Jay Posey: Morningside Fall

Her eyes locked on his as he spoke. Her lips moved, but no sound came except that of her thin, labored breath.

“It’s OK. I know you had a reason,” he said. “It’s OK. I forgive you.”

The girl’s eyes softened, tears welled. She raised a weak hand towards him, but Able instinctively caught it at the wrist, held it fast. Still, she never took her eyes off of Wren. Again her lips moved, so pale now he could barely distinguish them from the rest of her ashen face. But the damage was too severe and no matter how much the girl might have willed it, her message to Wren went unheard. As Lane and Mouse came running down the hall, her eyes darkened and her hand went limp in Able’s grasp. And there, on the floor of Wren’s bedroom, a girl that should’ve been blossoming into life died instead.

Tears broke from Wren, and he felt sick. He gagged once, then again, but only sobs came. Cass wrapped him in a strong embrace. She tried to turn his face away from the girl’s body, but he pulled her hand off, and continued to stare at the girl on the floor of his room.

“Why, Mama? Why did this have to happen?”

Cass replied, “I don’t know, sweetheart. But it wasn’t something you did. It wasn’t your fault, OK? It wasn’t your fault.”

It came crashing down then, the fear, the relief, the guilt, the horror. Wren let himself cry, let the flood of emotions overtake him while Able rolled the girl gently to her back. Mouse came and knelt by her for a moment, making her seem even smaller and more fragile next to his hulking frame. He spoke in low tones to Able, who signed in response. Wren didn’t even try to follow them.

Cass picked him up and carried him across the hall to her own room, and together they sat on her bed, door open, with the light from the hall spilling in. After a few minutes, Mouse and Able came in together. Able stood quietly by the door while Mouse gave Wren a quick examination and cleaned up the wound on the back of his head.

“Well, I don’t think there’s any serious damage. Nothing missing, nothing broken,” Mouse said, flashing a subdued smile. “Just going to put a couple of drops of goo on this gash to seal you up and you should be all set, ’kay, buddy?”

Wren nodded, and Mouse stepped around behind him to do his work.

“Looks like you got a pretty good whack from something sharp and bony. Knee? Elbow? Chin maybe?” he asked.

Wren shrugged. He remembered every terrifying moment with absolute clarity, but he didn’t feel much like talking about what had happened. He just kept thinking through it, wondering what he could’ve done differently. What he should’ve done differently. Maybe he should’ve called out sooner. Or hidden under the bed. Surely there was a way for it to have turned out differently, a way that didn’t end in death.

“Well, whatever it was, I’m glad it’s no worse. You might end up with a little scar, but I think it’ll heal up fine.”

Wren heard the words, but they didn’t really register. He was too busy playing the scenes out in his head.

“Thanks, Mouse,” Cass said.

“No sweat, Cass. You need anything else?”

She shook her head. “I think we’re OK for now.”

“Alright then. I’m going to go see about… uh,” Mouse finished his sentence with a little nod towards the hall. Cass nodded. Mouse squeezed Wren’s shoulder and left the room. Able bounced a gentle fist off Mouse’s upper arm as he passed, a silent gesture of thanks and casual affection. For some reason it made Wren wish he had a brother. And reminded him of the one he had once had.

A thought occurred to Wren, and he sat up straighter in Cass’s lap. “Mama. How did you get there so fast?”

“What do you mean?”

“You weren’t in your room. You came from down the hall. When I yelled for help, you came so fast. And Able…” he trailed off, realizing that Able must have already been in the hall when he’d called. And Able couldn’t have heard Wren calling anyway.

“You called before that, sweetheart. You know. The way you can.”

She put special emphasis on the words. The way you can. The way he could, without knowing how. The way he’d done it before. And other things. Worse things.

He said, “I wish I knew what she was trying to say. There, at the end.”

Cass just nodded.

“Did you hear?” Wren asked.

Cass shook her head. “No, sweetheart, I couldn’t.” But her eyes flicked up at Able, and there was something to it that Wren picked up on. Able didn’t react, but when Wren looked at him, he held his gaze.

“Able,” Wren said. “Could you tell what she was saying?”

Able didn’t move. Just held Wren’s stare. But Wren could see it in his eyes. Able, deaf from birth, was a masterful lip-reader.

“Able.”

Able glanced at Cass, a silent request for permission. Cass nodded. He drew a breath, looked back at Wren, and carefully signed. She said, “They told us you were a demon.”

The mid-morning sunlight seemed overpowering to Cass’s dazzled eyes even through the special veil that covered her face. Though it was never easy for her to see in broad daylight, the veil usually made it bearable for her altered vision. But at the moment the morning glare was creating a pressure behind her eyes and at her temples that threatened to become a full-blown migraine if she didn’t head back indoors soon. Of course she hadn’t slept in almost thirty hours, and that likely wasn’t helping matters.

She and Wren were in a small courtyard not far from the north-eastern gate of the compound. It wasn’t as nice or as large as the central courtyard, nor as secure, but it was Wren’s preferred place to get outside and Cass knew it’d help boost his spirits before the meeting of the Council. Or rather, she hoped it would. He’d grown distant of late; spending more time alone, less willing to talk, more likely to shut down if she pressed him. He’d hardly spoken at all since the attack. And though she wanted more than anything to gently probe her young son’s mind, Cass knew the only chance she had to learn what was going on inside Wren was to wait patiently for him to begin on his own terms. And so they walked in silence with slow careful steps, Cass feeling all the while that her son was becoming more and more a stranger.

The narrow stretch of open space was shaded and rarely traveled. Cass couldn’t help but wonder if it was the isolation that attracted Wren so. It wasn’t quiet per se. Morningside was never quiet. But the high walls and fortified structure of the compound shielded them somewhat and reduced the noise to a background murmur. She glanced up at the wall separating them from the city at large, and saw a figure moving along the top. They’d put extra men on the wall. Not surprising, given the night’s events, but she wondered if it was wise. Citizens were bound to notice the change, and it never took much to start rumors.

“It’s nice to be out here with you, Mama,” Wren said. His sudden words, quiet as they were, jolted Cass from her thoughts.

“It’s nice to be out here with you , Wren,” she said with a smile.

“I mean, with just you.”

“Yeah. Seems like it’s hardly ever just us anymore, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He went quiet again for a few moments after that, but Cass could tell he was working up to something. Sometimes he just needed time to find the words, and sometimes Wren waited for her to ask the right questions. For a long time it had been easy for her to read her son, but lately it’d been different. Difficult. Maybe it was that they hadn’t spent as much time together the past few weeks. Or maybe, more frightening to her, he was just growing up.

“Do you miss it just being the two of us?” she asked.