The Weight of It

I was surprised by the weight of it more than anything as I rolled the burnished steel object around in my palm. Mine was more drab than my brother’s had been, with only my initials carved into the front. J.P.

Mother looked at me expectantly.

“Well, go on, open it!”

The excitement on her face was palpable.

Who would it be? The baker’s son, perhaps? John the weaver?

None of it mattered.

My hands faltered slightly as I dug my nails between the metal clasp on the heart-shaped locket in my hand. I opened it with little fanfare.

Calvin Lightbrook.

I was sure nothing could have surprised me, but this was somewhat of a revelation. Mother squinted at the small inscription.

“Jessie, who is it?”

“It’s Calvin. Calvin Lightbrook,” I muttered, handing her the locket.

Even in the soft candlelight, I could see how much her face reddened, expanding like an overripe cheese in the sun.

“This is amazing! Do you understand how important this is for us, Jessie? The Council thought that our clan was important enough to marry you to a Lightbrook? Oh, Jessie! This is wonderful news!”

I forced a smile. “Yeah, this is great. Could be worse.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I had made a mistake.

Mother’s eyes narrowed and I felt the blow land on my cheek before I saw it.

“Jessie Peters, you will marry that boy and you will elevate our clan. To think I could ever raise such an ungrateful child is unforgivable. Marcus didn’t make such comments when he was assigned to that ugly cobbler’s girl, and you will not make such comments about the Founder’s grandson!”

I was grateful that Father was outside in the fields at that moment. I hung my head and redirected my attention back to my slowly congealing soup.

Mother roughly clasped the locket around my neck and did not speak with me further. I could hear her scurrying around the house, pretending to busy herself with chores that I’d already finished earlier in the day.

I thumbed the small piece of metal around my neck. It felt like an anchor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I held Ruby’s hand as she cried, hot tears rolling down her cheeks in rivers and some joining the reservoir as they fell. The water suddenly felt constricting on my bare feet and I jerked upwards to rest them on the warmth of the dock instead. I didn’t realize I was crying too until I felt Ruby’s fingers trail across my cheek.

“Jessie, we can still see each other--”

“No, we can’t, and you know that.” My voice sounded more commanding than I felt.

Another wave of tears streaked down her pretty face and pooled in the collar of her dress.

“I knew this would be hard because my birthday is first. If you turned eighteen first, it would have been the same.”

Ruby went quiet for a minute before pressing a quick, dangerous kiss to my mouth. I reflexively looked around the deserted beach. Nothing but rocks and snags.

“I love you, Jessie. That will never change, no matter what.”

I stood up to leave, straightening the pleats of my dress as I did so. I felt the words tumble out before I had a chance to stop them.

“I can’t see you like this anymore because I love you.”

She looked up at me with her endlessly blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. She nodded curtly, resolutely. Her lip quivered once and her face steeled, turning back towards the cold expanse of the reservoir.

My lungs felt like dying stars collapsing in my chest as I walked towards the shore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was Ruby’s endlessly blue eyes that destroyed everything.

Weeks passed, and my marriage to Calvin Lightbrook loomed close like a dark thunderhead on the horizon.

The locket around my neck felt heavier than ever and my only solace was dreaming of her smile, her delicate hands, her big, happy laugh.

Each day was the same. Prayer, morning chores, garden chores, supper chores, evening chores, prayer, repeat. At meals, Mother and Father would discuss my engagement with an opportunistic sparkle in their eyes. Each day, from nine to four, I would tend the garden until my muscles screamed from the exertion, but nothing paralleled the agony of this terrible waiting game.

So I waited. Waited for trouble to find me, until one humid evening, it did.

I had just finished my evening chores, said my prayers, and laid my head on my pillow when I heard it.

A faint tapping at my window.

I stood abruptly. I already knew who it was.

Ruby, smiling brightly, with her long blonde hair tumbling free and unobscured by her bonnet.

Panic welled up in me as I frantically snatched up the lamp next to my bedside table. I raced to the window and cracked it open without the slightest sound.

Her lips were upon mine in a second, faster than I could ask her if she’d well and truly lost her mind. She pulled away long enough for me to drown in her hopeful gaze, long enough not to hear the front door slam open, long enough to hear the piercing, accusing scream of my mother.

Long enough for me to know there would be no more waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was no trial that night for Ruby and I.

No time to retract what we’d done, no time to confess or deny our involvement. We were not allowed to speak or beg for forgiveness, and none was issued regardless. There were only the cold stares of the Lightbrook Council Elders as my father roused them from sleep with Ruby and I in tow.

We were then taken to the Square, where the Elders beat me savagely until the bones in my face shattered. I could see, through the red haze of blood, my betrothed himself staring down at me through the windows of the Council House. I had the presence of mind to wonder if he’d now be ashamed to marry a wife with such a mangled face.

The Elders chose a different fate for Ruby.

The orphaned daughter of a drifter from the Outside, her punishment would serve as an example. As a reason to never make exceptions again. Anything from the Outside was corrupt and must be cleansed, and Ruby’s transgression was clear proof of that.

And then, as suddenly as we were rushed out to the Square, it happened.

Father forced me to watch as the Elders bound her to a wooden post and lit a bale of hay on fire under her feet. He squeezed my shoulders steady.

“You need to remember this, Jessica. Only through this cleansing by fire will you become pure again.”

I remember nothing but Father’s unceasing grip on my arms, an oppressive, billowing heat, and the crowd of silent, impassive faces. I was silent until Ruby began to scream, and then I screamed until her agonized wails faded to quiet gurgles. I screamed until my body gave out, my vision blurred, and my consciousness descended into darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I remember even less after that. Sometimes, it comes back to me in patchwork bits and pieces. Other times, it hits me like a boulder, but the details are all wrong.

I remember waking up in my own bed, covered in blood and soot. The smell of myself made me retch. I glanced at the window; it was closed. It was dark outside, so hours or days had passed. I suppose I’ll never know.

I remember dressing quickly and quietly, tiptoeing out to the shed. When I reentered the house, the hatchet in my hands was heavy and sure.

I killed Father first with one blow. His face looked peaceful in death, unlike Mother’s. I’m happy I can remember that detail.

Everything after that is just a jumble of murky visions.

Did the Council House fire start in the cellar? Maybe it started outside, right on the wraparound porch. It was quick and explosive, and I doubt that anyone survived.

None of it mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m twenty-three now. I’ve been on the Outside for years. It was easy to walk away once I had nothing to come back to. I lay traps during the day and come back to myself at night, my only companions my hatchet, the bones of my supper, and the fire.

On the Outside, the air is thicker. My muscles have corded into something efficient and condensed, and pain is dulled but my senses are sharper. Now, a cracking twig rouses me from a deep sleep and I am ready to fight for my life, hatchet in hand. That fight never comes.

I haven’t seen another person since I left Lightbrook. Maybe I never will.

Many of my memories proved too heavy to carry out here, so I left them in Lightbrook where they belong.

They stay trapped in that fire, in every fire I make, in every fire I will make.

Before I left, I had the presence of mind to replace my locket with a shard of flint. I wear it around my neck so I don’t lose it. The weight of it doesn’t bother me.

I’m alone around a fire again, my back pressed against a mountain ridge. My belly is full of rabbit meat and I’m sore but sated.

The fire sparks and blooms. An owl calls.

I can almost hear Ruby’s big, happy laugh echoing through the dark.