Cerulean (One Thousand Blues) (10 page)

“Sorry about that. We consider it good luck to greet each returning boat. We might be a bit too keen about the greetings though.” Jesse lets go of my hand.

I miss its warmth. “We do not… touch… very often in the waters. At least, pod members do not usually touch one another; we are very affectionate toward our Pairings, though.”

“People not touching? Wow, I had heard it was harsh underneath, but—”

Maybe away from Captain, Jesse will give me some of the answers I have been craving. “How have you heard? How do you get information about Maluhia, when we have not learned of you?”

“Captain says it’s not time yet—”

“Time for what?”

“I can’t.” He looks away.

Unfamiliar red-hot anger races through me. “Why are you keeping things from me?” I thought we were building a friendship.

“I wish…” He looks down the path, not meeting my eyes.

“What? What do you wish?”

Jesse just shakes his head.

“I want to be by myself. Where can I rest?”

“Sydney offered to share her place. She has the first hut on the path.”

I walk even faster, distancing myself from Jesse. I stumble again, but catch myself before falling.

“Chey!”

I do not stop. “I just want to be alone.” Please leave. The overly friendly people, Land, the lack of answers—all are so overwhelming that I desperately need space.

“Okay. I’ll be just down the path if you need anything.” Jesse turns to head back toward the shore.

I never imagined that I would miss the silence of my home. In Maluhia, the lack of conversation seemed isolating; here, after days of constant interaction, the quiet brings peace. I close my eyes against the unanswered questions and the frustrating vagueness.

I am on Land. Another of my dreams, fulfilled.

My legs have begun to throb from the steep hike. When I pictured Land, I never imagined the heaviness it would bring. My body, so used to the buoyancy of the waters, aches.

Soon a little hut appears among the trees: the walls formed from sliced wood and the roof lined in overlapping leaves. Who knew a house could be so… inviting?

My frustration over everyone’s vagueness builds, but I look at the intriguing hut and the surrounding gardens. I can waste my hours being angry, or I can use the time to explore the wonders of Land. I suspect anger’s fire has no more use than grief’s liquidity. I shove them both aside and step onto the grounds surrounding the cottage.

The small square garden is a rainbow of color, Land’s equivalent of the reef. Trees grow, squat brown trunks with wide green leaves. Tall plants stand higher than my head in greens and reds and yellows. Flowers grow everywhere: tiny pink blossoms, delicate white blooms, tall purple petals. Fragile vines crawl upward, while beds of blossoms spread along the ground.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Sydney throws her backpack down.

I cannot stop looking all around. “Thank you for sharing your home with me.”

“We’re going to have so much fun. Anyway, I get lonely by myself.”

Lonely? People could feel lonely up here, in this land of sunshine and laughter? Maybe our two worlds are not so different. “Where is your family?”

Sydney does not answer for a long time. She pulls flower blossoms from different plants.

“My parents died in an accident when I was young,” she finally says. “I don’t talk about it much.”

We have both lost our parents. Sydney must understand the grief and the missing. “Did you have to move to a children’s residence?”

“I don’t know what a ‘children’s residence’ is. Captain took me in. He’s all alone too, so we bonded together to make a family.” She carefully threads the blossoms onto a thin, green vine.

The differences between our worlds come surging back. “Does Captain sleep here?”

She shakes her head. “He only sleeps on his boat. That sailboat is his baby. When I was old enough, I moved back up here, to my parents’ home.”

A small bird flies down, lands on a thicker vine, and sings. Bird-song. The rumors are true; the birds do sing as beautifully as the whales.

“Are you hungry? They serve a community meal near the beach each evening.”

I am not ready to leave the solitude of the gardens. “I am hungry, but… I need some time.”

Sydney finishes fiddling with the string of flowers. She ties it together, leans over, and drapes the flower necklace over my head. “This is an old custom, left over from our ancestors.”

“What does it mean?” The flowers tickle my neck and engulf me in their sweet smells.

Sydney hugs me. We sit together, two orphans, one from the sea and one from the Land. “Welcome. Welcome home.”

14

The next morning, I wake to Sydney noisily searching through her chests. She has gathered a small group of glass bottles together and is making two piles of clothing. The first rays of sunshine peek through the window, and the soft glow of lavender light spreads through the room.

“Do you always wake up so early?” I ask.

“Today’s Sunday.”

“Yesterday was a sunny day, too.”

Sydney giggles. The unfamiliar sound of her spontaneous laugh still startles me. “Not sunny day.
Sunday
.”

I pause, confused for a few moments until I remember the archaic calendar words. “This is a special day of the…
week
?”

“Sunday’s very special, you’ll see. First, we need to clean ourselves.” Sydney tosses me a fresh dress, then picks up her assortment of bottles. “I have a special shower out back. Danny helped me hook it up.”

“Shower?” This time, the meaning doesn’t come at all.

Sydney walks out to her garden, not pausing to answer. I follow.

While most of the area is wide open, she leads me to a small corner boxed in with trees and tall tropical plants. Clumps of smooth, yellow arcs poke from one of the trees, and I reach out my hand to examine the growths more closely.

“Bananas. You should eat one.” Sydney rips one right off the tree and opens it, handing it to me. “We fast as soon as the pink disappears from the sky.”

I watch as Sydney eats her own, then bite into the pale flesh and chew. My taste buds perk. There are so many sugar-kissed foods above the Surface. In the waters, food was served for practicality: protein-laden fish, nutrient-dense seaweeds. Food for pleasure was not even considered. The sweet fruits and tasty meals might be my favorite part about Land.

Sydney sets out her little containers as I finish my…
banana
. “I traded with Sara for the bath goodies. She makes her own soaps, shampoos, and lotions with ingredients from the island. Smell this one: papaya coconut. It’s my favorite.”

I just stare at the items, unsure what to do. They don’t seem to be for food.

Sydney looks up at me. “Did you have showers underneath? I wasn’t even thinking…” She turns a knob, and water falls from a metal circle that is attached to a long tube. “How did you get clean?” She turns the knob off once more.

“Clean? If our Skin started to dull, we would polish it with a salt scrub.” I am beginning to understand the
shower
. I have noticed a smell developing, but I thought that might be a part of being above the water. The oxygen pods always reeked, so why wouldn’t Land?

Sydney grins. “If you don’t want to scare Jesse off, you’ll have to get used to the shower.” She points to a large plastic tub, which hangs from the tallest of the trees. “We harvest the rainwater for our showers. Be quick! I need one too.”

After giving a quick explanation about how each bottle is used, Sydney heads back to the house. I set my dress on the little bench next to the showers and turn the knob. Warm water sprinkles my body. After so many days of dryness, the moisture feels glorious.

I squeeze…
shampoo
… and gently rub it into my braids. The smell of coconut infuses the warm water. The fruity liquid soap washes away the dried salt and sand that cake my skin. Every way I turn, I am encased by fragrant smelling vegetation: the banana trees, the giant palms, little flowering vines.

My first shower is lovely.

Reluctantly, I turn off the water. I toss my head, water droplets flying from my braids. I pour some of the…
lotion
… into my hands and rub it up and down my arms and legs, as Sydney instructed. Now, the fruity-coconut smell lingers, filling the air around me with my own perfume.

“Did you like?” Sydney asks when I enter the hut.

I smile. “When do we get to shower again?”

“Every Sunday. In between, we might visit the ‘falls or a swimmin’ hole, but the showers are special for Sundays.” She picks up her own clothes and heads out the door. “See you in a few.”

*

After Sydney bathes, she leads me down the winding path to the landing. The wooden dock and the nearby beach are empty this morning.

“Rotting coconuts! We missed everybody.” Sydney scowls. “I can’t believe they didn’t wait for us.”

A honk sounds, startling me, but Sydney claps her hands together. A long red thing sails down the widest path. Jesse and Danny sit in the back, but Captain mans the steering wheel. The odd thing is they are not on water; they sail across the Land.

“The Camaro?” Sydney jumps in the back, between Danny and Jesse. “What’s the special occasion? We never get to use the convertible.”

“Well, I thought it only fitting that our Chevrolet here ride up to the House of Sun in her namesake car.” Captain gestures for me to board.

Jesse climbs out of the back and opens his arms, as if for an embrace. “Are you excited?”

I ignore him and seat myself next to Captain. Jesse quietly moves to the backseat, but I catch the silent looks that Danny and Sydney exchange. After Haku’s betrayal, I do not feel inclined to grow close to anybody… especially one who keeps secrets from me.

As I settle into the cracked and torn seat, Captain pushes his foot down, and the…
car
… takes off. The wind whips through my hair, blowing my braids this way and that. The speed is exhilarating. I can barely keep track of what passes by through the cracked front window. A bird flies overhead, but Captain presses his foot down, and we fly even faster. I am reminded of torpedoing through the waters on Haku’s back. My brief flare of sadness is extinguished by the thrill of this ride.

“What do you think, li’l mermaid?” Captain grins at me.

“Thank you.” My name no longer seems like a burden. Everybody has names from nature, but who else has a name that brings to mind soaring and flying, excitement and thrill? Maybe I am more like my ancestors than I ever would have imagined.

“A Chevrolet Camaro?” I cement the car’s name in my memory. “How does it still run after all these years?”

“Sammy is a whiz at these old mechanics. The gas-guzzling ones don’t work no more. There simply ain’t any gas left. But this 2030 model is solar charged.” Captain leans back and lets the wind whip his black hair around.

Danny leans forward. “Still, keeping a century-old car running is no easy thing. We only drive it rarely. Lucky thing we found you, so there’s an occasion to use it.”

Danny likes cars. There was so little interaction in Maluhia; at my age, the apathy runs deep across pod members. Here, people constantly talk and share; I only hope I can fit in and remember what the others like.

“Where are we going?” I cannot remember what Captain called our destination.

“The House of the Sun. The most sacred place on our island.” Captain waves to a person walking along the…
road
.

Sacred
, another of the archaic words. I remember its definition: worthy of worship. Worship is connected with religion and beliefs. Both are forbidden in my sector.

More people appear; some are walking, some are riding odd two-wheeled contraptions. Everybody heads upward. We go higher and higher, winding around the…
mountain
.

“Sure is nice to ride for once.” Sydney sighs and leans her head on Danny’s shoulder. “My legs are going to complain during next week’s pilgrimage.”

“Lazy thing! Maybe we should let you out so those legs get some exercise.” Danny tickles Sydney, and she wiggles and laughs.

“Please don’t. I promise to stop my complaining.” Sydney snuggles up to Danny again.

“You sure will. You know no complaining is allowed in the House of the Sun,” Captain grumbles.

“What is the House of the Sun?” My curiosity piques at what seems like some sort of religious ritual. The bathing, the pilgrimage, the sanctity all remind me of the private tutoring session with Professor S. that taught of ancient religions.

“The highest place on this island,” Captain explains. “You’ll find out more soon.”

The car turns the corner, and I gasp. The narrow road edges along the side of a cliff, and the whole of the island can be seen from this vantage point. We are driving into the clouds. Billowing white pillows surround us on all sides. Still we keep heading up.

“How long does it take to arrive on foot?” I ask.