The Ibutatu Estate, Isla Dzum
It seemed to Aremu very hard to determine how to handle such things. No, he wanted to say; no. The responsibility’s all mine, Aurelie. She’d never had the freedom of choice; her life had been all encircled, with red brick walls built up around it the last eleven years. And yet she had chosen to leave. Aremu couldn’t quite bring himself to think that she had chosen him, too; it was only that he’d been available, and he knew better than to think more of it. But he had been available, and he was now too, even if only for company as she did the dishes.
It’s very different, Aremu wanted to say, but I understand, Aurelie – I understand something of it, after all. After I lost my hand – no, he couldn’t, not even in his mind, in words that he knew he wouldn’t say. After I stopped working shipside, perhaps; that felt more manageable, but he still knew he wouldn’t begin at it.
It was selfish, he thought. He wanted her to know such things for his own sake, and not hers; he didn’t think they would lighten her burden. He didn’t think he could, not really; to learn such things about him, he knew, would be heavy, and in the end it wasn’t really the same. I found purpose again, was what he wanted to tell her, when I thought I couldn’t; but he couldn’t make any promises of the same for her.
Aremu shook his head. “No more apologies,” he said, quietly, looking at her. “Please. I'm very glad you told me what you want; I hope you always will."
He couldn’t say why it bothered him so – yes, Aremu thought, achingly, he could. She had no idea how he was looking at her; she couldn’t possibly know the sort of thoughts he’d had. He felt as even if the imagining of it was to take advantage of her. And yet – it came back to not knowing what to make of her, not quite. On the ship, he’d been determined to treat her as in need of coddling, when it came to food; she had called him out on it, quite resoundingly, and he’d lost that encounter entirely.
It wasn’t a one-sided friendship; she wasn’t some child he’d been corresponding with.
Even putting that aside, such as he could, he didn’t want her to apologize. He didn’t want to make her feel as though she ought to.
Aremu shifted a little. “I like keeping busy too,” he said, after a moment. He found another smile for her, and this one came more easily. “Let’s see,” Aremu frowned, more thoughtful than upset. “Ah, there’s – um – if you want to practice embroidery, I can find some old sheets and things for you to use. If you want to read, we can go to the library, and we can try to sort out together where to start. You can make over your room, if you like; there are other hangings and curtains in cabinet, and you can swap yours out if you prefer.”
“Does any of that sound all right?” Aremu asked, looking back at her. He hadn’t meant quite to stand so close; he hadn’t really realized he was, before a few moments earlier, when he’d found himself looking down at her arms. Now to move away seemed odd; it felt very important to him that she not realized the nature of it. He’d sat on the ship holding her hand, with her just next to him for hours; nothing should have changed. Nothing had changed, Aremu told himself, quite firmly; nothing would change.