Chapter Eleven: Broken Mirror
Chapter Eleven: Broken Mirror
‘As in water the face reflects the face, so does the heart of man to man.’ Mishlei 27:19
“Chaim…”
His face was cold, his toes were numb, and someone was nudging him.
“Chaim…”
He slit his eyes open with a groan and stretched slightly, seeing Marc staring back at him. The sun was up, but it was still the cool early morning sun of six or seven a.m. Chaim opened his eyes wider, his brain slowly realizing that he may be in trouble for being out here. He groaned and stretched again to cover up his nervousness.
“What time is it?” he asked, as if it were perfectly normal to be woken by your counselor after spending the night in a deck chair. Marc didn’t seem too impressed by this.
“You know you had us all out looking for you?” he said a little harshly. Chaim sat up a little, more surprised that he’d actually slept than worried about punishment. “What were you thinking?” Marc went on, “you could have been hurt, or worse!” Just then Jenn came running up from behind them.
“You found him?” she asked breathlessly. A few Stargazers were with her and Chaim frowned in confusion. They’d sent a search party when all this time he’d just been sleeping in a chair right in front of the cabin? If the situation were different, he would have laughed.
“Yes, he’s been here the whole time,” Marc said, gesturing to the chair with a sigh, “sleeping.” Jenn furrowed her brow and looked at Chaim, who wanted nothing more than to just disappear at that moment. The Stargazers with her looked annoyed. Jenn shook her head a little and turned to the students with her. “Come on guys, let’s get some breakfast started…” They all went back into the cabin, leaving Chaim alone with Marc, who crouched in front of Chaim, still sitting wrapped in his blanket in the chair.
“Would you mind telling me why you decided to sleep out here instead of in your bed?” he said, much of his annoyance giving way to concern for the boy.
“It’s not my bed,” Chaim retorted mutinously. Marc sighed tiredly.
“Don’t change the subject,” he said, “why aren’t you sleeping with everyone else?” Chaim laughed a little, deliberately misunderstanding him. After the little rest he’d had he was regaining some of his sarcastic indifference.
“Do you realize how sick that just sounded?” he laughed, sitting up and grinning a little. Marc gave him a ‘you can’t be serious’ look and stood, watching Chaim stand also.
“You understand I’ll be talking with Peter about this,” he said, more a statement than a question. He was required to report anything to do with Mike and Chaim to Peter when they returned, he was just reminding the boy. Just because his counselor wasn’t there, doesn’t mean he wouldn’t find out. Chaim shrugged and began folding up his blanket, as if he couldn’t care less. He felt surprisingly refreshed for someone who’d just spent the night sleeping in a hard wooden chair.
“Whatever,” he said to Marc, but deep down he worried about what Peter would hear from this guy. He didn’t know how it had happened, but for some reason part of him looked up to Peter. He cared about what he though of him, whereas he was apathetic of even his parents’ opinion of him. He didn’t want Peter to get a bad report about him; it was the first time he’d really cared one way or another what anyone thought of him. He sighed a little and looked apologetically at Marc. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to worry or anything.” He hugged the folded blanket to him and looked down a little. “I just needed to get out.” Marc seemed to accept the explanation and nodded slightly, gesturing for Chaim to follow him into the cabin.
“I’m still going to have to talk to Peter about this,” he said, opening the door for the boy. Chaim nodded, accepting that there was no way out of that. Inside, most of the Stargazers gave him dirty looks as he passed, as they’d all been woken up early by their frantic counselors and enlisted to help search for him. The news that he’d been there the whole time only fueled their resentment towards him. If he’d been in danger somewhere, being eaten by a bear or something, they may have forgiven him. The only friendly face in the whole crowd belonged to Mike.
“You’re alright!” he said happily, falling in step beside his friend. His only friend, it seemed.
“Hey, Mike,” he smiled a little. He could get used to having a friend, he thought to himself. Even better was a friend who didn’t expect anything from him. Once more or less away from the others, Mike pulled him aside for a minute.
“Why did you leave?” he whispered, “your nightmares bothering you again?” Chaim looked around them nervously and then back at Mike and nodded.
“Yeah,” he whispered back, “I didn’t want to wake anyone with them,” he said truthfully. “But when I was out there…I actually slept,” he said with a little smile. Mike smiled.
“That’s good,” he said happily, “maybe whatever was causing them is getting better.” Chaim watched him for a second, marveling at how innocently that statement had been given. He knew nothing about Jace, but he was right. Their talk the night before must have been what helped end his nightmares. At least for now, he thought to himself.
Chaim didn’t talk to Jace again, or any other Stargazer for that matter, for the whole trip back to campus. They took a different, longer route to get back, and that meant Chaim didn’t have to worry about crossing the river again. Even so, if they had he thought he could have done it on his own - something about either his conversation with Jace, or his now virtually undisturbed sleep had settled him. He felt different, in a good way.
Two weeks after they’d set out, they made it back to campus. It was mid-afternoon on a Monday, and most of the students were in classes. The kids all unpacked their hiking gear and then went off to crash in their cabins, or see friends they’d missed while they were away. Chaim and Mike were heading off to their cabin when, halfway there, Peter caught up with them.
“Hey guys, how’d it go?” he asked, falling in step between them as they walked towards the boys’ cabins. Both of them sort of shrugged and gave him non-committal answers. Peter chuckled. “That’s the spirit,” he said sarcastically, clapping them both on the back. He walked them up to their cabin and then turned to Mike. “You go on, take Chaim’s things with you. I need to talk with him for a minute.” Mike frowned a little and gave Chaim a look that was clearly asking permission. Chaim, although unsure himself, slipped his pack off his shoulder and handed it to him with a nod, looking expectantly at Peter. The counselor smiled down at him and jerked his head towards the Main Lodge.
“Come on,” he said, “let’s talk in my office.”
Chaim followed him, feeling nervous and scared. Had he talked to Marc already? They’d just gotten back, surely they wouldn’t have had time…unless they’d been somehow communicating back and forth for the past two weeks? He knew Marc had a radio with him for emergencies, maybe he had been calling him on it? Oh G-d, did they know about him and Jace? He felt sick…
Peter opened the door to his office and ushered Chaim inside, motioning for him to sit on the couch. Like before, Peter pulled his chair over to sit in front of him. This time Chaim was struck by how warm and comfortable the office felt - when he’d been here with Mike two weeks ago, he’d been too preoccupied to notice. It was more of a study in the way it was set up; the type of room that compelled one to instantly relax and feel safe. Naturally, Chaim’s guard went up immediately.
“So, how’d it go?” Peter asked in a friendly tone. Chaim watched him for a second, trying to judge if it was a trick - he could already know all about what had happened. He could be testing him.
Then again, he could just be interested…
“Alright,” he said carefully, trying not to let on how nervous he was. Peter nodded a little and crossed his arms comfortably.
“That’s good,” he said, as if that was all he needed to hear. “Usually new kids have trouble with the crossing,” he commented off-handedly. Ahh, so he didn’t know about it yet. Chaim relaxed considerably. “Well, we’ll talk more about that tomorrow - I’ve scheduled a meeting with you and Mike to discuss the hike.” If he noticed the change in his student, he didn’t let on. He sighed a little and looked at the boy for a moment before dropping the other shoe.
“Saydie’s back from the hospital,” he said evenly. Chaim was so startled by the completely unexpected news that he forgot to speak. “She was released last week while you were away, and just got back yesterday from the Safe House.”
“Safe House?” Chaim frowned at this.
“It’s an undisclosed location, here on the grounds, where students who have suffered a severe trauma go for an extended observation period,” Peter explained patiently. Chaim nodded at his answer, but didn’t really understand. As if picking this up, Peter continued.
“Sometimes, even though we try to avoid it here as much as possible, things happen with the students that are beyond our control. Attempted suicides, severe or repeated rule breaking and other traumas will land a student in the Safe House. It’s more for their protection than a punishment, and it’s meant to be a sort of ‘cool down’ period. It’s a place where the student receives round the clock personal attention from a counselor so they can work through what had happened, and they stay until the counselor is satisfied that they are no longer a danger to themselves or others.” Chaim listened quietly to what he was saying, applying all this to Saydie. He found himself wondering what she’d been doing while she was there. Was it just one long counseling session? Just the thought of spending all that time being picked apart by a shrink was enough to make anyone suicidal, he mused.
“So…she’s okay?” he asked finally. “Can I see her?” Peter frowned a little in thought, leaning forward slightly in his chair.
“I don’t think that would be best for her right now,” he said softly. “Chaim, I know you care about her, and that’s a good thing of course, but I think she may need a bit more time before you see each other again. I wanted to tell you how she was doing though, I know how worried you’ve been.” Chaim’s frown deepened the longer Peter spoke. Of course, he was right. He’d accepted a long time ago that he was her trigger, or one of them anyway. He’d made her cut, and they couldn’t risk them meeting again too soon. It made him sad.
“I understand,” was all he said, but his voice sounded broken, hollow. Peter nodded sympathetically, having the audacity to appear to know what he was feeling at that moment. He’d just gotten his hopes up and then crushed them just as quickly, the cruelty of a baker allowing their dough to rise only to punch it back down. Before he realized it, Peter was out of his seat and over at his desk.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, sitting back down, now with a small white letter in his hand. He gave it to Chaim. “This came for you yesterday.” Chaim took it and quickly read the return address before stuffing it roughly into his pocket and standing to leave, to Peter’s surprise.
Dr. and Mrs. Shmuel Mendel
8 Valewood ct.
Toronto, Ontario
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Peter asked curiously. Chaim shrugged, as if he couldn’t care less.
“Maybe,” he said, turning to leave the office.
Two days went by and the letter went unread. He’d stuffed it in his desk drawer as soon as he’d gotten back to his cabin and there it stayed, presumably forever. He didn’t want to read about how perfect their lives were, or how he should be just like all the other boys, or how he’d embarrassed their family. He didn’t need that right now, not when he already felt like a failure. All he had to do was look at his father’s sure handwriting on the envelope, addressing it to Mount Horizon High School ‘in care of’ Chaim Mendel, as if it wasn’t really for him at all, to break down.
He hadn’t gone to classes that day. He was even supposed to talk to Rabbi Kirsh about his studies that afternoon, but he’d asked Scott to tell all his teachers he wasn’t feeling well. Around noon, some counselor he didn’t know came to check on him.
“Are you alright, hon?”
“I want to be alone.”
“Did you want to talk to someone…?”
“No, I just want to be left alone.”
He felt a little bad for her - it wasn’t her fault, she was just doing her job. She didn’t really deserve his anger. She left him alone after that though, satisfied that he wasn’t dying or anything.
Late in the afternoon he went for a walk by the lake. Classes were finished and he wanted to be out of the cabin before any of the others got back. They’d want to talk to him, ask if he was okay. He wasn’t in the mood for people at all, even if they were pseudo-friends.
He found a rock on a small overhang looking out across the water that was large enough to sit cross-legged on. He perched himself on it and looked out at the water, trying to keep his mind blank. After a little over an hour, the sun was starting to go down and he heard footsteps behind him. He kept his eyes closed, but had the unmistakable feeling of being watched. For some strange reason that, even years later he’d never be able to explain, he knew who it was.
“Go ahead,” he said softly, “push me in if you want.” It was a fair drop to the water below and, while the fall wouldn’t kill him, it would definitely hurt.
“I don’t wanna push you in,” Saydie replied in that same liltingly innocent voice of hers that had sunk him the last time. Oh, how he’d missed it. She walked over to sit in the grass beside him, hugging her knees to her, but he didn’t look at her. He didn’t even deserve that much. He saw the white bandages on her wrists out of the corner of his eye though, and felt a stab of pain in his heart.
“I deserve it,” he said numbly, “for what I did to you…”
“You didn’t do anything to me,” she protested, “I reopened them myself. You didn’t do anything.” She got up onto her knees now, looking up at him even though he still wouldn’t let himself look at her. He took a shaky breath, tears stinging his eyes, but he held them back.
“It was my fault,” he said, the sound of his own mournful voice making the tears form faster, “I made you…if I hadn’t…you would never have…” Saydie bit her lip a little and lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him in a comforting hug. Surprised, Chaim slowly, cautiously, hugged her back.
“You didn’t to anything wrong,” she soothed, rocking him slightly. Her sweetness overcame him and he finally cried, holding onto her tighter. She stroked his hair and spoke softly. “I just freaked out,” she explained, “I thought…I didn’t want anyone to know about my past. I didn’t want you to know. I’m sorry I scared you like that.”
“You can’t mean that,” Chaim whispered to her, wishing desperately that it was true. “I destroy everything I touch…” more tears came unbidden at the admission. ‘I’m dirty,’ he thought, but didn’t say. Saydie pulled back and looked into his eyes, wiping away his tears with her thumbs and smiling a little.
“So do I,” she said, “that makes us quite a pair, right?” She smiled a little more, cocking her head in that innocent cat-like expression he loved so much. “I think we’ll be just fine,” she said, “maybe two people who destroy everything can’t destroy each other?” Chaim didn’t know what to say, so he just looked at her, really looked at her for the first time in weeks. He noticed that yes, her hair was dyed, as the roots were starting to grow out a rich chestnut. The dye in his own hair had long since washed out. He was so absorbed in looking at her that he didn’t realize she had kissed him until she pulled away from him again. Then she was saying something in that other language he’d heard before, and it sounded beautiful, even though he didn’t understand it. All he could think about was the tingling on his lips, like they’d been shocked with electricity. She smiled and translated her words for him.
“My treasure,” she cooed, stroking his cheek with her hand, “to love you could mean disaster, but I can take that chance.” She kissed him again, and this time he was ready for it and kissed her back. She blushed a little and looked down at their now joined hands. “I’m sorry, I speak in a funny language sometimes.” He smiled at this, yet another thing they had in common.
“So do I,” he told her, amazed that he could speak at all after that kiss. “When I pray I do, only I - ” He paused, unsure if he should be telling her this. “I haven’t prayed in a long time,” he said sadly. “G-d and I aren’t speaking anymore. He doesn’t like what I do.” He averted his eyes again, and so didn’t see her sympathetic frown.
“That doesn’t mean He’s not listening,” she said softly. He looked up; he hadn’t expected that. “From what I understand, he’d supposed to be forgiving, right?” she asked. He fought the knee-jerk reaction of immediate agreement. He knew she was right, in his head, but his heart felt differently. How could he ever be forgiven? G-d was the only one besides himself who knew about everything he’d done while he was out there, and he hated himself for it. What must G-d think of him? He was beyond saving.
“He didn’t seem so forgiving when I was alone on the streets,” he heard himself say quietly. The tone of his own voice made him sad. Saydie hugged him close to her again.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to pray if you don’t want to,” she said softly, leaning her head on his shoulder and rocking them slightly. “I’m not even religious,” she admitted, “but I know that there’s something there, and that something is good.” He sighed a little, feeling almost happy. He still had an empty space inside. She filled part of it, and it was why he was happy now, but it was still there. After a while he pulled gently away from her, taking her hands and looking in her eyes; they looked like diamonds to him in the dying light.
“Can I call you ‘Sam’?” he asked of her given name. “No one else, just me.” He knew she didn’t like it, but not why. She scrunched up her face a little, but nodded.
“Call me ‘Sami,” she said. “My parents call me Sam.” The way she’d said it, he got the feeling that she was on bad terms with her parents, and he wondered why. Now that he thought of it, he knew very little about her, and she of him. “What’s your full name?” she asked him with a little smile.
“Chaim Yitzach Mendel,” he said, as if reciting something from memory. He laughed a little, but when he looked at her she was smiling thoughtfully. He smiled back. “’Yitzach’ was the son of Abraham and Sarah. They thought they would never have children, and until I was born, so did my parents.” He’d been told that story every year on his birthday, how he was really their gift, and how blessed they were to have a son. On his last birthday ten months ago, he’d tried to kill himself. “’Chaim’ means ‘life’,” he said, still thinking about his last birthday. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He looked down at their hands. “It’s a lot to live up to.” There was a long thoughtful silence between them.
“It’s a good name,” she said, and he saw on her face that she really meant it. Without any warning she leaned over and hugged him again, and it was only after she’d done it that he realized how much he’d needed it. He hugged her back, and then as natural as breathing, he lifted her face to his and kissed her. The same warm, tingly sensation came back, but after not even a minute, tears were sliding down her cheeks. He pulled back, scared and upset with himself.
“No,” he whispered, wiping them away, as if that would erase them from ever having been. “No more…I want to make you happy…” Surprising him, Saydie smiled through her tears.
“I am happy,” she told him, touching his face like she had in his dream. The déjà vu was disorienting. “You don’t want me for the reasons everyone else did. I’ve never felt this before.” Her fingers caressed his face, as if trying to memorize it by touch. He smiled, but it was a sad smile.
“I’ve never…” ‘I’ve never really loved anyone before,’ he almost said. “I’ve never felt this before either,” he said instead. Saydie smiled and hugged him again, burying her face in his neck.
“I want to know about you,” she said, “everything - the good and the bad. I want to know.” Chaim sighed and wrapped his arms around her tighter, slowly getting used to how it felt to hold someone you loved. He shook his head a little.
“Not the bad,” he said softly, “I don’t even want to know the bad I’ve done.” He thought of Jace, of Todd. He closed his eyes and leant his head on top of hers. She was quiet, letting him decide whether to talk to her about his past or not. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. If he couldn’t tell her, who could he tell?
“I left home when I was fourteen,” he began. He didn’t know how much he would tell her - he would just talk and see where it got him. “I had taken money from my parents before I left - a couple thousand, I think. It lasted a few weeks, but by the time I ran out I was already an addict.” He paused, memories flooding back too fast. He could even remember what it felt like to be that hungry, that shaky. His arms tightened a little around her and she snuggled closer, reminding him that he was here now, that he was safe. It was the only way he could say what came next.
“This guy…he said he could take care of me. The withdrawal was pretty bad, and I didn’t even know what I was agreeing too at the time. He…” Chaim’s voice cracked as tears slipped down his face. Saydie wriggled out of his arms and put her hands on his face, looking sympathetically into his eyes.
“I know,” she whispered. “I know what that’s like.” Tears were falling from her eyes too, but she was more concerned for him. She wiped his tears away with the back of her bandaged hand, but was startled when he suddenly took her firmly by the arms with a determination that scared her.
“Sami, I will never, never make you do anything,” he promised. He held her eyes with his until she nodded slowly, showing that she understood exactly what he’d meant. He hugged her again, rocking her slowly. “Sex isn’t love,” he whispered. He’d never shared his mantra with anyone before, but it felt right to tell her. He knew she would understand. She nodded against him and held onto him tighter, her tears soaking into his shirt.
“You should just go,” she cried softly. He looked down at her in confusion. “Just leave me, I’m no good for you.” He held her tighter and shook his head.
“I won’t,” he said firmly, “I will never leave you, I just found you again.” The words slipped out before he even realized what he was thinking. Could it all be true…?
“Again?” Saydie looked up, wiping her eyes on her bandages. He cupped her face with one hand, lightly rubbing her cheek with his thumb and wondering if all the old stories were really true. He’d thought it a fairy tale, or something lovers made up to explain how they got together. But…it just felt so right to be here with her, how could it not be true?
“You’re a part of me,” he said, the admission as profound to him as it was to her, as if somehow saying it out loud made it true. “You…complete me,” he told her. He’d heard that somewhere before, some other love struck guy trying to explain himself to the one who made him a whole person. He smiled a little, realizing that he was really going to say it. “There’s this…belief that I was taught, that before we’re born every soul is split in half, so that the rest of our lives we’re searching for the other half of ourselves.” There. He’d said it. Let her laugh if she wanted.
Only she didn’t.
“My dad told me,” her voice shook slightly as she spoke, “that we were two-headed four-legged creatures before love existed.” She smiled a little at the image, and looked down at their joined hands. “The gods got scared of us and so they split us in half, leaving us lonely two-legged creatures with a scar to remind us of what we’d once had,” she touched her own navel when she said this. “And when we finally find our other half, we try to stick ourselves back together by making love.” As she spoke, an old lesson came to Chaim’s mind. He didn’t know where it had come from, whether he’d actually read it or someone had told him, but he’d always believed it.
“They say,” he spoke softly, wiping away more of her tears, “that when Adam was created he was both male and female. He became lonely when he saw that all the animals had a mate, and so G-d split him in half, making Eve.” He couldn’t believe how all this old knowledge was coming back to him so quickly - he’d thought he’d lost his faith. She sat up and looked at him and he blushed a little, but in her eyes he didn’t see laughter or mocking, he saw love.
“We are the same,” she said, in that same innocent voice that never failed to melt his heart. He kissed her again, but it was not like any other kiss. This was soft and warm and giving. For once in his life, he was giving and not taking. It felt wonderful.
The kiss seemed to last forever, and soon Saydie’s hands began slowly trying to remove his shirt. He broke the kiss when he finally realized what she was doing, a sudden revelation making him shake his head.
“No,” he whispered. She looked up at him with sad eyes, wondering why he didn’t want to. “No, I can’t,” he said softly, caressing her face with his hand, “I love you too much.” He’d only ever had sex with people he didn’t love, and he didn’t want her to be one of them. She sighed and closed her eyes, tears flowing down her cheeks again like small rivers. It wasn’t sadness that made her cry, he realized with a touch of fear, it was relief. For that brief shining moment, he felt like the responsible teenager he was supposed to be.
Saydie leaned against him, hugging him tightly around his waist and sobbing as he stroked her back. Finally, she choked out a few words, and they hurt him deeply, but at the same time made his love for her grow that much more. “No one…has ever…loved me…the way you do.” He knew then, without her ever having to tell him, that she didn’t just mean men, but her parents as well. A sudden and brief flash of emotion hit him, making him feel grateful for his own parents. He hugged her tightly and leant his head on hers, thinking guiltily of the letter still stuffed in his bedside table.
“I never want you to be afraid of me,” he said softly, kissing her forehead. “I will never hurt you, I promise.” She held him tighter and nodded.
In that moment, she was his.
Forever, she was his.
‘As in water the face reflects the face, so does the heart of man to man.’ Mishlei 27:19
“Chaim…”
His face was cold, his toes were numb, and someone was nudging him.
“Chaim…”
He slit his eyes open with a groan and stretched slightly, seeing Marc staring back at him. The sun was up, but it was still the cool early morning sun of six or seven a.m. Chaim opened his eyes wider, his brain slowly realizing that he may be in trouble for being out here. He groaned and stretched again to cover up his nervousness.
“What time is it?” he asked, as if it were perfectly normal to be woken by your counselor after spending the night in a deck chair. Marc didn’t seem too impressed by this.
“You know you had us all out looking for you?” he said a little harshly. Chaim sat up a little, more surprised that he’d actually slept than worried about punishment. “What were you thinking?” Marc went on, “you could have been hurt, or worse!” Just then Jenn came running up from behind them.
“You found him?” she asked breathlessly. A few Stargazers were with her and Chaim frowned in confusion. They’d sent a search party when all this time he’d just been sleeping in a chair right in front of the cabin? If the situation were different, he would have laughed.
“Yes, he’s been here the whole time,” Marc said, gesturing to the chair with a sigh, “sleeping.” Jenn furrowed her brow and looked at Chaim, who wanted nothing more than to just disappear at that moment. The Stargazers with her looked annoyed. Jenn shook her head a little and turned to the students with her. “Come on guys, let’s get some breakfast started…” They all went back into the cabin, leaving Chaim alone with Marc, who crouched in front of Chaim, still sitting wrapped in his blanket in the chair.
“Would you mind telling me why you decided to sleep out here instead of in your bed?” he said, much of his annoyance giving way to concern for the boy.
“It’s not my bed,” Chaim retorted mutinously. Marc sighed tiredly.
“Don’t change the subject,” he said, “why aren’t you sleeping with everyone else?” Chaim laughed a little, deliberately misunderstanding him. After the little rest he’d had he was regaining some of his sarcastic indifference.
“Do you realize how sick that just sounded?” he laughed, sitting up and grinning a little. Marc gave him a ‘you can’t be serious’ look and stood, watching Chaim stand also.
“You understand I’ll be talking with Peter about this,” he said, more a statement than a question. He was required to report anything to do with Mike and Chaim to Peter when they returned, he was just reminding the boy. Just because his counselor wasn’t there, doesn’t mean he wouldn’t find out. Chaim shrugged and began folding up his blanket, as if he couldn’t care less. He felt surprisingly refreshed for someone who’d just spent the night sleeping in a hard wooden chair.
“Whatever,” he said to Marc, but deep down he worried about what Peter would hear from this guy. He didn’t know how it had happened, but for some reason part of him looked up to Peter. He cared about what he though of him, whereas he was apathetic of even his parents’ opinion of him. He didn’t want Peter to get a bad report about him; it was the first time he’d really cared one way or another what anyone thought of him. He sighed a little and looked apologetically at Marc. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to worry or anything.” He hugged the folded blanket to him and looked down a little. “I just needed to get out.” Marc seemed to accept the explanation and nodded slightly, gesturing for Chaim to follow him into the cabin.
“I’m still going to have to talk to Peter about this,” he said, opening the door for the boy. Chaim nodded, accepting that there was no way out of that. Inside, most of the Stargazers gave him dirty looks as he passed, as they’d all been woken up early by their frantic counselors and enlisted to help search for him. The news that he’d been there the whole time only fueled their resentment towards him. If he’d been in danger somewhere, being eaten by a bear or something, they may have forgiven him. The only friendly face in the whole crowd belonged to Mike.
“You’re alright!” he said happily, falling in step beside his friend. His only friend, it seemed.
“Hey, Mike,” he smiled a little. He could get used to having a friend, he thought to himself. Even better was a friend who didn’t expect anything from him. Once more or less away from the others, Mike pulled him aside for a minute.
“Why did you leave?” he whispered, “your nightmares bothering you again?” Chaim looked around them nervously and then back at Mike and nodded.
“Yeah,” he whispered back, “I didn’t want to wake anyone with them,” he said truthfully. “But when I was out there…I actually slept,” he said with a little smile. Mike smiled.
“That’s good,” he said happily, “maybe whatever was causing them is getting better.” Chaim watched him for a second, marveling at how innocently that statement had been given. He knew nothing about Jace, but he was right. Their talk the night before must have been what helped end his nightmares. At least for now, he thought to himself.
Chaim didn’t talk to Jace again, or any other Stargazer for that matter, for the whole trip back to campus. They took a different, longer route to get back, and that meant Chaim didn’t have to worry about crossing the river again. Even so, if they had he thought he could have done it on his own - something about either his conversation with Jace, or his now virtually undisturbed sleep had settled him. He felt different, in a good way.
Two weeks after they’d set out, they made it back to campus. It was mid-afternoon on a Monday, and most of the students were in classes. The kids all unpacked their hiking gear and then went off to crash in their cabins, or see friends they’d missed while they were away. Chaim and Mike were heading off to their cabin when, halfway there, Peter caught up with them.
“Hey guys, how’d it go?” he asked, falling in step between them as they walked towards the boys’ cabins. Both of them sort of shrugged and gave him non-committal answers. Peter chuckled. “That’s the spirit,” he said sarcastically, clapping them both on the back. He walked them up to their cabin and then turned to Mike. “You go on, take Chaim’s things with you. I need to talk with him for a minute.” Mike frowned a little and gave Chaim a look that was clearly asking permission. Chaim, although unsure himself, slipped his pack off his shoulder and handed it to him with a nod, looking expectantly at Peter. The counselor smiled down at him and jerked his head towards the Main Lodge.
“Come on,” he said, “let’s talk in my office.”
Chaim followed him, feeling nervous and scared. Had he talked to Marc already? They’d just gotten back, surely they wouldn’t have had time…unless they’d been somehow communicating back and forth for the past two weeks? He knew Marc had a radio with him for emergencies, maybe he had been calling him on it? Oh G-d, did they know about him and Jace? He felt sick…
Peter opened the door to his office and ushered Chaim inside, motioning for him to sit on the couch. Like before, Peter pulled his chair over to sit in front of him. This time Chaim was struck by how warm and comfortable the office felt - when he’d been here with Mike two weeks ago, he’d been too preoccupied to notice. It was more of a study in the way it was set up; the type of room that compelled one to instantly relax and feel safe. Naturally, Chaim’s guard went up immediately.
“So, how’d it go?” Peter asked in a friendly tone. Chaim watched him for a second, trying to judge if it was a trick - he could already know all about what had happened. He could be testing him.
Then again, he could just be interested…
“Alright,” he said carefully, trying not to let on how nervous he was. Peter nodded a little and crossed his arms comfortably.
“That’s good,” he said, as if that was all he needed to hear. “Usually new kids have trouble with the crossing,” he commented off-handedly. Ahh, so he didn’t know about it yet. Chaim relaxed considerably. “Well, we’ll talk more about that tomorrow - I’ve scheduled a meeting with you and Mike to discuss the hike.” If he noticed the change in his student, he didn’t let on. He sighed a little and looked at the boy for a moment before dropping the other shoe.
“Saydie’s back from the hospital,” he said evenly. Chaim was so startled by the completely unexpected news that he forgot to speak. “She was released last week while you were away, and just got back yesterday from the Safe House.”
“Safe House?” Chaim frowned at this.
“It’s an undisclosed location, here on the grounds, where students who have suffered a severe trauma go for an extended observation period,” Peter explained patiently. Chaim nodded at his answer, but didn’t really understand. As if picking this up, Peter continued.
“Sometimes, even though we try to avoid it here as much as possible, things happen with the students that are beyond our control. Attempted suicides, severe or repeated rule breaking and other traumas will land a student in the Safe House. It’s more for their protection than a punishment, and it’s meant to be a sort of ‘cool down’ period. It’s a place where the student receives round the clock personal attention from a counselor so they can work through what had happened, and they stay until the counselor is satisfied that they are no longer a danger to themselves or others.” Chaim listened quietly to what he was saying, applying all this to Saydie. He found himself wondering what she’d been doing while she was there. Was it just one long counseling session? Just the thought of spending all that time being picked apart by a shrink was enough to make anyone suicidal, he mused.
“So…she’s okay?” he asked finally. “Can I see her?” Peter frowned a little in thought, leaning forward slightly in his chair.
“I don’t think that would be best for her right now,” he said softly. “Chaim, I know you care about her, and that’s a good thing of course, but I think she may need a bit more time before you see each other again. I wanted to tell you how she was doing though, I know how worried you’ve been.” Chaim’s frown deepened the longer Peter spoke. Of course, he was right. He’d accepted a long time ago that he was her trigger, or one of them anyway. He’d made her cut, and they couldn’t risk them meeting again too soon. It made him sad.
“I understand,” was all he said, but his voice sounded broken, hollow. Peter nodded sympathetically, having the audacity to appear to know what he was feeling at that moment. He’d just gotten his hopes up and then crushed them just as quickly, the cruelty of a baker allowing their dough to rise only to punch it back down. Before he realized it, Peter was out of his seat and over at his desk.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, sitting back down, now with a small white letter in his hand. He gave it to Chaim. “This came for you yesterday.” Chaim took it and quickly read the return address before stuffing it roughly into his pocket and standing to leave, to Peter’s surprise.
Dr. and Mrs. Shmuel Mendel
8 Valewood ct.
Toronto, Ontario
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Peter asked curiously. Chaim shrugged, as if he couldn’t care less.
“Maybe,” he said, turning to leave the office.
Two days went by and the letter went unread. He’d stuffed it in his desk drawer as soon as he’d gotten back to his cabin and there it stayed, presumably forever. He didn’t want to read about how perfect their lives were, or how he should be just like all the other boys, or how he’d embarrassed their family. He didn’t need that right now, not when he already felt like a failure. All he had to do was look at his father’s sure handwriting on the envelope, addressing it to Mount Horizon High School ‘in care of’ Chaim Mendel, as if it wasn’t really for him at all, to break down.
He hadn’t gone to classes that day. He was even supposed to talk to Rabbi Kirsh about his studies that afternoon, but he’d asked Scott to tell all his teachers he wasn’t feeling well. Around noon, some counselor he didn’t know came to check on him.
“Are you alright, hon?”
“I want to be alone.”
“Did you want to talk to someone…?”
“No, I just want to be left alone.”
He felt a little bad for her - it wasn’t her fault, she was just doing her job. She didn’t really deserve his anger. She left him alone after that though, satisfied that he wasn’t dying or anything.
Late in the afternoon he went for a walk by the lake. Classes were finished and he wanted to be out of the cabin before any of the others got back. They’d want to talk to him, ask if he was okay. He wasn’t in the mood for people at all, even if they were pseudo-friends.
He found a rock on a small overhang looking out across the water that was large enough to sit cross-legged on. He perched himself on it and looked out at the water, trying to keep his mind blank. After a little over an hour, the sun was starting to go down and he heard footsteps behind him. He kept his eyes closed, but had the unmistakable feeling of being watched. For some strange reason that, even years later he’d never be able to explain, he knew who it was.
“Go ahead,” he said softly, “push me in if you want.” It was a fair drop to the water below and, while the fall wouldn’t kill him, it would definitely hurt.
“I don’t wanna push you in,” Saydie replied in that same liltingly innocent voice of hers that had sunk him the last time. Oh, how he’d missed it. She walked over to sit in the grass beside him, hugging her knees to her, but he didn’t look at her. He didn’t even deserve that much. He saw the white bandages on her wrists out of the corner of his eye though, and felt a stab of pain in his heart.
“I deserve it,” he said numbly, “for what I did to you…”
“You didn’t do anything to me,” she protested, “I reopened them myself. You didn’t do anything.” She got up onto her knees now, looking up at him even though he still wouldn’t let himself look at her. He took a shaky breath, tears stinging his eyes, but he held them back.
“It was my fault,” he said, the sound of his own mournful voice making the tears form faster, “I made you…if I hadn’t…you would never have…” Saydie bit her lip a little and lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him in a comforting hug. Surprised, Chaim slowly, cautiously, hugged her back.
“You didn’t to anything wrong,” she soothed, rocking him slightly. Her sweetness overcame him and he finally cried, holding onto her tighter. She stroked his hair and spoke softly. “I just freaked out,” she explained, “I thought…I didn’t want anyone to know about my past. I didn’t want you to know. I’m sorry I scared you like that.”
“You can’t mean that,” Chaim whispered to her, wishing desperately that it was true. “I destroy everything I touch…” more tears came unbidden at the admission. ‘I’m dirty,’ he thought, but didn’t say. Saydie pulled back and looked into his eyes, wiping away his tears with her thumbs and smiling a little.
“So do I,” she said, “that makes us quite a pair, right?” She smiled a little more, cocking her head in that innocent cat-like expression he loved so much. “I think we’ll be just fine,” she said, “maybe two people who destroy everything can’t destroy each other?” Chaim didn’t know what to say, so he just looked at her, really looked at her for the first time in weeks. He noticed that yes, her hair was dyed, as the roots were starting to grow out a rich chestnut. The dye in his own hair had long since washed out. He was so absorbed in looking at her that he didn’t realize she had kissed him until she pulled away from him again. Then she was saying something in that other language he’d heard before, and it sounded beautiful, even though he didn’t understand it. All he could think about was the tingling on his lips, like they’d been shocked with electricity. She smiled and translated her words for him.
“My treasure,” she cooed, stroking his cheek with her hand, “to love you could mean disaster, but I can take that chance.” She kissed him again, and this time he was ready for it and kissed her back. She blushed a little and looked down at their now joined hands. “I’m sorry, I speak in a funny language sometimes.” He smiled at this, yet another thing they had in common.
“So do I,” he told her, amazed that he could speak at all after that kiss. “When I pray I do, only I - ” He paused, unsure if he should be telling her this. “I haven’t prayed in a long time,” he said sadly. “G-d and I aren’t speaking anymore. He doesn’t like what I do.” He averted his eyes again, and so didn’t see her sympathetic frown.
“That doesn’t mean He’s not listening,” she said softly. He looked up; he hadn’t expected that. “From what I understand, he’d supposed to be forgiving, right?” she asked. He fought the knee-jerk reaction of immediate agreement. He knew she was right, in his head, but his heart felt differently. How could he ever be forgiven? G-d was the only one besides himself who knew about everything he’d done while he was out there, and he hated himself for it. What must G-d think of him? He was beyond saving.
“He didn’t seem so forgiving when I was alone on the streets,” he heard himself say quietly. The tone of his own voice made him sad. Saydie hugged him close to her again.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to pray if you don’t want to,” she said softly, leaning her head on his shoulder and rocking them slightly. “I’m not even religious,” she admitted, “but I know that there’s something there, and that something is good.” He sighed a little, feeling almost happy. He still had an empty space inside. She filled part of it, and it was why he was happy now, but it was still there. After a while he pulled gently away from her, taking her hands and looking in her eyes; they looked like diamonds to him in the dying light.
“Can I call you ‘Sam’?” he asked of her given name. “No one else, just me.” He knew she didn’t like it, but not why. She scrunched up her face a little, but nodded.
“Call me ‘Sami,” she said. “My parents call me Sam.” The way she’d said it, he got the feeling that she was on bad terms with her parents, and he wondered why. Now that he thought of it, he knew very little about her, and she of him. “What’s your full name?” she asked him with a little smile.
“Chaim Yitzach Mendel,” he said, as if reciting something from memory. He laughed a little, but when he looked at her she was smiling thoughtfully. He smiled back. “’Yitzach’ was the son of Abraham and Sarah. They thought they would never have children, and until I was born, so did my parents.” He’d been told that story every year on his birthday, how he was really their gift, and how blessed they were to have a son. On his last birthday ten months ago, he’d tried to kill himself. “’Chaim’ means ‘life’,” he said, still thinking about his last birthday. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He looked down at their hands. “It’s a lot to live up to.” There was a long thoughtful silence between them.
“It’s a good name,” she said, and he saw on her face that she really meant it. Without any warning she leaned over and hugged him again, and it was only after she’d done it that he realized how much he’d needed it. He hugged her back, and then as natural as breathing, he lifted her face to his and kissed her. The same warm, tingly sensation came back, but after not even a minute, tears were sliding down her cheeks. He pulled back, scared and upset with himself.
“No,” he whispered, wiping them away, as if that would erase them from ever having been. “No more…I want to make you happy…” Surprising him, Saydie smiled through her tears.
“I am happy,” she told him, touching his face like she had in his dream. The déjà vu was disorienting. “You don’t want me for the reasons everyone else did. I’ve never felt this before.” Her fingers caressed his face, as if trying to memorize it by touch. He smiled, but it was a sad smile.
“I’ve never…” ‘I’ve never really loved anyone before,’ he almost said. “I’ve never felt this before either,” he said instead. Saydie smiled and hugged him again, burying her face in his neck.
“I want to know about you,” she said, “everything - the good and the bad. I want to know.” Chaim sighed and wrapped his arms around her tighter, slowly getting used to how it felt to hold someone you loved. He shook his head a little.
“Not the bad,” he said softly, “I don’t even want to know the bad I’ve done.” He thought of Jace, of Todd. He closed his eyes and leant his head on top of hers. She was quiet, letting him decide whether to talk to her about his past or not. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. If he couldn’t tell her, who could he tell?
“I left home when I was fourteen,” he began. He didn’t know how much he would tell her - he would just talk and see where it got him. “I had taken money from my parents before I left - a couple thousand, I think. It lasted a few weeks, but by the time I ran out I was already an addict.” He paused, memories flooding back too fast. He could even remember what it felt like to be that hungry, that shaky. His arms tightened a little around her and she snuggled closer, reminding him that he was here now, that he was safe. It was the only way he could say what came next.
“This guy…he said he could take care of me. The withdrawal was pretty bad, and I didn’t even know what I was agreeing too at the time. He…” Chaim’s voice cracked as tears slipped down his face. Saydie wriggled out of his arms and put her hands on his face, looking sympathetically into his eyes.
“I know,” she whispered. “I know what that’s like.” Tears were falling from her eyes too, but she was more concerned for him. She wiped his tears away with the back of her bandaged hand, but was startled when he suddenly took her firmly by the arms with a determination that scared her.
“Sami, I will never, never make you do anything,” he promised. He held her eyes with his until she nodded slowly, showing that she understood exactly what he’d meant. He hugged her again, rocking her slowly. “Sex isn’t love,” he whispered. He’d never shared his mantra with anyone before, but it felt right to tell her. He knew she would understand. She nodded against him and held onto him tighter, her tears soaking into his shirt.
“You should just go,” she cried softly. He looked down at her in confusion. “Just leave me, I’m no good for you.” He held her tighter and shook his head.
“I won’t,” he said firmly, “I will never leave you, I just found you again.” The words slipped out before he even realized what he was thinking. Could it all be true…?
“Again?” Saydie looked up, wiping her eyes on her bandages. He cupped her face with one hand, lightly rubbing her cheek with his thumb and wondering if all the old stories were really true. He’d thought it a fairy tale, or something lovers made up to explain how they got together. But…it just felt so right to be here with her, how could it not be true?
“You’re a part of me,” he said, the admission as profound to him as it was to her, as if somehow saying it out loud made it true. “You…complete me,” he told her. He’d heard that somewhere before, some other love struck guy trying to explain himself to the one who made him a whole person. He smiled a little, realizing that he was really going to say it. “There’s this…belief that I was taught, that before we’re born every soul is split in half, so that the rest of our lives we’re searching for the other half of ourselves.” There. He’d said it. Let her laugh if she wanted.
Only she didn’t.
“My dad told me,” her voice shook slightly as she spoke, “that we were two-headed four-legged creatures before love existed.” She smiled a little at the image, and looked down at their joined hands. “The gods got scared of us and so they split us in half, leaving us lonely two-legged creatures with a scar to remind us of what we’d once had,” she touched her own navel when she said this. “And when we finally find our other half, we try to stick ourselves back together by making love.” As she spoke, an old lesson came to Chaim’s mind. He didn’t know where it had come from, whether he’d actually read it or someone had told him, but he’d always believed it.
“They say,” he spoke softly, wiping away more of her tears, “that when Adam was created he was both male and female. He became lonely when he saw that all the animals had a mate, and so G-d split him in half, making Eve.” He couldn’t believe how all this old knowledge was coming back to him so quickly - he’d thought he’d lost his faith. She sat up and looked at him and he blushed a little, but in her eyes he didn’t see laughter or mocking, he saw love.
“We are the same,” she said, in that same innocent voice that never failed to melt his heart. He kissed her again, but it was not like any other kiss. This was soft and warm and giving. For once in his life, he was giving and not taking. It felt wonderful.
The kiss seemed to last forever, and soon Saydie’s hands began slowly trying to remove his shirt. He broke the kiss when he finally realized what she was doing, a sudden revelation making him shake his head.
“No,” he whispered. She looked up at him with sad eyes, wondering why he didn’t want to. “No, I can’t,” he said softly, caressing her face with his hand, “I love you too much.” He’d only ever had sex with people he didn’t love, and he didn’t want her to be one of them. She sighed and closed her eyes, tears flowing down her cheeks again like small rivers. It wasn’t sadness that made her cry, he realized with a touch of fear, it was relief. For that brief shining moment, he felt like the responsible teenager he was supposed to be.
Saydie leaned against him, hugging him tightly around his waist and sobbing as he stroked her back. Finally, she choked out a few words, and they hurt him deeply, but at the same time made his love for her grow that much more. “No one…has ever…loved me…the way you do.” He knew then, without her ever having to tell him, that she didn’t just mean men, but her parents as well. A sudden and brief flash of emotion hit him, making him feel grateful for his own parents. He hugged her tightly and leant his head on hers, thinking guiltily of the letter still stuffed in his bedside table.
“I never want you to be afraid of me,” he said softly, kissing her forehead. “I will never hurt you, I promise.” She held him tighter and nodded.
In that moment, she was his.
Forever, she was his.