhere, and there it is. Total shock. I probably shouldn't even call it a waterfall – it's just a place where the creek goes down a few feet. But there's nothing like the sound of water splashing over rocks. " She waved at her sketchbook. "I tried to draw it," she said in mock disgust. "But I suck, apparently. Oh watch out – bees!"

Elizabeth moved backward, suddenly, still sitting. The bees drifted off. Before she could grab anything, before she could hide, Michaela was pointing. Down.

"What happened to you?"

"I fell." Elizabeth motioned to the disarray around them. "And I dropped my stuff."

Michaela had scooted closer and, despite Elizabeth trying to fend her off, had taken one of Elizabeth's hands in hers. Gently. She traced a finger over the red, swollen, splotchy band. Elizabeth flinched.

Michaela looked up at her. "Liar. Someone did this to you."

Elizabeth shook her head.

"Yes they did. Who?" She glanced around.

"No one. I fell." She tried to get her hands away, but Michaela was holding them firmly. Trying not to hurt her, but determined not to let her go, either.

"Elizabeth." she paused and her eyes bore into Elizabeth's. "Tell. Me." She said slowly. "Who hurt you?"

"No one. No. I can't."

"Why?"

"Because – it doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. It matters when people hurt each other. Didn't you get that memo in your Catholic school?"

Elizabeth sat and stared past Michaela, looking at the life over on the other side. She could just barely pick out the face-painting tent, but just its shape and color. There was nothing specific about it. It was as if she'd never been there and she might never go back. It didn't seem like any place she particularly wanted to be.

"Kevin." She whispered it. Almost croaked.

Michaela didn't say anything, but she didn't stop looking at Elizabeth either. The medieval group had brought in a horse. Elizabeth could see him walking slowly around the enclosure. A person dressed like a knight waited in a corner, on a stepstool.

"That guy – that guy who works at your church? That you work with all the time? That you were at – "

"Yes.'

"Why – why would he do this to you?"

"I guess he was mad at me."

"Who could be mad at you? Why?"