My Name Is Not Easy (46 page)

U N C H A I N E D M E L O D Y / D o n n a
the ebb and fl ow of the hungry music.

Lonely rivers sigh, wait for me, wait for me, I’ll be coming
home, wait for me . . .

She isn’t sure what they’ve said, if anything, to bring them to this exact point, but before she even knows what’s happening, she’s following him out into the woods, wordlessly.

She’s never been this far out into the woods before, especially not at night, but Amiq knows the game trails blind, the way one meanders into another, disappearing and reappearing in strange ways, leading them deeper and deeper into the dark heart of the woods.

His feet are like fox feet or wolf feet, following the trails as if by instinct. As if by magic. Leading her in.

“Where are we going?” she asks at last, whispering, even though they’re well beyond the range of parochial radar. Whispering as though they’re in church, as though their hushed breathing is a new kind of prayer.

“Over there,” Amiq says, nodding off into the darkness, as if darkness by itself is a destination.

When he pushes the spruce branches aside, there’s a sudden rushing hole of light so bright, it takes her breath away—a spruce-lined room, lit by moonlight. Th

ey stand at its silvery

center, transfi xed.

“Close your eyes,” he says, and Donna feels a little fl ash of fear—exciting fear. “It’s okay,” he says, and she knows right then that maybe it is okay or maybe it isn’t, but it doesn’t really matter.

She closes her eyes, letting him guide her down onto the damp ground. Th

e dark earth and rotting leaves smell of promise.

189

my name is n ot easy final text_.indd Sec1:189

18/07/2011 8:25 PM

M Y N A M E I S N O T E A S Y

“Keep your eyes closed and lean back,” Amiq says, and she lets him lean her back, her heart pounding, fi ghting the urge to pull away. His voice says
trust me
and more than anything else in the whole wide world she wants to trust Amiq.

She imagines a wild spring river, shattering the ice in the darkness that surrounds them.

“Now,” he says. “Open them.”

She opens her eyes and looks straight up into the impossibly star-fi lled sky.
“Oh!”

Th

e moon is huge. Th

e moon is everything. Th

e moon

with Amiq eclipsing it, watching her with such dark intensity, she knows he’s going to kiss her and he does—so softly it makes her feel like a fl ower opening in a warm rain.

When the kiss ends, she shivers involuntarily.

“You’re cold,” Amiq says, his voice protective. “Wait.”

She watches the way he moves, stretching out his whole body, catlike, looking for something in the bank of spruce branches. Something he knows is there. Something hidden.

A half-empty bottle of vodka.

He takes a deep sip, off ering it to her, and she tries it, too, even though it scares her worse than anything. Th

e heat of it

burns her throat, making her sputter, making her warm. He laughs softly.

She imagines that she’ll always remember the way he traces his fi nger along the edge of her throat right then, tugging tenderly at the slender chain, pulling the medallion out from beneath her sweater, still warm from her breasts, holding it tight in the palm of his hand as though warming
190

my name is n ot easy final text_.indd Sec1:190

18/07/2011 8:25 PM

U N C H A I N E D M E L O D Y / D o n n a
himself on it.

He studies it carefully, then looks directly at her. Th ere’s

a question in his eyes. It’s a question Donna wants to hear, a question she’s afraid to hear. She looks at the little medal, lying in the palm of his hand, wishing she knew the right answer.

“Saint Christopher,” she says, “the patron saint of travelers.”

“I’m a traveler,” he whispers. And then he drinks the rest of the vodka in one long gulp and leans over, kissing her. But this time the tenderness is gone, replaced by something else, something hard and demanding. Something darker than the river below, and burning like vodka.

Something that has nothing to do with her, nothing at all.

He isn’t kissing
her
anymore—that’s what she realizes all of a sudden. Th

e vodka has gotten in the way and it isn’t her

at all. It’s only his
idea
of her—slurred and generic—a quiet girl named Donna who’s easy to look at. And his idea is all mixed up with her own idea of a brave new Donna, doing the kinds of things the old Donna never did. And both Donnas are mashed up together into something that has nothing to do with her. Nothing at all.

She pulls away from him.

“No, baby,” he pleads. “No.”

She stands up, brushing the pine needles off of Rose’s pink sweater.

“We have to go back,” she says.

But she doesn’t go anywhere, because suddenly, there’s a
191

my name is n ot easy final text_.indd Sec1:191

18/07/2011 8:25 PM

M Y N A M E I S N O T E A S Y

sound.

“Amiq? You here?”

It’s Luke, standing there in the clearing, looking at Donna and then at Amiq.

“Th

ey sent me to fi nd you,” Luke says.

Th

e way he says it makes Amiq sit up slowly, like he doesn’t want to but has no choice.

“What happened,” he says.

“It’s your dad,” Luke says. “Th

ey called. He took off ten

days ago. Traveling inland. Can’t fi nd him.”

“Drinking,” Amiq says, looking at Donna, dead sober now.

Luke shrugs. “Looks like it.”

Amiq glares off into the dark woods.

“You know—,” Luke starts.

“Shut up,” Amiq snaps. “Just shut the hell up.” He glares at Luke. Glares at the whole, dark world. “He’s probably sleeping it off in a cabin somewhere. My old man’s tough as a wolverine.”

Donna looks at the empty vodka bottle. Amiq looks at it, too.

Off in the distance somewhere, kids are still dancing. A door opens, and music drifts through the trees like smoke.

“Why do the birds go on singing . . . “

“My old man can survive anything,” Amiq snaps.

Anything.

192

my name is n ot easy final text_.indd Sec1:192

18/07/2011 8:25 PM