Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 106646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
"Br'chit." He sits up and touches his own stick, one that matches mine. "I feel that you should be proud of your accomplishment. It is a great, important thing you have done. Even if this pot shatters tomorrow, you are on the right path. Why not share this joy with others?"
I cross my legs, holding my safety stick in my hand. "A'tam, I feel…" I pause, thinking. Ongoing therapy with Steph has taught us how to talk to one another, and to search for our feelings. He has a temper, and I'm obstinate as fuck, and when we get going, we're both assholes. Using the communication methods we've been taught helps us understand one another. "I feel that if we show everyone now, we'll disappoint them when it breaks. That they'll expect more from me than I can give."
"Br'chit," A'tam says calmly, and there is such love and understanding in his eyes. "I feel you are thinking of your mother again, are you not?"
"Shit." Busted. I suppose I am. "I'm just so nervous. Part of me really, really wants to show everyone that I can do this, and part of me is terrified of showing them, too."
"You are nervous because you feel if you show a flaw, they will mock you and say you are terrible as your mother did," A'tam points out. "Do you truly believe this will happen?" He gives me a knowing look. "Your mother is not here."
"No, but she's still here," I say, and tap my forehead. "I'll…think about it, okay? Give me a day?"
"Of course." He leans forward and gives me a lascivious look. "Perhaps we can celebrate on our own."
We make it back to the Icehome beach just in time for our daily therapy session with Steph. We've moved the time to sunset, so we can do our daily work around the camp without taking time away from the valuable daylight hours. Steph's waiting outside our hut with a mug of steaming tea on the step beside her and a bit of sewing in her hands. She doesn't notice us until we're right upon her, and then jumps in surprise. Her hand goes to her heart. "Oh, Jesus. I didn't see you two."
I glance over at A'tam, because we weren't particularly quiet. That's a little concerning. "You feeling okay, Steph? We can pick things up tomorrow if you're not up to it." I have the pot cradled under my clothing because I'm a wimp and a chicken. I want to talk to her about it in therapy but it's not like her to be so distracted.
She shakes her head and puts her sewing into a bag. "I'm all right. I was just lost in thought. Pak and Juth didn't pick up the food left for them today." Her expression grows worried. She's taken on the two outcasts as a personal project and I know she feels responsible for them. "It's not like them to miss a meal."
"I'm sure they're fine," I reason. "Maybe they're just running behind." I touch A'tam's hand so he can offer some words of comfort, too.
He grunts. "Hunting, most likely. It might mean there is a storm coming."
Steph brightens. "Do you think so?"
A'tam nods. "I have heard some of the outcasts have a good sense for weather changes. It might be wise for us to stay close to camp for the next few days."
"That's probably it, then." Steph's smile grows bigger, relieved.
We have our therapy session, and I bring out the pot and show her, since she's known all about my efforts for a while. She's excellent at keeping secrets, though, and she says nothing about her thoughts on the matter. Instead, she encourages me and A'tam to continue talking it out. She makes us go over the reasons we won't share it versus the reasons to share it. I don't want to share it because I'm scared I'll be laughed at or someone will tell me I'm wasting my time. Steph points out that if someone came up with a tampon, I'd want to know all about it. My pottery can be that important for someone else…and she's got a point.
A'tam just wants us to show it off because he wants everyone to be as proud of me as he is. It's hard to argue with something like that when your mate is just beaming as if you've invented fire itself, not just made a crappy pot. But I love that he's so supportive of me. I love that he's my biggest cheerleader and helper.
In the end, I decide to share it after all. After Steph leaves, I sit by the fire pit. I clean the pot up and try to make it look better…which is pretty impossible. I wasn't going for looks when I made it, though. I just wanted it to hold its shape after being fired and be useful. Pretty can come later. Now, I'm regretting my casual attitude. "A'tam, I'm not sure…"