Quonset

It was storming as in the fables of old: torrential rains capable of massive damage and flooding. He carried the girl through the raging tempest, unable to see more than a foot in front of himself, despite it being the middle of the day. With the dark foreboding clouds above swirling angrily, one would think it was the middle of the night. The wind swelled like a wave and hit the man full force making him stumble. The wet, loose ground gave way and he slid, the girl he was carrying laying against his chest, down a very large hill. He had no control of the situation as the pair of them barreled toward a heavy thicket of trees. The only thing he could do was protect her; he couldn’t back then, so he would be damn sure he could now! As the pair hurdled toward certain danger and high chances of injury - if not death - he used his body as a shield, making sure he took any impacts to come.

He cried out as he slammed into a tree, his back feeling the bark cut into it like burning knives. He took solace in the fact that he was hurt instead of her but despite that relief, her body crushing his ribs hurt significantly. Regardless he endured and stayed wrapped around her, determined to see her through this unharmed. They tumbled and bounded down the large wooded hill hitting several trees and bushes; the foliage proving to be quite damaging. He caught a large rock to the back of the head, and everything went dark.

When he awoke, he was extremely groggy and could not see. He thought that he must have been unconscious for quite awhile and that soon enough his eyes would adjust to the night. He waited patiently for several minutes not moving as he had a bad case of vertigo. While laying in the dark, he could tell several things about his environment. First, he was laying on someone's lap which meant that she was safe. He breathed a sigh of relief and that is when he felt that several of his ribs were broken. Second, he could hear rain on a tin roof but could not feel it on his body, so they were inside. She had managed to drag him and herself to shelter, and he felt useless. Third, it was cold and the wind, while partially blocked, still stung with it’s severe bite that cut through what little protection their soaked clothes offered.

A barn is what he concluded. An old tin barn that would serve to hide them for now; tired and injured, they would not be able to run anymore tonight anyway. Since he had stolen her away, she had yet to say anything to him. He fervently hoped this was still what she wanted. They had been childhood friends and that bond had blossomed into love. Unfortunately her father had been propositioned by a much wealthier suitor and saw advancement for the family. What her father did not know, or maybe didn’t care, was the way she was treated. The “proper” husband beat her, and being a doctor, kept her sedated and suggestable. It sickened him, so after six years of planning and saving enough money, he enacted the plan and stole her away. Now here they were, two whole states away, hiding in a barn, injured, and she suffering what must be horrible drug withdrawals. Not exactly the fairytale ending he’d hoped for.

He started breathing heavily, struggling with the pain, trying to sit up. After just a second, her hand was on his forehead gently pushing it down. He stopped trying to sit up and felt her pet his head in a comforting way. He was so very tired. After taking her away, the police had been chasing them with dogs, so he could not afford to sleep for two whole days. When she could not walk, he carried her. While he did, he could feel her shiver in the hot summer, sweating profusely, her body demanding more drugs as it had become accustomed. In her lap, he relaxed by merely her touch, and he slept deeply all through the night.

He awoke to a man yelling at them, “What are you doing here?”

He realized it must be the farmer who owns this barn. “Just two poor souls trying to escape the storm last night.” He attempted to sit up but flinched, unable to do so, and groaning with pain.

“I see you’re hurt; go ahead and stay down. We can properly meet later. I’ll go get my wife. She was a nurse in the war, so she’ll get y’all patched up.” He heard the farmer hobble off as he still could not see. He panicked a little about how he would protect her if he could not see, but a nurse should be able to help. She grabbed his hand, and he felt a few tears drop onto his face.

He hoped beyond hope that they were tears of happiness from seeing him and not from some negative emotion. By the time he found her for escape, she was nonverbal. Her detestable husband was only using her for her womb. Fortunately one of them was apparently not very fertile, and thus after six years of marriage, there were still no children. Unfortunately this sent the monster into a rage, and he would beat her because of it. Even if she hates me right now, it has to be better for her, he reassured himself.

The farmer and his wife helped the young couple for a week and were really a Godsend, letting them use the barn as a sanctuary. The young man had yet to recover his sight, and the girl was still nonverbal, but was slowly gaining more autonomy.

One day the farmer said after dinner, “That was delicious.” And without further ado, he continued, “Now how come you haven’t told us your names?”

“Simple: the people we were died; no one asks names of the dead. Now we had better get to the barn and get some rest,” he answered.

“Quonset.” It was the first and only word she had said since being taken. He stared at her so intently when she said it that he noticed that all of her bruises were finally gone too.

“What?” the farmer and his wife asked simultaneously.

She grabbed a pencil and some paper. She drew a half circle on the left side and on the right a triangle on top of a rectangle. Pointing to the left she said, “Barn.” Pointing to the right, “Quonset.”

“You can talk again and remember things!” The man was overjoyed. Jubilant, he tried to talk to her more, but soon he realized that she did not remember him at all.

The man cried and told the older couple a story from their past. They had talked about their greatest fears when she was to be married to someone else. His fear had been that she would forget him, and hers was that she would never see him again. He cried because they had both come true, but not in the ways they had ever thought of. She would never remember him as her brain, addled by the drugs, could no longer store certain memories, and he would never see her because of his head injury.

“None of that matters, dear,” the old nurse responded as she held both the young man’s and young woman's hands. “What matters is love and communication. It is never easy, and may be harder for you two in particular, but we will give you all the support you need.” The old woman put their hands together. “Squeeze once for yes, and twice for no. Do you love this man for giving up everything, including his sight, for you?” He could not see it, but she cried and squeezed one long caring squeeze, conveying all she could through her physical touch. Then she lurched forward and hugged him, crying hysterically, so sorry that she had caused him so much pain and suffering. He had not forgotten about her; he had saved her. “I love you, too,” he choked out between sobs of his own, relieved he made the right decision and followed his heart.