Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Once I’m certain everyone else is asleep, I get up. It’s still completely bright in the cave. It always is, the artificial lighting never changing to distinguish between night and day. I pick up my knitting and head away from the group so they won’t be disturbed by the clack of my bone needles. I head for the waterfall at the far end of the pool, because it’ll hide any sounds I make. I sit down at the edge of the water, pick up my knitting…
And promptly set it down again. Overwhelmed feelings swamp me and the tears start again. It’s okay to cry, I tell myself. You’re allowed to be disappointed. You’re allowed to wonder what your future is going to look like.
You’re allowed to feel stupid.
Because I do. I feel so stupid. I’m always looking for some way to fit in, to be valued. I’m sure it stems from being the child of intelligent, driven parents that were far too busy to attend school plays or PTA meetings. On Earth, I was an afterthought. I’d hoped it would be different here.
After some of the guys got into a fight and I was blamed and shipped off to Croatoan, I was hurt. Hurt that everyone decided that I was the bad guy in the situation and thus the one to get rid of. It’s one reason why I stayed in Croatoan for so long—I didn’t want to go back to Icehome and feel like I was the problem. Everyone at Croatoan was nice. I got along great with all the women. I picked up skills and watched kids for people and felt like a valued member of the community. Over there, I was liked. I was wanted. Whereas over on Icehome, I felt increasingly ostracized as one after another of the men I’d flirted with in the past took mates. I was unnecessary, so I stayed at Croatoan, where people liked me. And when I felt loneliest, I would send I’rec letters. I wrote all of them painstakingly on skins with a nub of charcoal and had them delivered on Ashtar’s many trips between the two far-flung camps. I wrote him over and over again for the entire four years I was gone.
And because I was aware he might fall for someone else, I always, always kept my messages polite and unemotional, something I’d write to a friend and not a lover. I’rec and I had kissed and did a little fooling around, but nothing serious. He never wrote me back, so I never changed the tone of my letters. I never gave him anything that would string him along.
But after so many years at Croatoan, watching people resonate for a second, or third (or in Josie’s case, fourth) time to a beloved spouse, I began to feel lonely. Croatoan was great, but there was no one my age for me. Sessah was there, but he’d always felt like a little brother, and it seemed like the moment he returned to Icehome Beach, he resonated to Sam. They’re a great couple, and I’m thrilled for both of them.
It made me wonder if I’d resonate the moment I stepped on the beach again. I allowed myself to hope, to dream. I allowed myself to wonder what it’d be like to have a lover and a family. To resonate and know that a thousand percent, I belonged to this person and they belonged to me.
I think that’s what upsets me more than anything. It’s the timing—as if resonance is deliberately working against me when it made I’rec and Flor resonate just before my return—and it’s that I feel so unwanted. There’s no place for me on this planet.
So am I having a self-pity-fueled cry-fest? You bet your ass I am.
I must not be quiet enough, because someone gets up and pads over to stand just behind me. I’m not entirely surprised when R’jaal puts a hand on my shoulder and leans over. “Would you like someone to talk to?”
Wiping at my face, I shake my head. “What’s there to say? We both know talking isn’t going to change anything.” When he has no answer for that, I offer an olive branch. “I heard your conversation earlier—you and M’tok. Thank you for defending me.”
R’jaal grunts, then pats my shoulder awkwardly again. “He is sour because there is no answer here, and he does not like feeling foolish. Do not let him make you weep.”
Oh man. If it was only M’tok that was the biggest of my problems. If only. “It’s not him. It’s…everything. I should have stayed at Croatoan. I just really thought I’d come back and things would be different. That I’d show everyone the skills I have and that I’m more than just a silly flirt. Instead, me coming back has made everything worse.” Blurting it all out makes it somehow sound more pathetic and self-indulgent, and I bury my face in my hands. “I was alone at Croatoan, too, but I was happy there.”