Free Glass Collector by Anna Perera Page B

your pony.” Rachel gazes past Aaron in that self-contained way that scares him. Does she blame him? “He was my favorite—your pony.”
    Aaron follows her gaze.
    “Why do you want to pray for his pony?” Jacob’s baffled. “It’s not sick, is it? Aaron? Is it?”
    The dusty path seems to shrink and the distant towering hills push down on Aaron like a huge giant as he nods and watches the alarm creeping over Jacob’s face.
    “Yeah. The pony died.”
    “That’s a disaster,” Jacob says. “You’ve had it now.” “I know,” Aaron says.
    Jacob shakes his head. “I’m going to find someone to help me.”
    “Want me to come with you?”
    Aaron is only asking to be friendly. He doesn’t want to go. Doesn’t want to leave Rachel here either. Go on your own. On your own , he silently prays.
    “It’s OK.” Jacob grins. “Looks like you want to talk to her.” He makes a swift exit in the direction of the old part of the village.
    “Do you want me to pray for the pony?” Rachel asks.
    Aaron sighs. “What’s the point? It’s not going to bring the pony back, is it?”
    Suddenly lights twinkle from the interior of the church, as if to say you’re wrong , and he shivers.
    “But praying will help it get to heaven,” Rachel says, and smiles.
    “How do you know that?” Aaron mutters.
    “Everyone knows.”
    “Well, I don’t. Here, you might as well have this.”
    Aaron fishes a perfume bottle from his pocket and thrusts it at her. His fantasies about how he was going to present it to her disappear in an instant.
    The dark liquid slides around the rose-colored glass as she widens her eyes. “Where did you get this?” she asks, staring at the bottle but not taking it.
    She isn’t impressed. She’s never impressed by anything he says or does. He might as well not have bothered.
    “I found it on the street. Do you want it or not?”
    Aaron’s trying to act unsurprised by her cool reaction, but the force of his heart thumping against his chest gives him away. He starts to tremble unnaturally. Even his hand’s quivering.
    “Well?”
    In silence they look into each other’s eyes and the power there reels them together somehow. Linking something deep and unseen. When their eyes fall away, the sense of loss makes them instinctively glance back, but now, slightly afraid, their eyes slide over each other, as if neither of them dares spark that powerful feeling again.
    Without a word, Rachel turns on her heel and walks hurriedly toward the church, leaving Aaron standing in the lengthening shadows of the low perimeter wall with sensations he can’t account for.
    Did she feel what I just felt? Why didn’t she take the perfume? I didn’t get the chance to explain. Why did she walk off without saying anything? I was being nice, wasn’t I?
    Time, space, gravity, the stars above, girls, Mokattam, the dead pony—it feels as if none of them really exist. Placing the perfume bottle back in his pocket, Aaron heads down the wide walkway, past the bright, open cavern of the church, which is empty, apart from three old women sweeping and cleaning the altar. Rachel isn’t there. She’s not praying for the pony.
    Where did she go ?
    Aaron eyes the deep darkness beyond the low wall. A moonless sky envelops the distant tenements. Beams of yellow light from the glassless windows stand out like sheets of yellow paper stuck to a huge blackboard, which he stares and stares at. When, one by one, the lights go out, Aaron turns his attention to the hard earth beneath his feet, searching for a good place to hide the perfumes.
    He considers the corner where the brick wall joins the high limestone. It’s worth a try and he starts digging into the ground with his fingers. A side pit opens to reveal a concrete hole in the foundations the size of a small bowl. Thumbs firm against the bottom of the glass, intent on remembering the exact place, Aaron carefully pushes both bottles into the gap. It’s the perfect place. He covers