Free Tears of Leyden by Naomi Baysinger-Ott

“No…don’t hold me.”
    He stops and obediently returns to his post beyond the moat, at a distance. I look away again, and after a few more moments of my sobs, he speaks to me.
    “Do you wish me to leave you for now?”
    I wait a moment as a tear tickles down my nose and drips into my lap. I nod.
    He is still seated for a little while, lingering and watching as though making sure I am okay. He slowly begins to leave. I curl up into a tight ball against the wall as he rises and I hear him step away. I glimpse his boots stepping over the floor into the room with the bookshelf out of the corner of my eye. I rock as another sob takes me into a fresh batch of tears and I let it.
    Eventually I grow tired of knowing he can still hear me easily, and I slowly uncurl. I crawl to the bedroom door and turn the knob, crawling through and shutting it behind me.
    At first I just sit here, and wonder if the tears are gone. Then I see the bed and remember home and Meyleia, how I used to sleep so close to her. I command myself to stand, and to my own surprise I do, weakly. I head out for the bed, and when I reach it, I quietly crawl in and collapse onto my side. I only wait a minute for the tears to overtake me again. My throat burns now, and I do not care. I sob. I do not move from here for the next few hours.

Chapter 9
     
     
    When I wake up, it is in his bed. I don’t remember much of it. Only the sear burning in my throat and my red eyes can attest that I had cried for quite a while. I lift myself from the covers without thought, like any other wild creature, living life the way they instinctively can, not hoping for anything, not questioning anything, just being.
    I step to my clothes and unbundle the pile from the shelf. I slip off the nightgown and instead fit over the Spanish dress I have been wearing since the bath a day or so before. I look to the window a moment and observe not the wonders outdoors, but my own reflection, clearly shining back at me across the pane of glass. Looking at myself I feel reckless, knowing I still look like that girl who lost her family makes me feel reckless, so I walk away without tending to the disrupted hairs on my head.
    When I enter the kitchen, it is silent and not empty. Nadeje is walking across it as I step in, and hearing me, he stops and calmly reads my manner. I feel like I am a statue and he a man walking passed and observing its complexity. It makes me feel slightly ill, though not as much as it would have before, all my emotions at present are diluted with the grief I let go of earlier. I feel like stone; a stone statue.
    “Are you better?”
    I try for a nod, but it is a lie. I shake my head when it refuses to come.
    His cavernous eyes are not judgmental, but definitely hold some deep thought. “Could something help you? Someone help you…I wish I could help.”
    I stare at him and ignore the flood of warmth filling my chest. “No,” it is gentle.
    He watches me a bit longer, and then sighs and turns to the stove to stir something. I wait, not wanting to do more without his request. He stirs the food hard, as though it is thick, and I absently watch his back work, gazing over the faint muscles beneath his shirt and not noticing any fault in it until he stops and turns.
    I hate myself.
    “Could I…bring you something? Or…”
    He stops. I watch him for a few moments and the room is silent. Seeing something further inside me that I don’t see myself, he seems assured. I almost want to go back into the bedroom as his eyes venture into me. I do not.
    “I wish to supply you with something for comfort and use…but I don’t know what you would like,” he tilts his head and looks down as though knowing it is wrong. “Would you like me to get you something from a shop?”
    I feel a small flutter of hope inside at his offer. I do not know what he could possibly gain from it other than my better regard or his punishment. Surely it was not allowed for me to remain and for him, my